Susie, I think if I were named Susan I would in fact find any short versions/nicknames of this particular name very annoying. So Susie's presence will be brief today. It is not a personality I am accustomed to anyway.
So today I am smiling because- just because. Usually when I smile it's an 'imbecile who doesn't get the joke until it is too late or just doesn't get it at all but is attempting to appear to get it' smile. Today is simply amusement.
Things that have contributed to this rares state of being are
-The Gilmore Girls
-Listening to some poor guy attempt(he refused my help-poor fool) to pronounce my name.
-A man on the bus trying to convince me that I am in fact Igbo(am not even from anywhere near Nigeria). When this was a non-starter on the conversation front he went in for the kill.
I am taking a drink from my bottle of Volvic water and he says 'You know when on the bus if you are eating or drinking something you should ask the person sitting next to you if they mind'. Upon realising that he was serious and taking the new, cool signs on buses too seriously I asked if he minded. His response 'Not if you are going to be feeding it to me too'. This was a come-on, a chirpse- if like me you were at first simply puzzled.
I had to laugh.
Signing off
Smiling Susie looking forward to what I am told will be the glummest Skins episode of the series yet. I know - I'm too old for it.
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Lacking Lucie -last 3,4 days
Starting the day with a total lack of personality, not even sufficient positive energy for unnecessary alliteration. After some terrible news on Friday I dug a hole in the hole that is my home- (it's a basement flat not a wise choice for a depressed person- living in the dark and stuff) and stayed there, after purchasing some Fuschia lipstick to make myself feel better that is. I will never successfully wear it- who does?!!! But somehow I just felt a degree less low knowing I was in possesion of crazy bright lippy. I don't even wear the stuff in general. My sister who comes to see me once a week to make sure I am still in existence, remind me to do laundry and to make sure that I have actual contact with another human being passed through on Saturday. Made my week.
One of the re-current issues in my breakdown was, for the first time since her death, asking for my mother. When I say asking I mean demanding that she 'bloody well come here', and in very unstable moments attempting to hang myself with my best bra in order to join her if she was persisting in being so stubborn and not appearing. I miss that bra- you know when you find 'that' bra, the one that actually fits your width AND your breadth, that you can actually run in without being slapped in the face by your 'assets'. The hospital staff confiscated it from me and I haven't seen it since, *my poor Freya. Confiscated Items is a post in itself. Anyway this sister is the closest thing I have to a mum - sadly that is not enough for me. I know it is taking my belief in the make-believe too far but I really do just want my mum, the older I get the more I want her. Even if still had the damn bra I wouldn't fit it now-what with gaining all the weight I reckon my boobs weigh a couple of kg's each now. Not cool. The only thing that supports me now is what some girls in high-school used to call an 'industrial' strength bra- at least four hooks, per line of hooks, maybe twelve in total.
So Monday morning arrived and filled with positivity I stepped outside with plans to attend a sports group and have an Efficient Errand Elfie day. I got to the place, turned back and taking a final look at the rain and grey took the decision to stay indoors for the rest of the day. -East Enders was particularly good Bradley's death feeding my gloom monster very nicely. And perhaps because of my mood Glee just didn't do much for me. Either that or the absence of the real and fantastically abhorrent Sue Sylvester meant it was just blah. I think that glumness of a day yestersay must be what the slushy facials on Glee feel like.
Sleep didn't happen last night so at 3am decided to actually do something useful and prepared for an 'opportunity' I have been given. If I make the meeting things could turn out quite well- work wise. And I feel better for it. I am not fooled though. If I was to actually participate in my day I would be done by 9pm by which time well....... Luckily the last part of my day involves writing, writing where my negative thoughts can actually turn into something positive and productive. I notice that even though this is a personal blog there are way too many 'I's in this here post.
Lacking Lucie
x
Signing off wondering why I have just talked about my bra situation and watching an old episode of Ugly Betty(one with Lucie Lui) and thinking that Hilda should 'neva eva eva' put in another weave again- those tracks are visible from space! Watching Ugly Betty eating some cereal and being ready for the day. Let's hope I actually live it.
* A Freya for any random gent that may come across this blog is a bra, a fantastic bra- this is something to know. With the whole Valentine's aftermath still in full force for some I suggest following my 'other' (there are rather alot of us) sister's steps. She avoided disappointment by arranging a trip to Bravissimo(a proper, proper bra store that doesn't punish you for having bigger boobs and where I got the 'best bra') with her boyfriend. She got several pretty, useful gifts and he got a stress free day. Win, win. I am actually happy I don't have a boyfriend anf avoided all that Valentine's Day nonsense....................DeNile is flowing, and flowing fast:) :(!
One of the re-current issues in my breakdown was, for the first time since her death, asking for my mother. When I say asking I mean demanding that she 'bloody well come here', and in very unstable moments attempting to hang myself with my best bra in order to join her if she was persisting in being so stubborn and not appearing. I miss that bra- you know when you find 'that' bra, the one that actually fits your width AND your breadth, that you can actually run in without being slapped in the face by your 'assets'. The hospital staff confiscated it from me and I haven't seen it since, *my poor Freya. Confiscated Items is a post in itself. Anyway this sister is the closest thing I have to a mum - sadly that is not enough for me. I know it is taking my belief in the make-believe too far but I really do just want my mum, the older I get the more I want her. Even if still had the damn bra I wouldn't fit it now-what with gaining all the weight I reckon my boobs weigh a couple of kg's each now. Not cool. The only thing that supports me now is what some girls in high-school used to call an 'industrial' strength bra- at least four hooks, per line of hooks, maybe twelve in total.
So Monday morning arrived and filled with positivity I stepped outside with plans to attend a sports group and have an Efficient Errand Elfie day. I got to the place, turned back and taking a final look at the rain and grey took the decision to stay indoors for the rest of the day. -East Enders was particularly good Bradley's death feeding my gloom monster very nicely. And perhaps because of my mood Glee just didn't do much for me. Either that or the absence of the real and fantastically abhorrent Sue Sylvester meant it was just blah. I think that glumness of a day yestersay must be what the slushy facials on Glee feel like.
Sleep didn't happen last night so at 3am decided to actually do something useful and prepared for an 'opportunity' I have been given. If I make the meeting things could turn out quite well- work wise. And I feel better for it. I am not fooled though. If I was to actually participate in my day I would be done by 9pm by which time well....... Luckily the last part of my day involves writing, writing where my negative thoughts can actually turn into something positive and productive. I notice that even though this is a personal blog there are way too many 'I's in this here post.
Lacking Lucie
x
Signing off wondering why I have just talked about my bra situation and watching an old episode of Ugly Betty(one with Lucie Lui) and thinking that Hilda should 'neva eva eva' put in another weave again- those tracks are visible from space! Watching Ugly Betty eating some cereal and being ready for the day. Let's hope I actually live it.
* A Freya for any random gent that may come across this blog is a bra, a fantastic bra- this is something to know. With the whole Valentine's aftermath still in full force for some I suggest following my 'other' (there are rather alot of us) sister's steps. She avoided disappointment by arranging a trip to Bravissimo(a proper, proper bra store that doesn't punish you for having bigger boobs and where I got the 'best bra') with her boyfriend. She got several pretty, useful gifts and he got a stress free day. Win, win. I am actually happy I don't have a boyfriend anf avoided all that Valentine's Day nonsense....................DeNile is flowing, and flowing fast:) :(!
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Separates Suzie
And so whilst I will be bussing my way to Primark and Evans- split my last pair of tights and need new water retaining boots-yes retaining, I began my day by taking a look at Mrs. Beckham's new line of dresses. Beautiful-were I yet (am 21) the type of woman able to afford such items I would buy the lot -primarily because they have that perfect glam in the office and then glam at high profile dinner look- no need to change. They would go perfectly with my naive picture of what working life will be like when I 'make it' in whichever career I pursue should I even 'make it' to being able to do simple things like waking up, taking a shower, getting dressed and going outside each day. Dress-wise especially liking this one http://style.uk.msn.com/media/fashion-week/photos.aspx?cp-documentid=152168882&page=1 and have in my imagination purchased it in a sexy 22. Monopoly cash mayn! Ballin!!!
Moving on.
Speaking of clothes- yes I dare to, I was wondering how I would operate this blog. I have been told to start blogging but I know I can only possibly do so consistently about things two things. They are my mental health and my physical health. Oh yes clothes, so three( if I am honest am a bit dread to attempt a so called fashion blog- murky, deep water that no one will see you drowning in). Should I be brave enough to, as an emotionally vulnerable person, let it all (the issues) hang out as much as my stomach does over my size twenty-two jeans for possible readers to poke and poke and poke? And do I separate the issues? Write about psychosis and obesity then finish off a post about my current thoughts on returning to self harm with my thoughts on Henry Holland's new tee's? http://www.c-t-f-o.blogspot.com/ Do you like as much as me? Thinking I want one- because there is Not Alot Going On here on in here *points at own head. Will just casually slip the man an email *bourrit. Because that is how the world works right?:) If I separate the blogs - one for the colours and materials I love looking at, one about my sixteen-stone self it would probably confirm trends of thinking I need to deviate from. Thinking that because I shop Primarni (as Department of Slender Shopping budget I am not in a position to ‘invest’) that there is ONE shop in the whole of Oxford Street that has my size in general, that I don't deserve to involve myself in garments being worn by women more than eight sizes smaller than me. The balance between being ph/fat and fabulous because Iweigh what I weigh atm and yet realising that I need to be healthy again eludes me. I love clothes, but truly, except once a year when it's a special issue or the current plus size celeb du jour (only one is allowed at the time) is jaz matazzing around in colours- I don't feel like I exist. And in life sometimes I wish to not exist. I am aware that last statement is a no-no in the whole positive outlook thing many others have sussed or indeed pretend to. And to other people the statement is indulgent.
Possessing so much self-loahting yet self involved enough to write a blog about myself-interesting. Well to me at least.
So shant be separating vents, useless information off loading, listing.
To end- an admission of the fact that at 3am I took myself to the offie(i don't sleep most nights and eat emotionally from 10pm onwards, this is where sleeping pills are good and I need to get more from the Doc later- go to sleep at a decent time just so I don't eat). It is a 24 hours offie and my father will tell me that moving to central London will be the main cause of my continued weight gain. The walk to the shops from his house is a bit much for a lazy 'un like me and everything in his endz closes around 5pm. Anyway that would be his oppinion. I purchased and consumed at an alarming rate:-
-500ml of Haagen Daz- cookies and cream
-a box of Magdelens
-a Terry's Chocolate orange
The aim is to sort of name-(obviously my real name is not blackbirdie in real life, it is in fact longer and quite perplexing for people to pronounce) and shame myself. If I know that I and anyone in the world can see this in writing.................
As per my Cynical Cindy post I am not beating myself up for yesterday being what can only be described as a bad day re: positive thinking. I did not leave the house during daylight hours. How to explain? I am scared and begin to cry, laugh hysterically or meditate out loud when out and about these days. Except at 3am - I am pretty comfortable going out when no one is around- just wish I did exciting things that people do at these times. I will tell myself off about the food-that was just bad.
After writing this I feel brave enough to go out- maybe I can push myself to two hours outside today- the doctor refuses to come to my house. He does not want to enable my reclusive behaviour.
Ladies gents- have a *burriful day.
Separates Suzie.
X
* I am just in the mood for some West coast ( African) lingo. One of few things guaranteed to make me smile.
Moving on.
Speaking of clothes- yes I dare to, I was wondering how I would operate this blog. I have been told to start blogging but I know I can only possibly do so consistently about things two things. They are my mental health and my physical health. Oh yes clothes, so three( if I am honest am a bit dread to attempt a so called fashion blog- murky, deep water that no one will see you drowning in). Should I be brave enough to, as an emotionally vulnerable person, let it all (the issues) hang out as much as my stomach does over my size twenty-two jeans for possible readers to poke and poke and poke? And do I separate the issues? Write about psychosis and obesity then finish off a post about my current thoughts on returning to self harm with my thoughts on Henry Holland's new tee's? http://www.c-t-f-o.blogspot.com/ Do you like as much as me? Thinking I want one- because there is Not Alot Going On here on in here *points at own head. Will just casually slip the man an email *bourrit. Because that is how the world works right?:) If I separate the blogs - one for the colours and materials I love looking at, one about my sixteen-stone self it would probably confirm trends of thinking I need to deviate from. Thinking that because I shop Primarni (as Department of Slender Shopping budget I am not in a position to ‘invest’) that there is ONE shop in the whole of Oxford Street that has my size in general, that I don't deserve to involve myself in garments being worn by women more than eight sizes smaller than me. The balance between being ph/fat and fabulous because Iweigh what I weigh atm and yet realising that I need to be healthy again eludes me. I love clothes, but truly, except once a year when it's a special issue or the current plus size celeb du jour (only one is allowed at the time) is jaz matazzing around in colours- I don't feel like I exist. And in life sometimes I wish to not exist. I am aware that last statement is a no-no in the whole positive outlook thing many others have sussed or indeed pretend to. And to other people the statement is indulgent.
Possessing so much self-loahting yet self involved enough to write a blog about myself-interesting. Well to me at least.
So shant be separating vents, useless information off loading, listing.
To end- an admission of the fact that at 3am I took myself to the offie(i don't sleep most nights and eat emotionally from 10pm onwards, this is where sleeping pills are good and I need to get more from the Doc later- go to sleep at a decent time just so I don't eat). It is a 24 hours offie and my father will tell me that moving to central London will be the main cause of my continued weight gain. The walk to the shops from his house is a bit much for a lazy 'un like me and everything in his endz closes around 5pm. Anyway that would be his oppinion. I purchased and consumed at an alarming rate:-
-500ml of Haagen Daz- cookies and cream
-a box of Magdelens
-a Terry's Chocolate orange
The aim is to sort of name-(obviously my real name is not blackbirdie in real life, it is in fact longer and quite perplexing for people to pronounce) and shame myself. If I know that I and anyone in the world can see this in writing.................
As per my Cynical Cindy post I am not beating myself up for yesterday being what can only be described as a bad day re: positive thinking. I did not leave the house during daylight hours. How to explain? I am scared and begin to cry, laugh hysterically or meditate out loud when out and about these days. Except at 3am - I am pretty comfortable going out when no one is around- just wish I did exciting things that people do at these times. I will tell myself off about the food-that was just bad.
After writing this I feel brave enough to go out- maybe I can push myself to two hours outside today- the doctor refuses to come to my house. He does not want to enable my reclusive behaviour.
Ladies gents- have a *burriful day.
Separates Suzie.
X
* I am just in the mood for some West coast ( African) lingo. One of few things guaranteed to make me smile.
Monday, 15 February 2010
Hmmm so this first entry has prevented me going to the 24-hour offie and buying a bit of brown substance packaged in foil.
Day: Starting out black- naturally, because it is 4.30 am. But deciding on venturing out into the yellow or at the least grey of the outside world for the first time in three days.
Mood: Cynical Cindy drowning in a sea of Positive Pollys and wondering how they do it in this weather.
Cynicism can be dull. The truth is despite my diagnosis implying I live in shades of grey, my blogging moniker and well the colour of the actual thing, I am curious about yellow and other bright colours too. I often look at the more ‘having it together people’ the woman wearing that shocking pink lipstick or the lady carrying the yellow bag and wonder what chemical in their brain is operating more efficiently than in mine and what colour is it? What is making it so that they can be more functional about say money, education, work and love than me? Maybe it's the my preferred emotional palette.
Yes I'm curious about cheerier shades in my head but i'm scared to take it a step further and use them in my everyday life because i am scared of feeling good/happy, guilty even and that maybe bright just doesn't go with who i think i am. Bits of black run into everything i do. I find all my moods flow more messily into one another than i would like and than is healthy and i decide to stick to the darker end of the spectrum because then i can't be disappointed with the result. But the truth is i am living in long term disappointment. It is a seriously uninspiring colour.
In money, education and in the long term career do i need to reward myself whether with a gold star in my little yellow budgeting book or a new pair of red shoes for finishing a bit of work- cheap and cheerful shoes mind, probably second hand, I’m Department of Slender Shopping budget. And then not feel GUILTY about saying ‘well done to me’, move on to the next thing? Do i need to stop stifling laughs. apologising for any sign of good mood? It seems the more I refuse to acknowledge the seemingly simple but ‘huge for me things’ I achieve I find myself buying more and more consolation prizes and these are almost always prizes edging closer to Obese Olga¬ ok i’m already mildly obese but if current habits continue...... These consolation prizes don’t seem to vary an awful lot in colour- brown, yellow, white- you get the idea. Do i need to re-gurtitate the mantras in glossy magazines that i love to read and write my goals and positive phrases on flurescent post-it notes and place them strategically? Or do i stick to what i know, despondency. Cindy sayso yes because it- bad feeling is what i know well. Maybe though i will stop worrying now try and sleep a few hours and wake up a Colourful Celia after writing this entry.
To avoid B.S and pretending that today is the day my life changes i could just try a Celia outlook, try to be at least a shade brighter than yesterday and see if it hurts me.
At the same time if i wake up to find Cindy and her cynicism in residence maybe i won't beat myself up either. Depression as i am experiencing it seems to stop.start more than my dad's puce green puegot 405 used to. That is a lot.
Cindy
*Gold star for realising that obviously all of you Positive Polly’s out there work hard for your yellow outlooks. Or that for some of you the dress may be a lovely lime but inside there is a little bit of grey mixing about in your emotional palette and i should never imagine it is easy for you. Hope we all have the best days possible.
Mood: Cynical Cindy drowning in a sea of Positive Pollys and wondering how they do it in this weather.
Cynicism can be dull. The truth is despite my diagnosis implying I live in shades of grey, my blogging moniker and well the colour of the actual thing, I am curious about yellow and other bright colours too. I often look at the more ‘having it together people’ the woman wearing that shocking pink lipstick or the lady carrying the yellow bag and wonder what chemical in their brain is operating more efficiently than in mine and what colour is it? What is making it so that they can be more functional about say money, education, work and love than me? Maybe it's the my preferred emotional palette.
Yes I'm curious about cheerier shades in my head but i'm scared to take it a step further and use them in my everyday life because i am scared of feeling good/happy, guilty even and that maybe bright just doesn't go with who i think i am. Bits of black run into everything i do. I find all my moods flow more messily into one another than i would like and than is healthy and i decide to stick to the darker end of the spectrum because then i can't be disappointed with the result. But the truth is i am living in long term disappointment. It is a seriously uninspiring colour.
In money, education and in the long term career do i need to reward myself whether with a gold star in my little yellow budgeting book or a new pair of red shoes for finishing a bit of work- cheap and cheerful shoes mind, probably second hand, I’m Department of Slender Shopping budget. And then not feel GUILTY about saying ‘well done to me’, move on to the next thing? Do i need to stop stifling laughs. apologising for any sign of good mood? It seems the more I refuse to acknowledge the seemingly simple but ‘huge for me things’ I achieve I find myself buying more and more consolation prizes and these are almost always prizes edging closer to Obese Olga¬ ok i’m already mildly obese but if current habits continue...... These consolation prizes don’t seem to vary an awful lot in colour- brown, yellow, white- you get the idea. Do i need to re-gurtitate the mantras in glossy magazines that i love to read and write my goals and positive phrases on flurescent post-it notes and place them strategically? Or do i stick to what i know, despondency. Cindy sayso yes because it- bad feeling is what i know well. Maybe though i will stop worrying now try and sleep a few hours and wake up a Colourful Celia after writing this entry.
To avoid B.S and pretending that today is the day my life changes i could just try a Celia outlook, try to be at least a shade brighter than yesterday and see if it hurts me.
At the same time if i wake up to find Cindy and her cynicism in residence maybe i won't beat myself up either. Depression as i am experiencing it seems to stop.start more than my dad's puce green puegot 405 used to. That is a lot.
Cindy
*Gold star for realising that obviously all of you Positive Polly’s out there work hard for your yellow outlooks. Or that for some of you the dress may be a lovely lime but inside there is a little bit of grey mixing about in your emotional palette and i should never imagine it is easy for you. Hope we all have the best days possible.
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