In other news I am too sad to turn on my SAD lamp.
today i went to a party at a mental hospital which was a lot less fun than hollywood has led me to believe but did also feature vol au vents, principally because i bought them, and i had a spinach muffin for lunch, and everything is unbelievably difficult and i want to die.
other than that there is little to say about the MENTAL HOSPITAL PARTY. i am ambivalent about what happens next with the group. a new person is coming in the new year. i don't especially care.
individual therapy sessions last week and this week, summarised:
he: SADNESS?!
me: LOOK OVER HERE SEE ALL THE TERRIBLE THINGS I HAVE DONE TO OTHER PEOPLE LOOK AT THEM BASK IN MY AWFULNESS admittedly they were mostly about 10 years ago but I AM A VERY TERRIBLE AND AWFUL PERSON WOOO DISTRACTION
he: so about that sadness
me: i'm still a terrible person let's talk about that
he: let's talk about how you use being a terrible person to avoid looking at the sad thing
me: no let's
me: not do that
he: and how does it feel carrying that particular weakness around
me: DON'T TOUCH THAT.
so from a therapist perspective "we" are making progress and from a me perspective I AM IN HELL.
i have also done things with my time:
plunged off to brighton around teatime, was informed while already on the train that i wasn't going to be met at the station (whoops) and made vague arrangements for something to do with myself for possibly five hours alone in a strange town while the shops were all shutting: in the end not that bad, i lurked for about two hours, wandering the streets and peering into shops. got myself the collar box and antique shirt collars i'd been looking at when i was there in the summer, as they were still there now and clearly that means the god of commerce wants me to have them.
everyone i met informed me i was very glittery. a woman in the queue for the pub toilets did this:
she: is there a queue?
man in front of me: only for the gents
she, to me: but you're not a man?
me: ... yes i am
she: oh but you're not --
me, gesturing at crotch: would you like to find out?
she: ... OH GOD I'VE MADE THIS AWKWARD I'M SO SORRY
she: *vanishes into ladies' toilets*
she: *returns about five minutes later*
she: I AM SO SORRY PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGIES *runs away*
... so that was vaguely annoying but ended up just being weird instead. I got carded buying cider and was informed on producing my ID that I was "blessed with youthful looks" by a bartender who was so tall that I would have to kneel on my own shoulders just to headbutt him.
the actual club night/bar itself was fine. danced a bit, was sucked into an air instruments band with phil and a stranger, have possibly irrecoverably fucked my hand because people would not be dissuaded from shaking it hello, watched the fall all the way through twice, recalled that the music i like to sing to [indie/rock, as played at the night] and the music i prefer to dance to [folk/techno] are not the same, was not treated to a single remotely lascivious look so jess can pretty much stop worrying that anyone on earth besides her finds me attractive as that is still not the case...
oh, and phil was ecstatic about his viking horn present. i have never seen someone so happy.
went for a 4.30am breakfast which i couldn't even slightly finish eating (nts: never order a "buddies buster" again, there is far too much of it and your appetite has diminished significantly in the last year and a half), managed to get the 5.30am train back to london which then sat outside of blackfriars forever. a man on the tube who was dressed as tyler durden got very excited about my shoes even before he saw that they lit up and then proceeded to lose his fucking mind over them. very good.
Slept for not long enough:
got up, had a fucking good bath (glittery, dark blue, perfumed, accompanied by some choir recitals and spqr) and the brainwave of eating rice-cooker oden out of the cooker while bathing. next time however i shall need to put it on a wee table so i don't strain myself reaching down to the floor but otherwise PERFECTLY adequate.
turned into a rage monster around 6pm and went back to bed. got up at nine, made dinner, ate dinner, went back to bed.
basically i spent sunday asleep and i'm still fucking tired.
THIS MORNING, just to catch up: I got up just before seven so I could go and have blood taken. The ruse paid off as I was the second person to be seen, and after a couple of questions:
"Where are these supposed to be going?"
"There's a fax number at the bottom."
"Des Anges is the surname then?"
"Yes."
"Have you eaten anything today?"
"No, not since last night." (because three of the tests they'd requested were on fasting samples and I did read the damn thing several times before handing it over and am not stupid).
they nicked my blood and I was free to continue running around like a blue-bottomed buzzing thing.
In theory I need to start on my edits tonight but in practice the mere thought of doing either this or addressing my horribly full inbox makes me feel rather like all of the cells in my body have fucking rotted.
other than that there is little to say about the MENTAL HOSPITAL PARTY. i am ambivalent about what happens next with the group. a new person is coming in the new year. i don't especially care.
individual therapy sessions last week and this week, summarised:
he: SADNESS?!
me: LOOK OVER HERE SEE ALL THE TERRIBLE THINGS I HAVE DONE TO OTHER PEOPLE LOOK AT THEM BASK IN MY AWFULNESS admittedly they were mostly about 10 years ago but I AM A VERY TERRIBLE AND AWFUL PERSON WOOO DISTRACTION
he: so about that sadness
me: i'm still a terrible person let's talk about that
he: let's talk about how you use being a terrible person to avoid looking at the sad thing
me: no let's
me: not do that
he: and how does it feel carrying that particular weakness around
me: DON'T TOUCH THAT.
so from a therapist perspective "we" are making progress and from a me perspective I AM IN HELL.
i have also done things with my time:
plunged off to brighton around teatime, was informed while already on the train that i wasn't going to be met at the station (whoops) and made vague arrangements for something to do with myself for possibly five hours alone in a strange town while the shops were all shutting: in the end not that bad, i lurked for about two hours, wandering the streets and peering into shops. got myself the collar box and antique shirt collars i'd been looking at when i was there in the summer, as they were still there now and clearly that means the god of commerce wants me to have them.
everyone i met informed me i was very glittery. a woman in the queue for the pub toilets did this:
she: is there a queue?
man in front of me: only for the gents
she, to me: but you're not a man?
me: ... yes i am
she: oh but you're not --
me, gesturing at crotch: would you like to find out?
she: ... OH GOD I'VE MADE THIS AWKWARD I'M SO SORRY
she: *vanishes into ladies' toilets*
she: *returns about five minutes later*
she: I AM SO SORRY PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGIES *runs away*
... so that was vaguely annoying but ended up just being weird instead. I got carded buying cider and was informed on producing my ID that I was "blessed with youthful looks" by a bartender who was so tall that I would have to kneel on my own shoulders just to headbutt him.
the actual club night/bar itself was fine. danced a bit, was sucked into an air instruments band with phil and a stranger, have possibly irrecoverably fucked my hand because people would not be dissuaded from shaking it hello, watched the fall all the way through twice, recalled that the music i like to sing to [indie/rock, as played at the night] and the music i prefer to dance to [folk/techno] are not the same, was not treated to a single remotely lascivious look so jess can pretty much stop worrying that anyone on earth besides her finds me attractive as that is still not the case...
oh, and phil was ecstatic about his viking horn present. i have never seen someone so happy.
went for a 4.30am breakfast which i couldn't even slightly finish eating (nts: never order a "buddies buster" again, there is far too much of it and your appetite has diminished significantly in the last year and a half), managed to get the 5.30am train back to london which then sat outside of blackfriars forever. a man on the tube who was dressed as tyler durden got very excited about my shoes even before he saw that they lit up and then proceeded to lose his fucking mind over them. very good.
Slept for not long enough:
got up, had a fucking good bath (glittery, dark blue, perfumed, accompanied by some choir recitals and spqr) and the brainwave of eating rice-cooker oden out of the cooker while bathing. next time however i shall need to put it on a wee table so i don't strain myself reaching down to the floor but otherwise PERFECTLY adequate.
turned into a rage monster around 6pm and went back to bed. got up at nine, made dinner, ate dinner, went back to bed.
basically i spent sunday asleep and i'm still fucking tired.
THIS MORNING, just to catch up: I got up just before seven so I could go and have blood taken. The ruse paid off as I was the second person to be seen, and after a couple of questions:
"Where are these supposed to be going?"
"There's a fax number at the bottom."
"Des Anges is the surname then?"
"Yes."
"Have you eaten anything today?"
"No, not since last night." (because three of the tests they'd requested were on fasting samples and I did read the damn thing several times before handing it over and am not stupid).
they nicked my blood and I was free to continue running around like a blue-bottomed buzzing thing.
In theory I need to start on my edits tonight but in practice the mere thought of doing either this or addressing my horribly full inbox makes me feel rather like all of the cells in my body have fucking rotted.