tinhuviel: (Default)

I’m going through it right now.  I know I’ve been pretty quiet for about a week.  I pushed myself to be more social than I have been in years, in the hope that it might buoy me from what felt like an imminent major depressive dip.  Thanks to the combination empathy and introversion, what might have been just psychological became physical, and I ended up catching yet another cold.

An unexpected expense wiped my account during my absence from Teh Intarwebz, so I’ve been subsisting on four cans of soup, and a box of cereal during all this.  The financial scare and my shite health made my dip probably ten times worse than it would have been, had I just kept to myself.  I know now that the whole social thing is going to have to come slowly for me.  I can’t just fall back into it, because I was never that social to begin with!


I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford any of this.  I’m adrift in a situation where my travel options are very limited, which cuts into any monies I might need for basic things like, oh, food.  If you have $20, but it’s gonna cost $10+ to get to a store and back, you’re not going to have money to buy much of anything, and then you’re screwed for food and transportation.  I have to admit, my thoughts are bleak at the moment, and my vision of even the near future is clouded with worry, fear, and loneliness.


But at least I’m in a clean place for now.


Jun. 20th, 2017 07:32 am
tinhuviel: (yay...)

One of the things that is imperative for a happy, healthy dog and, as a result, a happy, healthy dog parent, is establishing a routine. In fact, it is probably the most important thing about a dog/human relationship in our modern times.

That is the one thing I did not have in San Diego.  As a result,  I had a dog who was utterly confused as to what was expected of him, and seemed hellbent on pissing in the house at every given opportunity. His habits degenerated from going out when he wished and doing his business outside, to going outside and just waiting to come back in, at which time he would then relieve himself.  I had to invest in puppy pads every single month, and keep them all over the bedroom floor.  It was a disgusting situation for everyone involved.

There were a number of factors as to why this was the case. First, the area in which we lived in San Diego was at the bottom of a series of canyons.  With my health issues, walking in the neighbourhood was exceedingly difficult on the best of days.  On top of that, with my depression out of control, I had zero motivation to step out of my room, much less the house.  Matt had set up a very long leash system that allowed Toby access to the entire front yard, where he even had enough room to run to play fetch, which he did a lot of with Matt. (One thing I can say about Matt is, he is very good with animals for the most part.  I don't agree with his hard-on for César Milan, but Matt has a huge heart when it comes to animals, and he and Toby were best buds for four years. I really believe there was a chance Toby would not have survived our time out there, had it not been for Matt.) If no one was out there with him, though, Toby would do nothing but sit by the door, waiting to come back inside. Matt would let him in and play with him out in the living room but, instead of letting him back out to use the bathroom before sending him back to me, he'd just put him in my room, where Toby would then relieve himself, since he hadn't been out in a while. Thanks to the humans around him, Toby developed horrible habits and appeared to delight in doing the exact opposite of what was expected of him at any given time.  At some point, I just gave up and kept a puppy pad carpet on the bedroom floor, and let the unruly boys do whatever the fuck they wanted.  None of it really mattered.

During the move, Toby was thrown into even more upheaval, and his behaviour got worse.  Whenever critters are thrown into uncertain situations and unfamiliar environments, they do exactly what small children do - they act out.  With dogs, their acting out often comes in the form of reprehensible bathroom behaviour.  Toby was marking anything and everything, both outside and indoors.  Nothing I did seemed to stop him, no matter how often I took him outside.  When we were staying with Janice, I thought she was going to have to be committed there a couple of times, especially when Elvis - Blake's little Chihuahua - and Toby were together.  Elvis wouldn't stop humping everyone, and Toby wouldn't stop marking to show his ownership of and dominance over all which he surveyed.  Truly, it has been a nightmare.

The first day were were in the new pad, Toby had a couple of mishaps in the apartment.  Thankfully, he chose the side of Smidgen's litter box.  I cleaned it up easily, and thanked the Mighties that Toby didn't choose to soil the carpet!  That very day, I started him on a schedule, taking him out every two hours the first couple of days.  The landscape here at Stonesthrow is relatively level and a 100% improvement when it comes to being walkable.  Plus, there's a dog park that allows Toby to freely roam as he chooses, instead of always being tethered to his crippled companion.  By the time the first week was up, we had established a set schedule that works for us both.  In the morning, we go out around 6:30 am, then 10:15, 2 PM, 6 PM, and sometime between 9 and 10 PM.  Toby swiftly embraced the schedule, and has readily adopted it to his internal clock.  

After four years of excremental horror, there have been no more bathroom incidences since we have settled into the new place.  Plus, I'm getting more exercise than I have in ages, as well.  The ability to move more without excessive pain, or the threat of blacking out from over-exertion in a landscape hostile to the mobility-challenged.  I downloaded an exercise app the other day, because I was curious to see how much I'm walking with Toby each day. After using it these past few days, I'm pleased to report that I'm averaging between 2 and 3 miles each day. After storm season is over with, and there's not a threat of being drenched only moments after you were strolling under the sun, I intend to expand our wandering out to the main roads like Pleasantburg Drive.  I don't really need to lose weight, but I do need to build back my muscle, and Toby definitely could slim down a little, after spending years being fed gobs of people food and living a sedentary lifestyle.

I am amazed that it took basically just a week to turn Toby around.  His breakthroughs have also been my breakthroughs, because the increased activity has helped me manage my depression which, in turn, allowed me to stick to the new routine, and actually look forward to mine and Toby's times out of doors.  

Coming back to the Southeast has been the wisest and healthiest decision I could have made for myself, Toby, and Smidgen.  No regrets!

tinhuviel: (Syd Barrett)

The past few days have seen a good friend post several Pink Floyd songs to his Facebook timeline, a news story on Roger Waters' unsurprisingly politicized concert tour and, just now, my iTunes essentially saying, "Okay, asshole, the universe is telling you to listen to the Floyd, so I guess I'll just put you back in cosmic line. Motherfucker..."

There are often reasons for why I choose not to listen to certain songs or bands at certain times.  One reason is because of the memories associated with them.  Another is because of the pain of musical empathy.  Pink Floyd falls into that category, so I have to be careful of my mood and mindset before I partake of the auditory manna that is Pink Floyd.  

What exactly is this thing I call musical empathy?  Basically, it's when I feel the message of the music so deeply that I become that music.  I got a double dose of musical empathy with Pink Floyd.  Even though I'd heard their music before, I didn't really get into them until I was given a 45 RPM of 'On the Turning Away' by Uncle Michael in 1986. While I was reading an article in Rolling Stone about Pink Floyd, the next 45 that dropped on my record player just happened to be that record.  I heard the song for the first time whilst reading about Syd Barrett's descent into madness for the first time.  What are the odds? I felt his story so deeply, so jarringly, I felt like I was losing my mind.

It didn't help when, just a few months later, I would meet the man who would be my closest friend for 25 years, and he was very heavily into the band, particularly 'The Wall'.  I saw the movie for the first time with him.  We ended up memorising every single vocal noise on the album and the movie soundtrack.  There were times when we'd spend almost every evening after work, watching and acting out the film, or just listening to the album and singing along.  It was a beautiful time, but also a dangerous one, for me.  I was too immersed in it all, and my first bad bout with depression occurred right around this time.  It would be a few years before I was diagnosed with depressive disorder, but I think Pink Floyd awoke some long-slumbering serpent that may not have reared its head for a long time to come, if ever.

Do I regret my relationship with Pink Floyd?  Only when my mood prevents me from listening to them.  This past week has seen me in "one of my turns", so listening just wasn't an option, until today.  So now I'm bingeing and it sounds and feels oh so very good!

tinhuviel: (Farce)

Aunt Tudi has been on my mind a lot,  more so than usual, these past couple of weeks.  I hate it.  I want to turn off my brain, but I can’t seem to.  It would be okay, if the memories I had were just of the times we spent together, good and bad.  The laughter and tears, the fights and the impromptu comedic moments, the times that make up people’s everyday lives.  


But they’re not.


The memories are interspersed with the sharp flashes from the days she was on life support to the day she was taken off.  I don’t remember it all.  I was in a haze.  But I remember enough.  I have some very vivid memories of those horrible 96 hours.


To remember her failing on every level to learn the Electric Slide from Johnna, then instantly see her lying there with tape over her partially opened eyes, is unbearable.  I miss her so much, and I still feel the burden of responsibility for having put her in such a dehumanizing situation in what would be her last days.  She would hold my hand when we crossed streets in Asheville, but she didn’t hold my hand back when they took her off life support.  She wasn’t there, I know, but the gravity of the moment was very present, and it still is for me.  


It’s like it was just yesterday all that happened, even though it’s now going on five years.  My brain will not stop with the incessant barrage of pain, and I have no solution to remedy the problem.  I just want it all to stop.

tinhuviel: (Farce)

The other day, I came across this article - and soon found myself in awe of the information the piece provided. It’s an image-heavy article, which means this post will also be image-heavy. I’m not copy-pasting the text, so I strongly suggest clicking this telling image to be taken to the full write-up, especially if you’ve had a breakdown, know someone who has had a breakdown, or you ever fell victim to one of my unexpected, late-night, inexplicable and incoherent ramblings via email, blog commentary, or any other method by which you and I maintain contact.


With each image that applies or have applied to my experience, I will share how it felt for me, if I suffered from the description in the picture. The first one here will show what will be behind the cut, should you decide to read further.

mb26.jpgFor me, this was not a sudden mindset, but a gradual one. In crises, I was always the one that held things together.  I could switch off parts of my brain, and do what I needed to do at that moment in time.  At the age of 12, I was the one who gave directions to the paramedics, when my great-grandmother had her massive stroke.  Granny was a non-functioning, human-shaped manifestation of panic, and Aunt Tudi was frantically trying to get things ready for when the ambulance arrived to the point where, honestly, she was being a detriment to any progress we might could have had. It was only two days later that the upheaval found me, at which time I became non-functional for a period of time, just a few days.  In times of turmoil, I realised I could take care of whatever situation I found myself, then release it all later in private.  The only times I ever lost that ability was the night before Granny died in 1993.  The doctors told us there was no hope, and she could die at any moment.  Since Granny also helped to raise me, having lived with me all my life, I fell to pieces.  But the next morning, when she died, I was cool as a cucumber.  This was Aunt Tudi's mother, to whom she had been excessively close.  This blow to her emotional well-being is something she never quite got over.  I was the one who had to make Granny's arrangements, and I did so in a disconnected manner, devoid of bothersome emotions.  Things needed to be done, and there was no one but me stepping up.  I remember a cousin remarking that I had to be some sort of Vulcan, or just callous as hell.

Click this if you care to continue. )


Apr. 11th, 2015 10:29 pm
tinhuviel: (RepLogo)
tinhuviel: (Pensive)

Still attempting, and subsequently failing, to hold my shit together with this flare.  It's beyond anything I've experienced since I began suffering the symptoms of fibro.  I've put a call in to the doctor to let her know I haven't felt much of an improvement from the shot yet, and it's been well over 24 hours since I got it.  Hopefully, she'll call me back before 5 to let me know if there's anything else I can do other than wait it out.  I get to start the other medicine tomorrow, so there's that.

But, to be honest, I am wishing with all my heart that there will not be a tomorrow.  The pain is that bad, and I'm that weak.

It's not like anyone really needs me around.


May. 12th, 2013 10:32 pm
tinhuviel: (Farce)
So this is my 10,000th post. That boggles my mind. I'd been waiting to make the post completely Shriek-centric, sort of as a tribute to my band, and to make this particular post a special thing. But I believe I have written everything that can be written about Shriekback, at least for now, so that is why I have not posted. I've been waiting for something new to write, but it's not happening.

The new computer I got had a faulty screen, so it went into the shop three weeks ago. In the interim, I'm on a loaner computer from Best Buy, which I had to wait for a week to get. Given my state of mind and my emotional state, the people on Facebook went berserk because I suddenly fell silent. I know they were expecting the worst and, honestly, I have seriously considered living up to that bleak expectation.

I need to get out of here.

The Mother Unit is thinking about retiring (her birthday was 9 May) and moving out here, so we can combine our Wonder Twin powers. I also suggested that I pack up what few things I find important, and go out to San Diego, so her life wouldn't be turned so upside down. My life is already upside down, so it wouldn't be much of an issue. I should know something concrete by the end of the month.

I feel like if I could change my haunted situation, I would be able to write here more, and not be so depressing when I do post. Until that happens, the posts here will remain sporadic, as will my general visits to LJ. We'll see what the near future holds.


Feb. 27th, 2013 11:36 am
tinhuviel: (PSA)
This is just fan-fucking-tastic.
I got a call from HP regarding this computer I have had just under a month, and they're saying the problem with it is induced and, if the case manager who is supposed to call me tomorrow, determines the problem is my fault, I'll have to pay almost $300 to get it repaired. Soooo, I may be without a computer altogether.
I swear to god, I'm about to fucking give up. The computer is my only contact with people right now. I'll be completely cut off from everyone.
Actually, no I'm not about to give up. I've already given up. What with the car, the migraines, the heater, the DVD player, and everything else that's flown to hell, I just fucking GIVE UP.
I'm done.
tinhuviel: (Asthma Hound Chihuahua)
I'm typing on Janice's computer. I begged her to let me borrow it, and she did, but will need it back on Wednesday.

Why did I need a computer? Because the new one I got promptly locked up on me and had to be shipped to Hewlett Packered to be repaired. I was using my old computer, which had been acting wonky for some time (I dislike Dell products, I really do), but it gave me the Blue Screen of Death last night. Nothing I did could rectify the problem.

With the car issue and, now the computer issue, I've really just about had it. Dunno why, but the Mighties seem hellbent on destroying my sanity and my will to live. I'm tired of seeing Aunt Tudi fade away every time I close my eyes. I'm tired of finding out I may have about $30 for food a month, since I'm finally eating a bit more since 2011. Guess that grief and stress diet I was on is ready to be reinstated now. I'm tired of begging for rides and made to feel guilty because I have to go somewhere. I'm tired of the dogs making a mess every single day and I'm tired of cleaning it up or not cleaning it up.

I'm fucking tired. I've come to the conclusion that I'm nothing but a serious fuck-up, a burden to the folks around me, and a source of depression to my friends here. No one needs me. Probably, no one wants me. I wouldn't want me either, if I were anyone around me.

I go to my therapist and psychiatrist on the 27th, so I need to hone my acting because there's no way I'm going back to that place because I'm suicidal. Those people did not help me. It was all an act then, and it's gonna be an act now. Screw it.


Jan. 22nd, 2013 12:45 am
tinhuviel: (Hickey Monster)
I've avoided writing here. Why? Because so far this year, everything has just gone to hell. I mean seriously gone straight to hell in a handbasket. I don't even want to write about, it's been so bad. I've had it. Truly had it. My deathwish is so massive right now, it's scary. So, until things get better, I'm lingering in my Comfortably Numb, and engaging in extreme escapism. I'll be back when I'm not so devastated

Still Alive

Jan. 2nd, 2013 03:26 am
tinhuviel: (PSA)

My beloved Alpaca Lips did not follow through as I was so desperately hoping.

Obviously. Since I'm making an update here.

There's a lot I'd like to write about, but I just don't feel ready for that right now. Honestly, the only thing holding me together at the moment is my unending and apparent desperate quest for laughter. I've actually found that for now in a show I've been watching since late 2011 when it debuted, but have only really come to appreciate and cling to like a freckle in the past couple of months. It's called Impractical Jokers and may well be the funniest show in the history of television, I shit you not. It was developed by the Staten Island Comedy Troupe called The Tenderloins. I would marry every one of these guys at once, if given half the chance. No ifs, ands, or buts. Of course, I do have a favourite, but I'm not really getting into that right now.

Just wanted to touch base and let any readers I may have left know that I am still here, still alive and kicking (myself and anyone in close proximity). I'm still struggling with editing, writing, and getting The Augury of Gideon ready for publishing, which I hope will happen this year. We'll see. I'm still working on music videos for Shriekback, Barry, and hopefully future related projects. I'm still making the Tim Roth Tutorials, of which there are 150 as of today.

I'm taking things one day at a time, although I think now more than ever, it's an uphill battle, and the only way I'm ever going to be able to move forward is to move away from this place. But I don't want to even think about all that right now.

All I want to do is laugh, and forget everything else.


May. 16th, 2012 11:06 am
tinhuviel: (Cliffs of Insanity)
After playing phone tag with the appointment coordinator for new patients, I finally got to talk to her and she has set me up an appointment with a doctor/therapist that works primarily in the fields of depression and grief. I go next week on the 22nd at 2:15. Since the place is in a part of Greenville about which I'm almost completely ignorant, I've asked Diane to ride shotgun with me and read the directions to me on the way over there. And, considering what I'm going for and what I'll be talking about, I'm pretty certain I'm gonna be too much of a mess to drive home safely, so Diane will drive back and stick around until I'm able to drive her back home.

I'm really relieved that I'm finally going to get some help with this. Almost nine months of crippling depression and grief is quite enough for anyone to deal with almost completely alone. Truth be told, if it hadn't been for you guys, my Internet family, I probably would not be here right now. You've been such a comfort and joy to me over the past few months, I can't imagine being without any of you. So major thanks and props to every last one of you. I just hope that someday I can repay you in kind in any way I can, no matter how small and insignificant my contribution will probably be.

I'll be writing about what goes on at this new doctors as things develop. Here goes nothing!
tinhuviel: (Farce)
I forgot to write earlier that Diane is interested in buying the gun, because she and Bobby are having some problems and there is a chance that she may end up living by herself. She's a tad afraid of doing this without protection, which is the only reason Aunt Tudi had a gun in the first place, as a protective measure for our always completely female household.

I told her I would absolutely sell it to her despite my living by myself. There are two reasons for this, which I told her:

  1. It would permanently keep the weapon away from me and probably ensure her protection in the event of a crime against her and her home.

  2. If someone robbed my house while I was there or came intending harm to me, not having the gun may well end up in my being killed, which would be a blessing. I'd thank the criminal for doing me the favour.

So, yeah, it would be a win-win situation.


Apr. 22nd, 2012 10:34 am
tinhuviel: (2D and 3C)
After two weeks of immobilisation, I'm finally doing laundry and the dishes. When I went to get a dish cloth, I found Aunt Tudi's gun and the bullets. Diane is coming over to get it. I did call her. I'm trying.

Still Here

Apr. 20th, 2012 09:25 pm
tinhuviel: (Gothtin)
So, where to begin?

Oh yeah, I'm still here. Not sure why, but I am. Lucky you.

It's been a pretty bleak week, emotionally speaking. One of the darker ones since Aunt Tudi's passing. I've come very close a couple of times this week to going through with my desire to join her and all the animals who've gone on before us. I'm not just saying that. My only option in making that a reality is jumping in the river right down the road. I can't swim and I'd be jumping from a bridge, so it's a pretty certain thing. And I was in the car and going down the driveway in the middle of the night this past Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Why I turned back is anyone's guess.

Maybe it's because I'd feel guilty leaving the animals that are still here.

Maybe I'm just way too much of a coward.

Maybe I just don't know.

Whatever the reason, I'm still here and plugging along, trying to keep my mind on other matters, and off Aunt Tudi.

I've decided that modern technology can sometimes be more of a curse than a blessing. I have always been the type to keep reminders of people I've lost out of my sight until I was better able to cope with the loss. Besides being trapped in a house so small that I can't even turn my head without being reminded of Aunt Tudi, I have a computer full of pictures that keep popping up unexpectedly. I'm not even to the point where I can segregate these pictures, so I'm just playing Russian Roulette with my sanity every time I open up my pictures folder.

There's that, and there's the "magic" of video. I have mpegs that have Aunt Tudi on them, and I also have quite a few family video tapes that I know have a lot of Aunt Tudi footage on them. Maybe someday I'll treasure all of this, just as people have treasured old photos in the past; but I'm not there yet, and I wonder if perhaps good old biological memory isn't the preferred and only-intended method by which we are supposed to honour the dead.

Maybe we aren't meant to hold onto the past in the ways in which we are currently capable. For some of us, like me, it's too painful to do so. I've never been the sentimental type, and perhaps this is why. I feel too much if I allow myself, so I prefer to keep it under tight control. I have no control in this matter. It's all spiralling way out of my reach, and I'm left feeling chaotic (not in a good way) and bereft.

But there's nothing for it.

I've tried to keep my mind off it all by watching even more Tim Roth (if that's possible) movies and TV. I just uploaded Tutorial #55 and have made even more friends/fans on the TTR Tumblr. I didn't realise what started out as a funny little lark would garner such an audience.

I'm also mapping out more of where I want the latest Cadmus short, still tentatively called "Star Watcher," to go. This one may well include the revelation of the Egyptian fresco, the accompanying art I am about three-quarters of the way finished inking in. The one problem I'm having with the writing end of all this, is Flint is wanting more "screen time." I'm still not even sure Flint is actually going to make it into The Harming Tree. "The Waltham Phantom" most certainly isn't keeping in canon with the theme of the short-story collection. And, on top of that, I almost broke my brain a couple of days ago when I really got to thinking about the anchors for Cadmus and Flint, and what these characters engage in, in "The Waltham Phantom." There are some things in this world that are just wrong, and this is one of them, and one of the many reasons I will bust hell wide open, should there actually be a hell.

I haven't heard back from Barry yet on the last two Illuminati songs. After the weekend come and goes, I'm gonna drop him a note and see if he's forgotten about it, which is quite likely, given the other stuff he's currently engaged in, like recording new Shriek music.

Speaking of The Shriek, I'm waiting until after 12/21 and, if we're still around and I'm still around, I'm going forward with re-establishing the Shriek tribute site that used to reside on shriekback.com. And I've decided what domain it's going to be on ~ Midnight Maps. This is very appropriate for me because it was the name for the very first website I tried to make, and was the working title for this blog. For those not in the know, "Midnight Maps" is a Marsh-centric Shriekback song from the album "Jam Science." The website won't be for Shriekback alone, but also for Marsh's latest projects, as well as including all the information from the old Barry Andrews Resource Center and information on Thee Caretakers and other Restaurant for Dogs' alum's works over the years. I've reestablished contact with David Marx and am going to ask him if he's okay with my including his work and website on the Midnight Maps. If so, more's the better!

I'm attempting to keep my stream-of-consciousness and mind-blippishness stuff on Facebook so as not to clutter up Cliffs. My brain seems so much more scattered these days and I fear making this place a dumping ground for nothing more than my own idiocy. Of course, that's what the Cliffs of Insanity has always been, when you boil right down to it, but my thinky thoughts just seem a bit more zoned out of late, and not nearly as coherent as they could or should be. So I just save up, and make one gigantic blog splat before the next big dump, potty humour intended.

All that said, I did post something on FB I would like to bookmark here as well. It was a swift flash of lucidity in the typical murkiness that is my current state of mind.

Christian Fundamentalism = Bullying in the name of Christ

I'm not saying it because I thought of it, but I believe that's pretty spot-on and just a tad clever. I want to be sure to remember it, and use it whenever appropriate. Hell, it'd even make a great bumper sticker. I wonder if you can have your own bumper stickers made...

Ohhhh, writing "bumper sticker" reminds me, I've opted to total my car out to Nationwide and get a used car, which Diane is going to help me pick out, since she's very experienced in this area. I should have a new vehicle by next weekend. My first order of business once I have the car in my clutches is to Tinify it; that is, throw as many incendiary bumper stickers as I can muster on the car's arse. This means a trip to Asheville, which is something I've been wanting to do since it warmed up enough for the Blue Ridge Parkway to be reopened. It's time to go visit Aunt Tudi and Granny. And the shop where I get the bumper stickers sells them ridiculously cheap, so I should be able to get at least 7 or 8 for about $10. Since the car I'll be getting will sip gas probably better than the ION, I'm looking at $20 round trip including the bumper stickers. If I have the fundage after paying for everything I'll have to in order to get the car and get it on the road, that should be a trip well worth the saw buck.

We'll see.

At this point, every day is a "we'll see" sort of day.
tinhuviel: (2D and 3C)
I've had a lot of people asking me lately if I were okay. The answer is No. I am not okay.

I go for days not eating or sleeping. My feelings are almost, if not moreso, as raw as the day Aunt Tudi died. Everything that can go wrong has done so, or will probably in the very near future. A day does not go by without my thinking of suicide at least once. Honestly, I have never been more lost than I am right now.

There are two houses here. There is the one I live in, the lonely little dark hole I've dug for myself. And then there is the one I shared with Aunt Tudi, where all her belongings still hover in stasis. Until the past few days, I've been able to keep the two separate, despite the growing necessity that I begin to clear Aunt Tudi's stuff out.

A perfect example of these two houses converging is my need to get the title for the car. This required my getting out the keys to the fire-proof boxes and going through each box until I found the documents I needed. Just this one simple act left me on the floor surrounded by paperwork in a daze. I felt like my heart had literally broken in two. The reason for this because, despite my being a Virgo, Aunt Tudi was always the more organised of the two of us. I had my role, and so did she. One of her roles was to keep documents like the car title in a neat little place where it could be easily found.

Which I did.

But it meant touching the Other House. It meant crossing over into a realm that I've been partially successful in avoiding all these long months.

And this is just minor example of what's been going on the past few days.

No. I'm not okay.

I'm trying to be, but I'm being an incredible failure at it. I'm even being a failure at just making it all go away. Cowardly to the very end. Or at least that's the way it looks for now.


Apr. 11th, 2012 07:07 am
tinhuviel: (2D and 3C)
Haunted by the dead. Lonely. Thinking this will never stop. Stayed awake for approximately 31 hours. Kept seeing the dead. Got in my car to drive. Ran into a ditch. Got a ticket. Car towed. Passed out sometime yesterday. Cat got me up at 5 this morning. I thought Aunt Tudi was gonna be on the couch when I went to let the cat out. She was not there. Let the cat out. Car was not there. I need help, serious help. Gonna look for a psychiatrist today. Can't stop crying. Honestly, I wish I were dead. I've had enough of all this misery. If I can't find help...I don't know what I am going to do. I just want this grief to stop. I want to be happy for once. I want to just fucking die.


Apr. 9th, 2012 06:33 pm
tinhuviel: (Cadmus Dark Eyes)
I guess I need to admit something to myself.

It seems that the more depressed I get in real life, the more manic I become online to try to counteract it all. The past couple of days have been pretty bad, with missing Aunt Tudi terribly, reliving all my regrets about her, and being completely alone here in the house, in utter silence. I have been so lonely, and so lost.

Then, every time I'd feel the tears welling up, I'd throw myself into cyberspace and write anything, everything, even if it didn't need writing. And I'd seek out pictures and post them constantly on Facebook. And I would obsess over everything.

I see myself being pulled to those things and people that have comforted me in the past, when no one and nothing else could. And my focus would be diamond-sharp. It's been scary of late, but these are the only things I can think about. I grasp desperately for these sources of solace, and I find myself trying to take everyone along with me, despite their probably being sick of me and my insanity.

And then there's Cadmus. My one great tormentor, my demon child, has suddenly become a safe and familiar haven. This entity that's filled with rage and hatred, so capable of unspeakable cruelty, always eager to take the road that will bring him closer to the dark matter of the spirit...I am running to him for some sort of sanctity and reason in my life.

What does that even mean?

All I know, is that I'm woeful, my sleep patterns (as if I had any) are flipped inside out, and I'm...well, I'm serenading monsters, quietly seething. I don't want to cry anymore. I want to laugh in the face of all of it, and come out the other end as unscathed as I can be. I'm tired of grieving and regretting. If I don't stop it, I may just succumb to the void that is my mind-child. Only the Mighties know what I'd be capable of then, what lengths I would go to, to achieve some sort of peace in my world.
tinhuviel: (Pariah)
I'd say I'm happy about this, but I'd really rather just have Aunt Tudi back, if only for an hour...to apologise for everything I did that I shouldn't have done and everything I didn't do that I should have. I'd gladly live in complete abject poverty, go hungry, lose my home, my animal friends, EVERYTHING...just for an hour...ten minutes. A minute...

But that's not an option...

Since the end of August -

  • Light bill has fallen from almost $200 a month to an average of $55

  • Phone/Internet bill has risen from around $90 to just at $200, only because I've subscribed to every movie channel known to the modern world. It's how I get through some days.

  • Water bill has fallen from around $25 a month to exactly $12 a month, the minimum

  • Heating has cost me a total of $234 for the entire season, basically because I've shut off a room to the house, I'm going through The Change and no longer am cold-natured, and SC hasn't had a Winter.

  • Groceries have fallen from around $500 a month to about $150, depending on if I need staples as well, like cleaners, toilet paper, blah blah blah

Regarding groceries: Over the past six months, I have basically become vegetarian, eating meat only when I have dinner with Uncle Michael and Aunt Janice, and usually getting sick when I eat too much of it. I have started buying more local and organic food, which accounts for my bill being higher than I would have been if I'd continued to eat like I did when Aunt Tudi was with me. I still don't eat very much at all, and am actually about to dip under 200 pounds for the first time since 1983. Potatoes have become more than my best friend, earning family status as of February. I buy recycled when and where I can. I've been to Wal-Mart twice since August. One time to buy a phone card because the website wouldn't let me add minutes and the other right before my surgery, because I needed some pants that didn't squeeze my leg at all, and couldn't find them at Target.

I try to treat myself to at least one non-essential goodie (usually a DVD) after I've met all my obligations each month. I haven't done this yet in March because I haven't paid all my bills yet. I need to pay them this week, or I'm going to be late, and I have no excuse for that except I'm still recovering from surgery and I seem to have some sort of block about getting things done, worse this month than it has been for the past couple.

I keep relapsing as far as my depression goes. When it's bad, or gets worse, I stop doing housework, stop eating, stop everything. I just sit and ache. But I've tried hard to avoid this. My Tim Roth obsession has actually helped me immensely. He gets my mind off everything else. He's triggered my writing. I wonder what he'd think if he knew this. He'd probably conclude that I'm a total nutter, which would be correct.
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
David Bowie is just a genius. For someone to think up the song 'Fashion' has to be a freakin' genius.

That's not what this post is about. It's just sort of random something.

Oh oh BIG NEWS. I'm writing a Joker fanfic. I need a vacation from everything else and I did promise [livejournal.com profile] acook a Femme Joker story. Not sure how it's gonna turn out, but I'm hellbent on writing it. It's my Joker. Same Joker I've always written except for that Mister J is Miss J instead. And she's out to date the Bat. So I'm working on that.

I've 16 copies of The Chalice coming to me, all of them spoken for. I'll be taking a copy up to Malaprops for certain so that they can see they get props in the book. Hopefully, they'll order a bunch wholesale and want me to do a book signing. That'd be groovy. I'd write my 'Writers' Cabal/Vampire Division' shirt up there for the big even. Man, am I such a dreamer.

Aunt Tudi made some buttery biscuits. There's nothing like a Southern buttermilk biscuit. Nothing at all. No, my English friends, it is not a cookie. It's a wad of cooked dough that will pitch a party in your mouth, especially if you add butter and jam to it. One big biscuit is like a meal to me, so Aunt Tudi makes sure to make what she calls "The Big Mama." That was my supper.

I sure hope this Pristiq works for Aunt Tudi pretty soon. She's gonna lose it and kill me if something drastic doesn't take place. Then again, my Cymbalta really isn't working all that well, so someone killing me isn't necessarily an unpleasant thought.

Now I'm listening to a song by Dave Brubek & Louis Armstrong. The bassline in this is very important to me because it's my grandfather Irving Manheim playing the upright. He played with so many people and I wish I knew who all were graced with his funky bassline. I often wonder what happened to his bass after he died. I want to someday create a website honouring both Irving Manheim and Helen Aprea (my grandmother, who sang in the Jazz Age up until lung cancer took her voice). I mentioned doing this with the Mother Unit, but my work with the book got to be the center of my attention. Perhaps after the sales begin to slow, I can collaborate with the unit on writing the website and her putting it together.

Ah, now Danny Elfman. The theme song from 'Wanted,' which makes me think of James McAvoy. Now I can't think at all.
tinhuviel: (2D and 3C)
Aunt Tudi told her doctor that the Lexapro wasn't working and boy howdy, was she telling the truth. When Aunt Tudi is depressed, she doesn't crawl off in a corner and internalize like I do. No, she turns mean. Loud and mean. With both of us dealing with depression, this is a bad situation. So the doc changed Aunt Tudi's meds to Pristiq. Maybe with that and with me on Cymbalta, Evil Tudi and Fretful Tracy will disappear and we can live in some semblance of peace.


Sep. 5th, 2010 08:05 pm
tinhuviel: (Gothtin)
All I want to do is sleep. I'm not sure the Cymbalta is best for me 'cos I feel no change in my depression. I wonder what I can do to waylay a chronic case of the blues.


Aug. 8th, 2010 06:42 pm
tinhuviel: (Sheriff Obama)
Why isn't anyone calling our situation what it really is ~ a Depression? Do the 1930s have a Monopoly on that term. Sure, it may have started out as a recession, but things just don't seem to be getting any better for anyone and they're getting worse for many. The only way to solve a problem is to correctly identify it first. That way, you know what you're up against and what needs to be done. I know that, if I had any money at all, it wouldn't go anywhere near a bank. I'd stuff it in a mattress or stuff Toby with it after I kill the little bastiche. Whatever it's called, I still have faith that Obama is the one to turn things around. Goddess forbid we had another Republican in a place of power. There'd be work camps popping up everywhere and more wars than we could count on our fingers and toes.
tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
I'm going to write this in sections in the hope that I can remember all that's been going on and be able to express it in a coherent and cohesive manner. So here goes...


shake, shimmy, and roll )


A Cadmus quote...but so much more to do! )


Everybody here go bang! )

Various and Sundry, Whatnot, Bits and Bobs, This, That, and the Other, Hoo-ha, Meanderings, Murmurings, and Mumblings

Happy Banana Dance )

Okay, I've been working on this off and on for a goodly part of the day. I think I'm all written out. ::collapses::

What's Up?

Feb. 16th, 2010 07:24 pm
tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
I'm dealing with a great deal of depression, mixed with moments of serious anxiety and obsessive compulsive issues at night. I went to a doctor about it because it was getting to the point that Aunt Tudi was worried that I might...end it all. I was beyond the bottom of the box and my lack of sleep was driving me to take drastic action. Aunt Tudi knew this and she convinced me to go to the doctor instead. This was in December. The doc put me on an anti-depressant that was supposed to help me sleep and waylay the panic attacks. I'm still not sleeping after the doctor raised the dosage three times so far. The only thing it has done is take away my motivation to do anything. I still have the inclination to engage in the Big Sleep just so I can get some freakin' sleep but I can't really be bothered to take action. This medication has turned me into a zombie and taken away my ability to write. I'm supposed to go back to see my actual official doctor on the 26th. Hopefully he'll take me off the Clomipramine and help me with these brain issues I have. I'm tired of doing advanced mathematical equations that blow me away since I barely understand 2+2. I'm sick of my brain constantly churning and never letting me have peace. And I must must must be given back my ability to write. It's all I have and I can't have that taken away. It's like I'm dying a slow death, trapped in a flesh prison that is incapable of proper behaviour. So that's what's up.


Nov. 11th, 2009 12:09 am
tinhuviel: (Gothtin)
As I was falling ill, I wrote a post that many misconstrued it having nothing to do with a certain issue. For that I apologise. I wasn't clear, I wasn't forthcoming, and I apparently wasn't fair. I try to admit when I'm wrong. I was wrong. Forgive me.
tinhuviel: (Suck_ass Day)
I'm beyond depressed and I haven't been on my anti-depressants for about 6 months. It's gonna take about a month before I can get the Lyrica program going. Neron tin seems to be doing nothing for me. Back is out of whack. Knees are gone. The smokies have me in their grasp. I feel like I'm doing Aunt Tudi about as dirty as one person can do another. If it weren't for her, I'd be long gone. There's nothing for me here. I see my journal sinking deeper into something beyond unpleasant. This is your free ticket out of here. All of you deserve better and that's something I can give. No questions ask, just go knowing that I love ad miss you. Maybe, if I survive this, we can become friends again. Those of you who want to say adieu, please know that you're welcome back anytime, maybe in happeir days. I workd 13 hours tomorrow. I pray that I can sleep.

tinhuviel: (Mongo)
The #1 sign your anti-depressant isn't working
While taking my meds last night, I looked at my Lexapro and saw that it says "FL" on one side.

My first thought was that it stood for "Fat Loser." I think perhaps this is a message from god.

The #1 sign that your luck is for shite
While getting out of the car the other day, I noticed a blue bird flying in my direction. As this is usually a good sign portending luck and happiness, I was well-pleased by this beautiful omen floating my way. Then the omen pooped and it almost hit me. So much for the Bluebird of Happiness.

The #1 sign that you live with a big freak
Aunt Tudi and I were playing a game last night that required reading. Since Aunt Tudi's eyes aren't the best in the world (she goes to the eye doctor at the end of this month), she had to not only wear her glasses, but also use a magnifying glass so she could see the questions. All I saw was this:

blahblahblahblah )

It goes without saying that I had difficulty concentrating on the game while the Mouth of Dread was looming over my defenseless person.

In other news, I'm seriously considering vacuum-packing everything in the house including Aunt Tudi and all the animals. We need the room. I can see it now: an empty house with just a pile of vacuum-packed family members filling up one small corner in the living room. I bet there'd even be an echo.
tinhuviel: (Asthma Hound Chihuahua)
Not working today. Migraine Hell has me in its grip. That is all.
tinhuviel: (Pensive)
That's what I can't stand. The disappointment in her eyes and her saying she never thought we'd have such a conversation. It's unbearable. I have a headache from trying not to cry and show even more weakness. This has been a heartbreaking day.
tinhuviel: (Default)
My Beagle friend, Henry, whom I brought home in March of 1988 at the age of 3 months, has been diagnosed with liver cancer the month of his 15 birthday and must be euthanised.
Through years of happiness, tragedy, joy, sorrow, among many other emotions and events, there has always been one constant..one unconditional, non-judgmental presence of love in my life...and that was Henry.

I won't be posting here for a while. I won't be doing much of anything.

I'm losing my child and my best friend.

This has been the worst year of my life.


Nov. 1st, 2002 03:47 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
it's been a horrible day
no more
tinhuviel: (Default)
Downward Spiral )

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