Utterly Pathetic.

When do we cease to worry?

When something drags on so long it becomes as monotonous as the air we inhale, exhale, repeat and continue? when things just become so suffocating that you struggle to breathe and your head feels like it's going to explode into a thousand or more pieces so tiny you know you'll never put it together again? I'm worried. I'm so fucking scared that everything is going to collapse around me again and I don't want to be alone again, my heart can't take it.

First, my friends died in October, and now my uncle is back in hospital with a brain tumor -- to top that, my brother has collapsed yet again in what seems to be a much larger attack of whatever the fuck is wrong with him; i'm trying not to let them impact my life because i'm already a mess, but i can't help it. Whatever wrongs they've done me, however much they've failed me, they're still my family. My mum is deteriorating and seems to enjoy rubbing it in everyone's faces, telling us she'll probabably be dead soon.

Do I have to watch 3/6 members of my family die in the space of a year?



I fucked up. I have to admit this, because i've made a promise now, and the only way I can fulfil this is to make sure that as many people are aware of how low I am right now.

Over the last two weeks, i've been cutting again. I don't really know what to say apart from that. The first time was over an argument with a friend; i had the sense of suffocating loss and i knew the only thing that had ever relieved that was self harm. Then, on Sunday, my birthday was fucked up beyond all recognition -- i was ignored by my family, fobbed off and basically discarded. I had friends here, but I wanted my family to notice me for just that one day. Instead I got a letter through the door while I was asleep, ignored phonecalls, broken promises and hung up on by my brother. I threw my phone across the room and went into the bathroom, where I cut myself again.

It was easy to hide, long sleeved jumpers and support bandages for my dodgy wrist, but then last night, I was alone again, and I didn't need to hide them. I hated being alone so badly and that's how it started. Then, my OCD kicked in; I couldn't stop staring at the unhealed mess on my arm, a small mass of parallell lines which taunted me in their unevenness. I wanted it to be complete, and I knew the only way to do that would be to cover my whole arm. So I did.

I cut thirty more lines into my arm, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I was using an unfamiliar razor, and I ended up cutting too deep; my body started to work so hard to repair the damage that I began to feel dizzy and sick and I passed out for around five minutes. If I hadn't had one of my friends talking to me, I probably would have just gone to sleep and gone into shock, because that's where my body was headed. It took me a while to stop the bleeding and almost two hours before I stopped feeling like I could pass out at any second. Now i'm left with my perfectly covered arm, hating myself for it.

But I did do one thing. I promised. I promised i'd never cut again to possibly the one person i'd die before hurting (not counting Damien); the one thing I hate doing above all is breaking a promise.. So...maybe. Just maybe.

to anyone who's been here; you know what I mean.

I feel pathetic.

Alive.

Today has been exceedingly strange, full of happiness and low points which have settled into a comfortable calm waiting to sweep me into the embrace of sleep just as soon as i close my eyes.

It's funny to think that an insomniac feels like sleep might actually come so early; every night thus far in my new home has been forcing myself to sleep; lying there clutching the covers, the pain in my shoulders building furious frustration in my chest as I struggle to get comfortable (the only way to do this is to lie my arm flat on the bed, stretched to the side, a pillow resting on my shoulder and then another one in a T-shape down my side. As you can imagine, this makes turning over a laborious task indeed...)

I always sleep on my side; always. They say that lying on your left side promotes your ability to breathe, something I followed strictly when I was pregnant - but it doesn't. I always seem to breathe better on my right side, something that, as an asthmatic, I cherish. The problem with that is embedded in the fact that I have always lain on my left side. Why? Why is my left side more favourable, you ask? Simple. I'm 60% deaf in my right ear.

This means that when I do sleep, I sleep more soundly than the dead, for i'm alive, i'm breathing but I can't hear you. The noises which plague the average individual don't reach my slumbering mind and it feels so. good. The problem is that when I lie on my right side, I am now acutely aware of these noises, so I turn, then I can't breathe, so I turn, noises, breathing, noises, breathing.

Is it any wonder i'm an insomniac, or why i'm losing my mind? I really am losing my mind. That's why i've been dragged off into a parallell examination of my nightly habits instead of telling you about the daytime I intended to.

Today was my 'day off'. The one day a week I don't have to watch Damien 24/7. My dad came to pick him up around 12pm and I went back to bed. In the end I didn't fall asleep til nearly 1.30pm and I got up around 3. Relatively uneventful until you add in the problem of why I was unable to sleep...

It wasn't the usual, though that didn't help. It was the sudden, crushing feeling that I was alone. Totally, utterly alone and no one was coming for another 5 hours at least. My problem with breathing and noise was suddenly worse - breathing became irrelevant as, when my hearing was unobscured, I could hear every creak, every bang, imagining sounds from outside were in my house and, when it was covered, i imagined that I was missing the sounds of some intruder creeping up my stairs to strangle me in my bed. I got up to check the locks four times before I exhausted myself with my worrying so much that I passed out.

When I woke up, I went to the shop. I felt hazy and drugged, like the world around me was nothing more than one large cinema screen and I was walking down a corridor of illusions. I did my shopping, I handed over the cash, totally numb and faking every response I was forced to give. I met no one's eyes - I still can't bring myself to do this, I don't deserve to do this. Then I walked home, two heavy bags in hand. On the way back, I spotted the worst possible thing - chavs. I'm not being discriminative here, I have genuine reasons for fearing them, as I have been repeatedly victimised simply because of the way I dress to the extent of being pushed in front of a car. The point is, I saw them, they saw me and I got scared. I ducked my head even farther down, talking to myself inside my head, begging for them to just let me pass, praying that they wouldn't kill me. Dramatic? yes. I know that now, but at the time I had images raging through my head of them jumping me and beating me to death, tomorrows paper sporting a short tribute to a young single mother tragically killed, three suspects in custody. I cursed myself for wearing my black jeans because they looked too goth, wanted to scrape the makeup i had put on off because it drew too much attention...

Needless to say, you know how the story ends as i'm here. By the time I got home, my heart was racing and my chest was tight; I had to take my inhaler just to get rid of the feeling. All the while I kept thinking; "take your pills, Kirstie. Just take them.", and somewhere else, deeper in my head said no, don't take them. You're not real on them, you can't write music on them and taking your pills is just like living a lie. I'm sick of living a lie, but is a lie better than a nightmare? It's ironic, so ironic that an insomniac should have a living nightmare, don't you think? I love irony. Even when it's gnawing into my life like a rabid squirrel and threatening to disease everything, I love it. The fact that nothing is sacred, there's nothing that can't be touched or tainted by its equal and opposite amuses me to no end. Yin and yang, yang and yin.

Thankfully, life did pick up today; i discovered that two of my favourite bands are playing in the UK between now and March - I got tickets to one of them and intend to get tickets to the other as soon as possible. This means that in the space of the next two months (from the 23rd Jan>23rd March) I will be going to 5 gigs. It's something to look forward to, and I live for those little things.

I also remembered why I love my friends. There's one person in particular who has been very special to me for a while now; they know who they are - I mean, all of my friends are very important to me, but only a few of them share a connection to me which words can never break. I'm not a very trusting person by nature. This one person knows all there is to know about me and more and they haven't run. Words can't express my love for this person, they never will. It's magick in it's purest form, it's freedom and it's empathy.

No matter how much I panic for silly reasons, I. Am. Alive.

And it means more to me than my whispering suicidal thoughts can ever tempt me with.

Finally.

New Beginnings...

i write this post from my new home, where i am comfortably seated in my bed with my little boy sleeping softly beside me. his bed hasn't been built yet, so he's sharing with me until it is. due to a slight mishap, some little screws for his bed have gone AWOL, so that's a dilemma. looks like he might be getting that new racing car bed a little sooner than his 5th birthday. 

oh well! i'm home. home. yes, this is my home; i've moved so many times in the last five years... Dunfermline to Hattersley, Hattersley to Hyde, Hyde back to Dunfermline, Dunfermline to Rosyth, Rosyth to Abbeyview, Abbeyview to Dunfermline and now Dunfermline back to Rosyth. that's seven moves in five years. but here, here i can feel the urge to lay down welcome mats.

the very atmosphere of this home is different; not caught up in the twists and uncertainty of the lover accompanying me, but mine. mine, mine, mine.  I don't have to share it, i'm not going to lose it to some prick who gets in over his head. this is my stable base for a home with my son.

i'm FREE!

muffins, you're welcome. all of you. this home is going to be a friendly and accepting one, one which helps those who need help. my rules, not my damn parents who wouldn't so much as blink if some poor person were to catch on fire, because they'd be too busy arguing about who our car belongs to. ohyes, i can see them dividing up their belongings already, the whiff of divorce is in the air - question is, who will demand it first?

..i honestly don't give a damn.

Two Thousand and Nine.

apparently, i've had this blog for two years now. it seems only fitting that as i've changed as an individual, i change my way of talking to you. looking back at that first post i find myself thinking what you must do; "is she for real?!"

never has a statement about being a fantasist been so entirely true. back in 2007 i chose to live in a dreamworld rather than reality, because reality wasn't something i could face. i was hiding away from the truth, hiding from myself; i presented the front i wanted to be seen rather than who i really was. but that makes no sense, none whatsoever. you can hide all you want, you can pretend to be the hottest thing since sliced bread, but it's lonely. you can't ever let anyone near you in case they find out the truth. so that was how 2007 was for me. dreams.

2008 started on what i thought was a high. i met a guy, i won't say his name. i thought things were perfect, i rushed into moving in with him in another attempt to escape things at home which i still refused to deal with. in march and april 2008, my son got ill. very ill, so ill that i thought i was going to lose him. his biological father never showed up and i resented him, so much. cracks began to show with me and K, my boyfriend at the time, when he refused to take my son to the hospital because of fuel costs and his own personal boredom. i tried to leave him, he wouldn't let me. we lost our home, i moved back in with my parents; K followed me and we stayed in a cramped little room, three of us in a room barely big enough to fit two single beds. i went out of my way to avoid him, convincing him i loved him only because i couldn't stand the arguments and i couldn't get rid of him. he went AWOL from the army and was arrested in October 20008. I couldn't bring up the courage to dump him, thinking that he needed me. then, i went to London.

In London, I met up with a close male friend, A. I cheated on K, not going to lie about that. why? not out of spite, no, but because i needed to find myself somewhere in the mess which now belonged to K. I did. I found myself in my modelling and in my friendship, I learned that I didn't need a relationship to be happy.

But most of all I ran. I moved K's things out of my home, I cut all contact with him and i felt free; i thought "finally! i'm taking control of my life!" but i wasn't. I soon realised that I, far from being liberated from the need of a relationship, had grown to fear them. K had me so petrified of belonging to anyone - making me delete numbers from my phone, giving my family the spanish inquisition if i dared to venture out without him, questioning my every move... i simply couldn't be tied down that way. 

It took me a year to come out of that shell; a year which has been both turbulent and strange. The wonderful year of two thousand and nine.

On December 6th, 2008; i signed up for a forum. A fan forum, for the wonderful singer Emilie Autumn. I learned that someone I already idolised performed with Emilie, and i was awestruck immediately. I am, of course, talking about the wonderful Veronica Varlow (dangerdame.com). She's one of the most courageous people I now have the pleasure of saying i've met. six years ago she was bitten by a dog and her nose badly damaged. Lying on the table as they fixed her up, Veronica made the choice not to run and hide, but to face her dreams and make them a reality. She is now one of the most beautiful and talented burlesque dancers i've ever seen, with the power to captivate you just as you watch her slip her opera glove past her elbow. 

That, my friends, is inspirational. I started out this blog talking about running. Through this wonderful woman, whether she knows it or not, i've started to face up to my fears, realising that nothing is too bad to tackle. Two thousand and nine hasn't been an easy year, don't get me wrong. It's been full of bad things, like my mums MS deteriorating, my dads stress levels making him unbearable to live with, my brother collapsing and having seizures and, most recently, two of my friends dying in the space of a weekend. They were too young to die, and for a while, i didn't think i could make it through, i wanted to break away and run, i didn't want to face it. But I did it. I owe a lot of that again to Veronica as, despite her hectic schedule, she still made time to email me and help me face my distress. Don't get me wrong, I will never truly get over losing my beloved friends, it was cruel and unfair to lose them.

But I can cope with it. That's what this is all about. Coping. I have never had the strength to be my own person; i've had all these thoughts of misery running around in my head and i've been using it as an excuse. I threw it away, and i found life. I have a beautiful new home and more friends than I deserve. I adore you, each and every one.

A few special mentions simply have to be given.

Chris. holy fuck, i love you. you dont get it, really you dont. you're like sunshine on the darkest days, you dry up the rain and you cast out the shadows. i ADORE you. one day, you're going to accept that. one day, i'll see you smile because you understand.

Bexy. you are the sweetest girl alive. I don't think I could make it through sometimes without you there to perk me up, to make me laugh hysterically at our inside jokes. you're one of my very best friends and i don't care if you squash me with your boobs, your cuddles are just THE BEST.

Saya. words cannot express how grateful I am to you. Not just for the money, but for the trust you've bestowed on me. I am going to try so hard not to let you down; you know what i'm talking about. I will return the money to you as quickly as inhumanly possible.

Veronica. you're like the fairytale. so kind, so sweet, so magickal. everything about you oozes beauty and love and so many people adore you. if i were ever able to help you in anything, i would, in a heartbeat. keep being who you are, so many people are out there waiting to meet you and see how truly wonderful you are.

2010! HERE I FUCKING COME!.... indeed.

And It Begins...

Well. What can I say?

Welcome to my world. I can't promise that at times it wont be deranged, or ethereal. I am somewhat of a story teller and a fantasist.

I will probably post short stories, photography, poetry and more.

But for now this is my introduction.

I am Deotriese. I am a photographer, a model, a singer, a pianist and a writer. Yes, really. I also own a roleplay forum - http://www.theroleplaycity.com

And that is all you need to know.