Judy Moody

Yes, a distinct change in mood has been noted. Not just by me it seems, but also by others and there is some proof in my bank balance (or lack of).
Over the duration of the past week I have found myself spending hundreds of dollars on materialistic things that I really do not need, and at times emptying my purse with absolutely nothing to show for it at the end of the day ???
Yesterday I found myself killing time at Pacific Fair, so I anticipated a lengthy walk around the shops and possibly grabbing a few Christmas presents. Yes well, some purchasing did take place but the only person who will be receiving any of these gifts is me! Yes, I bought new shoes (!) and accessories as well as some new Chanel mascara.
So as I have floated through the past few days (and I chose that word as I have found myself not taking direction, rather flowing with it) and there are only two things that I have felt.
The first one is guilt. Although I really couldn't give a toss what I spend my money on, an element of guilt sets in when I can longer afford those shoes, that dress, those earrings... Yeah, I'm a bloody idiot but my taste restricts me to stores with a no returns policy.
The second, is feeling as though I can't breathe. I can no longer restrict it to a few instances, rather that I believe myself to have lost the ability to breathe deeply. I feel laboured with a tight feeling beneath my sternum as though I may never feel at ease again. At night as I am courting sleep, I wake up gasping for breath.
Sometimes I try and fight it. I tell myself that it's all in my head - that my lungs are fine and I can breathe as deeply as I wish. I resist the urge to gasp, and continue with my tidal breathing until I think I'm going to die and give in. (It's much like holding your head under water and trying so hard not to think about drowning or how badly you need to take a breath - until you cannot take it a second longer and emerge from what may have become a watery grave.)
So no matter how much I try and convince myself that everything's ok, it still turns out not to be. No matter how much I try and save, I still manage to spend. I tell myself that I will never know the person I was last weekend again, but I plan on misbehaving this coming Saturday night. And so I am torn as to whether I am actually my alter ego in disguise, and it is not until now that I have really surfaced?
I know this is not just in my imagination. I have had comments from those around me as to my shift in mood and outlook. It was only today that my manager asked me to have a sit down conversation with her in which she demanded to know what was happening. Apparently my previously effective "Nothing" is wearing a bit thin, so when she did not accept this I walked away mumbling to myself to cover the sound of her frustrated tone.
It was after this that I finally realised the abnormality of my behaviour. If my seemingly emotionless boss sensed a change of personality, the fact is that there is one. I hate that she's right and I hate that there's nothing I can do about it but most of all I hate that I'm even in this bother.
I just wish sometimes you could tear a page out of your diary and make it go away. Tear out a day to make that argument disappear, tear out a week to get rid of those appointments, or dare I remove a fistful in the hopes of finding the person I used to be? Or at least the person who was oblivious to everything that she's aware of now.

Alter Ego

Well, what an intense few days it has been.
Let me start with Thursday.
My parents and brother went away to the Sunshine Coast (long story - don't ask) and thankfully I was excused from the expedition. So I started the day with a visit to my doctor to discuss the results from the variety of tests I had undergone. To be completely honest I was so scared that my legs were shaking as I waiting for her to confirm my diagnosis. It was almost an anti-climax when she said I didn't have what she was looking for.
Huh?
Seems my blood tests ruled it out but the other tests still showed that something was definitely wrong. Her next attempted diagnosis was laughable, and completely and wholly impossible, which just re-enforced that whatever the hell is happening is something way more serious than I first thought.
Damn. Now I'm scared. So apparently she doesn't have enough qualifications to diagnose me so I left with a referral to a specialist. Fucking hell I wish I never even bothered.
Afterwards I went to work with nothing occurring of great importance. At 6 I flew out the door and high-tailed it up to Pacific Fair where Miss Priss met me. The main purpose of the trip was to find a mask for the work Christmas party on the coming Saturday in which we had themed as 'Masquerade'. Me being me managed to blow $50 on one that I will probably never wear again.
Oh but that's not even the half of it! I spent about a month's pay in a space of 2 hours on 2 new dresses that I really did not need and new jewellery to match. I think it's because I was so preoccupied with my thoughts on the morning's events that I wasn't paying much attention to my bank account. Miss Priss decided to keep me company and stayed the night with me. It was nice to be distracted actually - and of all the people I'm glad it was her.
Friday was an early start, as both Miss Priss and I volunteered our services to the local Federal Coalition candidate. Much of the day was spent walking around the shopping centres in an attempt to prove to the voters the high risk that would be taken in not retaining the Coalition Government.
That night I went to Poodles' Christmas party at her house. I was quite glad to be given the excuse to escape myself for a few hours at least and I went to extra effort to dress in my imported Mollini shoes and new dress. It began to pour just as I arrived so I stumbled up the front path trying not to get wet or break my ankle in my freakishly high shoes.
Yes, and the first person that I ran into on the front veranda was none other than Bloke - the girl who bullied me into a state of deflated self esteem all the way back in primary school. Yes, very awkward.
I found Poodles who was already half drunk and she convinced me that I needed to talk to J who also went to my primary school. Due to his state of intoxication he hugged me like an old friend and dragged me around the back deck introducing me to people that I already knew and really had no desire to ever see again. Then I ran into W, my best friend from primary school. Honestly, I think I was more excited to see her than she was to see me but that may have been due to the minor fact that she was friends with basically everyone else there.
Conversation then managed to weave onto the topic of the following day's Federal Election and me being the passionate Liberal that I am had to loudly and proudly state my stance (It was also amplified by my blood alcohol level). I wouldn't call my response a very positive one - as the crowd started chanting "Kevin 07! Kevin 07!". Yeah, not happy so I sat on the sideline and drank.
Eventually I decided I needed to go home and sleep in preparation for Election Day, so I got out of making pasta bake (?) and drove home. On the way I believe I rang the delightful Mr T but all I recall from the conversation is me spilling the contents of my bag onto the ground, telling him about the cheese spread I was eating and being informed of the designer socks he had bought. Oh - and I was going on about lesbians??? Yeah beats me. I felt guilty about it when I woke up on Saturday though - and really embarrassed as I had no idea what I was dribbling on with.
Bright and early in the morning, I arrived at St Joey's where we were all set up for a day of polling. I was not in a very good mood though so when this arrogant, hippy, ALP lady who gave us Young Liberals a hard time at the last election starting carrying on with the corruption of the Coalition, I had to put a lid on my anger as I was running the risk of getting an assault charge.
At 11.30am I was shafted down the ass-end of the coast to Pottsville - despite my objection. Seems dickhead R.A didn't want to leave Banora Point as "I live here and why should I have to drive out of my way?". Yeah thanks loser, I'll just drive around all day. I just had to convince myself that it was for the good of the party.
I left Pottsville at 2pm and went home to shower and get ready for the masquerade Christmas party that night. A small group of us met as S's house as she was driving us to the party (which was in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley) so we could leave early if it turned out to be a dud.
Turns out the whole night sucked for a string of reasons - before we even got to the party I found out that the Coalition had lost government and the new Prime Minister of Australia is Kevin Rudd. Fuck off. What - are the citizens of Australia complete dumb asses or what???
I figured it was a good idea to drown my sorrows with a few cocktails (after all - they were free!) and of course that boosted my confidence - enough so to pick a fight with some guys wearing Kevin Rudd masks. I was lucky that I didn't get bashed - but I did punch one of the Kevin heads.
We left after about an hour and a half for an interesting trip home, in which there were 6 passengers, the driver was half pissed, on the phone and doing 140 kms in the rain. I think I may be lucky to be alive.
I got home at about 1am which was early, especially since the party was in Brisbane and I had to go straight to bed. I couldn't keep my eyes open.
Woke up prematurely today but got up anyway. Didn't go to church - I don't know why. Then I got this crazy idea that I should get a bit of a tan, so I lay out in the sun, still in my pyjamas, for about half an hour and now I have really retarded sunburn. Yep - I'm an idiot.
Then I feel like I walked around the house aimlessly. I was so bored and I had nothing to do, so I eventually killed enough time until the 3.30pm session of Elizabeth: The Golden Age. OMG - brilliant movie! Cate Blanchett had better get an Oscar for that. She was absolutely amazing.
I couldn't help but get a bit emotionally involved though - I really did feel so sorry for the Queen. It's like she was living this life that she really didn't have the strength to live, in which she could only do what was expected of her, and never what she expected of herself.
A small positive of the day is that I received a very uplifting text message from D:

The sky is a beautiful Liberal colour blue today my fellow Young Libs.
Hold your head high and keep in mind what our cause has achieved for this great nation over the past 11 years. Howard, a true statesman.

So I came home, felt unnervingly lonely, had a few drinks in front of Garden State and now here I am. Honestly, I feel like everything that I have done in the past few days is no reflection of the person that I am. Or perhaps it is now the person I used to be? People always say that it can take certain events to change a person's outlook on life but are my actions an outlook? Maybe I'm just losing the plot, or trying to prove something to myself and the rest of the world?
Oh seriously. I think if I can't sort my own life out, how can I expect anyone else to?

So long, Farewell, Auf wiedersehen, Goodnight

Probably one of the most frustrating things in the world is a failed attempt at sleep. Whether it be squeezing your eyes shut to block out the conscious, tossing and turning in frustration knowing you need a good night’s rest for that big day tomorrow, or just staring motionless into the blackness of night, I think we can all safely agree it is one of the negative’s of life. I can report on this matter as I believe myself to be the most difficult person to knock out – When undergoing surgery I needed two anaesthetics before they could put me out.
Ever since I was a little girl I have dreaded bedtime. Not only did I think of it as a waste of your life lying under a sheet with your eyes shut, but because I knew once I was there the lights would be off but with someone still home. For hours I would lay trying to switch off my brain and stop the constant chatter keeping me awake. And because of the God-awful hour at which the Sand Man finally came to me, it is no surprise that for the entirety of my life, I have not been a morning person.
However during the most difficult period of my life thus far (and I am hoping it will be the most difficult ever), sleep fought me and every weapon I had. No matter how exhausted or at what hour I climbed into bed, sleep would not find me until well past 2am, and would again wake me about 3 hours later. It was during this time that I perfected the skill of procrastination. I would distract myself with anything that could possibly put off my bedtime by another few minutes in the very least.
You all know the awful feeling of sleep standing you up. I used to toss and turn in frustration until I found it just as easy to lay quietly, with my eyes open gazing into the emptiness of my bedroom. Failing this? I would sit upright in the centre of my bed, hugging my knees... because it distracted me from the task at hand - the task that I was yet again, failing.
And so I am here creating this post for the mere purpose of procrastination. I have another doctor's appointment tomorrow in which I am hoping (and at the same time hoping NOT) to receive a diagnosis. I have this feeling of impending doom within my chest and I am continuing to relive the experiences of the tests that I underwent just the other day (let me just say that despite how brilliant the medical profession is, they still do some pretty horrible stuff to people). And so with these thoughts and feelings of worry and dread I know that this evening's slumber will not come without much persuasion. I think the only option I have left is to drink myself into a state of unconsciousness... but then I'd have a stuffed liver to add to the rest of me.

Back Post

If Blogger was not being the world's greatest prat last night that would have made 2 posts in 2 days. I think that's a little sad - even for me. Does that not say something about my state of affairs? I am on holidays from uni, have finished my exams and need not return until February 2008... and my time is being consumed with pointless posts.
Last night I had yet another argument with my mother (which is becoming more routine than spontaneous) and found myself in my room with no-one to call and no music loud enough to cover the screaming inside my head. So naturally, Blogger was my point of call and even this personified website was unavailable.
A long since abandoned remedy of mine in instances such as this was poetry. So yes, I got my Sylvia Plath out and wrote a poem which literally took no more than five minutes to whack together (and before someone finally answered their phone).
So in tribute to last night's lack of effort here is my attempt:

The world spins,
the force of its rotation grinding
into the blades of my shoulders.
Every physicality increases its weight –
Every stone, tree, every man, woman and child.
I feel my body ache with the burden,
my head spin with the torment.
A break occurs below the knees,
silent tears flow –
I will not cry out.

As yet another son is born
another of my bones breaks.
Falling to my knees I plead to my God –
Take away the sins of the world.
Take me Father, and set me free.

Timeless

Well I will admit that although very little of my circumstances have changed, I do feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
After a rather painful day at work on Sunday, I met with the delightful Miss Priss for what was anticipated to be a cup of coffee. I swung by her residence then we headed for the beachfront Gloria Jean's in Coolangatta - although funnily enough, we didn't quite make it inside.
Whilst parking the car we had entered into a meaningful conversation about our thoughts, feelings and theories on the world. There never did seem to be an appropriate moment to step back into the world: the constraints of my vehicle not only provided shelter from the drizzling rain, but it released all inhibitions and for the first time in my life I found my exact thoughts pouring upon listening ears. I did not have difficulty choosing the right words, or fearing that I truly did appear screwed up in the head. I think that's because Miss Priss just accepts me for who I am. I need not conform into the parameters set by society or entertain her with gossip from former classmates; being myself is enough.
I think we must have sat in the car for nearing on 2 hours, but we both agreed that time had stood still. We were the axis of the universe, and the world surrounding us continued to spin (actually, that reminds me of a poem I wrote towards the end of Year 11... One day I may feel able to share it).
It was only in the last moments of our timeless discussion that I finally felt able to reveal the biggest concern that is currently plaguing my days and nights. I told her of my doctors visit, the exchange of words, the ordered tests and the bottom line - what she was looking for. It was not only the first time I had said it out loud but also the first time I had said it to myself. I think I was a little overwhelmed - I wasn't really sure what to think, how to feel.
Miss Priss cried - yeah that made me feel better!
Surprisingly though, I didn't - maybe I'm stronger than I thought I was.
Maybe I don't really care.
Maybe it's just fate - written into the script of life before I even took my first breath, because some things are just meant to be.
So I must have looked like a stunned mullet and Miss Priss couldn't believe that I hadn't told anyone before that moment. I told her I couldn't - not until I knew for sure, because I'm not the little girl who cried wolf. She told me that I shouldn't have to do it alone, and because I'd told her she's in it now for the long haul.
And in concluding that thought, we stepped back into the world and allowed time to restart.

?

Yes, it is still raining.
I swear I am in the world's worst mood ever so I have had to put myself into seclusion for the fear of committing murder.
Had an exam this morning - ironically enough, for mental health. Let me just say I am very mentally unhealthy after that. Was almost late too - had to leave at 7.30, and woke up at 7.22. Great start to the day.
Felt my spirits lift a little as I had coffee with Lil G, and sat in Gloria Jeans for well over an hour chatting about the insignificant aspects of the world. I helped her choose a dress for her sister's birthday dinner and dropped her home. Just as I was heading home myself, it began to pour. Great.
It wasn't until I got home at 4pm that I realised I hadn't eaten lunch. Now my tummy is full of a gurgly mess - What? Food? I remember that - vaguely...
That's what bloody stress does to you.
When I'm stressed I'm a completely different person. I fight with everyone and don't give a shit about the world. Even my posts don't make sense - no wonder no-one reads them.
Before I give the impression that I really am losing the plot, I'm going to sign off.
I'll be back when I find my sanity. (Oops - too late!)

Wet

It never rains, it pours.
Ironic, considering the weather has been wet for the past 2 days.
The start of my very long string of worries began last Wednesday when I, along with my Speech and Drama students had our exams through Trinity Guildhall. The difference being that the children were undergoing practical performance and theory exams, and I had my teaching exam. The syllabus required me to teach either an individual or a group via a pre-planned lesson for 30 minutes duration, and then have a viva voce (discussion) with the examiner for 15 minutes.
Well, at the conclusion of my lesson with A., I felt confident as I sat with the examiner to discuss various topics. My confidence was quickly diminished as this arrogant Scottish man felt the need to condescend my every comment until he felt the need to teach me, during an exam in which I was supposed to teach others.
I walked out feeling very self-conscious and then had to spend the remainder of the afternoon putting on a smiling face for the other children who had worked so hard and were confident after their exams. Gosh, it nearly killed me.
Wednesday night was spent with Mrs Borat studying for an exam the following Monday, and Thursday involved a trip to Uni, failing an assignment and going to work in an unbelievably bad mood that could not be justified to anyone as I feared an emotional breakdown.
Friday -
Study at Uni and basking in Mrs Borat's hangover.
Saturday -
Test-driving new vehicles but disappointment again as the car that I had formerly idolised turned out to be cumbersome to drive in the very least.
A visit to the Vigil Mass in an attempt to relieve my state of depression, then dinner with the delightful Poodles who has just returned from an archaeological dig in French Polynesia.
Sunday -
Another day at the office with an absolute creep for a manager. That is until home time when news was received of a double-fatal car accident in a fellow co-worker P. was involved. Thankfully she got out alive, but her friend in the backseat was not so lucky. Gosh did that hurt - I didn't even know the guy but it sends shivers down my spine.
One of the girls from work and I went to Emergency Department where P. still was but I felt completely useless - it's was that damn 'barbed wire snare'. My sentences were only short and uneventful for the fear of crying for all those involved, and because the lump in my throat wouldn't allow much else. We spoke with her brother who eventually choked out the graphic story, and explained that he was the first on the scene, as the accident occurred in the front of their house. Gosh did P. look a mess. It really cut me to see her so upset and the vacant look in her eyes haunted me for a good while after.
Returning home was hard because my family actually saw the accident only minutes after it happened, and my brother showed particular distress when he had seen the deceased motorbike rider on the road.
Study was completely off the agenda, despite my final Pathophysiology and Pharmacology 2 exam the following morning. My head hurt too much for more pain.
Monday -
Yes. Patho Phys exam.
Mrs Borat and I were late (oops) and rushed into the exam room minutes before it commenced.
Overall, the exam sucked and I have my fingers crossed for a pass.
The afternoon involved a what I believed to be insignificant visit to the doctor but has since caused me a lot of inner grief and worry. I should feel grateful that I have a really good doctor and she actually listens to what I have to say, but when she told me what she was looking for in the tests that she has ordered I had a silent freak out. I should be thankful that she's not treating me like a piece of meat and aiming her speech directly over my head but me being the worrier that I am; I'm stressed.
I then trekked off the do some delightful stock take during which I was inundated with stupid 15 year olds who didn't understand anything until it was explained about 10 times. Stress levels were very high in addition to my swirling thoughts on the afternoon's doctors visit.
Sleep was difficult but I eventually woke on Tuesday morning after a just plain cruel dream, in which my night mind was taunting me about this possible medical condition.
Tuesday -
Work.
Hours extended from 3 to 8.
Yay - money.
Stress levels elevated to maximum level with never-ending jobs, the dread of having to approach my manager over a work related issue, lack of preparation for exams and health concerns.
Positive of the day - small potential win on the Melbourne Cup. Don't know how to gamble so wouldn't have a clue.
Wednesday (today) -
Blood tests this morning and my God! I swear I have no blood left!
Appointment made for additional tests but due to waiting times will be forced to strew in a pit of my own worry for another 2 weeks.
Currently procrastinating by blogging and editing my Hotmail contacts.
Should probably study.
Probably.
Probably not.