ARGH!

My head is itching like crazy, I think it's something to do with lithium, which I have now been on for some months. It's also flaking and scaly.
I looked this up on the internet and apparently it is called lithium psoriasis. Trip to the Dr's (again) for me I think.

Mood swingitus

The past few weeks have been pretty rough for me, sorry I haven't posted.
Have had some family issues and have been in the "manic" phase of my bipolar.

My mind races, I stop eating, I don't sleep for days. Eventually I collapse. But probably thanks to the lithium it has calmed down much more quickly than it normally does. Smoking pot gives me an appetite even if I am manic, and that is a good thing because without it I end up much more physically ill, drained and feeling sick.

I'm gonna bugger off, and smoke my 50th fag of the day. A bad habit which afflicts bipolar people much more than unipolar or normal people.

Playing Nursie

My Father has just had his stitches out, he had an operation on his hand a few weeks ago, and I've been busy playing nurse, cleaning it and changing his dressing.
He didn't complain at all while the nurse was digging a stitch out of his hand, I would have been whinging bitterly!
It has given me a chance to practice dressing a hand, I've not had much practice with that!

Modest swimsuit....

High fashion for the modest among us!

I just love, love LOVE this neat redesign, made from swimsuits. It's good enough to wear out, let alone the pool! I love modest designs, being less than comfortable with my figure, but this is just perfect!

Are elderly people worthless?

So, my Great-Grandmother (who is 99, 100 in august, happy birthday nan!) got a call from her doctors surgery. She just had some bloodwork done so her and her daughter (my nan, 77, her carer) went to the doctors thinking it was something to do with that.

It wasn't. In fact the Dr called her in to ask her if she would like to be resuscitated "if" something happened.

My Great-grandmother is far from tired of life, she said, "yes, of course I would want resus".

The doctor went on to tell her the surgery has been asked to get this information, and to illiustrate the "pitfalls" of resus. Yeah, like not being dead......

She again explained she wanted resus, and the doctor then proceeded to blank her, talking instead to my grandmother, asking her to "talk" to my g-nan about it when they got home.

I am horrified. Are our elderly people in the U.K now defined by how much it costs to keep them alive?

Hate the Sin, but Love the Sinner

Some of my family are what I would not hesitate to call "Fundamentalist Christians".

They don't like my lifestyle, they don't agree with it.

By "lifestyle" I mean that  am bisexual. Now, for me, that's not a "lifestyle"choice. I have no more control over who I fall in love with, than a straight person. But to one particular member of my family it is a "choice" and if I would not "surrender myself to Jesus" so he could "cleanse me of my sin" this family member does not want me around their children.

I am deeply wounded by this. Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner? I'm feeling pretty hated right now.

In addition, I used to be a Christian, of strong faith. I loved the bible, I love singing hymns. I did truly love Jesus. None of this "cleansed me" of my same sex attraction. And truly, I offered it up to the Lord.

I was not "cleansed".

I don't believe that I can be. I've come further in my journey of discovery since then, since I believed that my same sex attraction automatically meant I was a raving lesbian (not that there is anything wrong with that, I love lesbians ;) ) and realised I was still attracted to men. See, I didn't even realise there was this third option (bisexuality).

The crux of what really upsets me about this situation is that this family member has this odd double-think going on, they can somehow tell me they love me, but at the same time genuinely believe that my sexual orientation makes me a paedophile, not fit to be around children. I don't know what that says about their opinion of my parenting, but surely it can't be anything good.

My current partner is male( barely) and you would think this would satisfy them, but no, because we are unmarried we are sinning.

Maybe it just doesn't matter and I'm being crazy?

Norovirus. Horrible. Ick.

So, what a lovely weekend I had. Child ill, Partner ill (we think its the norovirus) took up all of my relaxation time. Now, I've started throwing up. That would be fine if I didn't have stuff to do!

I also had (in between waking periods during which I felt pretty crappy) a vivid dream, in which I was wearing a skirt and trainers/sneakers (which I would NEVER do, fashion no no!) and freaked out, then I realised that my partner was dressed the same. He found this amusing. Fever dreams are weird!

I'm hoping I don't pass it on to my dad, he would not be amused, as he gets no sickpay at his work.

http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Norovirus/Pages/Introduction.aspx

I have terrible dreams.

The woman flicked on the radio, and radio one flooded the kitchen at a deafening volume; she deftly turned it down with one hand, and popped the cereal packet open with the other. Her toddler and husband were not yet up, but, as she reminded herself, it"s Sunday. She decided to give them another ten minutes and get breakfast ready first. Co-co pops, muesli and juice poured into the correct receptacles, she walked up the stairs to wake them.

The smell in the front bedroom was nauseating, but the woman seemed not to notice as she brushed her hair back into a pony tail. There wasn"t a lot left, the hairbrush had almost vanished and resembled fairground candy floss, a huge bundle of long, dirty blonde strands, crusted here and there with dried blood. In the process of pulling it back, she opened a sore, and the clear plasma ran down the back of her neck, staining her Sunday frock.
Her makeup was spilt over the dressing table, her husband had used nearly all of the foundation trying to cover the fissures around his eyes and nose, they had frightened Lucy, and especially on that day, he hadn"t wanted her to be afraid.
She shook her husband, smiling, 'wake up Jim, breakfast!'
Twenty minutes later she was still shaking him, clouds of small black flies filled the room, the duvet cover rancid with body fluid. The smile was fixated, and her eyes distant. (the flies crawled into the corners of them and lapped at the fluid) She pulled the body out of the bed and began to drag it out of the bedroom, still murmuring to herself. Jim had been dead for nearly a month, and had not eaten for the last two weeks of his life. Always a small man he now weighed little over six stone, but Marie was so weak she fell down the last three steps of the stair and sat there for a moment sobbing hysterically before shakily standing upright and continuing to move him into the kitchen.
Jim sat down at the table, and glanced disapprovingly at the radio, Marie turned it off remembering that he couldn"t stand television or music when he was still half asleep and dropped the newspaper on the table next to his glass of juice. He hardly saw their daughter, commuting into London took up a lot of his time, Marie felt guilty now, at the time she had been desperate that her child should be raised in a quieter more open place than she had been; but the same job that had allowed them to afford their lovely cottage also ensured that he was always too tired to enjoy it. Marie spent every weekend trying to atone for that, and this weekend would be no different. She ruffled her fingers through his hair on her way up to get Lucy.
Rubbing the loose strands of hair off of her hands and onto the filthy apron (an action she repeated compulsively, leaving smears of red as she lifted her nails further from the skin), She staggered back up to her daughter"s room, leaning against the banister and wheezing painfully as she went.
It suddenly occurred to Marie that she has been so busy preparing food that she had not yet brushed her teeth, she elbowed the bathroom door open and noted that there was still plenty of toilet paper and a clean towel.
And threw up in the sink, then grabbed the toothbrush and turning on the tap held it under the imaginary stream of water. Opening her mouth, and causing bleeding in the corners of her cracked and dry mouth, she began to scrub, when she spat, she spat out pus and a tooth.
Her daughter looked angelic as only sleeping children can, thinking that Jim might like a few moments of peace before the three year old commenced her usual rampage Marie lay down on the mattress next to her, she felt so tired, but, he would be upstairs in a while to shower, and that would wake her.
Marie pulled the now pliable remains into her arms, and humming softly closed her eyes. Five minutes later all was quiet, Jim didn"t take his shower, and so there was nothing to wake Marie.
Later a motley group of youths walked into the house through the open patio doors, they had taken what they had needed from the abandoned houses off of the M25, and despoiled the corpses they had found in some. They laughed at the man propped upright in the kitchen, and threw the radio through a window. They found Marie and the remains of the child in the pink and still spotless bedroom, teddies lined the shelves, the sheets, recently changed, were still crisp and white. The woman was obviously only recently dead, her face, despite the lesions, serene and peaceful, her arm protectively around the little one. The room still smelt of fabric conditioner and Yardley perfume, the open window...
'Its summer, Lucy will overheat without fresh air'

....ensured the smell of decay had not lingered there.

After standing a moment in silence, they left. The oldest boy pulled the patio doors shut behind them. They found a can of petrol in the shed, and poured it over the kindling and piles of newspaper they stuffed into the corners of every room, and under the child"s bed, quietly, as if worried they might wake them. The man was brought upstairs (they were long since hardened to the smell) and the cover lifted so he could be laid gently down, next to them. Having dropped a match onto each pile they ran, and stood outside, wordlessly, watching the fire take, and uncontrolled, consume the building.
The next day one of them would take all of Maries sleeping tablets and drink the bottle of vodka they had taken from the dining room. One of the group had poured some of it into an empty glass on the kitchen table, and was still suffering terrible stomach cramps.
Unbeknown to him that had been jims final gesture of love, the child had died quickly in his arms and he with her, even after she had stopped breathing he had carried on singing to her,
'Bedtime song!'

Tears streaming down his face until finally they stopped running and him with them. If Marie had not been so far gone in the delusion her mind had created to protect her from the horror, she would have drunk hers as well. Despite his pleas to drink,

'You must be thirsty love'

She had wanted to empty the still dirty washing from the useless machine.

The fire crackled. The flames consumed all, the ashes rose on the breeze.

Then, there was peace.

Failure to sleep..

So, no sleep for me, I think I've gone past the point of tiredness tonight.

I thought I would tell you all a little about myself before I wade into serious stuff in my next few posts.

My name is Victoria, my nickname is Tori. I was handed this moniker by my first boyfriend, Toby, who is now my partner, we split up after five years together in 2001, and have now been back together for six months. I will get into this more at some point, because it really is quite a story. I am currently deliriously happy.

I am a Celtic Pagan, (following my Irish roots I guess!). I came to a place where Christianity and the Church were doing me nothing but harm. I was outed as a lesbian (I'm actually bisexual) while at military boarding school. To say that it was hell doesn't do the whole drama justice. It stripped me of my faith in people, and God. (Again, more about this another time!) and paganism offered me an accepting and fairly practical alternative.

I am also Bipolar.

This far more than my religion or sexuality defines my life. I wish it didn't, but it does. The daily regime or pills, including lithium, dictate when I sleep, even eat. The periods of depression are soul searing, but I have now not made an attempt on my life for five years.

It is probably sad that this feels like a real achievement.

I strive to remain healthy for my little one, she needs me, she doesn't have a dad.

I warn you all that my moodswings show in my writing, if I am depressed, you will know all about it! I'm kind of hoping this blog will help me deal with this aspect of my life. I often feel very alone.

If you are depressed, or desperate, comment, and I will take time to respond. I know better than most how desperation feels.

Now, I'm off, to write you all a story :)

The Joys of Parenthood

I have had a really crappy day. My little one has been ill all day, which I hate. Even after giving her painkillers, lucozade, and buying all her favourite foods in an attempt to get her to eat I still felt useless.

My partner has also been horribly ill, so I've been calling every few hours to satisfy myself that he is okay, which mostly he hasn't been.

I promise to be good with this blog, and to write often, but today this is all you get! I'm going to drink a nice cold ale, and finally get some much needed sleep. peace out! xxx