I'm neither pretty nor pleasant to be around when I'm sick, yet I crave being loved on. Since I live alone, it was only my stuffed orange fluffy thing and a blanket that kept me company --- along with my cell phone, so I could talk on AIM and text people. Depressing, yes.

Missed church today. I didn't have a ride and I couldn't have gone even if I had found one. I wanted to go to church because it was Communion Sunday. I wanted to see friends, get some hugs, enjoy wonderful music, and not have to feel so abandoned. When I am at church, I tend to let my guard down more and usually end up crying. Crying feels good sometimes and I feel safe crying there, yet I don't know why. I really wanted to go, but I was really sick last night.

I missed work yesterday and today at the grocery store. I'm determined to go in and sack for 3 hours tomorrow. I need the money and I am feeling better as time passes. If my fever manages to stay down tonight, I should have no problem making it in.

So, I have a headache from hell and my nose is running faster than I can catch it. I'm sneezing, coughing, and blowing my nose a ton. Still have a fever, but it has slowly gone down enough for me to be hungry and thirsty again. The nausea has calmed down too. I feel yucky. I feel like I have the flu.

We'll muse on solitude today with scattered thoughts. By solitude we mean the state of living alone and a bit secluded from society. We prefer the Latin term to loneliness because it sounds less negative and more neutral to us.

Can solitude be a positive choice? In a world where singles are growing, it doesn’t seem such an absurd question. Well, one should first know if the majority of those who live without a partner (which doesn't imply seclusion from society, of course) are willing singles or not.

In any case, and apart from singles who are a special case, what we see are people who can live a good or decent life alone, while others just can't. It's like there were a creative solitude and a destructive one. Another point is that some people seem capable of governing their solitude while others do not. Complicated (and interesting) topic, in any case.

The symbol of extreme solitude seems to me that of the hermit, of a person who confines himself to a hermitage. Nikos Kazantzakis went to visit various hermitages where monks lived alone and he noticed that some looked serene, while others instead were like destroyed by their loneliness. They were not human beings any more. They were like larvae. It was as if their brain had been digested by its own juices.

Well, solitude exerts its charm on us, no doubt. It could be an inclination, it could be the myth of self-sufficiency, the myth of the sage of antiquity who has everything he needs within himself, of the wise old man who has "like unsinkable goods in his soul that can float out of any shipwreck", like Antisthenes said. According to Roman Seneca, a certain Stilpo, a philosopher, lost his family and all his goods and, when asked if he had suffered any harm, he replied: no, I haven't.

Well, this strength seems inhuman to us and it is not by chance that in the antiquity such cases were cited as examples, being certainly rare examples.

So we are kind of fascinated by solitude and this is also why we are fond of Michel de Montaigne who in 1571 retired from public life to his lands living in the tower of his château which had a library with 1,500 books. There he wrote down all his musings, seeming to him that "the greatest favour I could do for my mind was to leave it in total idleness, caring for itself, concerned only with itself, calmly thinking of itself."

So he let his mind dance and care for its dancing only, which can be a dangerous thing indeed. I think though he clearly perceived this danger, since in fact he wrote that our mind is like a garden, with thousands of different weeds that we have to subdue "with seeds specifically sown for our service", for, "when the soul is without a definite aim she gets lost": being everywhere is like being nowhere (I:8. On idleness).
In other words, I would add, a good aid in governing our solitude could surely be one or more projects, one or more goals. This is why people who retire and live in slack inertia die sooner (or become lunatics).

People around me say: « Je-sus, cut out this fable about solitude, will you for Chrissake? Aren't love, affection and company always better than living alone? ».

Well, yes, of course, and yet ... darn, what I'm sure about is that, in a city like Rome, where everybody is sociable, loners do not have a place and are seen like weird birds, to tell you the truth. Even just eating alone in a restaurant sometimes makes you a freak. This doesn't happen in Germany or in the UK.

Magister kept saying we need to fight against any anti-social impulse that we have in us. I can agree, but loads of things can be achieved only if we retire to our own shell: writing, reading, composing music, meditating etc. And these are things on whose positiveness everyone agrees.

Solitude however must be a free choice. If we are often alone because we are afraid of others, because of complexes or any possible feeling of inadequacy, this falls back within the ambit of those mentioned anti-social impulses we've got to fight against.

Cutting All Ties

Living alone can be furthermore associated with the idea of a departure from all, with the idea of cutting any tie we have. Here comes back the archetype of the sage, of the wise man who leaves family and friends in order to go on a spiritual journey. See Herman Hesse's Siddhartha; or Jesus' disciples, whom he called to leave their families and follow him.

However, cutting all ties and going on our own can sometimes mean an escape from our problems and responsibilities. We leave in search of enlightenment though deep inside we are only running away from our obligations, from our fears and anxieties.

We decide to live thousands of miles from home without thinking that, as Roman Horace said, post equitem sedet atra cura, "behind the departing horseman sits black care."
Montaigne refers that Socrates thus replied to a person who told him that a man had not been improved by travelling away: "I am sure he was not: he went with himself." (I:39 On Solitude).

Wherever we go, we cannot flee from ourselves. Only when we set our heart free from any burden or problem (or obligation) are we free to decide whether to live alone or not; whether to stay or to leave on a journey for a new life.

Selfishness and cowardice are always to be condemned.

The awakening progressed from that date.  I had just the day before changed the theme on my blog.  The old tagline just wasn’t working for me and those three lines struck me as ideal for the website banner.  Now, I see them every time I looked at the site.  They wouldn’t leave me alone and they ended up in more posts.  It wasn’t a new idea.  Its always been there for me to realize.  I guess I just wasn’t ready.  I sort of marinated in the idea for a while. 

Oh, I would so much prefer the mystic of being a seeker . . . Those that are tormented or driven in their searches.  Their pursuits, so arcane and anguished, seem ever so much more consequential.  What a marvelous and romantic cloak to wrap one’s self in.  Unfortunately, that particular garment doesn’t fit me. Those things that I strive for, once attained, are never gratifying or satisfying.

Wanderer . . . Now there is a coat that fits me.  My wanderings have been more of a spiritual nature than a geographic one.  Though I have tried seeking meaning and truth, I have yet to find it in those places I have sought.  It is much more likely for me to stumble over meaning and have truth sucker punch me.  I seem to have to wonder at all I come across before I can assimilate it and make it part of the veracity that crafts me. 

The acceptance is now simple.  I’m not that which I had thought I was.  I am no seeker.  I am a wanderer and a wonderer.  I follow no path.  I have no real goal.  I question everything.  Mine is a spontaneous journey of discovery.  Fate, a better judge of that I must learn in this life, steers my course.  Karma provides me spiritual guides in the strangest of people.  Destiny is the only road map I have to follow.  Each new advancement, nothing I could anticipate, but in hindsight, the growth I truly needed to evolve.

So if you haven’t looked yet, the words . . .

Lost I may yet reach my goal

Without finding all that I seek

I may still be made whole

Waiting for me just like

I'm waiting for him.

Feeling the same things

I'm feeling right now,

Thinking there may never

be an end to the loneliness,

The longing,

The void that grows with

each passing minute.

He's out there,

Somewhere,

Dreaming of me,

-Miriam Perez

Many of my fellow Jamaican and Caribbean people struggle with Loneliness. This is being experienced not only by adults but by our children. The migration of friends and family to "Other waters" often leaves a major gap in peoples social world that can lead to many emotional and physiological problems. I see this in my practice where clients will tell me of the deep pain of being disconnected from those whom they love or feel a deep attachment. Sometimes this leads to episodes of Depression for others its the emergence of anxiety symptoms.

Loneliness for Caribbean people as among any people group is not just related to migration. It comes out of the challenged relationships people forge with family, friends, peers et cetera. When there is disruption in these relationships people can end up feeling lonely and isolated.

The issue of communication i feel plays a major role in this. We struggle as a people to listen to each other. We struggle to listen to the underlined needs being expressed during the process of dialogue with our significant others. Jamaicans for example can be very hung up on the "Tone"  people speak in as this is part of the communication style. So if i speak in a tone that is offensive to you, then you tune me out and do not hear the facts or the message I am trying to send during my conversation with you. If this continues this will lead to frustration and eventually emotional isolation. wow be the tide if I am your child and i don't have the acquired skills to communicate what is my core issue. We must off course manage out attitudes towards each other but we must also learn to listen to the facts and address those issues. Because behind feelings are needs we must also learn the skill of listening to that as well. This prevents the damage of being disconnected for too long.

Recent studies from the University of Chicago highlight the dangers of loneliness on the human being. The study shows:

Feelings of loneliness take a variety of forms, Cacioppo said.
“There are three core dimensions to feeling lonely—intimate isolation, which comes from not having anyone in your life you feel affirms who you are; relational isolation, which comes from not having face-to-face contacts that are rewarding; and collective isolation, which comes from not feeling that you’re part of a group or collective beyond individual existence,” he said.
It is not solitude or physical isolation itself, but rather the subjective sense of isolation that Cacioppo’s work shows to be so profoundly disruptive.

The studies, reported in a new book, Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection, show that a sense of rejection or isolation disrupts not only abilities, will power and perseverance, but also key cellular processes deep within the human body.
The findings suggest that chronic loneliness belongs among health risk factors such as smoking, obesity or lack of exercise, according to lead author John Cacioppo, the Tiffany & Margaret Blake Distinguished Service Professor in Psychology at the University.

“Loneliness not only alters behavior, but loneliness is related to greater resistance to blood flow through your cardiovascular system,” Cacioppo said.

“Loneliness leads to higher rises in morning levels of the stress hormone cortisol, altered gene expression in immune cells, poorer immune function, higher blood pressure and an increased level of depression.
Loneliness also is related to difficulty getting a deep sleep and a faster progression of Alzheimer’s disease, said Cacioppo.

The experience of Loneliness is often  part of the pain of Mental illness. Please take time to reach out to those whom you know are suffering with an illness that affects their brain. Sometimes it is simply being "Present" that helps persons who struggle in this area of life.

As a Therapist I seek to be present with my clients. Often there is silence, sometimes anger, sometimes peels of laughter as the realization that someone really want to be there for them in that moment.

To you who are struggling with Loneliness I encourage you to sit down with someone to talk about it. Plan times in your busy schedule to sit with those who will listen and consider investing in a pet.  Though pets are not human they give unconditional love and attention, especially dogs, plus the care of a pet is know to lower your blood pressure and improve your well being. Caring for the pet may also bring you in touch with other pet lovers and thus provide social contact which may provide opportunity to deal with your loneliness. Until next time!

No. It wasn't easy. I thought it would be, but judging from the shite state that I was in since Friday night, I'm going to have to admit that no, it bloody well wasn't fucking easy.

It's amazing how many people want to drink with me the moment I announced my September Vow of Abstinence! I was all, "We can still go out and do coffee!" They were like, "Well, come out anyway! You don't have to drink. Just party with us!"

The fundamental loser-y thing about me is that I am unable to go "party" or hit the clubs without partaking in some alcoholic beverages. Trying to stay clean and sober and unbroke this month, there is no way that I can be at these places and not drink. The temptation is too great and we all know that I have no self-control. One leads to two leads to three leads to four... there's a reason why I'm abstaining this month. Reason Number 1: Just to see if I can. Reason Number 2: The Boys are fasting and therefore, I shall join them. Reason Number 3: There's no Reason Number 3. Fuck off.

I can't believe it's only the 7th. Why can't it be October already?

Sheesh. I was so bored, bored, bored out of my mind this weekend! I wanted to kill myself. All alone, I stayed in bed the whole day yesterday, sleeping, and reading. I only got myself out of bed for food and for Sergeant Keroro. I LOVE SERGEANT KERORO! My brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton-wool.

No company. No alcohol. :(

My drinking buddies had other commitments. My non-drinking buddies were all busy being loved up and doing couple-y things. I felt so unwanted and alone. Sometimes, being single sucks.

Well, I could always take up a hobby or something. Hmm... scrapbooking? Stamp-collecting? Cross-stitching? Fuck. I dunno. Maybe join a salsa class or something. *shrugs* I dunno.

Whatever.

However, getting annoyed is not the full condition making me empty, no, feel empty anyway. I feel more like I'm incompletely lost rather than that I've got annoyed. That stupid blog service site has got all my past thoughts gone, I mean, no matter whether they are garbage or not, they have been part of my life and thus they are important at least to me. Fortunately, I have a so strong memory that I can even remember my friend's comment made 10 days ago about a girl we came across that day. The point is I can remember incompletely now but one day I will lose those memories all. Even though from my point of view, the majority of what I have wrote on that blog is was about my spiritually miserable experiences, with the rest of them being art works, I would never want them to disappear, really. One of the reasons why I'm recording things is, I believe the saying that, things that only happen once do not count (have no meanings), by a philosopher of whom I don't remember the name though he is dedinitely famous. I don't want my life to be meaningless and other people's neither. Now, look what occurred. I not only feel sorry for the lost of my own but also for that of my acquaintance.

Since it happened, probably I will not be able to laugh at my past as much as I firstly expected, which can recall me much. I am now still in Japan and I can access to wordpress.com, but for my friends in China it could be so hard for them to visit cos it is blocked, what you guys need is a strong and stable proxy and please do find one, because I'm a bit lonely, Ok, more than a bit..

Your poor parents, they are so needing people to hang out with. You can tell they're so lonely. Why don't people come visit them?

~*~

Then the King will say to those on his right, 'I was sick, and you visited Me...' The King will answer and say to them, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.'
- Matthew 25: 36, 40

I found the service receipt for the ring he bought me.. I was supposed to keep it till I could get it resized and I never did.. I feel horrible. I thought about getting it resized when I go home next, for no reason in particular.. just.. because.. *shrug*

He's gone away to New York for now.. to seal away the part of his heart where I used to be.. and even though he says he's vindicated me.. I can't help but still feel guilty, like this was all my fault. I should have been stronger, and I should have kept going.. kept trying.. but instead I let my friends hurt him in the end, and I shouldn't have. I talked to one of his girl friends yesterday.. sent her a message on myspace.. we talked and she made me realize that maybe I wasn't the right one for him. She says she knew from the beginning I wasn't the one.. and I'm thinking she was right. *sigh*

i miss him.

Here are the rules:

a) Answer the question below, do a Google Image search with your answer, take a picture from the 1st page of results, do it with minimal words of explanation; and
b) Tag 5 people to do the same once you’ve finished answering every question. (my tags are at the bottom of the post)

1. The age you’ll be on your next birthday:

2. Place you want to travel to: Machu Pichu in Peru

and

  on a goldwing motorcycle.

3. Your favorite place:

4. Your favorite food: Oh yeah, and CHOCOLATE!

5. Your favorite pet: You won't believe this but I Googled Milo kitten and my own dear little kitten appeared on page one!

6. Favorite color combination: for decor any shade of green!

7. Favorite piece of clothing: preferably silk!

8. Your all time favorite song:

Liebesraum = Song of Love

9. Favorite TV show:

10. First name of your significant other: This handsome guy and my love share the same name: Hans Peda (Pierre for short!)

11. Which town do you live in: Sidmouth

12. Your screen name/nickname: Author - I loved that an empty book came up!

13. Your first job: Nurse

14. Your dream job: barrister / lawyer

15. One bad habit that you have: Impatience!

16. Worst fear:

17: Things you’d like to do before you die: (not necessarily monetry - although that would be nice!)

18. The 1st thing you’ll buy do if you get $1,000,000: retire!

19. Your husband /wife:

20. What present would you like for your next birthday? I get the love anyway - so a sexy new car please!

That was fun! I tag (if you have time) :

Mark from Planet Romach

Tina from Tall Chick Tales

Melanie from Spatula Handle

Mrs Nascar from Ivey's story

Eiain from My Prozac Cocoon

OK?

I have been on edge. Tense, nervous, snappy.

I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a high cliff-top, looking down at the ground far below.
The butterflies are going wild in my stomach. Fear lurks in the background.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I'm unable to concentrate on anything.

There is a mounting list of tasks to complete for the coming week, but I'm unable to bring myself to look at any of the work.

Everything is buzzing, like an overload of electricity.

Even my breathing is erratic at times.

I'm hungry, but I am not.
Upon looking at food, the desire for it disappears.

When will this miserable winter end? The grey stretches long into the horizon, an eternity it seems...

I would like to think that I've been handling myself pretty well here in university. It's not like I've been going to the wild parties and it's not like I've been homesick, but the truth is, orientation week is nothing like university life. In the future, I won't get the option of waking up late, I'll have concepts to study for and assignments to do. I really have no idea what it will be like

The unknown is something that raises a lot of fears, even in my life, I have to admit. I worry about how well I'll be able to do in my courses and whether or not I'll be able to keep up but I also worry about my social life. I'm not a very social kind of person. Well, yes, I can be completely cool around strangers, it's just making the closer friends that I'm worried about. I have some people that I know are here at Waterloo, but they're in different programs and I doubt I'll be able to see them much. Especially Charles and Corina. Charles is in a whole other faculty, and Corina... well, she's never needed me before.

Looking around today, I noticed that though most people have only been around for a week, people are already starting to pair up. It kind of makes me want to get a girlfriend too, if not for anything else than because I just want to feel like I'm important to somebody. I know I shouldn't, though, because somewhere, somehow deep inside of me, I know that a girlfriend would still be unfulfilling.

In the back of my mind, I know that I'll have to turn to God. Yet here I am, just hoping that there would be another way.

Please don't mind these friday night ramblings. 

 Sweetiegirlz is deeply upset tonight for what might seem like a ridiculous reason to some.  If you knew my full life story you would understand why 'loneliness' like what afflicts me tonight is so irritating to me.  

 The day was boring.  I knew it would be.  I slept til noon. 

 Without a car, I haven't many places to go.  I could just walk or ride the bike, take pictures(which I did in the evening), crochet, or whatever. 

None of that is helping right now. 

 Doug is in school, in TX with even longer hours than he keeps here.

  He called earlier.  Talking about how the "boys" called his hotel room telling him to come and drink beer with them. 

Typical of Doug, he says "I just dont feel like going"  (it's friday, no school for him tommorrow). 

Well, heck let me trade places with you, I almost told him, I wouldn't mind going to have a beer or two right now. 

 I AM SOOOOO ALONE.

 i hate it.  Loneliness feels like a thick blanket of suffocating fog on me.

  There's so many people who "have a life"  right now.  When I am alone with no one to speak to, I feel like I am not worth anything,  pretty much imprisoned by unhappiness. 

What did I do to get this prison sentence?   I came back with Doug somewhere where 'sleepy little town' does not begin to describe this place.

  Usually quite adept at socialization, I thought by now, I would at least have  a FEW friends to go out with. 

I thought weekends at least would be somewhat a little interesting with all the live music, movies, malls, and restaurants there are in Kansas City.

  Last night I chatted with someone online.  The brief time I was on with this person felt like a load of bricks just lifted off my shoulders. 

 This person understood me,  We understood each other.

  Then as quickly as I had spoke to them, I closed the window and went off to sleep.  a real person.  Somewhere.

  Feeling as I did.  Amazing. 

 Tonight, a different story.  Tears just stinging my eyes. 

Overeating.  Wallowing in self pity. The usual TV shows are boring me to death. 

I'm usually a problem solver who wouldn't put up with a situation for very long without changing it or getting out of it in some way.

 Not tonight. 

 Doug and I talked and he's been great about calling once or twice a day.

  I was telling him about Prince and going to the park with the gurlz. 

 Without comment, he switches to some military stuff to talk about. 

 I said, "did you even hear me?"

"yeah, he says, you were talking about the dog in the park, how'd that go?" 

  Okay nevermind. 

I know,  he eats breathes and sleeps Army.

  He's anxious about making the good grades in school.  He's tired, it's 99 degrees there.  It's 69 here.

  His allergies aren't as bad there and he won't go have a beer with his classmates on a friday night.  

Let me have a beer with someone tonight.  Fuck.

I bet there's at least one out there.

if you find one, let me know.

You already had one, once.

"Once lost, forever gone". -Ernest Hemingway

I disagree.

How so?

I can't say I haven't lost things that I'll never get back,
but I think its possible to get the greatest things back.
If you lost your favourite toy as a child, that may be gone
forever, but with people, I think its a completely different
story. Like me, for instance, someone may lose me as a
friend, girlfriend, whatever, but no matter what, I'd still be
there. I have a passion for caring for people and being
there, no matter what. Someone could put me through
the worst hell I've ever experienced, but if I cared for
them, I'd still be there anyways. So, in that sense, if
someone thought they lost me, I'm not gone forever. I
don't think you can lose something like that forever. I
think if the passion is there, it will never go away. I guess
there's not many people like that, though.

Well, whoever has you is lucky.

Then, I guess you're lucky. We were never together, we may
not be now, we may not ever see each other, we may not
talk very often, but I'll never be gone forever. If you didn't
talk to me for years, I'd still be here when you decided to.
That's just how I am, whether the situation was a relationship,
friendship, or whatever you would call what you and I were.
I don't have passion for a whole lot of things, especially when
it comes to people, but when I do, its endless. Idk, that's my
two cents.

Well, I don't want you waiting around for me, or even
have me in the back of your mind. I'm not the kind of
guy you would want to be with. You are too good for
me, I mean it.

I'm not saying that I'm waiting to be with you, ----. I
just mean in general, I'm still here for you and still care
about you. Its not something I could ever throw away. I
don't think I'm too good for anything or anyone.

I know what you're saying, ----. I'm just sick of liking
someone and them liking me back, but for some reason,
they can't take the next step. I don't know what is wrong
with me. Is there something I do, or say? I don't fucking
get it. All I want is to have a family and not be alone any-
more. I'm a good guy and I want to settle down and not
play any games. Girls just don't want that these days.

I wanted that.

I know. That's why I think I'm an idiot. I'm never able
to realize what I have until after I fuck it up.

No one said you fucked up. If you fucked up, I wouldn't
be talking to you. But Goddamnit ----, I can't not have
you in my heart still.

You're sweet.

Do I get to see you the next time you come home?

Yes.

Promise?

Yes.

Say you promise.

I promise.

You know how I am with promises.

I know. No worries.

I trust you.

Hypocrite. User. Liar. Idiot. Fool. Desperate. Thief. Manipulator.

Not my husband this time. Although he has his problems, it just couldn't be that easy.

I am the one. This time it's me. I could rationalize, give excuses, justify it and it would all be bullshit. It's a choice. I didn't want to deal with my feelings. About Mr. Yesterday, about my husband, about my status as an unemployed mother with a sick teenager.

I always hated even thinking about relapse. The possibility frightened me. It threatened everything. But I never thought it would go down like this.

My husband went and bought it. He found Mr. Yesterday's number in my phone and that's all it took. I called to try and get some resolution. To see if the jerk would answer his phone. Not for any other reason. But it doesn't matter. A trigger is a trigger... stress is stress.

I caught him. He turned it over. We resolved it... but I was not happy. He was disgusted with himself.

And I was left holding a big bag of coke, and I had no courage. No willpower.

It slowly, gradually disappeared up my nose, and I got a lot of housework done. Oddly though I felt better about nothing. I felt like shit. I felt like a moron, a weakling, everything I hate. I had turned into the very thing I had refused to live with. I began to feel like I was having a problem until I gave what I had left to a friend.

I was glad to get rid of it. But now everything I was trying to avoid is still here. I am resolved to deal with it without numbing myself out. My husband managed 60+ days clean, and can do it again. So can I.

I crave a normal life more than I ever craved cocaine.

I'm still in the same apartment now.
I no longer have the same job.
I'm really FAT now.
I am scared to death now.
I live alone, again, now.
I am fearful of the future, now.

I have braces now.
I work at a grocery store too!
I am a text freak on my cell phone.
I now keep a blog and faithfully update it.
I don't cut myself nearly as much.
I have lasting friendships.
Graduate school is around the corner.
I go to church now because I want to.
I stand up for myself a lot more now.
The relationship with my family is still strained.
I don't get nearly enough hugs for survival.
I'm much more honest with others and myself.
I have been on television a couple times.
I crochet now and love it!

I am still alive.

Addiction and other psycho-pathologies are the result of a mismatch between stone age brains and silicon age culture.

"Human instincts evolved in response to Palaeolithic, nomadic, hunter-gatherer culture, and these instincts still make up the psychological architecture of the human mind since there has not been enough time to evolve new one".

Another reason for psychopathology is that goal of human instinct is not  do maximize happiness as an end in itself, reproduction is our real ambition for which we all vie. So even in a natural environment, humans would not tend to be optimally happy. Some people chose to go mad.

Evolutionary survival recognises is dependant upon the mind's ability to maximize reproductive success.

So, what does it take to make us happy, now? All this has profound implications for a consideration of the attainment of human happiness and fulfillment. In today's society, based as it as is hedonism and immediate (self)gratification, what has happened to maternal and paternal instinct, intimacy and the family? With so much emphasis placed on pleasure, sex and the moment an imbalance has arisen for which psychopharmacology may hold the answer.

The human condition, may have be so far out of sync that psycho-pharmacology is required to play a fundamental role in it's enhancement. Addiction and other mental health problems are our response to this environment that is so significantly different. We are unable to rely upon our instincts as a good guide to what is healthy for us.

Human happiness under modern conditions is neither expected, nor necessarily adaptive - partly because ancient instincts are operating upon modern stimuli, partly because biological 'adaptiveness' works towards enhancing reproduction rather than personal satisfaction, and partly because humans have devised non-adaptive ways of getting happy.

i went to an eating disorders recovery group last night.

at first, i didn't really think that i belonged there, or would belong there.  anyone who has seen me in the flesh at least knows what kind of figure i have been blessed (or cursed - depends on what side of the fence you sit) with - "thin" is not a word that could be used to describe me, although "heavy" i wouldn't think should be either.  regardless, it's been a number of years (two, right?) since i've had to deal with any real bouts of overexercise or undereating.  given those bases, i wouldn't suppose that i would be valuable or necessary to such a group; perhaps, even, my presence might produce a hindrance or, in the least, resentment and ill-feeling.

the first misconception was that i am totally recovered from what i went through in my adolescence.  sans realization, i have continued to walk through life with the same obsessive thoughts and feelings that plagued my teenage years - and that obsessive or compulsive behaviors and thoughts are often an impetus for eating disorders.  we briefly discussed isolation, and all with an understanding of the kind of real loneliness and solitude that can arise from dealing with such a problem.

in my own experience, there were a number of years in high school in which i spent lunch periods away from the cafeteria and my friends.  instead, i would find some small place within the school to quietly pass the time until, by chance, i was discovered by an angry teacher and had to find a different place to stay.  it wasn't until my senior year - the year defined by academic apathy - that i was just too cool to care and began using lunch period as a social endeavor once more.

today, even, i still experience a great deal of anxiety when eating in front of people - especially men.  in fact, it can be said that this is where it all started.  i once had a lunch period with a boyfriend that i dated for several months, and my answer to the overwhelming anxiety that i felt having to eat in front of him, or at least in his presence, was so great that not eating at all seemed the simple solution.  and then things began to snowball.  i'm not sure how much weight i lost in that time, but even as the weight has come back so have the anxieties.  going out to dinner for dates is something that causes me a great deal of stress.  i have systems for dealing with what kinds of foods that i might or might not choose from, depending, but there is always the inevitable lengthy amount of time that it takes me to eat anyhow - another anxiety.

ordering and paying for food is another horribly stressful situation that i like to avoid.  often times my perception of reality, i am aware, is jilted out of my favor.  for instance, for the person five people ahead of me in subway, he is just a normal person.  he places his order, whatever it is, pays, moves on, and no one really cares or pays attention besides the people who are serving him - but even then, they will have forgotten his looks or his order even ten minutes after he has left.  and for some reason, in my mind, this same system fails to work for me.  i feel as if the moment i step up to the counter that i am in the spotlight, that everyone within ear and eye shot is making comments, passing judgments, and will probably continue to do so even after i am gone.  it is better if i can find someone else to do these activities with, and so my sister becomes a crutch that i'm not sure how well i could function without, because there is someone to deflect the attention upon.  thinking about undertaking the entire endeavor on my own, however, is the pressure of too many imaginary eyes that i cannot bear.  i have chosen to eat alone in my room when i had plenty of reasons and plenty of funds to go to the cafeteria and do it there.

the same can effectually be said for exercising on my own - if i don't have a partner, i will often refuse to do it, or choose to do it in private for the same reasons.

while i have always loved being around people (the more the better, often) there are times when i will voluntarily shut myself up in my room.  college has brought about some of those recurring thoughts for me.  in high school, i found it utterly impossible to make friends with females, unless i was somehow not threatened by them.  this often meant making friends with girls who were quite often much heavier than i was.  there was too much competition amongst other girls, who were smart, or tan, or pretty, or thin, or tall, or had bigger breasts or better hair or other things that i wanted and wished i could be valued for.  it was just too difficult for me to face, and so i chose to evade.  there is probably some truth to the idea that i just, mentally, get along better with men, but i know that this is not the entire gravity of the case.  there are other inputs and other reasons that take me beyond such uncontrollable consequences.

i can't stop making comparisons.  i wish that i could - it would cause me a lot less depression - but the loneliness felt from such a disorder is one that self-feeds, because the anxieties shut you up, and you are alone, and you become depressed, and the depression only makes you want to hole up somewhere by yourself even more.

having an eating disorder is a bit like being an alcoholic.  in both cases, one is engaging in behaviors that are detrimental and even toxic to the body's health.  both cases involve a physical and a psychological dependence on the behavior.  it can also be said that both have the ability to ruin relationships, tear families apart, and kill people.  but to me, the most significant similarity arises in the aftermath.  we have heard so many times, "once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic."  there is evidence to support the idea that even just a little bit of alcohol is severely detrimental to a recovering alcoholic, so the process of deciding to become a recovering alcoholic is one that takes a lifetime of commitment, and one is never truly "cured" from the alcoholism - if you've been an alcoholic, you just can't go out and enjoy a few drinks with friends after work like all of your peers can; it just may kill you.

many people don't understand that those who have recovered from an eating disorder must live through a daily struggle of temptation that is much related to that of a recovering alcoholic.  without recognizing the strong psychological bearing on eating disorders, it's difficult for others to understand why you can't just tell an anorexic to eat, or to tell a bulimic to just stop throwing up, or why so many people who recover will experience so many relapses.  in my mind, i can rationalize to myself the reasons why refusing to eat or to eat certain kinds of things and exercise until you're ready to keel over is a completely illogical thing to do, but there are days where it certainly feels like the only path to get anywhere that is even a mere shade of semblance to what i think i want.

it's amazing to me that a small group of girls, having previously known nothing about me, were able to provide me with more genuine support and caring than the vast majority of people that i have met in the real world.  some hollow beings might claim that we are so alone in our mental prisons of torture that we feel we must cleave to each other with a death grip because we are the only people who will ever truly understand each other.  while there is some truth to that - a common pain - i don't know if it accounts for all of the warmth and connection that we feel to each other.  are we just kind people?  does the pain and persistent solitude make us kind people?  do we support each other in hidden envy?  are we the perpetual "do as i say and not as i do" type?

it's hard to say, really.  i don't know.  there are things that i would like to believe, but whether or not they truly represent reality is another issue in of itself.  it is, in the least, refreshing to me to find a group of females that i feel i can relate to without the fear and pressure of constant comparison.  this isn't to say that these girls aren't pretty, or are fat, or some other kind of undesirable quality, because they're not.  for me, a great deal of comfort can be derived from the idea that i thought i was completely alone in my obsessive thoughts and have come to find that i am not.

i've never really believed in support groups or anything that isn't related solely to self-help, but maybe that's the reason why i'm still dealing with all that i am today - today, when i am "supposedly" better.

-mplimasol

While most of my colleagues (the Muslims) went out searching + jamu mata for baju raya, I'm in the office. Digging + finding some materials from the net for my assignments and research proposal. I have no appetite towards baju raya. And not really think about it.

For the past few years, I bought the ready made one. And usually it's not the baju kurung or kebaya (oh I don't have any kebaya!) -- its the jubah seluar. I don't know why I choose that, I just feel more comfortable wearing that for raya :) For this year? I will decide later lah.

I've already 'invest' almost half of my pay this month -- repairing handphone (uuurrgghhh...I'm going to replace with a new one very soon!) and car service (it's not just a regular service, I have to replace the timing belt! Uhuks). What to do...sooner or later I still have to do what. Redha jelah.

Have been watching Sutera Maya on TV3 to 'fill in my leisure time' before break fasting -- boleh la (ignore Fasha Sandha :PP). As usual, the attraction is of course because of the so-called hero lah. Hehe.

And the most memorable line by Adrian to Medina (memorable for me at least :P):

Kita tak perlu tunjuk secara keterlaluan kepada semua orang betapa sayangnya kita terhadap seseorang, asalkan kita dan dia tahu perasaan masing2...

What say you?

Anyway, that is just a selingan yang jiwang from me ok. Huhu

Three days ago I imagined I was in a loft. On the wall was that dial from Howl's Moving Castle, where you just turn it and the reality without can shift. There was a black color, too, black like darkness never really is, and I just knew I shouldn't ever look into that reality. But one night I had a guest over and she played the violin for me. So sweet! Then I played it, and before I could warn her she was twisting the dial to the black and there was something terrible pounding against the door. Through it, slowly, came a sickly sweet monster with human hands and a human gaze but the widest forehead, the bluest eyes. I don't know why it scared me so much, but it stayed with me throughout the day.

Two days ago I dreamt someone wanted to kill me. Typical spy-action film stuffs, with new-age miniature bullets that ripped through arteries and the like. But then the dream changed, and there was my best friend (I'm not sure who my mind meant). We were hiding out in a restaurant when all of a sudden bullets rained through the windows and the door smashed open. They shot her through the head and I woke up sweating in the dark.

Last night was the worst. It wasn't even scary so much as it was...lonely.

I dreamt I was a mermaid, but I could walk on land as well. Then I had to make a choice, between walking on land and being free to live among humans, or swimming the rest of my life. But I was in love, and he was a mermaid like me, and we both chose the sea. Then we were swimming, and it got so dark I thought the world had caved in on itself and we were all that was left. I knew then, that even though I was content to swim the oceans, it was only because I had him. I knew he would die, and I would live the rest of eternity trapped in the blackest of seas with only myself for company. As punishment for what, I don't know. Maybe it wasn't even punishment; maybe my subconscious knew as well as I do that there isn't always a reason.

This morning I woke up and stumbled through the ritual. I've shaken it off now, but for a while...I never, ever, want to be that lonely ever again. I'm convinced that there is no greater pain in the world than knowing, even in your dreams, that you will be utterly and completely alone for the rest of forever. Not even my fear of death can compare, and I think about that every day.

I'm terrified of going to sleep. I think I'll stay up a while.

The minute you are confronted with the actual advice, the moment you sit down to actually try to do what you know you need to do to get what you want, is the hardest moment of your life repeated over and over again.  Every day you don't go to the gym or read ten pages in The Yiddish Policeman's Unit, practice piano, call your mother, is another reminder that you are a failure and the only thing that's really keeping you from brilliance and everlasting glory is your own dullness, your lack of drive, the absence of any vision.

You strip away the commitment of a job or a relationship and your time appears before you no longer in easily segmented blocks that disappear regretlessly with tasks like 'laundry' and 'potluck' and 'wash girlfriend's hair' but rather as massive swathes with no end.  Your time is an animal in a trap that needs to be put out of its misery every day.  Sitting on your bedroom floor, scrolling through your cell phone contacts for the umpteenth time, you are only aware of how you're squandering your time like your phone battery life.

Tomorrow will be different, tomorrow you will have some errands to run.  Tomorrow you will have a job interview.  Tomorrow you'll definitely write for at least two hours and you edit at least one story.  Tomorrow will not end like today, when you sat on the couch, watching the sun roll down into the clouds, reading the same sentence in your library book over and over again, wondering if it was possible that something interesting might happen to you after your dinner so you don't wind up going to bed at 8:30 because you have nothing else to do.

You get a postcard from your favorite author that says 'write every day' so you start to and then you realize that you don't write every day because you don't have very much to say and what you do say is poorly written in run-on sentences and you are constantly frustrated by your vocabulary (not enough words) and the English language and you need both to be so much bigger but you never worked very hard on that and you complain better than you do most anything else, really.

You begin to realize that the messages you wish to convey in your stories are as muddled and half thought out as everything else in your twenty what year old life is because you don't know what anything means for yourself, the world, whatever right now, so when you try to write a story about love or loss or friendship or life you lose what you were trying to say three pages in.  When you write about yourself, you do it with a voice that suggests you have no idea what any of these humorous anecdotes with family will mean later on, as if your sixth birthday has some greater meaning that you have not yet divined.  This trips you up and makes you self conscious and you stumble and stutter over yourself and you can't make yourself write a simple little story about a girl whose mother threw her a sixth birthday party in a hair salon during her long phase of being petrified of haircuts.

All you can write about with any assurance is feeling lonely and sometimes feeling numb, because these are the only feelings you have felt with any certainty.  As you are writing you realize you are jealous of one of your college girlfriends who studied writing, wrote short stories about being gay and fat, who had felt and sorrow and shame and acceptance and love so wholly that she wrote damn good short stories about those feelings with certain endings and conscious meaning.  She had things to say about bodies and her stories about the two of you make you cry but you never told her because she didn't let you read her stories, you just found them on the floor next to her bed once when she let you sleep in late in her room when she had an early class.

You try your hand at fiction, but you can't figure out why anyone would make up stories and write them down.  You only write about what happens to you and you only make up the bits you don't remember that well or the bits that need a little making up.  You realize you don't write fiction or good endings to your stories about yourself because you are obsessed with finding universal meaning in everything you write, yet you are constantly paralyzed by the idea that there is very little meaning in anything.

It's 9:30.  You can legitimately sleep now.

Yeah, I know all that. Recently though, I had a relationship end badly... in that weird, no explanation, never see that person again kind of way that literally drives me nuts. I like closure and resolution. I don't like goodbyes, but having someone just leave without one is even harder for me somehow. Maybe because I can't say nice things like "take care of yourself... I'll never forget you... you are always welcome in my home... be careful" or other things that might make the separation feel better, like "karma is a bitch... you'll get yours... you can kiss my ass" or the profound and meaningful "I hope you have the life you deserve."

I'm so tired from trying to figure out other people that I have decided I am not going to try anymore. I have had two friends I thought I had lost forever come back into my life, just as mysteriously as the one that drove away and never called again. Having my two old friendships restored, each in their own way, is so much more important to me than the loss of one inconsiderate person. And in retrospect, he was never my friend, but an opportunist at best. Our relationship was based on mutual interests, nothing else. I am the one who mistakenly brought emotions into the equation. (As I've said before, I am such a girl.... ) Of course, it all ended with a lot of hurt feelings. All mine.

So from now on, I refuse to get hurt by what other people do or don't do. I can just walk away, telling myself they are friendless for a reason, that I was talking to a potential serial killer and thank God I came out alive. I can tell myself whatever I want, give myself closure, and move on with my life. I know that in my 42 years I have wasted many tears over people who probably don't care whether I live or die. This is why I come off as a sarcastic bitch sometimes... especially if you have just met me. I am just protecting myself, like a porcupine, by making you sorry if you try and get close.

Obviously though, my guard goes down at some point, and exposes my weakness. This is why I feel a lot safer just keeping the friends I have... everyone else is just an acquaintance. That way, when I look up and they are gone, I'll barely care at all.

Things I still do. Get up in the morning. Wash and dress. Take baths. Cook. Eat. Feed and pet cats. Water plants. Go out because if I stay in too long it becomes unbearable and I need to be around people even though I also experience pain in their presence. Look at email and look up stuff about personality disorders, social phobia and various sorts of therapy that might offer me a little chink of hope, however small.

I am nothing if not resourceful.

But emotionally I am one big mess.

I am going back into the Crisis Unit. It is only a few months since I was last there. But I had run out of resources and Things to Do to feel in any way safe.

Have been thinking about how much I have always hated my dad. How I could find nothing redeemable in him. That I perceive him as sub-human, in that respect. I basically prefer Hitler to my father. He was a vegetarian animal-lover remember! In the case of my dad there is no balance in my emotional response.

I guess I am still, emotionally, reacting as that vulnerable young child. No, actually, I don't know. What I do know is, this hatred is corroding ME. It can't harm my dad in any way as he is four years dead. I feel so very stuck. And that, if I could begin to forgive him or at least see his humanity, I might be freed from my own harsh self-judgment.

Have I got PTSD, BPD or Social Anxiety?

Been shopping around for therapeutic possibilities. And I am prepared to pay! Let's face it, therapy after two years on another NHS waiting list is not a lot of bleeding use to me right now. I just know that I can't do this alone. I need affirmation, and hope.

Good to talk to you, peeps. Love, Zoe.