Browsed by
Author: missgnutmeg

how dark do you like your tea?

how dark do you like your tea?

Comments 0 Comment

Do you ever really stop to think about the things you put in your body? How often do we look at our food consumption and think “gods, I need to eat better”? And how about your brain? Do you ever think about what the media you put into it does to it? Do you make those sorts of choices conscientiously or are you the type to just “catch whatever’s there”? And does the media make the person? Or does the person choose the media based on their personality.

I have an obsession with horror movies/novels/comics. Do you think it’s because I have a dark outlook on life? Or do you think that dark outlook was caused by the obsession?

For the record: I definitely was cynical long before I became a fan of horror. I didn’t really get into horror until my 20s. Although I enjoyed a lot of darker, “gothic” things and many horror novels in high school I was simply not the type to watch a lot of movies. I grew into that, as I found myself with less time but also more jaded by the experiences life had brought me. I often get to a point where all I feel is empty and I’ll do just about anything to try and jumpstart some sort of emotion – any emotion. That was why I started watching horror movies seriously. I wanted to scare myself back to reason. Unfortunately, all it’s really done is numb me to most fears. Although I’m easy to startle, it’s almost impossible to actually scare me.

Well. Unless you know my triggers.

I still watch horror, though, even if the scary factor has worn off. Why? Because they reflect my views of life far better than ordinary drama or comedies. (I actually despise most comedies.) I especially find “chick flicks” to be trashy and fake and impossible. Life isn’t like that. Romance is laughable to me. I believe in love but romance is a sick veneer set out to fool the innocently hopeful and I won’t waste my time watching/reading about it.

But horror? Horror presents such fantastic ideas of real hope and real love. It presents facets of real human emotion, not just prettified happily-ever-after shit. For example? Here are some of my favourite lines from horror/thriller films:

“I don’t want her to fucking cope, I want her to be okay!” (28 Days Later)

“People don’t always tell you what they are thinking. They just see to it that you don’t advance in life.” (Hannibal)

“Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore.” (Saw)

“At the end of time, a moment will come when just one man remains. Then the moment will pass. Man will be gone. There will be nothing to show that we were ever here… but stardust.” (Sunshine)

“You’re all gonna die. The only question is how you check out. Do you want it on your feet? Or on your fuckin’ knees… begging? I ain’t much for begging! Nobody ever gave me nothing! So I say *fuck* that thing! Let’s fight it!” (Alien3)

“Why? Why are the innocent punished? Why the sacrifice? Why the pain? There aren’t any promises. Nothing certain. Only that some get called, some get saved. She won’t ever know the hardship and grief for those of us left behind. We commit these bodies to the void with a glad heart. For within each seed, there is a promise of a flower, and within each death, no matter how small, there’s always a new life. A new beginning. Amen.” (Alien3)

“Life is a game. So fight for survival and see if you’re worth it.” (Battle Royal)

“Do know what’s really scary? You want to forget something. Totally wipe it off your mind. But you never can. It can’t go away, you see. And… and it follows you around like a ghost.” (A Tale of Two Sisters)

Cherry Darling: “I’m not that optimistic. I feel like I’m sinking down a drain and I can’t get out.”
Dr. Dakota Block: “She’d say, ‘when you’re stuck in that spiral, you reach up’.”
Cherry Darling: “What if there’s nothing up there?”
Dr. Dakota Block: “Just reach up.” (Planet Terror)

adding hot water to milk and sugar

adding hot water to milk and sugar

Comments 0 Comment

Can you still call it tea if you don’t involve any sort of leaf? Milk, hot water, sugar… what is that? What is it that truly makes a certain thing that thing and not something else? It’s a question I ask a lot about myself. “If my emotions aren’t right, am I still human?” “Can I be human without a heart?” “What am I, if not crazy?” “Will there still be a nutmeg if you medicate the disease out of her?” “How much of me is me and how much is disease?”

A thousand thoughts a minute and not one of them good.

I am unhappy. I am angry. I hate my life and the direction it is taking. No matter how many times I try to make things better, it just doesn’t work. I am a failure. Any “good” thing in my life turns to shit as soon as I get my hands on it. I am cursed. Or I am a curse. They are the same.

I currently don’t even have enough money in my bank account to buy gas to drive to fucking Toronto, much less the rent which I have to pay in 3 weeks and my car loan. I royally fucked up my midterm and my last theory test, so am going to have to work my ass off if I want to get any sort of mark worth mentioning at the end of the year, and even then there’s no guarantee of me getting any sort of job. Nothing ever has. It’s all about who you know in this world and I don’t know anyone. Nor do I really want to.

Running away to become a monk sounds better and better all the time.

I wonder if I mixed all the advil I have on hand with all the lithium I have on hand if it would be enough to kill me or only make me very sick? Have I ever mentioned the reason I can’t take Tylenol at all anymore is because I once took enough to make me very very sick? I spent the day in bed, called it a flu, and no one ever said much about it. I was 16. A wristcutter just learning all the best ways to destroy herself. How did the adults in my life manage to so completely miss all the signs? Why did it come as a surprise when I finally found the strength to ask for help? Not that I really got help; I got a doctor who kept trying to put me on antidepressants instead of listening to anything I said, I got parents who told me I didn’t really need meds because there was nothing wrong with me, I got friends who criticized me and told me I was fake.

Not that things have improved terribly much now.

Taking a “sick” day today because I just can’t deal with people. Seriously. I’ve slept all day. The only reason I’m not still in bed and sleeping off today until tomorrow is because I’m forcing myself to get up and do some of my homework. …which has turned to games, but still. I’ve a desperate need to do laundry and I’m just fluffing it off until whenever because I don’t want to deal with anyone today. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve sunk upon neglecting my proper meds. Which, in itself, probably at least partly started due to allowing myself to be lower than I should and not being at the proper medication level.

I don’t know. I’m just confused right now. I don’t think I’m who I’m supposed to be, but I don’t think there’s any “who” for me to be anymore. Not that it fucking matters. I’ve neither the energy nor the will to be some imagined concept. I’ve enough trouble just being without have to be something in particular. Seriously? Fuck it.

you’ve added too much milk

you’ve added too much milk

Comments 0 Comment

Today’s funtastic new word? Agoraphobia. Often thought of as a fear of crowds, it is more accurately described as being:

an anxiety disorder. Agoraphobia may arise by the fear of having a panic attack in a setting from which there is no perceived easy means of escape. Alternatively, social anxiety problems may also be an underlying cause. As a result, sufferers of agoraphobia avoid public and/or unfamiliar places, especially large, open spaces such as shopping malls or airports where there are few places to hide. In severe cases, the sufferer may become confined to his or her home, experiencing difficulty travelling from this safe place. Although mostly thought to be a fear of public places, it is now believed that agoraphobia develops as a complication of panic attacks.

(Wikipedia)

Can you imagine not only having a disease but also having a constant fear of it displaying in public? It is horrible. On the other hand, public washrooms have become a bastion of sanity for me.

that’s quite a mouthful

that’s quite a mouthful

Comments 0 Comment

Words. Words, words, words, words, words! I’ve so many of them, I build them around me like a fortress, but does it help protect me? No! Quite the opposite. It helps to tear me down. Everything I say can and will be used against me.

That’s why I prefer silence. Why I prefer writing. Then there’s an accurate record and things can’t be twisted and warped on me. If things are taken out of context, you’re able to show where they came from. Writing is safe. It’s silent as the grave. Timeless as the tombstone.

she’s a jar with a heavy lid

she’s a jar with a heavy lid

Comments 0 Comment

It’s frightening, sometimes, when you realize how you actually think about yourself. For instance; I will often joke about how Hannibal Lecter (from the Thomas Harris books) is my ideal man. I mean, if I had to choose a man, I would like someone like him – smart, witty, rich, cultured, good taste in music, interest in fine dining, loves travel – though I’d rather not have a man at all. In the end, though, it really is a joke. Why? Because when I watch the movies or read the books, I’m not thinking about how I’d like to be with Hannibal, no, I’m thinking about how we’re very alike in certain ways. (Oh, I do eat people, just not physically.) It has occurred to me more than once that I’m like Hannibal searching for my Clarice Starling, when it comes to love. (Book version, not movie!)

That probably sounds hilarious until you realize what I truly think about myself. I hate myself. I view myself as a monster of sorts, incapable of truly comprehending proper human emotion. Because what I live through cannot be normal human emotion. The species would not have survived this long if it were. I see every day the scars most people never see. I see the blood, the medications, the way my attitudes and perceptions of things change at a moment’s notice. It can be terrifying, if I’m sane enough to look at myself and see what I’m doing.

Is it any wonder, then, that I would try to destroy myself? Destroy this monster I perceive? Cut the demons out from  my blood? I shouldn’t think so, especially when you take into consideration that I’m deeply religious and have an overwhelming urge to make the world a better place in any way I can. It’s just a funny irony that I see myself as one of the worst things out there.

another tea party for one

another tea party for one

Comments 0 Comment

A curious thought this morning:

There are only two things in this world which do not despair. The first is the sun. What is the second?

And, you know? I can’t figure out the second. Obviously it can’t be the sky as it turns dark or grey, or the clouds with their tears. The earth violently cuts itself open. The stars are cold and distant. Trees abandon all life and colour. Flowers wilt, the moon wanes, art is impersonal, water goes down, music breaks your heart.

I honestly can’t think of something that doesn’t seem disastrously sad at some point in its life cycle. And I’m sick enough to find that somewhat of a comfort.

another bloody saucer?

another bloody saucer?

Comments 0 Comment

Have you ever wondered what it might be like to have to live with your death sentence on your sleeve?

Odd question, isn’t it? Where does it come from? I just showed my roommate the movie RENT for her first time. We both completely sobbed through the second half of it. Yes, even me the “heartless” one. (For I have been repeatedly accused of being such to such a point where I joke about it now.) And although I am blessed not to have a disease that guarantees death, like AIDS which the characters in the movie had, I still really end up thinking after a film like that.

The one song that really always gets me in the softest spot is the one where they sing:

Will I lose my dignity
Will someone care
Will I wake tomorrow
From this nightmare

Besides the fact that it’s rather musically profound-  which always gets me as a former music student – I find that those are words that could come out of my mouth. And it’s so hard. So hard.

Will I lose my dignity? Have I already, by coming out about my condition and getting treatment? Have I shown weakness by letting myself cry when I’m sad and cut when I hurt and scream when I’m angry? Why is it so wrong to be human? Why can’t I be flawed just like everybody else?

Will someone care? When I cut myself, who notices? Who sees the new scars? Who tries to do something about it? When I finally kill myself, who’ll be at my funeral? My parents? My siblings? My roommate? Camp “friends” who’ve never bothered to try to know me? My ex who denied we ever had a relationship so I denied our friendship? The girls of my ranger unit? Or will they all forget me in a year? Haven’t I always been so easy to let go of? Haven’t I done that on purpose?

Will I wake tomorrow, from this nightmare? Will this disease never leave me alone? Will I ever find that magical combination of pills that makes me “normal”? Why me? Why have the gods chosen me for this fate? Have I not been a good girl all my life?

Nothing is guaranteed in this life except pain. We will all bleed at some point. The question becomes how much does it mean to you?

another spoon of sugar

another spoon of sugar

Comments 0 Comment

First, read this touching article about understanding illness: the Spoon Theory. It’s on a Lupus site, but the author is very right in saying that the same idea applies to a lot of invisible illnesses.

Also, there’s this blog entry about invalidation which dear Karifish sent me to read.

That second one reminds me badly of the time one of my closest friends (at the time, I’ve since cut off that friendship) told me that my suicidal feelings could wait. “Not now, it can wait ’til morning.”

I drank myself unconscious that night. I don’t really remember much of it. But the pills I’d been intending to take were still on my counter that morning when I awoke. I barely noticed the hangover. I wake up dizzy, nauseous and sore far too often to know the difference anyway.

Is there any wonder I don’t trust people? Really? When close friends tell me what I’m feeling is unimportant? She was not the first nor the last one to do so, either.

milk tea & cookies for Santa

milk tea & cookies for Santa

Comments 0 Comment

Dear Santa Claus;

This Christmas – do I have to say Christmas or will you respond to pagan holidays, too? Anyway.  I’d like a little peace of mind. I mean, I know it’s a busy time of year for you and you’re probably super stressed out too, but if you could find just a little bit to send my way…? It would mean far more to me than an iPad or a laptop or a -insert other useless fancy toy- or even the stand mixer I’ve been bugging my mum about. I just want to be okay.

I’m not asking you to find me a reason to live, just the endurance to find the strength I need to find my own. I’m not asking you to solve all my problems, just to give me the patience to see them through. I’m not asking for cure, just the ability to cope.

If you don’t have peace of mind in your magic bag for me, mr Claus, how about a little rent money? But you have to promise me you’ll give an equal amount to charity. Preferably one that supports either children or mental health.

Thank you, mr Claus, for your consideration. I will leave you a selection of some of my favourite cookies and tea with milk on the table near the tree for you.

love,
nutmeg