they say you don't know what you got 'til it's gone / / they say that your darkest hour comes before your dawn

Friday, March 30, 2012

Everyone’s out on the town and I’m fucking stuck at home all goddamn weekend. Fuck D;
/cries.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Felt like I did the hardest workout of my life last night.

I feel good about it. My friend is setting up meal plans for me to help me lose those extra kilos, and I’ve got plans to do workouts at home at least once a week to begin with.

Next week is the beep test. I am going to either have a heart attack or an asthma attack. That evil test is going to kill me.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

I woke up alone with your smell lingering on the pillow cases.

Sometimes, when I wake up alone, I stare out the small broken area of the curtains and blankly leave my eyes upon the green grass outside my window. I think about all the grand adventures I've had in my dreams and I think about what I'd have to do to make them real. Each and every time, you're never there. And I start to wonder, "Am I doing the right thing with my life ?"

Am I destined for greater things ? Is that what my subconscious is trying to tell me ? What if I made a mistake somewhere down the line, and the life I dream of is the one I'd currently be living if I hadn't made that mistake ?

No, that's nonsense. Absolute bullshit. I am destined for greater things. I wake up every morning, eat, work, come home, love you, fall asleep, repeat. My life is meant to be more than that. I know it is. And I do believe my subconscious is trying to tell me that. I'm getting so very close to taking one of the biggest steps in my life. I'm going to become a nurse in the next couple of years. My life is on track. My career is on track.

I haven't made a single mistake in my life, or I wouldn't be happy with where I am. I know where I want to be in 5 years time, for the first time in my life. I know what I want to be when I grow up, finally. I know where everything is supposed to fit in my life; all those that I can control. But you... You're an unknown factor. I've never had a single fucking clue about where I'm going with you, and it makes me wonderfully happy. We can take this and make it into anything we want. It could be grand, or it could stay like this. I don't care. I have you, and right now, that makes me the happiest. I could never regret feeling like this. Even if we were to go separate ways.

I am doing the right thing with my life. I am. The life I dream of is big and it's scary, but most of all, I'm alone. And if I'm alone, I have no one to share my happiness with, and really, that's not what I want in life. What I'm currently doing - the routine of daily life - that's what I want in life. It makes me happy.

Sometimes, being this happy scares me. I'm afraid that it's all too good to be true. And sometimes, I'm afraid that this is the furthest I'll ever get in life. And then I'm at the beginning of all of this - wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

Then I remember: I've been waiting all week to get ramen with you. Just to be with you, doing what we love most [that's stuffing our faces with yummy food, if you didn't know,] and then everything is right. It's just a meal; I could have gone countless times on my own, but I never do. I always wait for you because, well in all honesty, that meal reminds me of some of the best memories of us together. And then an overwhelming sense of love sweeps over me, and I'm reduce to small tears of happiness.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

1:30pm Thursday lunch.

On a regular Thursday at work, I’d be leaving for home instead of working an extra couple of hours. Hurry the fuck up, 3pm. I want to work out now. I’m so sleepy );

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

6:40am Wednesday morning and there's Pendulum cranking on the radio.

My dreams have made a turn for the worst. Last night, in my dream, Michael stabbed and killed three people who resembled characters from numerous anime. I don’t remember why, and their blood on the carpet looked more like browny-black-red sludge instead of proper blood. I think the first one was killed out of aggression, and the couple were killed because they found out about the first and wouldn’t let us leave their house. I’m so confused.

Monday night I dreamt about something terrible enough to make me cry in my sleep, and then continue after I woke up. All I know is that I can’t go back to these dreams. I can’t go back to sleepless nights. Not after I finally got my sleeping pattern back.

Fingers crossed it’s a once off. Maybe bootcamp will make me feel better. I fucking hope so.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Monday lunch date.



Today I went for a lunch date with my lovely best friend, Celeste. We found some cute Marilyn Munroe obsessed cafe on Jetty Road, Brighton, that actually served gluten free products [Celeste has Celiac disease.] We caught up on everything that’s happened in between our last date, including things that happened between other people. We like to bitch and gossip; get over it.

I went to Marion to do some quick shopping, and spotted this cute as fuck watch with the kitten face on it. I immediately bought it, along with some cheap conditioner because I needed it. Sort of. I need conditioner to wash with my hair, but it doesn’t need to be high quality shit because I use the Redken leave-in conditioner, and that’s muuuuuuuuch better.

Now I’m at home, with the boyfriend and the cat, contemplating what to have for dinner. I have a “girls night” planned with Hannah and Rachel later tonight. More gossip and bitching to ensue. Aaaand that’s Monday for me.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

I keep getting in these moods where I want to dye my hair a lighter brown.

Like a light tan brown.

Then I look through all of my photos and imagine them with lighter hair, and I'm convinced they'd look terrible if I didn't have dark hair.

Who am I kidding ? Dark brunette is how I'll always be. Until I find a job where having purple hair is acceptable and financially supported. Besides, I can barely be bothered redoing my ends when they need retouching. Like I could be bothered with regrowth. Fuck that shit.

Friday, March 16, 2012

After I've completed bootcamp

I’m going to enroll in pole dancing classes. And once I’m done with that; contemporary dance classes. Then I don’t know what afterwards but something along the lines of dancing. Maybe back to belly dancing or even Zumba. I need to keep up the fitness long term (:

5 of my residents passed away in the last couple of days.

What do you do when one of your living residents starts crying about her friend that passed away ? Cry with them ? Because I sure as hell nearly did today. I mean, what else are you supposed to do when someone you care about starts to cry ? Put on a brave face ? Like hell.

It's not unusual that so many would pass away; it's unusual that they all did roughly the same time. I know people come to live at facilities like mine to die, but it still fucking sucks.

On the plus side; I ran the heaviest ward today down to fucking perfection. Everyone went on their breaks at the right time, each of my residents were up and ready for breakfast/lunch in time, and I got a 5 minute neck massage while sitting on my ass waiting for 3pm to roll over. So proud of myself for that. I hate being in a managerial role, because I don't like getting yelled at when things go wrong, but today wasn't too bad. I also found out that the nursing course is free through work ! As soon as I've completed my first year at work, I'm applying for my degree.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Earlier tonight Michael licked my foot and made me cry.

He just called me a “fuckbutt.”

Man, I got a charmer. I love him.

I made a wishlist tumblr !

Click here to see it !

A collection of all the things I’ve ever wanted in one place ! Now when people ask what I’d like for my birthday, Christmas, or feel like surprising me with something nice, they know where to look (:

My body aaaaaaaches ):

I don’t know if it was the weather, the kinds of exercise I did yesterday at Bootcamp, or the fact that I’ve had the following day off, but my body aches in different places compared to last week. I’m not as sore either, like the pain isn’t as intense. Maybe I didn’t work out hard enough. Boo ): I want to feel the burn. That’s how I know I’m doing I right.

I love how Isabell is in Angus Stone's video.

JUST WORKED OUT THAT IT'S MY WEEKEND OFF FOR AVCON 2012

THIS YEAR I’M GETTING A MOTHERFUCKING GOLD PASS. I WIIL.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Pet hate #3168613547684354654768


When people comment on someone’s status with something that’s not even in the slightest bit related to what’s originally posted. Motherfucker, that’s what wall posts are for ! I don’t want to see your batshit boring conversation about who’s doing what on the weekend. For fuck sake, use networking/social websites as they are intended or get the fuck off the internet.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Good times, good times.






Bonny’s 21st birthday was a costume theme party, without specifying a theme so I had to run off whatever I had in my wardrobe. I chose my Lolita cosplay because it’s simple and cute. No one had any idea who I was until Bonny mentioned that I’m ”Michael Rye’s girlfriend.” Everything clicked that moment forward. Becky and Scott came as the best dressed zombies I’ve ever seen, and Ricky was Edward Scissorhands. Bonny came as a fairy, which suited her perfectly. Belinda was a cat, which also suited her perfectly, ehe. Belinda and I left early because she needed a lift home, I needed a lift to town, and we both had to be at the same place at roughly the same time. Brilliant coincidence.

I don’t know how but I’ve found the perfect heels to wear out to town that don’t require insane amounts of alcohol to bare the pain. Saturday night was eventful, to say the least. Hannah vented to her heart’s content, Rachel’s new found self esteem resulted in random casual conversations with strangers, Belinda’s car sounded like it was going to fall apart on us, I stupidly went to Shotz twice in the same night, Jack enjoyed his 20th birthday, and I passed up a free shot of tequila. I had one drink the whole night. Just one.

We were at this shit club in Adelaide called “Apple.” It’s overrated, empty when we visited, and the music doesn’t cater to my taste. The dance floor was so sticky that not only did my shoes get stuck while dancing, they also stuck to the carpet while I was walking. Rachel and I got kicked out of the female bathroom for talking in there instead of using it for its correct purpose. I nearly fell asleep on Hannah’s shoulder while sitting on a couch-wall combo thingy that looked like a giant caramel chocolate couch-wall combo thingy. Dylan then carried me back to Shotz [I went to Shotz first to see Jack for his birthday but all of my friends were running late, so I left to find my girls.]

When we finally got back in, everyone magically showed up. I hate Shotz with a passion and refuse to pay for alcohol there, so I had to go without. Good thing everyone else was drunk enough to dance or I would have been bored out of my mind. Rachel took my shoes off while I was waiting for my feet to stop burning in pain, which resulted in a sudden inability to put them back on since my feet didn’t want to conform. I decided that dancing with no shoes on, in a dirty dirty club, with all my best friends, on a dance floor that was covered in spilt alcohol and scattered with plastic cups that people had dropped was the smart thing to do. Ryan was drunk beyond comprehension and we spent our time screaming lyrics to the songs playing and subtly recovering/saving each other’s lives from slipping on the wet floor.

Rachel, Hannah, England [Daniel,] and I caught a taxi back to Rachel’s house. I tried to sleep with Belle, her new kitten, but that thing likes to leave me and then cry out in the hallway for no apparent reason. She spent the morning sniffing my left eye and then my nose. At one point, I think she fell asleep with her nose touching mine. She may have been annoying that night, but fuck me, she was cute that morning. I felt severely hungover Sunday morning even though I didn’t drink. Suppose it was the lack of sleep and getting home at like 5am even though I had nothing to keep me going. Michael and I went to his parents’ house for a bbq dinner - I love not having to cook when I’m hungover.

Monday rolled into town and then I got all excited because it meant Future Music was happening. Day weather was roughly 30 degrees or so, but the night was going to be 14 degrees, so trying to find an outfit that worked for both conditions was a pain in the ass. We tried to get there early, but like always, the whole getting through ticket/bag check takes more time than it really should. We saw Jessie J, Gym Class Heroes, Fat Boy Slim, and The Wombats. I smoked too many cigarettes for my liking [as per usual,] we found some friends that we didn’t know were going, paid $13 for a 9” pizza, ate partial frozen Zooper Doopers, sat down long enough for our legs to get sore, and danced and sang along to all The Wombats’ songs. We also made fun of all the skanks and poorly dressed people at the festival.

It was roughly 11pm by the time we went to bed. I hate falling asleep with wet hair but I unfortunately had no other choice last night. I woke up with limp and ick feeling hair - never doing that again. I managed to wake up and get ready for work within my time frame [an hour] even though I felt like fucking death warmed up. I don’t know how Michael managed to get to work today, or even do overtime. He’s worked something like 11 hours today on hardly any sleep - what a champion (:

Oh yeah, we also saw Skrillex but no one gives a shit. He was disappointing.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

My mother's coming over to, uh, "hang out"

While she wastes time waiting for 4:30pm, so she can pick up the truck my brother needs to move houses.

Lucky me…

Probably should put some pants on, hey ?

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Completed my first day of BootCamp.

Last time I set myself a fitness and well-being challenge, I got an ear and throat infection. This time, five minutes before I had to leave, I got a blood nose. My body hates fitness.

In all seriousness though; tonight was loads of fun, even if I feel like I’m now dead. An hour of running, lifting weights and all sorts of lunges/squats has made me exhausted. I didn’t want to drive home, that’s how tired I was. On the plus side; I am going to have the best sleep tonight. AND I’m getting fit and healthy.

Now if only I could stop coughing. Stupid asthma.

"Oooh, I just got a shiver, like someone walked over my grave."

This is a phrase I hear often from my mother. Each time I hear it, I want to smack her. Woman, you’re alive. You do not have a grave yet, but rest assured if you keep saying it, you’ll have one sooner than expected.

Furthermore, even if you had a lot in a cemetery already picked out pending your death, why the fuck would someone be walking over it ?! Where on this goddamn planet are you buried in such a place that people walk over it ?! The pavement ?!

Logic; introduce yourself to it.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

It's in the past.

I want to talk about something I don't often speak of – my anxiety and depression. It's not that I'm ashamed of it, embarrassed about it, feel sensitive about it, or anything like that; it simply doesn't come up often in conversation. I'll give you some background information about my struggle with it so you get a better picture of the whole situation.

My parents got divorced when I was roughly 10 years old, and my mother thought it best if my brother and I saw a child therapist to make sure we were all okay with it and shit. I had some pretty serious issues with separation anxiety and worked through it in my therapy sessions. After the divorce, my mother was with another man, which didn't work out, and then found the next guy. He invited my mother, brother and I to come live with him and his daughter and son. My brother was roughly 11 years old, and his son was roughly 8 years old; I was roughly 13, and his daughter was roughly 11 – my brother and her were only a month apart.

They were together for 7 years or so. I spent those 7 years being verbally and emotionally abused on a daily basis because I couldn't be the daughter he expected me to be; a daughter like his own. I spent those 7 years crying myself to sleep, thinking about self harm, and generally apathetic towards everything. I stopped going to school, stopped eating, and spent all my time playing my Nintendo 64 or watching movies. One day, when I was about 15-16, I snapped after getting into another argument with that asshole and flew into, what my mother thought was, a panic attack. I don't remember much but my mother tells me that I was pulling out handful sized chunks of my hair, I was crying hysterically, grinding my teeth, and when I wasn't pulling out my hair, I was forming fists tight enough to cut my palms with my nails.

The doctors said that going home to that asshole was unsafe for my mental health and that therapy would need to commence again. I spent a few months in therapy, where I lied through me teeth to get out of early because I was sick of it. Eventually my mother left her asshole partner and we moved into our own place. Unfortunately things don't always go to plan and as such, mother and I argued almost daily. At 17, I started abusing prescription medications and had daily self harm thoughts. Shortly after my mother caught on, I was thrown back into therapy. I was diagnosed with depression and my mother chose not to medicate me, for obvious reasons. After a year or something of therapy, I felt like I was okay.

I spent the next 4ish years on-and-off dating a guy, which led to my depression creeping back up on me without my realisation. I broke up with him, started dating Michael, and then things, like always, got out of control. I hated my job, my relationship with Michael was terrible at this point, my mother's new partner was a complete fucking dick, and I felt trapped in everything. I don't remember it clearly, but there was a day at work where I couldn't stop crying. I spent the first two hours of my day in tears, hidden behind my desk walls, and then was sent home to the doctors. I filled out that stupid from-0-10-how-do-you-feel test and was diagnosed with depression, again. This time, I was 22 years old, and so I chose to medicate myself. I didn't want to lose my job, no matter how much I hated it, and wanted the quickest way to fix it. I took them for about a month or two before stopping because I didn't like the way they made me feel. I also didn't like how I couldn't drink on them (Alcohol is a depressant, if you're not aware.)

From that point forward, I made the conscious decision to control my anxiety and depression without drugs or therapy. It took a long time before I found what worked, but now everything is fucking amazing and I hardly ever feel anxious or depressed. The tricks I use to make myself feel better are unique to me and my issues. I can't guarantee that they'll work for you, but it's always worth a shot.

Own your emotions.
Don't be ashamed to feel the way you do - accept that you're feeling anxious or depressed. Fully understanding how you're feeling will help you learn to recognise the beginning of them. You can feel yourself about to have a panic attack or that you're starting to feel depressed.

Understand why you're feeling the way you do.
Working out the triggers will prevent you from putting yourself in situations that will result in negative behaviours. You can see it coming from a distance when you know what starts it.

Take 10 seconds to breathe deep and heavily while ignoring everything around you.
I'm not kidding. Close your eyes, breathe, count to 10 and then start fresh. You won't feel 100% better, but it helps in calming your body down.

Ask yourself – is it really worth getting this worked up over ?
9 out of 10 times, it's not. If it's not the end of the world, then stop acting like it is. There are things in the world that are completely and utterly out of our control. Learnt to let go the things out of your control, and accept that there's only so much you can do.

Every time you feel negative about something, change your thoughts to something positive.
Seriously, tell yourself “no” and think of something that makes you happy. Keep doing it until you feel yourself let go of that negativity.

Vent.
No explanation needed. Get a blog, write in a secret padlocked diary, whatever. Never, ever, hold it in. Never. You will explode.

Be honest with others about how you feel.
If someone asks how you're doing today, and you're not doing too well, say so. If studying for an exam is making you anxious and depressed, say so. If someone in your life makes you feel inadequate, say so. Not only will it help others to understand how you're feeling, it'll help them and yourself to change the environment. Own your emotions.

Cut the shit.
If there are people in your life making you feel like shit, cut them out. If your job makes you feel like shit, quit and find one that makes you happy. If your appearance make you feel like shit, change your hair or change your wardrobe (hair grows back, and tattoo removal is painful+expensive.) If your thoughts keep telling you that you're not worth anyone's time, cut it out. Surround yourself with things that make you happy, and only those things. If you have something that reminds you of your lying and cheating ex-boyfriend, throw it out or give it back. Do this with everything in your life.

Let people care for you and help you.
Support networks are a key in helping with depression and anxiety. Knowing you have someone you can run to and blurt out everything to makes it easier. You know you're not alone. If you don't currently have someone, find someone. There are countless free counsellors willing to listen and spend time with you.

Remain positive.
There is always hope. Things will always get better. You can bounce back from it. This is not the end. You are better and bigger than this. There is so much more to life than this. If others can get through it and live without fear, so can you. It is possible.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

6:53am on a Sunday morning.

I’m cranking Good Charlotte on my car stereo to get me pumped for what I’m sure will be a terrible day at work. Never again will I do three 7am-3pm shifts in a row while staying in the same ward that I hate. My body isn’t designed for this shit.

I woke up this morning to realise that I’m actually sleeping solid nights and falling asleep within half an hour or less. Michael sent me a txt last night about 30 minutes after I went to bed and I didn’t hear my phone go off. This is a huge accomplishment for me ! I haven’t been able to do that in over a year. Ultimately that means I’m not stressed anymore ! No more anxiety attacks or depression spells. I don’t remember the last time I felt like that or even close to it. I can’t begin to describe how happy I am these days. Life is brilliant. Just super incredible.

For the record - I was first diagnosed with anxiety at 15-16 years old and depression at 17 years old. I was diagnosed with depression a second time at 21 years old, after I thought I had it under control and reduced down to anxiety. I’m now 23 years old and this is the first time since I was 16 that I feel like the real me. It feels so good to be free.

Friday, March 2, 2012

I would have much preferred being stuck in an elevator today than actually work.

And I fucking hate elevators, goddamn devil machines, but work today was a nightmare and I'm so glad that it ended sooner than I realised. Too bad I have to work 7am-3pm in the ward I hate most all weekend. Too bad I agreed to working longer hours and now can't make the PTAA Adelaide Tattoo Show. I don't even care that I'm missing Soundwave anymore - I never cared to begin with - but the Tattoo Show is something I was really looking forward to. BOO.

Wanna brief insight into my regular day ?
Clearly run through every single precise movement you do from the moment you wake up until the moment you go to bed. Now, imagine letting a stranger do all of that for you while you do nothing. That morning to lunch period of your day is my average working day. When someone develops an attitude, calls me a "smart mouth girl" for dishing back said attitude, and then proceeds to play the victim therefore making me look like the bad guy, getting stuck in the elevator between ground and first floor seems like the better situation to be in. Tomorrow, when I see said person with that shitty attitude, I'm going to be nothing but motherfucking rainbows, sunshine and unicorns. Nothing pisses off angry people more than when others don't give in to their shit.

Let's see you call me a "smart mouth girl" when I smile right in your face, you prick.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Blame it on the boogie.

Ignore the stupid “Flashies” logo and this is a fair decent photo of the two of us. I’m quite pleased, actually, since I usually look terrible in club photos.

It also makes me happy to know how well my hair turned out. Most girls have to spend at least 30 minutes with a straightener/curl wand to get that kind of hair. I just brushed it and let it dry after my shower. Natural hair for the win ! (:

Cannot believe my best friend.

Rachel punched a guy, in the middle of the dance floor last night, because he wouldn't take "no" for an answer. People really need to understand that when someone says "no," they mean NO. This guy was one persistent fucker, and was warned numerous times that if he didn't stop "suggestively dancing" behind her, she would hit him. Then BAM - her fist connected with his jaw and he ran off. FYI - Rachel just started taking boxing lessons. Don't fuck with her.

Last night started out like any ordinary night - we did our hair & make-up, picked out our outfits, started pre-drinking and pumped ourselves up with the right kind of tunes. Our taxi showed up and we made our way to HQ for "Flashdance." Flashdance is HQ's regular Wednesday night old school themed club, and last night's theme was Night at the Roxbury. That, combined with a rainy and miserable day, resulted in practically no line outside and heeeeeaps of room on the dance floor.

We immediately made our way to the bar and then outside for a cigarette, after I had checked my jacket into coat hire, and then magically found Elliot outside. He asked why I wasn't drinking wine, to which I informed him that I only had time to down half a bottle before our taxi showed up. Elliot is well aware that I'm a wine fiend. For whatever reason unknown to Rachel and I, half the goddamn club was closed off so we only had two rooms. I'm unsure if that's strictly a Wednesday night thing, but I was severely disappointed. Soho was full of rnb and all that kind of music, which neither Rachel and I enjoy, so we stuck with the main room playing pretty much everything from the 90's and good shit.

Both of us were hit on numerous times, and each male was met with harsh rejection. I learnt an important lesson last night - do not make eye contact with the opposite sex if you don't know them. It opens up Pandora's Box and you're stuck trying to be polite and nice all the while being straight up about your disinterest in them. Rachel royally fucked us over when she asked one of the guys [there were two of them] where he lived in Adelaide. He lives in the same suburb that she works in, they went to the same primary and high school, and even had common friends. At least it took the heat off me and the other guy wasn't too bad. He actually could tell that we weren't interested and tried to pull his friend away. Meanwhile I was sneaking horrifying "help me" faces towards Elliot in an attempt for him to rescue us or something. It didn't work. OHYEAH, AND THE GUY RACHEL WAS TALKING TO KNOCKED OVER MY FUCKING DRINK THAT I HAD LIKE TWO SIPS OUT OF BEFORE IT WAS ALL OVER THE GODDAMN TABLE. Motherfucker.

I love Rachel's honesty. One guy came up, sat next to me, and asked if he could buy me a drink. I said no, quite politely. Rachel, out of nowhere, leans across me and towards him, then swiftly blurts out, "Go away. She's got a boyfriend and isn't interested. Seriously, fuck off." I think she basically told every guy, minus Eliiot, that came near us to fuck off. She's not my best friend for nothing.

I think we stayed until about 2:30am-3:00am before the club closed off the main room and we were stuck in that shit rnb room. Rachel and I managed to convince Elliot and his random friend to come dance with us before we left. I don't even remember the song, only that Rachel was busting out some sweet moves. Catching a taxi home was a pain in the ass because we had to direct the damn guy. I'm sorry, but you have GPS in your taxis now and it's your job to know the city; expecting us to tell you where to go defeats the purpose of catching a fucking taxi. You should be able to jump in, tell them a destination, and relax knowing your driver isn't going to kill you with their reckless driving and that you'll get there fuss free. Assholes.

All I can remember from earlier this morning is that Rachel had woken up real early since she had work at 8am, her phone shined a light that I could barely see through my barely opened eyes, and that I must've been stress dreaming because I had hives during the night only on one arm. I woke up and there was nothing there except for a small mark on my wrist, which I'm guessing is from a lit cigarette that swiped past my arm. We both somehow managed to keep our heels on the whole night - no complaints or serious discomfort. It's 12:00pm and I don't feel like shit. Sweet as night.

Note: remember how I started listening to Lana Del Rey's album the other week ? I've been listening to it non-stop. It's so easy to enjoy.