A Lesson in Etiquette

Sometimes you can't hold the door open any more than you already have.

This blog has by no means detailed the short comings of the one I refer to as my editor. Originally, when I started this blog, we were dating and I sang his praises consistently (occasionally receiving complaints about the frequency with which I tweeted about him). I had considered blogging almost a year previously and been shut down by my then boyfriend who assured me that I wasn't ready, I was mentally ill and couldn't make big decisions like breaking up with him. Maybe then, with the knowledge that JJ took on all of the positive aspects of my previous relationship and still allowed me to have my own beliefs and continue my usual life you can see where the positive influence came in. Still, all good things must come to an end.

I was still very ill when we started to see one another and ultimately surprised with my ability to sleep with him despite my 11 month drought. We dated non-exclusively (which was basically exclusively) for several months which included daily calls even when he was abroad. The first time he came home from somewhere far away I had a very bad day and he didn't rush to see me. I overdosed on tablets with no fatal repercussions and he looked altogether anxious when I saw him the following day. I have not seen that expression since, nor does he specifically recall that incident.

As time went by and we attempted a long distance summer it became apparent that JJ was not a keeper of promises. Having sworn we'd go away together if we were still together, he embarked on a Spain holiday with several friends, his ex-girlfriend included (but, no, not me). Once he was home we fought through my depression like fighter pilots, ready to deploy arms at any call. This became inherently boring and we both wanted to jump ship, my resilient suicide pleas becoming old news with increased velocity. Before October had a chance to begin he took his leave and I mine, except my escape was blocked and I was forced to crash down with the plane.

I presume it's in some form of unfounded guilt that kept him away for a month. My mother certainly found him at fault for my hospital escapade. Once reunited we attempted to fight crime and eventually resumed the deadly twist of bodies. That was around the time he promised to spend Hallowe'en with me but somebody flew him over to London instead. To make up for it he swore to see me on his birthday but those wires crossed too... Eventually the point was New Years but his friends planned something else for him and I was forbidden to attend. Like a loser my brother took me to a party and I called JJ repeatedly after I was misused, with no attempt of a reply. I have held him responsible for my rape for almost six months.

I never got my head around that night. Within hours I was loaded into a van and brought to a gig. On the last night I got completely wasted and fucked an actor at 8am, within hours I was loaded into a van and brought home. More promises were made to make up for New Years. He would take me dancing, to the cinema, ice-skating -- anything. We never went anywhere. I did try to get him to bring me with him when he was going out anyway and got very drunk in front of potential clients and ruined my name. I called and called him. I even sent a SnapChat to the guy he was with begging to hear from JJ. I didn't.

I recall being totally devastated that he went to see the Hobbit without me in December, even though he agreed to come with me afterwards. I insisted on seeing Jurassic World with him, and first. That didn't happen. I called and called the day he was going. I was completely alone in the world and I'd taken another overdose. He texted two days later with a tiny apology that wasn't worth anything. It seemed too late. The pills were already gone. Two days after we fought it out we finally went for drinks, six months after he had promised. He spent a lot of that night on the phone. The next day we were in bed and he wanted to change perspective. He took me just like I'd been taken on New Years. I stayed still, scared and silent. When he was finished I curled up into a ball.

Sometimes you can't hold the door any more.

Times Like These

Every now and again I spend a night in my Dad's house where his girlfriend watches NCIS religiously and I sit through five episodes of rape victims wondering why things that are so hurtful are televised... I've never particularly found an answer.

The last few weeks have been a disaster. I haven't found a piece of peace of mind. I promise over and over that everybody will be okay, that I love so deeply and dearly, that I am not choosing to leave them- I'm leaving me. "I am a little divided: do I stay or run away and leave it all behind?" (Times Like These, Foo Fighters). 

Today has been heartbreaking. I've been working around the country doing marathon hours and drinking at whatever hotels we've been set up in. I slept in my own bed last night and couldn't leave it without the proper inspiration which turned out to be dinner time. I'm amazed I lasted to dinner time. I've survived an impossible day. I'm alive without purpose. A moment spent idly brings tears to my eyes- on buses, at work, in bed- and in no metaphorical sense. I cry every day, sometimes really desperately. Today I had no human company. Nobody would return my calls or text me back... I keep a pack of pills by my bed for the day that's too much to handle. I survived to work in two days, how sad is that? It's my birthday next week but I hold on for fucking work.

I am a one way motorway

I'm the road that drives away

then follows you back home

I am a street light shining

I'm a white light blinding bright

burning off and on

I don't feel like a shining light. I am a one way force, a fuel that burns and suffocates and ceases to burn any more... I want to go to someone's home. I want warmth and company. Can I come over? Please?

I'm just sad.

I am a new day rising

I'm a brand new sky

to hang the stars upon tonight

I am a little divided

do I stay or run away

and leave it all behind?

I've been hanging on stars or lights of any kind. I'm not finding any answers here. I'm not finding any help. I need you. I need somebody. Tell me it's okay? I don't know... but I'm surviving.

it's times like these you learn to live again

it's times like these you give and give again

it's times like these you learn to love again

it's times like these time and time again

And the winner is...

Ireland has been the first country to vote on marriage equality in the E.U. due to our requirement for a referendum on any change to the constitution. We voted for divorce, for automatic citizenship to babies born in the country and now we've voted for marriage definition. Let's step back a moment...

Ireland is an obsessively catholic country - and I mean that with a little c. We passed unmarried mothers to convents where babies were taken from their mothers and sold or neglected, the mothers left to slave away until they were signed out. The last Magdalene Laundry closed in the mid-90s. It took almost two decades to pass before we began to unearth the scandal of child abuse and mass graves the church had dismissed and ignored. The heavy dependence of our culture on the church meant that being gay was only decriminalised in June 1993 (alongside the decriminalisation of suicide or attempts there of) and trade of birth control was banned until 1979 (after which it was legalised on prescription to 'legitimate' families). In 1995 Ireland were given the chance to introduce divorce and it said 'YES!' (with a margin of .28%), we haven't had too many big steps since that day.

Today is the day I will hear my nation roar and I can only hope my voice is not drowned out. I've never much cared what someone else would vote but I could not comprehend anyone holding back the right to happiness and legitimising family units. Marriage in Ireland rests on property law and is undefined in the constitution but presumed to be heterosexual marriage. Civil marriage also exists but falls under the same ruling and civil partnership is fiscally less beneficial than marriage as well as being unrecognised by adoption agencies (leaving only one parent as the legal guardian). Furthermore, I'm bisexual and I haven't found the love of my life yet... What if it is same sex forevers? How could my own mother deny me the right to a wedding?

The world is watching. Everyone has had a say from Archbishop Diarmuid Martin to Australian comedian Adam Hill and we've all done our civic duty by now. Actor Ian McKellen urged Ireland to make history and become the first country to legalise marriage equality by popular vote - can we? Can a little country make a big splash? On the other hand, can we afford a negative result? If the nation says no will tourism continue to exist? Will emigration go on the rise once more? Could a yes vote be the financially responsible way to go?

I can't lie, they haven't finished counting yet. I can breath again, though. Late last night it was believed that due to a high polling turn out in the capital there would be a positive result. The official stance at lunch time now declares the highest voting rate in a referendum in the country's short history and an expected 70-80% yes vote.

I haven't had a reason to be proud of my nation before today.

Well said, Ireland.
depressivedetails@gmail.com

Square 9

Have you ever lost all sense of where you're going? That's sort of the point of being 21, isn't it? Now some 20 year old is in Scottish parliament and I'm lying in bed wondering where the last four years went and why I have so many certificates and nothing to do.

I hurt myself again -- accidentally. The last month has been at least one  accident per gig and I feel like I'm back at 17 when I wore out of order signs on various limbs as a fashion statement. I've gone back on the dating scene, too, and I wonder when it's safe to trust someone new... I'm scared. The highs of the new seem to be haunted by old lows as I crash from my come down. Jesus, I'm lost. I don't know where my days are going, they're not being spent in bed. I seem to be spending more money than time. Good grief! My friend has had a baby already, I've seen her four times during the pregnancy, where was I? Two more friends have degrees, is that three? Someone cropping up from school days again... I should have a degree by now. Another friend half way through a masters... Do I even exist? I've gone round and round, started over and over, square one once more... Dear God.

I'm stuck. I'm trying to go forward but I can't. I'm struggling against myself here. Am I worth the effort? I can't be worth the fight. I'm not positive enough in the world for any of this to be worthwhile... Somebody help me.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin 

Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in 

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove 

Dance me to the end of love 

- Dance Me to the End of Love, Leonard Cohen

I am distant although I try not to be. I ask for help but if I choose the wrong person I shut down. I am always wrong. I need guidance.

There is some semblance of light in darkness. I heard once that 'The shadow proves the sunlight', is depression proof of happiness and health? How can I ever explain away those 6 months of hibernation? Will I always fear the reaction of those who hear my truth? Will honesty stay with anonymity forever?

If life stages go in stepping stones I'm retracing the same four inadvertently, indefinitely. The Who's Tommy lulls 'I've got a feeling 21 is gonna be a good year' (admittedly referring to 1921 but wrong nonetheless). Paramore's Hello Cold World shouts '22 is like the worst idea I have ever had' (genuinely referring to age this time!)... Can it get any worse? Square one will be my bitch this time, eh?

Stages are just stages for us to pass

And you should peel those ears

'Cause it's important that they hear

My hopeful words

And stomp out fear

There's something I like about this year...

Square 9 is here

- Square 9, Frightened Rabbit

With the repetition of mental health issues in my life and the voice of my school P.E. teacher in the back of my head screaming "Practice makes permanent" I say only this:

Silly rule golden words make,

Practice - practice makes perfect.

Perfect is a fault, and fault lines change

I believe my humor's wearing thin 

And change is what I believe in.

- I Believe, R.E.M.

"Raise a tent of shelter now,

Though every thread is torn, 

Dance me to the end of love"

depressivedetails@gmail.com

Escape Route

"When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions!" is the Shakespearean expression of "It doesn't rain but it pours". Other poets have written the sentiment with "Shake and shake the ketchup bottle/None'll come, and then a lot'll" (Richard Armour) or "Bloody men are like bloody buses -/You wait for about a year/And as soon as one approaches your stop/Two or three others appear." (Wendy Cope). My work is a lot like that and I suppose the quotes apply to my blog posts, too.

My home life is more than chaotic at the moment. Both parents are hoping to end their careers abruptly and my brother, attempting to finish his sixth year of a degree, is left with all the family bills. If now regular work accidents weren't enough I have a huge tendency to hurt myself that seems to be rapidly accelerating and one or two I-don't-know-if-I-should-date-you-right-now candidates. Beyond that I haven't visited my pregnant friend in a few weeks and she's not the only one I've neglected.

I enjoy chaos. Nothing pleases me more than the tension of urgency. In my line of work people get stressed over deadlines and professionalism, there's a lot of precision timing involved. Adrenaline kicks in and you never know which aspect of the show will fall on its (hopefully metaphorical) face. I love how most of the people I work with are intelligent people with a poor education, they can calculate up to 512 in a second but have never heard the word 'audibly'. These are the misfits of society who manage to pay tax. Others of them have masters in arts subjects and rebuilt corporations. There are men approaching 50 going for McDonalds at 3am. There are 21 year olds crawling under stages like babies. This is the business that keeps your mind young and your body old. I love the eclectic nature and the turmoil of the indefinite mess but I'm faced with several obstacles.

In a game like this you don't see many hot dinners, you eat what you're given. I have 27 food allergies so that gets me a little run down when you're doing heavy lifting 'til 3am. Besides that, I'm a 5" 1 girl who fought for her life five months ago... Heavy lifting is hard. There's a lot of putting on a game face and outwardly manipulating people going on around me, too. I prefer to smile sweetly and make tea. Beyond that, I run around in a world where dust, my natural enemy, invades all and one where most conversations involve sexist or sexual slurs, I have found the best thing to do is extend the jokes.

I've developed a new form of torture for myself in this world, too. Keeping my room neat messes with my head like I'm stumbling in drunk. I hate perfection. 

So what now? What do I do with no future and less hope? How do I survive in a world tearing me down when I tear myself down even worse? I'm going back to college. I want a degree. I'm smart enough, if I can just focus for three years on something bigger than myself then I can get it. It's not too much.

I'm not going to lie to you, the reason I've not written in so long is because I wanted to die so desperately and you don't need to see me break. I want to give hope and understanding, not write from a place that I can't find a way out of.

"I've got a life out there somewhere,

It's waiting,

Lined with palm trees and only new faces.

If I could look past the present and get there

Well baby, it's worth a shot.

Just enough time to plan an escape route.

I put my map on the wall in the basement,

Not quite a victory to run from your problems

But it's the only plan that I got."

-Escape Route, Paramore

depressivedetails@gmail.com

I made a big step today.

I lay down, tilted to my right and swung to the left with my laptop in my hand. The CD skips "...in a building where I lie still and then I turn ba-back over again...". The dog squeaks a toy by my knees. I have hope.

I really fucked up today. I mean, I thought I really fucked up today ("Fucked up" is techie speak for mistake, by the way. I don't mean to cause offence with my vulgarity, between my nationality and job description it's inherent that I swear... a lot). I unknowingly killed somebody's power mid save on a file and cost them a nights recording. It's also potentially shitty to their gear but there are fail safes in place for novices like me. While the screw up was lame, it was minor, as the file was merely a version of something that had been done before and can easily be done again. All I got was a stern look and the words "Nobody died, just check next time.". Meanwhile, my head runs circles. I convince myself he thinks I'm a total fuck up and that my boss will replace me.

I spent quite a while racking my brains on how to make it up to this guy. The determined silence kind of irritated the guy I'm working for. I suppose I probably blurted it out before I left the jeep, somehow we got onto the topic and he had some life lessons to give me. He told me I need to communicate (for the second shift in a row) and so I bit the bullet. It felt like the biggest bullet that could be bitten. It was really a lot more like pulling the pin out of a hand-grenade with my mouth. I told him I'm sick.

God, I told my boss I'm sick, that's fucking unreal. I told him I've been really sick for a while, with depression, and that I'm getting better. I told him it's not been long since I've been really, terribly, incredibly ill. I said that work is good for me, I said that I never go anywhere unless I have to... and I didn't lose my job.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even take a breath, if anything he seemed relieved. He told me to get out of myself more. He said I'd been doing really well and we both should be walking more and eating less shit. He assured me that himself and all of the guys he has me working with have time for me... That isn't to say they'd want me at their birthday party but that they feel I have potential with a possible air of intelligence or competence. Even when I'm just the extra pair of hands on the gig, I'm not a waste of space. How did I get to believe that I am not a waste of space? That is a big step in itself. He said we all fuck up, he said he did the same thing this week. He said he messed up bigger last week... In fact, he's always saying "I've messed up bigger gigs than this". He said these are the kind of talks he wants us to have... He's totally okay with it.

This all being said, and as huge as it feels to me, it should be no surprise. Two days ago a statistic revealed that as many as 50% of under 25s suffer from mental health issues in Ireland, with me fitting that category precisely he had a 50/50 chance of my being among those who do. Having had such a huge weight off of my shoulders, I opened the door and turned away declaring "I like working with you and that." before leaving him. I went inside and found my brother standing in the kitchen. He ranted for a time and when he was done I told him that I love him, which I seldom say. We got onto the topic of work and had a detailed conversation about the inner workings of binary and lamp addresses. It was most pleasant.

Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith to find out the people around you will understand. I made a big step today... It feels good.

depressivedetails@gmail.com

A Better View of the Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right

She says it's only in my head,

She says "Shhh... I know it's only in my head."

But the girl in car in the parking lot

says "Man, you should try to take a shot,

can't you see my walls are crumbling?"

Then she looks up at the building

and says she's thinking of jumping.

She says she's tired of life,

she must be tired of something.

- 'Round Here, Counting Crows

I promised a post a week ago and my dog won't stop barking at the window but some things take you over and stop letting you do the things you want to, like writing blogs.

Work has been almighty and all-consuming over the last few weeks until it stopped. During a run of Oliver I found that a family friend had gone missing. The next day they found a car with a letter inside. They buried her and held a Christian service. The minister assured us that she was in heaven as God did not judge those who had been overpowered by the devil - his ignorant explanation for mental illness. We then discovered her mother is blaming the widow for it all, though he is a tirelessly loving person.

Let me set something straight for you, suicide is nobody's fault. No amount of puppy cuddles, phone calls, lay ins or mix CDs are going to save somebody's life. It doesn't matter if I was r***d, loved or alone - it makes no odds if I have work next week or if I'll see you tomorrow - when your mind is so sure you don't doubt it, you just keep it secret. Part of my keep safe scheme is to share my master plans with JJ, my plots are foiled before I even give in to them. It doesn't mean I haven't scarred myself badly or wound up in the emergency room but it means I'm still here.

I wish I could sit Rose's mum down and tell her that no matter how significant someone is in your life they can't convince you to take your own without an existing chemical imbalance. That it's not a moment of action but one of reflection that brings you to the conclusion. The voice comes from inside, the one that clarifies everything, it's not the devil taking over your mind with mind controlling doughnuts or whips. I want to tell her that we all tried our best to convince Rose that she was special and supremely loved but she couldn't accept it. It doesn't matter any more but today she had a few hundred of her biggest fans. I hope it meant something to somebody.

I know it's not a subject you can just touch on but in my emotional post-service state I've not the energy to write much more. With the phrases suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem or nothing saves anyone's life, it just postpones their death I say with a distinguished level of confidence, you'd be surprised who misses you.

Also, I'm not against religion, just not swayed by any of them yet.

One more thing... Happy birthday to my darling bestie.

depressivedetails@gmail.com