Hello from the otherside.

Every now and then an epic break up song gets released. My heart falls in love with the song but being in a fantastic relationship, my brain can’t relate. Instead I start attributing broken friendships with these songs. One such friend is Jenny.

Jenny was my first house mate. My Mum had lined up a boarder house with a woman that sold Nutrimetics, her husband who gave me the creeps (no justification for that. He just reminded me of someone else) and two male students. The house was nice, the woman tried her best to make me feel welcome, but the environment didn’t gel with me. I took a number off a notice board at uni and set out to look at the house. It was perfect. The girl was my age, studying in my classes, and we seemed to click.
We  spent the first week cementing our friendship. It felt like having a sister the way the movies portray it, opposed to how my real sibling experience was. We didn’t borrow clothes or anything- she was a typical North Queensland girl in surf brand tanks and shorts, while I liked gypsy skirts and jeans all year round, but we stayed up late giggling and chatting. Shared music, cooked together sometimes. Helped with assignments.

I was young, naive and still adjusting to life in the real world. The house was her fathers, and she worked at his store. She drove.  My parents sent me an allowance which I used to buy my necessities but I was never great at managing money, and she patiently reminded me when I owed her for rent or bills. Our circles differed a bit at uni- I befriended other out-of-towners, foreign students and mature age students, while Jenny seemed to fit in better with the local students and people our age. By second semester though I started getting depressed again and  went through phases of not eating, then returning to normal uni-student diets.  I started self harming very lightly, and smoking in secret round the side of the house. In this time Jenny broke up with her high school boyfriend and withdrew into herself a little. By the time of our birthdays we had more mutual friends, friends our own age. Still I felt she had more in common with them than I did. Sick of waiting on my current crush to notice me  I hooked up with Ben for a short lived courtship and I could see a flirtation with her and Max.

Over the summer I returned home to Perth, and continued slightly in my self-destruction voyage. I had a second brief fling with a guy from school, and entertained thoughts of having it somehow work long distance. I was crushed when he said no. I realise looking back that I was having so much fun catching up with my old friends I barely kept touch with my new friends. But Jenny and I spoke a few times and she mentioned getting closer to Max, but they weren’t an item yet. When second year came around I returned to Queensland and found things quite changed. Some friends of mine had left and  one was completely ignoring me without explanation. I was still recovering from my summer rejection. Jenny suggested we go to a Party at Max and his housemates place and we all got very drunk.

Jenny went to sleep in our friends bed and left me up talking to Max. He started making some moves on me and I was drunk, horny and lonely. I do remember asking “what about Jenny?” and I don’t remember his exact reply, but it was along the lines of “what about her, she’s asleep?” I didn’t feel like stopping him. It felt good to be wanted and I was self destructive, so we moved into his bedroom and he went down on me. I felt awful afterwards and didn’t tell Jenny.

They officially started dating a few weeks later. It was the same time as Cyclone Larry blew through Townsville. We had driven to Cairns for the weekend, stayed with her mother and she showed me around her home. But we had to face the decision of waiting out the storm in Cairns or driving back home before the cyclone fully hit. We drove back in heavy rainfall, at midnight. I couldn’t drive, so Jenny made the whole trip behind the wheel. She got annoyed when our friend and I questioned her hip-hop music, and by the time we got back things were steely between us. They never really recovered. We used little things to passive aggressively land blows on each other. To get the bins out one day I flicked her side mirror in on her car, then told her to make sure it was in place before driving next and she blew up at me accusing me of breaking her car. I got annoyed with her because her dog chewed my things. She started labelling her food. Max later told me he had mentioned our one night to Jenny, and I can see now it was a huge tension between us.

My remaining friendship- my crush used my unrequited feelings for him to his advantage and I was constantly cooking for him, doing small favours or paying for small things. Things needed to change.  I turned vegan after watching a documentary and used that to exert control over my diet instead of starvation. I started Salsa dancing and tried to make new friends.  I still was cutting every night and after an awkward one night stand with one of my new friends I decided to finally get help for my depression.  I sat down and talked to Jenny,  I told her I’d been really struggling and I thought it was best for our friendship if I moved out. She agreed, so I moved into the first place available to me sharing with two guys 15 years older than me.

Jenny and I saw each other at uni and occasionally at mutual friends parties, but mostly I separated myself from them all. I remember only catching up with her once one on one after I moved out. It was our third year, but I had already pulled out of uni and was preparing to leave Townsville. My eating disorder controlled me by this stage, but nobody talked about that.  We met up for coffee, and the conversation was forced and awkward. I had lost her.

She’s still on my Facebook. I see her name pop up now and then. I want to comment, apologise, ask her where we really went wrong. But I don’t know if she would know either. My depression and the symptoms of it , Jealousy and the inability to talk it out had caused a wedge in our friendship. Instead I hear an amazingly emotive breakup song and I mourn our lost relationship.

I always cry at weddings. (part 1)

Last year I was bridesmaid in my long time friends wedding. I was so excited for the privilege, but a little sad she lived on the other side of Australia to me. My friends Eve and Amelia also were asked, and another girl we went to school with was Maid of Honour.  We were to fly over to Canberra for the wedding which is pricey. Eve declined the bridesmaid role, unsure if she’d be able to make the trip. In the end she did, and we considered her a honourary bridesmaid.  We chose our dresses out of a selection the bride sent us, met up and picked shoes together to meet all our budgets and requirements. I booked the accommodation for Amelia, Eve and myself. I booked my plane tickets and sent the details to Eve to line up with mine. I arranged a friend to look after my business while I was away, and feed my cats. My partner was also out of the country for work returning the day of the wedding.

The lead up to leaving was exhausting. The day after my birthday I held a sale in my store, organising 4 volunteer friends, a pregnant sister and a pinup fashion parade. Mister flew out in the middle of the day, so pack up was all me. I then set to the task of packing my bags and making sure the store and my house were organised enough for someone else to run. I got on the plane shattered, which in introvert speak means completely withdrawn.

 I love Eve, she is one of my oldest friends but she is extremely touchy- feely and the sort of person who feels everything needs comment/compliment. She also can be a little ditsy, which I factored in when making travel plans. It does make me a little short with her at times though, because when I’m tired and withdrawn the last thing I want is someone patting me like a cat and constantly telling my shoes/bag/leggings/hair etc is pretty. I also quickly realised she forgot to pack a jacket and a phone charger, meaning it was up to me to ‘mother’ her a little, lending her my Cardi  for the whole trip. I wear good quality clothes, so I don’t like lending them out.

By the time we got to Canberra and stepped off the redeye, I was even more exhausted. I knew I was gritting my teeth and needed some space to myself, but staying with Alice in her small house with seven of her friends and family, it was not going to happen.  I tried to find some space to work on some numbers and tax work that desperately needed doing, but found it impossible without my laptop which I had left at the store. I kept trying to walk to an area/part of the house that was secluded where I could sit and have silence, but every time I turned around, Eve was there Shadowing me. Alice’s father also has a sense of humour which involves provoking people, and the last time I had seen him I was in the depth of my Eating disorder and very thin which he promptly raised and decided to ask about.

I was tired, needing space and being asked personal questions.
So yes I was getting very short and defensive. I tried to help when I could- with dinner, ironing shirts little things, but Alice’s dads constant commentary and “you’re doing it wrong” was wearing on my last nerve, I also happen to have a very sarcastic and dark humour myself and tend to turn to it as defence, so out it came. I felt like a caged animal, but I continued to keep trying to smile and help as much as I could.

Amelia joined us, and we travelled to the wedding destination, also picking up something for the ceremony (vessels for a sand ritual). We met the groomsmen who flew in from Townsville. Amelia and Adele barely spoke to them, while I made effort- partly owning to the fact that I know Townsville quite well. Turned out we had mutual friends and on the day of the wedding I made a point of meeting my groomsman’s partner and talking to her. I then sewed little ribbons onto the little bottles and painted Eves nails because she missed out on getting her acrylics done by Adele.

 

The morning of the wedding was rough. We were supposed to be getting a ride from our hotel, which didn’t happen. So Amelia drove us up. It was raining so the ceremony got moved inside, but it was a pretty space and you couldn’t tell it wasn’t the original plan. We were told there would be food in the prep area, which there wasn’t. The stylist seemed daunted by the task of Amelia’s hair and Adele’s extensions,  and after starting Amelia’s hair Amelia needed to drive the hire car back to the hotel (she was the only one insured on it), and the rain ruined her mornings work ( we told her Amelia would have to drive, but she insisted on starting with Amelia). The makeup artist handed a straightening iron to me (!) to help fix it as we rapidly ran out of time. She didn’t like me much. She asked the stupidest questions about Perth as if we were some back water town which I couldn’t help but laugh at until I realised she was serious. Oops. I also warned her I hated having my face done because the brushes make me flinch, and that I was useless at doing hair and was probably not the best person to take over Amelia’s. Alice’s daughter also wouldn’t settle even after I took her out for a walk in her pram to try and get her to sleep.

The ceremony was perfect, despite the move inside. Not a hitch. We went outside for photos, it was cold and a little wet. The photographer wanted individual shots, so I went first. After she took my photo I noticed everyone standing around aimlessly and decided we needed wine for the photo taking while we wait. Off I trundled back to event and grabbed a bottle of champers and some glasses. I noticed Eve sitting alone looking a little sad, so I invited her out with us to watch the photos and chat with us. I tried talking to the groomsmen more.
Finally after the ceremony I found a quiet spot and sat down for a few minutes with canapés.  By the time the dinner came around I was feeling a little better until Alice pulled us bridesmaids aside and said “Guys, Be nice to the groomsmen, especially you Retrospective!” I was shocked; I had been very accommodating with the groomsmen and didn’t think I had even been too sarcastic with them. Amelia also uses sarcasm to cover her anxiety (It’s why we are friends) and I noticed her say a few things that may be misconstrued, but me? I shut down, going through ‘happy’ motions and after all the speeches and toasts were done, I excused myself and wandered off to cry.

 

It felt so unfair that all weekend I had been doing my best to be helpful and useful, but every time I tried to recharge my batteries I was not given the space. I was constantly getting teased and taunted by the others but I was the one getting singled out. I had not complained about how I was feeling (except a short word to Amelia, but that’s what she is there for) and was trying my best not to be snappy.

I was back to pretend-normal by the time the dancing rocked around (oh didn’t we tell you the bridesmaids have to dance with the groomsmen, well now you know!) and I was the only one of the party still wearing shoes. I finally got a hold of Mister, which was a huge relief- I could vent unjudged, let out some of the steam that had been building.

By the time I got back to Perth the next day I felt like I must be the worst person in the world. I felt like the whole weekend I’d been told there was something fundamentally wrong with my personality. I was somehow faulty. Alice’s Dad, mother, brother, the Makeup artist, everyone kept making a point of saying “Oh Eve is so lovely and kind and pretty” which she is, and I love her as much, but by the end of the weekend I needed my space and clearly came out looking like the wicked witch of the west to her Dorothy. It was a relief to sit down with my Perth friends again and relay the situation to them. Finally I started feeling like I wasn’t broken. Yes I was Daria in a world of Quinns, but back home most of my friends were like Jane, and could stop biting my tongue and relax again.

 

A few months later, the photos were released. There is one photo of me standing behind Alice, she looks radiant and I am holding her bouquet, with the most classic example of resting bitchy face i have ever seen. I look like I want to murder her with her bouquet. Of course I was mentally prepping for my walk down the aisle, but the photo sums up the whole weekend.

Smog

I feel the depression seeping back in. Like a fog machine slowly filling the theatre of my life with cloudy smoky atmosphere. I stand on stage, going through the motions of everyday life, but the lights grow dimmer, the air thicker and thicker. My limbs feel heavy and cumbersome. There is a nagging at the back of my head, almost a headache. Eating is a chore,  but i want to fill myself with the emotional comfort food provides. I know I need to complete tasks, do work and tick jobs off my ever increasing to do list, but mustering the energy to do so seems impossible. I feel trapped and breathless, even though I am sitting, doing nothing in an empty room.

I’ve nibbled at the end of my nail. Its edge is raw and jagged. It annoys me, but instead of filing it, I bite it more, running my thumb along its edge.

Am I sick? Fighting a low level virus- is that what causes this lethargy, this haze? Last night had goose prickles on my skin until I put on my pyjamas, which felt clingy and claustrophobic. An hour later I was uncomfortably hot, almost clammy. A fever perhaps? Maybe I am not relapsing, just fighting off some mild illness? Or is that my depressed mind trying to seek a physical cause to a mental problem? Why should i need a physical cause- isn’t depression enough on its own. Fuck you society and your stigma.

I hate weeks like this. The reminder that I will struggle for the rest of my life. That i will never wholly be free from the sadness, the anxiety or the haze. The demons follow me around the theatre of my life with the smoke machine, ready to flick the switch at the smallest sign of stress, at the smallest cue. Trigger happy.

Keep taking the meds. Keep trying to stick to the meal plan. Do as much work as you can. Take some Panadol. Breathe. Abstain from alcohol. Close your eyes and try to sleep when you are supposed to, don’t nap during the day. You know the drill by now.

Why I am apathetic about my Birthday

Its my 28^th birthday today.
Half my life ago, on my 14^th birthday I had one of the worst days of my life.
My 14^th year was hard. We moved to a suburb none of my rich friends had heard of. My sister was busted smoking  pot and grounded “for life”. My dad was miserable in his job and trying not to take it out on his family. Mum was working nights and exhausted trying to hold the family together. My Grandmother married a man who may or may not have been a con-man. I was teased all year, worse than I had ever before. I also grew boobs overnight and the boys were merciless in their harassment.

So my Birthday started normally. I got up letting Mum sleep in and caught the train with my sisters. But when I got to school, Tim* tried to give me a present. Without even thinking, I held up my hands, muttered "I can’t accept this" and got away as quick as I could so I didn’t have to see his hurt face. He had a crush on me since art class the year before and he was a nice guy, but a little intense which scared the crap out of me. He was also on even lower social standing than me, and his affection towards me meant I was teased even more. I had barely spoken to him all year. Today, My 14^th birthday, was no different. “Why didn’t you take his present? You Bitch!” people taunted me. “I hear Tim bought you a present and you threw it at him!” I was followed by it all day.

I did my best to avoid him all day. Alana and I were going to try Fencing after school in the gymnasium, so we turned up, changed into our gym gear and waited for the class to start. Then Tim showed up. Clearly we weren’t the only ones who though learning medieval sword fighting sounded awesome. Suddenly the fencing uniform felt like it was highlighting my chest. “Here is my ample bust!" it screamed. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back, all I remember about that hour is the anxiety I felt and embarrassment. I obviously wasnt going to take this class ever again.
After school I caught the train home and had a job interview for Red rooster, the local chicken chain. My sister started working at Hungry Jacks at 14, so now it was my turn. I turned up for the interview, answered the guys questions and felt rather good about it. Until he finally looked at my birthdate on the standard Red Rooster application form.
 “Wait. 24^th October. That makes it your birthday today! Happy birthday!” he said smiling. “15 today!?”
“Thank you, I’m 14 today.”
“Oh. “ He looked awkward,  “we can’t hire anyone under 14 and 9 months. I’m sorry to have brought you in.”
I walked home. Stewing on the day. When I got inside my door, my Mum and sister were waiting for me. They’d tidied my room and it looked so bright and sunny and beautiful. There was a haircare kit with clips and scrunchies on my bed. I burst into tears and sobbed the whole day out as mum gave me a big hug. She told me to talk to my teacher the next day, made me one of my favourite dinners, and a crunchie cheese cake (the brilliance of a crunchy bar broken crumbled into a cheesecake- my request every year).

The next day I asked the home-room teacher if I could have a word outside, and we sat on a bench. I told her that Yesterday had been my birthday. I don’t think she had realised. I told her about Tims present and that I couldn’t accept it because I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, or encourage him. I told her, tearfully, about the teasing and taunting that happened all day. That people called me a bitch.
“You did the right thing not taking the present.” I was assured. I already knew that. “Do you want me to talk to Tim for you?”
No, I didn’t. It wasn’t his fault. I would have felt sorry for him if someone else had been the object of his crush. I didn’t like him, even as a friend anymore because I couldn’t. He was too intense, but it wasn’t his fault for laying his heart on the line, just as it wasn’t my fault for trying to distance myself, hoping his feelings would cease. I just didn’t want the whole school teasing me for not reciprocating a guys feelings, just as I’m sure they teased him for being rejected.  Nothing was done, because how do you discipline a whole year for being mean to one outcast?

I avoided Tim the rest of my whole school experience. I’ve run into him a few times since, including at my high school reunion last year, Its pleasant, but still a little awkward. I still see the slightly creepy boy who sung Savage Gardens “Chained to you” over the phone to me, and he probably sees the bitch to rejected him and then avoided him like the plague.
I have mixed feelings about birthdays now.

Names obviously changed.