To come back I need to go away.

To come back I need to go away.

I need to go away to come back.

Yesterday I was thrust head first into the ice cold deep cruel ocean waves. Head held under by unseen hands, unable to breath, desperately searching for who was drowning me. I can’t survive underwater any longer, I’m dragged cruelly into the cold dank air. Head just above the crashing waves, barely able to gasp for air, swallowing salty water, choking, unable to breathe. I’m screaming, nose full or salty Britney water. Ears deaf filled with the cold crashes of the sea waves – echoing through my head. Pushed down again, head submerged, held down by strong unforgiving hands. Struggling to break free, I’mm held even firmer underwater. Sight starting to disappear, I’m dragged out again into the cold fresh air – it’s not relief I feel. It’s fear and desperation as I know I’ll be pushed back under to my watery death. That struggling is futile, indeed it seems to give this other being more strength and determination to drown out my ego, my desire to live, die, love, hate. I start screaming under water, knowing as I do that it will be the death of me. I start to seek the pure bliss of giving up, drowning in my sorrows as I know I should. And can.

As my life force begins to ebb, a voice comes to me. It’s hard to hear them over my screams. The waves are screaming in unison. Above the water and below. The hands never slackening their control and force.

“Give up.” It whispers. Icy cold tendrils of truth wrapping themselves around my heart. My soul. “You can’t survive this.”

“Stop struggling.”

“Surrender to the inevitable.”

I’m weak. The air I breath is scant. I stop struggling against the omnipotent and unforgiving hands. Stop seeking the truth behind the cruel fingers gripping my scalp. Hair stuck to my scalp. Nose and chest full of the cold heartless ocean.

I give in. I cease fighting. Look forward to the bliss of losing touch with reality and the warmth I will feel when I stop feeling. And fighting.

I sink further down towards the ocean bed, the hands lose their grip and I’m tossed to and fro by the ocean. Ever slowly sinking further and further down. I’m calm now. No longer screaming. No longer seeking the life saving ocean air above the waves still crashing over my head. The ocean feels like a cradle. Like home. I start to feel warmer than I’ve ever felt. More loved, at peace and one with the very thing that will be my demise. I accept the inevitable. The once unacceptable.

I’m at peace.

I’m done.
Isabella

“Never, never, never give up.”~ Winston Churchill

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” ~ Emily Dickenson


Fleas. Fleas. Fleas. Everywhere.

An absolute gift at 6.40am after another night without sleep. A brain that has fleas, fleas, fleas. Thousands of fleas jumping everywhere, itchy, biting, scurrying about, tears forever on the verge of springing from the deep depths behind the mask I adopt. A madness within – always present at the back of my brain. Physically at the back of my skull, my brain is the darkness and forever throbs with warning and fear – “Don’t ever forget me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you do, say or take”. To go there is to disappear. Forever.
Above my ears my brain pings and sings “Warning. Warning. Don’t go further back – only one step back further away from the light shining into my eyes and you will be swallowed by the swamp”. “The darkness. The blob. You won’t come back.”
This I know. How can a black lump be empty? How can my mind feel empty, hollow, a deep nothing yet still you hear the screaming, the crying, wailing, waves of fear that have a song of their own, a stillness that has a howl that only the demons of the night have ever been able to hear.
Sweet relief is when the screaming settles down to whispers, the wailing and crying turning to silent tears, unseen in darkness or light to othersWho are blind to your pain. Thank god others are blind to the pain – for to share it with others would be unspeakable cruelty. A cruelty I would never inflict on anyone. Ever.

UPDATE 2021 – Joey – you almost killed me.

Joey – you almost killed me.

But you didn’t.

You say you saved me – yet you were the reason I needed saving.

You pushed me to the edge and tipped me over – fascinated by the chaos and tears you caused.

You saw the pain yet could not feel it – incapable of empathy – you studied it yet could not replicate it.

Trapped in your own madness you did everything you could to drag me under with you. To blame me for your cruelty, your complete and utter disrespect and duplicity from the day you moved into my apartment and life.

I willingly let go of the very essence of sanity to explore the world through your eyes. The horror was too great at times – the emptiness in your soul infected me with the desire to die. Be done with the pain.

Yet I managed to escape time after time. I would hook myself into your arms knowing that with the love came loathing and shame. Love? No. Not love. Loathing. Pure hatred of self painted in the colours of love and lust. Desire parading as friendship – cutting each other deep with every word of love.

True insanity from the start – I was finally free of you in 2016.

2017 – I came back for more – hoping you had changed as you said you had. You lied yet again and I left. Yet again. Refusing to speak to you for over a year. You did not stop trying to win me back – let’s be friends. You are so strong. The strongest woman I know Isabella- I’m here for you.

2019 – I was no longer strong. I was weakened. Something had broken inside of me before I answered that fateful call and let you back in my life. I begged you with tears in my eyes not to hurt me, told you I was broken as never before. You held me close and told me I was “the answer”, I dared to believe once again.

Yet from the start, I knew you were up to your old tricks again. Were playing me for a fool. I needed the chaos. The madness. The insanity. The vicious words and humiliation of trying to be someone I knew I would never be and didn’t want to be. I needed your pathological lying to keep me sane this year. How twisted is that? You see, I couldn’t lash out at those who had harmed me – so I allowed you to lash out at me. So I could turn my anger and pain onto you – then hate myself for the person I became around you.

What a vicious and twisted game we played. Yet with emerging horror I have realised – I have not lost my sanity but managed to become strong at times again.

But you Joey – you – have lost the strength you had – you no longer make sense when you scream at me. You have aged immeasurably in the last year – I have trouble remembering your smile. Your desperation to be the man you were when we first met is clear – you yell at me to shut up and turn away when I show you old photos of your handsome smiling face of years gone by. You can’t bear to face the past, are petrified of the future and live to avoid the day as much as you can.

Joey – this year I willingly threw myself into your madness – screaming in anger all the way. Yet knowing I had no future with you – all the while lying to you that we did. You think I am angry and hurt because YOU left me – when in truth I was using you to hurt me. Had never been invested in a future with you – I knew all along it was a charade. And each of us were playing our parts to perfection. Me the victim – you the saviour.

But Joey – I did not foresee that for you life is now intolerable – that your grip on reality has slipped. That with all pieces of yourself you shed, manipulated and lied about – you are no longer a whole person. You are a ghost of yourself – a husk of a man who knows his imperfections too well. And hates himself more than he hates me.

Joey – you nearly broke me, I nearly killed my own essence of self to be by your side. But in the end, we are shards of loneliness, each panting in pain, covered in sweat and blood. There are no winners in this a Joey – I see that now. If I get through this there is no glory – my ego has seen to that – I am as lost and hurt as you are. Yet I have always been aware of my madness – embraced it at times thankfully. Joey – this year you have started owning your souls sickness – against your will – hopefully it’s not too late for you.

Or for me.

As it stands, I worry for the other woman who has been an unwitting part in your play this year. She is a true innocent – you will annihilate her with your sickness if you don’t leave her alone. But you won’t Joey- because you are too afraid to be alone to care about someone else.

Thankfully. I know my toxic self needs to be alone and I will be alone as I have always been. To protect others.

At least I hope so.

Our anthem Vera Blue – We Used To

Isabella.

-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——

Joey.

Thank you.

Thank you for being you.

Thank you for being you even when it is you who is scarred forever more.

Thank you for being you.

Without you the world would be a sadder place.

Without you the world would still be blinding the masses with lies.

Without you my world would still be one of denial, pain, loss and lies.

Without you my world would not be one of seeking and demanding truth. From me. From you. From others.

Thank you for being you.

Without you I would not be me.

Without you I would not be me – able to demand the truth from me. And me only.

Without you I would not be me.

Without you I would be dead.

So thank you Joey.

Thank you for being you.

Being you saved me.

I am forever in your debt.

Lots of love.

Isabella.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This. This. This. ❤️❤️❤️

love to ravenwolf ❤️❤️

I wish I could take credit for this beautifully written piece. I can’t and I won’t.

The next best thing I can do is share this beautiful souls words and spread the love. ❤️❤️

I’ve been blessed with two of the most beautiful, genuine and soulful men in my life. Each of them are the loves of my life, soul mates, twin flames, my other half.

They see me for me. In all my vulnerability, distance, ice cold exterior, my pain, fears and need to always run away. Yet each of them have always been my safety, my heart and despite myself I cherish them more than I can or will ever show.

Each of them “found” me when everyone said they wouldn’t. I opened my door and there they were – asking to enter my home and heart. I knew instantly they were the one – I fought it, was afraid but knew I was lost the minute I met them.

We have chapters in our lives that define us. If we are open to the Universe and our own Higher Powers they will guide the right ones to us.

My first soul love is still in my life as a beautiful cherished friend. I’m grateful and blessed. Yet we’ve worked hard to repair the pain and hurt from the past.

I thought I was done. Who gets two beautiful souls who see you for you? And loves you for all your mess? The Universe had other plans. As they do. Now – I’m facing the biggest fight of my life – to let him in, to love and cherish him as he deserves. I’m petrified I’m too damaged that I’m unable to be what he deserves. He’s thrown himself wide open from day one and I want to howl in pain. How can I be the one to give this beautiful, gentle soul the true love he deserves – more than anyone I’ve ever met?

I’m trying. I really am. But I’m so so scared I’m too toxic and scarred. And I’m scared of falling deeply in love with him – he’s the one – my soul knows it. Which means I won’t survive losing this one. Won’t survive losing his smile, his warmth, his caresses and trust. It will mean the end of me. But – that could be a good thing. If I’m not meant to have this then I can leave the world knowing I tried, gave my all and accept that I’m not meant to be loved or love. ❤️❤️❤️

————————-

ravenwolf Author – ravenwolf

I don’t care what “they” say.
I want a fairy tale.
I deserve happily ever and once upon a time.
I need the love affair that will take my breath away.
They don’t dare to dream.
I do.
They’ll tell me that love is for fools and true love doesn’t exist any more, but they’re wrong.
I’m not asking anyone to tell me I’m right or wrong, I’m still going to listen to my heart anyways.
I want the love story that redefines the fairy tale.
Kisses in the rain and embraces in the dark, but that is just the start of the magic- our deep soul touching love magic.
Soul touching, skin tingling, heart pounding passionate love that sets your spirit on fire.
Chivalry is still alive and dreams do come true.
I want out of the labels and into the arms of love, because “they” haven’t seen a dream come true.
I have.
I know the look of love and the heavenly touch of the one meant only for me.
Passionate kisses, warm hugs and the look in their eyes that melts my heart.
So, don’t tell me I can’t have an old fashioned romance that never ends..
Because I can. No, I will.
More than that, I deserve it.
The kind of love that people see and smile, because they know that what we have is different..special in a way that most will never understand.
Not just a little unique but the type of love affair that makes them smile and shake their heads at the same time.
The type of love that lights up a room when we walk in and shine brightly.
When I look at them from across the way, I know one thing: that’s the one.
Their eyes dancing in the light, the ends of their mouth curling in a delightful smile with the heart that beats only for me.
I won’t settle for anything less, and now, I don’t have to.
Happily ever after and magical love stories exist, but you have to be open and believe it’s possible and real.
I believe in true love, in soul mates, in twin flames.
I believe that fairy tales do exist and happily ever after does come true.
I believe that love comes for all of us, when we are ready and willing.
I believe that we find the one when we are meant to, chance does not exist.
So, when I tell you I want the fairy tale, and the last first kiss ever, believe it.
I’m not asking anyone but one to share my dream, because ” they” will never understand the true power of a love story like ours.
Until you catch a glimpse of heaven in the smile of true love, you don’t know how amazing that feeling really is.
Once upon a time and happily ever after, our fairy tale love story started with a kiss and ended with forever.
Never stop believing.
I didn’t…
And my wish came true in you.

———————————


|ravenwolf

@theravenwolf

ravenwolf Facebook

ravenwolf website

Lots of luv,

Isabella.

❤️❤️❤️

To come back I need to go away.

I need to go away to come back.

Yesterday I was thrust head first into the ice cold deep cruel ocean waves. Head held under by unseen hands, unable to breath, desperately searching for who was drowning me. I can’t survive underwater any longer, I’m dragged cruelly into the cold dank air. Head just above the crashing waves, barely able to gasp for air, swallowing salty water, choking, unable to breathe. I’m screaming, nose full or salty Britney water. Ears deaf filled with the cold crashes of the sea waves – echoing through my head. Pushed down again, head submerged, held down by strong unforgiving hands. Struggling to break free, I’mm held even firmer underwater. Sight starting to disappear, I’m dragged out again into the cold fresh air – it’s not relief I feel. It’s fear and desperation as I know I’ll be pushed back under to my watery death. That struggling is futile, indeed it seems to give this other being more strength and determination to drown out my ego, my desire to live, die, love, hate. I start screaming under water, knowing as I do that it will be the death of me. I start to seek the pure bliss of giving up, drowning in my sorrows as I know I should. And can.

As my life force begins to ebb, a voice comes to me. It’s hard to hear them over my screams. The waves are screaming in unison. Above the water and below. The hands never slackening their control and force.

“Give up.” It whispers. Icy cold tendrils of truth wrapping themselves around my heart. My soul. “You can’t survive this.”

“Stop struggling.”

“Surrender to the inevitable.”

I’m weak. The air I breath is scant. I stop struggling against the omnipotent and unforgiving hands. Stop seeking the truth behind the cruel fingers gripping my scalp. Hair stuck to my scalp. Nose and chest full of the cold heartless ocean.

I give in. I cease fighting. Look forward to the bliss of losing touch with reality and the warmth I will feel when I stop feeling. And fighting.

I sink further down towards the ocean bed, the hands lose their grip and I’m tossed to and fro by the ocean. Ever slowly sinking further and further down. I’m calm now. No longer screaming. No longer seeking the life saving ocean air above the waves still crashing over my head. The ocean feels like a cradle. Like home. I start to feel warmer than I’ve ever felt. More loved, at peace and one with the very thing that will be my demise. I accept the inevitable. The once unacceptable.

I’m at peace.

I’m done.
Isabella

Funeral Song

This song has resonated so deeply with me – I wish I had never heard it.

It’s beauty, depth and pain reflects my life and where I find myself day after day. Battling to keep afloat and alive. Constantly searching for a reason to live, for lost family and I keep getting the same results. Nothing. No one.

London Grammar – Strong

music.youtube.com/watch

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=6drfp_3823I&feature=share

The Cruelty of Others

Do you want me to die? Cease to exist? Am I so toxic and putrid that you would rather see me fall deeper into the darkness – shoved in the back by you?

I don’t understand how, or why, people wish to a
inflict their own toxic, psychologically fucked up selves onto others.

Some days I feel like a butterfly – caught, trapped and pinned to the board – still breathing and alive. You have me where you want me – yet you hate me. You hate my ability to thrive with or without you. You hate that I still see the wounded child within your narcissistic, sociopathic crazy fucked up world.

You will keep trying to control me. To you it is a game. To me it could be the end of my life. Do you truly realise that the end result could be the death of me? That one day I may just shut down, stop avoiding your butterfly net.

How can people be so cruel to those they insist they care about?

I’m done playing.

It’s over.

Father – deceased 1983 & Mother – deceased 2015

I Wish

I miss my family.
I don’t belong to anyone.

I knew I hadn’t scratched the surface of who you were. It was unspoken about. Off bounds. But your choices spoke volumes to me.

I just couldn’t reach you to hold you tight. Instead you self medicated and I yelled. Screamed. Sobbed every day thinking and knowing I’d lose you too soon.

Well too soon for me. Not soon enough for you.

I struggle – was my ego the right choice in keeping you alive? I sometimes regret it.

I know I’ll never try to control anyone ever again.

I can’t bring you back snd it kills me.

I can’t ask anyone about you because they too are dead.

I feel you around me, see you. I love you and miss you.

I cannot get off this ride of grief, loss and loneliness.

Luv,

Me.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Unpublished Post 23rd October 2020 – I Wish

I miss my family.
I don’t belong to anyone.

I knew I hadn’t scratched the surface or who you were. It was unspoken about. Off bounds. But your choices spoke volumes to me.

I just couldn’t reach you to hold you tight. Instead you self medicated and I yelled. Screamed. Sobbed every day thinking and knowing I’d lose you too soon.

Well too soon for me. Not soon enough for you.

I struggle – was my ego the right choice in keeping you alive? I sometimes regret it.

I know I’ll never try to control anyone ever again.

I can’t bring you back snd it kills me.

I can’t ask anyone about you because they too are dead.

I feel you around me, see you. I love you snd miss you.

I cannot get off this ride of grief, loss and loneliness.

Luv,

Me.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing by Jessie Tu

Reading this at the moment. Am in no state to write my own.

Review by Kara Nicholson for Readings

Jessie Tu has worked as a classical violinist, teacher and journalist. This is her first work of fiction and it is an astonishing debut. The lonely girl at the heart of this novel is Jena Lin. Jena’s grandfather was a famous pianist and child prodigy in China. In Australia, Jena was also once considered a child prodigy. By the age of fourteen she had won seven international violin competitions and the chance to play a solo with the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. During the performance she had a public meltdown and retreated from the limelight. Her grandfather always said that it was the destiny of the talented to suffer and to fulfill their excessive needs at any cost. 

Now in her twenties, Jena lives in Sydney and has begun to play the violin again. She is auditioning along with her best friend for a permanent orchestral role in the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Jena’s daily routine of practice and rehearsal is relentless, and she can be unpleasant and prickly. She also considers herself to be a sex addict. In the absence of the attention and acclaim given to a soloist musician she finds random sex with a variety of men almost as fulfilling. Her needs are excessive, but she will meet them at any cost. 

Jena gets the job but loses her best friend in the process. She then meets Mark, who is in a long-term relationship with someone else. Mark is rich, middle aged, racist and sexist, but self-sabotaging Jena is drawn to him. She is lonely. There is such a disconnect between Jena Lin the gifted Australian violinist and Jena Lin the sex addict that the decisions she makes are heartbreaking. Jena then wins an internship with the New York Philharmonic and her life seems about to change for the better. She moves to New York just as Trump is elected and the experience is not quite what she expected. 

This is a fascinating and intense debut that challenges systemic racism and misogyny, particularly in the progressive artistic world. It is confronting but it is also brilliant and original. Jessie Tu is an incredible new voice in Australian literature.

https://www.readings.com.au/review/a-lonely-girl-is-a-dangerous-thing-by-jessie-tu#

Drowning Not Waving – Elegantly Falling

Help

Lost, alone, don’t recognise me, don’t recognise you, don’t recognise anyone.

All I can do is keep moving, organising, dodging the bullets, avoiding reality, the knowledge erupting from the deepest core of my being.

Feeling nothing, feeling everything, feeling wrong, feeling bad, feeling sad, feeling completely and utterly alone and, yes, lonely. No drugs to dull the pain, to send me into blissful numbness – scared of losing a day, an hour, a minute. Yet I continue to lose track of days, reality and facts – leaving me more vulnerable to the black crows of death.

I was the secret keeper – so good at my job that I have even hidden them from me. But they are there, making their presence known, stirring themselves awake, slowly moving and growing bigger. They are tired of being bound to silence, to coffins full of dirt, to the very darkness that was once a safe place. The secrets threaten to destroy the very essence of this body, we are hanging on by the tips of our fingernails, slowly sliding down the cliff, nails ripped off, bleeding, unable to claw our way back up or to stop the fall.

Elegantly falling.

Falling so silently – no one hears my screams, my cries of agony and loneliness. I’ve never been heard or saved – only pushed over the edge to be “caught” by the very person who pushed me to my limits.

I have nothing more to give. Nothing more to stop my world crumbling into the abyss. I yearn to curl up into a ball, screaming into my arms, crying until I have no more tears left until tomorrow. I need a safe place to fall apart – I’m not sure I’ll make it out alive.

The darkness within is unknown, yet felt deeply and painfully, with glimpses into the past horrors I cannot believe exist. The surreal feeling of being damaged, toxic goods, never good enough, easy to leave and being left constantly. My only consistent companions are the secret keepers and those that protect us – even when they hurt us.

We are screaming for help, yet requesting it quietly, with dignity, purpose and focus. As long as we continue to look like we are functioning we are ok. Yet the strength and energy required to keep up the facade has taken its toll – I am a husk, a shell of a person. Never been whole.

There is light at the end of the tunnel, a circus of merry-go-rounds that I don’t want to be on, rides I cannot get off, tunnels of pain, laughter, confusion and distorted mirrors. Is the light real? Or a kaleidoscope of images that lead nowhere except down the rabbit hole.

I may see you in the morning.

I may not.

Lots of luv,

Me.

Isabella.

xxxxxxxxx

Mazzy Starr – Into Dust (saddest song ever)

HellKat


Twins with Isabella. Attitude. Fuck you cunt. But god she’s a blast. You always know HellKat is nearby – her distinctive gravelly voice and laugh sounds more like a phone sex worker. And she knows it.

When HellKat is let loose she lashes out with intent to maim.

Angry texts.

Screaming.

Tantrums.

Yelling.

Fighting.

Stabbing.

Knives and forks in cheeks

C’mon cunt. Bring it on.

HellKat is the same age as Isabella – 15 or 17? It’s unclear – but does it matter? They are both wise beyond their years and street smart. Always have each other’s back even when they intentionally through each other under the bus.

Survival of the fittest.

One day recently HellKat had a major aggressive rant, smashing things, calling the cutter names (HellKat hates the cutter. It took three of us to calm her on the therapy pod but she still managed to kick out. Hit out. Spit and hiss. She’s been triggered. – but we can’t remember why – oh that’s tight a long text to “x” when none of us wanted to send it.

Finally settled down with pink cashmere blanket wrapped around her on the special bean bag. We are still watching and wary but we know that she’s lost her spirit and can’t be fucked anymore.

For this hour or day or week she has nothing left to do. Nothing left to fight for, to keep safe because we are safe.

She hates the littlies coz they make her too vulnerable and no ones going to see her soft side.

She’s twins with Isabella- but where is she?

We keep losing time and vision.

The past is being shoved into the light regardless I’d we are safe to deal with the memories. So to cope we shut out and down.

Isabella is not even allowed to write a lot in her diary.

So Simple It Hurt

So Simple It Hurt.
In the blink of an eye it was over.
Almost before it had begun.

The Beginning

I see you.

You see me.

I love you.

You love me.


The End

You see me.

I see you.

You lose me.

I lose you.

.

.

.

.

.

Happily.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

.

.

.

.

.

So Simple It Hurt.

In the blink of an eye it was over.

Almost before it had begun.

You know this is you and it’s true.

But.

I lied when I said I loved you.

I needed you to hurt me.

If I hurt I wasn’t dead.

Wasn’t invisible.

You were my escape into numbness.

Through you I self harmed.

You thought I was charmed by you.

I was always aware of your repulsive behaviour.

You allowed me to sink lower than ever before.

Pushing my head down when I tried to reach the surface and breathe.

I nearly drowned many times.

Drowning not waving.

You’d save me at the very last minute and I hated you.

But not as much as I hated myself.


Luv,

Me.

Isabella

xxxxx

Love in Lockdown

Love in a strange place and time – falling deeper into your arms.

Love in a strange place and time.
Surreal and real at the same time.
Holding on tight to the belief that I am worthy.
Worthy of your love.
Worthy of your soul.

It’s strange yet exhilarating.
I’m scared to let you in
Yet I yearn for your love
Seek out your touch and smell
I lean on you as never before
You sense my fear and stay still
Knowing me more than anyone ever before

You draw me closer
With warm tender words
Show me the real you
Trusting me with your beautiful soul
Begging me not to hurt you
I freeze.
I can’t promise that.
Please anything but that.

This cat has claws
Which swipe and scratch
When people venture too close
I hiss and scream and push away
Anyone who approaches my lair.

Yet you – Foxy – dared to enter
Into my space
My kingdom
My world
One step at a time
You showed me what could be mine
If I dared to put the claws away
And turn to you fur standing on end
Back arched, hissing, yet moving closer
Despite my fear and almost against my will.

I find myself swept into your warm strong arms
Drawing me closer to you
Heart to heart
Eye to eye
Lips to lips
We kiss slowly and gently.
We hold each other carefully
Neither smothering or possessive
We hold our own space
Inviting each other into our world
With warmth, courage and trust.

Trusting that we will do no harm to each other
Trusting ourselves with each other’s heart and soul.

Your Grey stormy eyes see me.
The real me.
Never before have I felt so safe.
Your beautiful calm soul soothing my pain.
What have you got to gain?
What have I to offer other than pain?

When you turn to me,
Bedroom eyes drawing me in,
I want to hold you close,
Smother you In love and tenderness
Release your beautiful soul to be free
Knowing that you will come back to me.

This is a once off love.
Swept through our hearts and off our feet.
A love in strange times.
We fought it,
The timing was wrong,
Vulnerable and exposed
We had no choice but to give in.

When is love ever in the right time?
We whisper to each other
As we explore this precious treasure chest
Of laughter, hope, honesty and desire
We have no choice.
We have no chance
To put on hold our love and desire
So we enter the churning sea.
Together.

Holding hands
Staring deep into each other’s eyes
We jump off the cliff together.
Trusting we will land in wonderland
Made up of two – me and you.

I love you Foxy.

I love your smile,
Your shy approach
Hiding a strength that is deceiving
Your deep still waters calm my chaos
Your pure soul deserves love and passion
All that I have to give is yours.
I promise to try to not hurt us both.
I withdraw my claws,
Silence the hissing
Turn to you with arms held wide
Drawing you closer to me and my warm cocoon of love.
I will do my best to love you deeply, without restraint.
Rose coloured glasses removed to see you clearly and always.

Foxy – I love you no matter where we end up after this crazy, surreal and fucked up time is over. You deserve the sun, the moon, the stars – my world is a better place for having you in it.

You make me want to be a better woman
A better me
For you.
But mainly and importantly – for me.

Lots of luv,
Me
Isabella

Don’t stop swaying – Sophie B Hawkins
https://youtu.be/JU1AxJvAy38

Anything for laughter in lockdown.

Anything for a laugh to ease the anxiety.

Good morning everyone!

Funny for the day to try to shake off the doom and gloom which is the reality for a lot of people at the moment.

Did you know that Bees sometimes sleep inside flowers, also like to sleep with other bees and hold each other’s feet.

That’s glorious love or an orgy 🧐❤️😇😂❣️❣️❣️

Story of my life – hiding away face first thinking I can’t be seen!

Are they married?

In many ways, once again, I feel fortunate and blessed during this time of world of confusion and fear. Social isolation has been my go to when I’m feeling scared, alone (not lonely), invisible, forgotten and unable to cope with life.

From a very young age, being alone, unseen and hidden has proven to be a strong safety response that I carried into adulthood. Today, to feel safe and calm, I need a quiet sanctuary of peace and security – physically yes, however emotionally more so.

As a child I used to sleep with my eyes half open – so I could watch the door or window and be prepared to run. I’ve always had an emergency exit plan, what I need to grab, which ways to run, where I could hide and what I could do to block entry to my house or room.

When I was about 8 years of age, I vividly remember having to block the wooden flimsy front door with an ironing board wedged against it and a cupboard opposite. In housing commission flats that’s as good as it got. It didn’t stop my dad from calling mum and I from the local pub – the “Collo” in the middle of the night. Waking us up, yelling that he had his kicking boots on and would be there soon. To kick the door in, then to kick mum around. The door always had a hole in it – anyone could get in.

I hate open windows to the night without blinds – you can’t see out but people can see in. I have alarms and cameras now as an adult, when I was young I had nothing. Except the time I was told to sleep with a knife under my pillow in case someone kicked in the back room windows and flimsy door right beside my isolated back of the house bedroom.

So why do I feel blessed and safe today during this virus pandemic? Because I already have the skills, knowledge and experience of being completely alone in the world.

I’ve learnt to be self sufficient, to self soothe and calm myself, to accept what I cannot change.

To love my small group of carefully curated friends even when they don’t have time for me.

To accept that, yes, I am loved as a friend, however I am no-ones priority or first, second or third thought. That I’m an afterthought even in “non-COVID19” times, that an hour catch every few months is all they can spare. Which is sometimes cancelled by me due to not feeling well enough to leave the house and be vulnerable with friends. When I do force myself to go, it’s always wonderful to see them – however some days (ok most) I deflect artfully any personal questions and focus on my friend. I have realised that this has created a barrier that stops people from feeling like that can help me. Therefore I, in my fierce determination to be independent, create a circle of distance and isolation. That’s ok – we feel safe.

Being with yourself 24/7 forces you to either live well to the best of your ability, or swan dive into depression, anxiety and thoughts of ending the desolate desert you call life.

I keep timidly choosing to live well and this gives me the skills to manage in this self isolation.

Keep strong my beautiful friends. Try to find the positive in your situation.

Gratitude may be too much to strive for some days – and that’s ok.

Take this surreal life one day at a time.

One hour if that’s what it takes to get through the day.

One minute if you feel like you can’t breathe or possibly continue in this new strange and scary time.

Call your friends and family – don’t message them. They need you more than you realise – you need them more than you have realised. Hearing your voice and laughter can change sombody’s day totally around.

Trust me – I know.

Lots of luv,

Isabella.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

🦋🦋🦋🦋

Just Holding On

Silver lining.

Not sure how I’m holding on – but I am.

One day, one second at a time.

Always a silver lining.

When I start to drift away I imagine I’m a balloon and hold tightly onto the ribbon – gently tugging myself back to earth.

Luv,

Isabella.

Unpublished October 2020 – Euthanasia and Suicide

****** Warning – possible triggering contact ******

Voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide is currently illegal in all states of Australia.

Victoria does not permit euthanasia, however Victoria became the first state to legislate for voluntary assisted dying (VAD). On September 29th November 2017, the Voluntary Assisted Dying Bill 2917 was passed and came into effect on 19 June 2019.Thus making Victoria the first state to legislate for voluntary assisted dying (VAD).

Under the provisions of the legislation, assisted suicide (otherwise referred to as voluntary assisted dying) may be available in Victoria under the following conditions:

• A person must be suffering from an incurable, advanced and progressive disease, illness or medical condition, and experiencing intolerable suffering.

• The condition must be assessed by two medical practitioners to be expected to cause death within six months (an exception exists for a person suffering from a neurodegenerative condition, where instead the condition must be expected to cause death within 12 months).

• A person must be over the age of 18 and have lived in Victoria for at least 12 months and have decision-making capacity.

• Though mental illness or disability are not grounds for access, people who meet all other criteria and who have a disability or mental illness will not be denied access to assisted dying.

Other processes and safeguards associated with the scheme are in place.

 Voluntary assisted dying

Voluntary assisted dying means a person in the late stages of advanced disease can take a medication prescribed by a doctor that will bring about their death at a time they choose. Only people who meet the all the conditions and follow the process set out in the law can access the voluntary assisted dying medication. 

Dying with Dignity Victoria

Founded in 1974, Dying With Dignity Victoria is a law reform and education organisation pursuing public policies and laws in the state of Victoria which enhance self-determination and dignity at the end of life. The purpose of the association is to relieve distress, helplessness and suffering for Victorians with untreatable, painful or terminal illnesses. More info

Resources:

Victorian government’s Better Healthhttps://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/ServicesAndSupport/voluntary-assisted-dying

Dying With Dignity Victoriahttps://www.dwdv.org.au/

The Beginning of the End or The Start of Something New?

Saturday April 21st 2016 – I went back to AA a shaking, shivering mess, huddled in my thick parka and scarf, crying and ashamed. Defeated and full of remorse and fear. The Big Book says it all, the program speaks of the alcoholic who is truly defeated and ready to admit powerlessness. With that change came a loss of all of my connections as most of them were toxic, based on shared addictions and my decision to be abstinent and sober was too confronting for most friends. I lost my best friend – alcohol – and then my minimal friendships because I finally realised I couldn’t keep doing the same old behaviours and expect positive changes.

One friend – Philly – said to me “I miss the drunk Isabella” – at the time I didn’t know what to say, yet internally I was screaming and shouting abuse. I wanted to shout, punch and pummel him with reminders of drunken calls, near fatal overdoses, falls and near death experiences. I didn’t say anything.

What I did do was cease contact with Philly who had been in my life since I was 18. Philly had been my best friend for a decade in my 20’s, in my 30’s we still had drunken, drug fuelled catch ups every couple of years. Philly who professed undying love for me, who I had called whilst overdosing and would visit me in hospital when Joey saved my arse from dying. Philly who admitted he did nothing when I called him to say goodbye, that I had taken a shit load of meds and wine – because he was home alone and too drunk to so anything to save or help me.

Philly would try to tempt me with alcohol, drugs or both. Every. Single. Time I tried to get sober. Is that friendship? Is that healthy? Is that fair? Is that love? No. That’s what addiction does to people – it fights to keep its friends close and equally unwell so that the individual does not have to face their own addictions, struggles, pain and self sabotaging choices and actions.

My desperate desire to be sober held a mirror up to my friends and showed them their own sickness – which they were not ready to accept. It was not my place to force them to see their own addictions, pain and chaos created by their addictions. And that’s ok. Some friends I distanced myself from slowly and carefully as I did not want to harm them further. Others turned on me – lashing out in anger, blaming and critising me for my new lifestyle and quiet voice of change. These friends ceased contact with me and it was explosive, painful and full of anger and arguments – recriminations and judgements from both sides. I had yet to learn to avoid or cease the toxic patterns of our friendships or relationship – something I still struggle with today.

Yet here I am – still sober, with a small group of strong healthy friends who only want the best for me. I now seek healthy, balanced company. I seem to be almost “adopted” by people who see something in me that they like. I question their desire to be my friend – are they crazy? Do they pity me? What do they think I can give them in return for their amazing qualities, support and friendship? Are they nuts???

I am slowly learning to accept that others see something in me I do not yet fully see or own. I observe their healthy choices, listen to their love of excercise, healthy eating and gardening, gigs, music festivals, travel (NO girls I am never going to be into excercise like you – that’s where I draw the line!!!!) and, occasionally I ask for advice and act on it.

The only changes I should be focusing on is that of my own choices and life – other peoples lives are their own business. Until their choices and actions impact me – THEN it’s my business up to a point.

In summary –

Luv,

Me.

Isabella.

Joey – you almost killed me.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ElLbPqQafmY&feature=share

Joey – you almost killed me.

But you didn’t.

You say you saved me – yet you were the reason I needed saving.

You pushed me to the edge and tipped me over – fascinated by the chaos and tears you caused.

You saw the pain yet could not feel it – incapable of empathy – you studied it yet could not replicate it.

Trapped in your own madness you did everything you could to drag me under with you. To blame me for your cruelty, your complete and utter disrespect and duplicity from the day you moved into my apartment and life.

I willingly let go of the very essence of sanity to explore the world through your eyes. The horror was too great at times – the emptiness in your soul infected me with the desire to die. Be done with the pain.

Yet I managed to escape time after time. I would hook myself into your arms knowing that with the love came loathing and shame. Love? No. Not love. Loathing. Pure hatred of self painted in the colours of love and lust. Desire parading as friendship – cutting each other deep with every word of love.

True insanity from the start – I was finally free of you in 2016.

2017 – I came back for more – hoping you had changed as you said you had. You lied yet again and I left. Yet again. Refusing to speak to you for over a year. You did not stop trying to win me back – let’s be friends. You are so strong. The strongest woman I know Isabella- I’m here for you.

2019 – I was no longer strong. I was weakened. Something had broken inside of me before I answered that fateful call and let you back in my life. I begged you with tears in my eyes not to hurt me, told you I was broken as never before. You held me close and told me I was “the answer”, I dared to believe once again.

Yet from the start, I knew you were up to your old tricks again. Were playing me for a fool. I needed the chaos. The madness. The insanity. The vicious words and humiliation of trying to be someone I knew I would never be and didn’t want to be. I needed your pathological lying to keep me sane this year. How twisted is that? You see, I couldn’t lash out at those who had harmed me – so I allowed you to lash out at me. So I could turn my anger and pain onto you – then hate myself for the person I became around you.

What a vicious and twisted game we played. Yet with emerging horror I have realised – I have not lost my sanity but managed to become strong at times again.

But you Joey – you – have lost the strength you had – you no longer make sense when you scream at me. You have aged immeasurably in the last year – I have trouble remembering your smile. Your desperation to be the man you were when we first met is clear – you yell at me to shut up and turn away when I show you old photos of your handsome smiling face of years gone by. You can’t bear to face the past, are petrified of the future and live to avoid the day as much as you can.

Joey – this year I willingly threw myself into your madness – screaming in anger all the way. Yet knowing I had no future with you – all the while lying to you that we did. You think I am angry and hurt because YOU left me – when in truth I was using you to hurt me. Had never been invested in a future with you – I knew all along it was a charade. And each of us were playing our parts to perfection. Me the victim – you the saviour.

But Joey – I did not foresee that for you life is now intolerable – that your grip on reality has slipped. That with all pieces of yourself you shed, manipulated and lied about – you are no longer a whole person. You are a ghost of yourself – a husk of a man who knows his imperfections too well. And hates himself more than he hates me.

Joey – you nearly broke me, I nearly killed my own essence of self to be by your side. But in the end, we are shards of loneliness, each panting in pain, covered in sweat and blood. There are no winners in this a Joey – I see that now. If I get through this there is no glory – my ego has seen to that – I am as lost and hurt as you are. Yet I have always been aware of my madness – embraced it at times thankfully. Joey – this year you have started owning your souls sickness – against your will – hopefully it’s not too late for you.

Or for me.

As it stands, I worry for the other woman who has been an unwitting part in your play this year. She is a true innocent – you will annihilate her with your sickness if you don’t leave her alone. But you won’t Joey- because you are too afraid to be alone to care about someone else.

Thankfully. I know my toxic self needs to be alone and I will be alone as I have always been. To protect others.

At least I hope so.

Our anthem Vera Blue – We Used To

Isabella.

Towards the Flame – Always

If you choose to dance with the devil do you ever win?

I’ve always stepped towards the flame – not away. Been fascinated by the insanity of others, the threat of danger, taunting others to do their worst and throwing their attempts in their face. Believing I deserved the slashes of deep pain. I’m still standing. Hurt me some more – I dare you.

Speed , scotch and shots.

Speed, scotch and shots on a Sunday afternoon after party in St Kilda. Nothing new or different about the day – I was bone weary, months of sleepless nights and days blending into one. A spinning top – when I’ll stop I didn’t know – yet I wasn’t done.  Falling into bed on Monday nights, sometimes Tuesday nights only to restart the party on Thursday night and the madness starts again.

Matchboxes full of speed – my standard weekend – I was beyond grams, ounces and lines. No measurements required – how much speed does a matchbox hold? I didn’t know and didn’t care. Spilled one in the car? Doesn’t matter – here’s another box. By the way – hold my gun before I hold it to your head – again. I laughed and told you off – as I did the first time you pointed a gun at me. Your name sealed the deal – Ian’s were to always be trouble – and sugar daddies. I always knew I’d be a better friend than a lover – every man and boy I’ve said that to took it as a challenge. They thought they could capture me, that I had a heart under the cold ice exterior. I don’t. I have razors they would slash themselves on trying to prove their worth.

This weekend the Little Ray of Sunshine, her boyfriend and I were at a bar – shots not even touching the sides. We were dancing with eccys flowing through our body – feeling the love and peace. When he first ran through to the back of the club, stark naked, everyone turned to see the spectacle and laugh. Laughter soon turned to horror as the black clothed goons chased him behind the dark, black stage curtains at the back of the club. There was only darkness in the back – his skinny white body emanciated – his ribs stark against the black and red velvet drapes. His  body falling to the dirty sticky floor, the goons laying into him with their boots against his defenceless white body. His cries turned to screams. The goons started wrestling him through the club towards the light of the doorway. Everyone looking on in horror. Stepping away. Away from the naked, bleeding body of the now screaming man – in a headlock – trying to get away from the thugs. I find myself stepping forward – hands outstretched towards him – the horror on his face – the blood on his hands and in his hair. Transferred to my hands.

I’m yanked back by my friends – away from the danger – not fast enough to stop the splash of blood onto my face. The music has stopped. There is a stunned silence. Then the music flares once again and the club starts dancing, rhythms and waves willing the horror out of our minds. Yet I cannot lose myself in the music or the drugs. I must leave.

I stumble out of the club. Into the street. Stark sunshine blinding me. The goons black clothing disorientating me further – where is the way out? What is real?  I see glass shards sparkling on the pavement in the harsh hot sunshine. My gaze follows the glass trail to the gutter – there’s more glass, surrounding a rubbish bin. A street sign. Splashes of red amongst the shards. I look at my hands – the red blood mimics the red splashed on the glass. The red on the pavement. The red on the whiteness of vulnerable buttocks. I realise with horror it’s the man from the club. Tossed into the gutter by the goons. It’s clear he’s unconscious, covered in blood. The goons are looking the other way. Men – boys – hover over the inert body – arguing over whether to call the cops or an ambulance. They’re told be the goons to move on – they argue with them – they aren’t responsible for their friends behaviour – they want back in to the after party club. All the while their friend is bleeding on the footpath at their feet.

With horror I realise that half an hour had passed since the assault and no ambulance had been called. I abuse the goons, the spectators, the friends of the man until I’m dragged away by my friends – it’s not safe to lose your shit in St Kilda.

We leave the scene – never knowing what was to become of the man. That’s when we started seeing blood everywhere we went to party – the times had changed. The drunks had infiltrated the rave scene and the violence had escalated – the crazies were making lots of money. And I was hanging out with one of them – as a friend only until he realised I would never become his lover. No matter how much money, drugs or gifts he gave me – I was not ready to stop partying. He was tired of the drugs. I was sad to see the drugs go, yet knew that the time had come for me to move on.

Away from that flame that had dwindled – towards another fire. My self harming was not finished.

I was not yet ready to stop stoking the fire.

Image credit

The End.

The End.

One of my favourite poems by A.A. Milne – The End – When We Were Very Young – Poohs Corner

The End by A.A. Milne

Just another day.

Forty-five and still alive……

Forty five,

Still alive,

Split in two,

I know not who.

I don’t normally rely on other people’s written content to explain or communicate my message. However, this year has been so confusing, toxic, shocking and draining that occasionally I have no words.

Nor do I have the energy to conjure up the enthusiasm to write positive and, hopefully, funny/wry observations of my life.

The short poem at the start – actually it’s not a poem – it’s only words. Yet I wrote this post on Sunday and could not continue – I lost the will to think further. I lost a few hours and continue to do so – both figuratively and literally – life has taken on a feeling of surreal surrender.

When looking up humour, the ever faithful and insidious beast that is the unreliable Wikipedia states that there are many “Theories of Humour. One theory of Humour in particular is very fitting for the Unfathomable Life of Isabella.

The “Incongruous Juxtaposition Theory” (don’t you just love the name!! I’m actually in awe of the heading let alone the precise fit of this theory to my life. Full stop). Wiki states:

“……The incongruity theory states that humor is perceived at the moment of realization of incongruity between a concept involved in a certain situation and the real objects thought to be in some relation to the concept.…”

Ha! My life!

Finally – this post was started on Sunday – my 45th birthday. It has taken me until today to have the fortitude to revisit the post and the day. I spent it exactly how I wanted – the same way I have spent all birthdays, anniversaries, Easter’s and Christmas since my mother died in April 2015. Alone. At home. Alive and loved by my cats.

Another irony was my horoscope thanks to Astrology Answers:

“Oct 13, 2019 – You have the Full Moon in Aries in your seventh house of partnerships, Libra. No matter what your relationship status is right now, today’s Full Moon is inspiring you to bring a matter to a close with great relief. Wherever you can show the love in your world right now, Libra, is exactly where you will feel it.

Follow the creative and passionate energy of the Full Moon in Aries today, Libra, and a closed chapter or relief in love or life are very possible. Today’s Full Moon is amplifying some changes or closed chapters for you here. If you are hoping for a partnership to go to the next level, then make a move today as this is in your favor. Your perception is pretty en pointe today as well.

And you will very easily be able to pick up signs and clues from Universe about any partnerships today as well, Libra.

Oh boy did I pick up the signs and clues for partnerships on Sunday. Bye bye Joey.

Until next time.

Luv,

Me.

Memories

Like A Cat

Cyndi Lauper – Like A Cat

I lived in your shadow

I drove your car

You thought I belonged in your four walls

I was never your bunny

I was never, never your pet

When you threw me out the window

I landed on my feet

Yeah you threw me out the window

Like a, like a, like a cat

Hey mister you can never own me

I only let you hold me like a cat

And mister you can never know me

I only let you stroke me, like a, like a

You thought I’d be purring

Curled up by your fire

Don’t want to be kept for your desire

You said I should be happy

But it only made me sad

And when you could never tame me

That made you mad

No you could never tame me

Like a, like a, like a cat

Hey mister you can never own me

I only let you hold me like a cat

And mister you can never know me

I only let you stroke me

You rescued…

Source: LyricFind

FML

I hate that f*****g movie.

Re-reading my posts from years gone by I have been struck by one very obvious fact.

My entire life is Groundhog Day.

And I fucking detest that movie – it creeps me out.

And it appears I have the lead role.

For fucks sake – can someone re-cast this role – I don’t wanna play no more.

Ta.

A sulking, irritated Isabella.

Photo credit: Ryan Jacob Smith
Fuck My Life

Fear, pain, remorse and the beginning of the end.

The beginning of the end or the start of something new?

This is so true right now – in fact my whole life has been like this. I was always looking after someone else – trying, but mostly forcing, my own will onto others.

I was critical, judgemental and angry at those close to me. I fought, cried and begged them to try to help themselves – knowing that I was forcing my will onto them. Whilst I was also sabotaging and harming myself to resist change and to cope with hating myself.

I was in so much pain and expressed it the only way I knew how – by being angry when they wouldn’t seek help, play the martyr or call me to fix the problem when it had escalated to being a crisis. I’ve lost so many years trying to fix the broken people around me – in the process I lost myself and harmed myself.

Finally in 2016, I admitted I was beaten and wrong – my way never worked – I had to change. No one else.

My last drunken binge was huge and I had no idea it would be the last time I would drink. Wednesday 20th of April, 2016 consisted of lunch drinks at 12pm noon sharp – 3 glasses of red wine in less than an hour.

The waitress was friendly when I first sat down to have “lunch” on my day off, however at the end of the two hours and 6 red wines, she wasn’t as friendly. I was aware of the change in attitude, the looks of astonishment and judgement she was casting at me – it was time to leave. I was completely steady on my feet, no slurring or falling over – which would tell its own story of the high tolerance I had for alcohol.

I hadn’t finished for the day! Oh no! The sun was shining, I was blissfully aware of the world around me and felt beautiful, funny and an abundance of love for everything and everyone. There was no way in hell I was returning to the dark dungeon that housed the dark, moody and depressed Joey who refused to leave my home until he was ready. Oh no. I was determined to have some fucking fun in my life for once. I wanted to party, feel the sun on my face, laugh and feel free.

The day was still young – so much time left to drink and have fun for the day! I was determined to ignore that I had to drive to get home, had work the next day and would eventually have to return to the blackened husk of toxic waste I called home.

I called Anne of Green Gables – my best friend since I was 16 – yep! Of course I could come around and keep her company while she played her role as housewife with 3 children all under the age of 5. I rocked up to her place at 2pm, music blaring, grinning, brandishing two bottles of red wine. The kids loved drunk Isabella – they had no idea why mummy and Isabella were so much fun all of a sudden!!! Anne of Green Gables and I polished both bottles of red wine by 5pm – just in time for me to leave before her husband came home. Being the good friend I am I left another bottle of red wine for her to have that night – I even opened it and poured her a glass. We were so clever doing this – her hubby would think that she had just opened the first bottle for the day! He would never know it would be her second bottle of the day. Hehehehehehe

By 5.30pm I was home safe, no fatalities, car in one piece and as drunk as a skunk – but nooooooo the party would not stop. I cracked open a bottle of white wine so I could be classy and pretend that I had my drinking under control.

It’s now 7.30pm and I was onto the sparking wine and polished that off just in time to drive to the bottle shop for another bottle of sparkling wine for the night. Shops close at 9pm – how rude!

Fuck off Joey – I’ll drive if I want to, I’m fine, and no I don’t want to fuck you! But I do want you to move out of my fucking house and get your stinking rotten carcass out of my grandparents bedroom where you have been festering for 8 months. Thank fuck you are leaving in two weeks – on Mother’s Day of course – you’ll make that fucking day all about you of course.

Ohhhh yeah. That sweet, friendly Isabella had turned into her toxic, abusive revolting individual who was vile and vindictive.

I’m told by Joey that I was pretty full on abusive which I don’t doubt. Anne of Green Gables later told me she had no idea at any stage that I had drank a bottle of red before starting the party at her place. See! Told you I could handle my alcohol and my tolerance was high! Isabella knows her fucking alcohol limits, regularly exceeded them and turned into a blackout, erratic hot pile of mess.

That party on Wednesday 20th April, 2016 had me in bed and hungover for two days. Of which the hours were excruciatingly painful, soul destroying, full of regret, denial, fear, shame, remorse, guilt and the obsessive certainty that I would lose my job, then my car, my house and my life.

Something had to change.

And amazingly it did. One day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time or one step, second or thought at a time.

More to come.

Luv,

Me.

Isabella

❤️❤️❤️

Joey – The Boy Inside the Man

2013 – in reflection – was the start of the end …. although it could be argued that either the years 2011 or 2012 have equal rights to this dubious accolade.

You see, 2013 was the year that Joey entered my life – I believe somewhere around May – via an online dating app that my ego was burnt on. My ego was so deflated and ashamed that Joey was the only person I spoke to and met up with.

Text messages and emails soon led to phone calls – what Joey did not know, nor did I wish him to, was that I was always drunk when we communicated. Even over the phone – surely I slurred my words after two bottles of wine on a week night??

Finally, after a week (I know – I played very hard to get) we met up in person in a bar of my choice in the city centre. Coz – you know – safety first. That date went for eight hours – lunch, drinks and dinner. During this boozy time I felt myself drawn to him – on reflection – he played me from day one. But I was completely unaware. I was too busy thinking – oh wow! I am dateable, desirable, funny and everything that my newly ex-partner told me I wasn’t! Joey laughed at my increasingly drunken jokes, showed a sensitive side, gazed into my eyes and for the first time in years, I felt like the only woman alive in the world. Because Joey was only focused on me.

Two short dates later and I invited him into bed with the romantic, classy invitation of “So are you going to take me home and fuck me?”. After a short, stunned pause Joey immediately grabbed the bill and we were out of the there and he was in!

Ohhhhh boy was he in. We spent the remainder of the weekend in bed – only getting up for showers and alcohol – no food that I recall. Highly doubtful as by this time I was living my own life in a gorgeous apartment in a trendy suburb and white or red wine, sparkling wine and bar food was my food of choice. The cupboards were bare – although I recall him eating Skittles sourced from somewhere. Recollections are hazy as – you know – I spent the entire time drunk, having the most glorious sex of my life and sleeping – in that order.

That weekend soon led to every weekend with Joey in bed, bars and alcohol. We got on so well that we wondered why waste time? Why not have access to each other 24/7 and have Joey move in immediately.

So that is what we did – Joey moved in – officially eight weeks after our first date. July was not only the start of the new financial year – it was the start of the most tumultuous, passionate, fucked up relationship I have ever had. I know right???? Again – I do play hard to get. Safety first – never invite a stranger into your home on the first date – which I didn’t. So there. I was safe.

What I didn’t know was that Joey was a daily dope smoker – I did know he was just finishing a private investigator qualification and he was a casual/part-time actor which meant he had no daily commitments. Joey would wave goodbye to me from my newly purchased bed, using my brand new couch and TV in my gorgeous apartment while I went to my highly paid Management job. Monday to Friday – 8am to 6pm – I worked and he did what he pleased in my apartment. Great Gig for Joey!!! I have suspicions that he wasn’t alone every day …… the lying and doubts started immediately.

What Joey did not know when he moved in was that I was a failed Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) member from 2011 and 2012 – therefore I was an active alcoholic in every manner.

Oh well. All is fair in love and war.

Within a couple of weeks, I was silently acknowledging to my alcohol addled self that ….. yes ….. I was dating my father – figuratively speaking of course. And….well…… Joey had some problems – and they were not caused by me. Well not at that time anyway.

Joey was – and still is – an incredible lover, sensitive and intellectual – all that dope smoking during the day and WarCraft while I am at work meant that he was ready for me at all times.

I saw not only my father in his past, I saw the boy in the man and I fell madly, deeply and passionately in love with him. I could not tear myself apart from him – so much so that I ended up getting myself retrenched in September – great! Not a problem! I too will go on Government benefits – just like Joey – and we can have daily sex, drugs and alcohol – what a life I threw myself into.

Yep. As I said – 2013 was the start of the end of my life as a respectable career woman and the start of an abusive, explosive and unemployed few years of my life – to date.

I am proud to announce that I am now, again, unemployed, occasionally having amazing sex with Joey and our relationship is still as fucked up as it was in 2013.

Don’t worry – I will fill in the gaps soon – my life over the last 7 years has resembled The Shining, Forrest Gump and – as a (now ex) close friend said – the worlds greatest train wreck ever seen – if not in comparison to the explosion of Earth.

Luv,

Isabella

xxx

All We Need is Love

“I don’t want my idea of you. That’s too easy, and it isn’t real. I want you, faults and all. And I want you to want me, faults and all, not any ideas you have about love.” Waylon Lewis

Over the last few weeks, I am slowly appreciating – and accepting – that love comes in many forms.

I’ve always believed in the concept of “Let go, let love” and have loved one boy – who is now a man – since I was 18 years old. Bobby. He is my soul mate, my Romeo, the man I loved enough to let go of – hoping that one day we would be friends again. By the end of my 20’s we were no longer in contact and my heart ached and I mourned the loss for many, many years – in some ways I still do.

From there I sped into my 30’s – spending close to 10 years with a man – J – who simply saw me as an adornment, a symbol and something to have around the house for show. There was an empty hole in my heart and soul that I filled with alcohol and substances – we knew from the first few months that we were not a good match. Yet we persevered. Why? I still do not know fully – I have some insight – however the full reasons have not yet been revealed – and may not be. All I know was that the girl I was always felt invisible, alone, a ghost in the corner, unheard, a girl who lost her voice and knowledge of who she was – not that she knew in the beginning either. I did not have the strength to end the charade, so I exploded the life I had with him in November 2012. The remnants of that relationship and girl are still shards of glass that slice – I don’t delve too deeply into who she was – yet. She is still a charred, burnt out shell that I am slowly tying to heal.

I have loved another man – Joey – recently – since 2013. Again – I loved the boy inside the man enough to let him go, yet hung onto him at times that were harmful to him and I. We are not kindred spirits or soul mates, yet our love and passion runs deep – the fire in our love burns our souls. There is little nourishment or security with him, yet the sexual energies and shared intimacy keep lying to us both. The physical passion we experience taunts us – we connect so deeply when we make love, yet in the real world we struggle to communicate. At our worst we are revolting creatures who we do not recognise – we treat each other appallingly – vicious words, hurtful silences, wounding , scratching, and harmful energies. Yet there is love. Yet again, I have ended our relationship and want to be friends again – it’s better that way.

With all three men, we have tried multiple times over many years to make our love work – yet have not been able to. The first love of mine finally ended after eight long painful years – I let us both go free as he did as well. It was a mutual and painful choice.

The second laboured on for ten years.

The third man I have surrendered to the truth and we are now free to be friends as of last week. It’s still raw. But right. Joey and I will always be friends. I know that.

Bobby and I – well we live over 2000 kms away from each other, have not seen each other in person for ten years and only recently video called each other. Showing each other our homes, and absorbing the changes the years have made to each other. And we have – slowly – formed a friendship that is full of love and gratitude. The bond is still there, forgiveness and trust strong and love spoken, given and relieved.

I’m learning that I don’t need to be in a relationship to feel loved – I do not yet love myself much. Yet I respect and admire all three men in different ways – thus I trust that they see, or saw, something in me that I am yet to see or acknowledge.

I am trusting that if Bobby and Joey can love me, see some good in me, that maybe, just maybe, I am lovable.

With much love,

Isabella.

Changes… are for the best – right???

Blog name change from “Just Be Normal” when I first started this blog in 2011/2012(?).

My now ex partner used to shout that at me …..”Just be normal!!!!!!”. He did not understand that I didn’t know what normal was, I didn’t know who I was …. so how could I be something when I didn’t know anything else?

Close to 7 years later, I now know why I didn’t know what “normal” was (or is).

Please do not start the “…who wants to be normal anyway…” crap. Only people who have had the standard childhood and have houses, partners, children, jobs, friends, hobbies and holidays think they know what normal is. I am nowhere near having any of that now – except the house (thank my higher power and family) and friends I keep a safe distance away from me – logistically and emotionally.

So – new blog name – Unfathomable Life – because I don’t understand why I have this shit to deal with. Some of it’s my own doing, however, most of the unravelling of me, my mind and my life is due to other people’s actions.

I don’t know how I have ended up right where I am today.

I am totally alone, no family except two males I keep a huge distance from.

No partner – well today that is – tomorrow or next week we may be seeing each other again (Joey is for another day).

No job, no employment or study plans on the future – just hours of therapy apparently ahead of me. Outpatient may be 30 – 40 hourly sessions a week and/or inpatient DBT therapy. I have no idea.

All I know is that I’ve joined the highest rank of Private Health Insurance to be able to be treated as an inpatient after two months. It costs a bomb.

I know that is 5pm and I’m done for the day – on my bed and just wanting to sleep the night away. That’s not normal for a 45 year old. I’ve done my household chores, eaten a pie (unusual- normally donuts for dinner lately) and re started this blog.

I have a long to do list and have spent the past 3 months working on updating my back Garden and house so it is an oasis of calm.

This week is the first week since May that I have only small projects to do. And I feel disconnected, invisible, alone and, at times, calm. I count my blessings, know my fortunate circumstances and am grateful. Yet I cannot get away from the fact I’m stuck with childhood trauma and feelings that are surfacing every day that I have to manage.

I cannot forget that no one wants me, no one needs me and no one truly cares. I know that the people in my life care for me – even love me – but that doesn’t change the fact that 24/7 I am alone.

It’s completely unfathomable to me how this life of mine has turned out like this. I believe that I am toxic and destined for people to leave or die. Destined to be alone for eternity.

Enough lamenting as Joey would say.

Night, night.

Isabella.

Summary of 2019 so far.

Life is slowing down again since May fall out.

To cope I have reverted back to keeping busy. I’ve been keeping myself busy with major projects – outside garden revamp, inside house clean out and re-arranging of every room and adding indoor plants.

Luv,

Me.

Image found: https://images.app.goo.gl/4kdutgtKQ7PM2Vku6

2019 – Unfathomable Life Events

Life is a fog of unseen and untold events and memories – this year has culminated in a complete and utter meltdown.

This wonderfully accurate drawing by Red Howling is the month of August’s featured cartoon in my Pets of the Homeless Australia calendar.

Both are Australian companies who passionately, and creatively, work to engage and support our vulnerable members of our society.

In turn, this sums up my year to date.

I have posts that I have not made public on this blog – will do so over the next few weeks.

Fair to say that 2019 is nothing like I expected, I am in a strange but safe place in life.

Christmas Eve I felt my self snap – I simply broke inside – my ability to bounce back, my spark, my life force was snuffed out. Since then I’ve declined rapidly, despite extensive and increased professional medical support and therapy.

I again find myself unemployed, unemployable and without the ability to even think of work – this has never happened to me before. I’ve always been a worker and thrown myself into jobs, careers and education to re-create myself. Driven by money, sense of self through profession and need to be needed – dreaming of work, working 50 – 60 hour weeks, 7 days a week. Starting at 6.30 in the morning and leaving at 6 pm at night to do more work.

I’ve burnt out, been burned professionally and lost trust, hope and faith in the corporate world.

Since the start of May, I haven’t worked and will not be returning to work again in the foreseeable future. I cannot even manage minimal tasks without sensory overload, I’ve reverted back to old behaviours which I try to keep in check.

The remainder of 2019 remains a mystery – one thing I do know is that I cannot even think of working or studying – I have an internal meltdown. Apparently I have a huge amount of therapy and work on myself that I cannot even fathom the enormity of what I’ve hidden for so many years.

To sum it up, my house, garden and cats are my safe haven for now and I keep stimulus to a minimum to the best of my ability.

My plan is to write, undertake therapy and nurture self through gardening indoor and outdoor plants and gardens and seek minimal communication with friends. It’s all too overwhelming.

Yet, I am safe, calm in this very second, and know that I have done the best I can.

Speak soon.

Love,

Me.

Isabella.

xxxxx

Mum’s Birthday

I miss you Mum..happy birthday..xx

It’s mums birthday today.

Drove around the streets of less than salubrious suburbs I dragged myself up in reflecting on the past, houses and schools.

Song – You and Me by Penny and the Quarters – https://youtu.be/H8rumyup0Os

Song – You and Me – Penny and the Quarters

Happy birthday Mum – I miss you so much.

Love,

Me

You and Me – Penny and the Quarters

One of my favourite songs – You and Me – Penny another Quarters

Credits: https://eccentricsoul45s.bandcamp.com/album/penny-the-quarters-you-and-me-b-w-some-other-love

Am I back?

My last post was over a year ago – when I thought I had it together and was getting going again.

And I was – and am.

Yet I am going through yet another downward spiral that has lasted for quite a few months this year …. the positive is that I am seeing the truth, reality and positive in all that is, has been and will be.

Life is like a merry-go-round – you go up and down and round and round – wondering when the ride will end, who will be there waiting for you and why aren’t you having a great time?

carousel

Looking back at life, I see stages, lifetimes and growth … I also see pain, denial and death.

Looking into the future I see the same – and I don’t know how I am going to keep going. Yet I must. I truly have no choice in the matter as I do see a future – a reason for living and continuing to strive for a better, healthier me.

That is it for now.

Isabella.

x

 

I am back!

I am back.

I hope.

It has been a long and hard road back to feeling like I can share my life and my story.

I have been struggling to see the point, to have hope or to even think that someone, anyone is interested in hearing my voice.

Anyone want a tall, cold glass of self pity? I have one for you to share.

Anyway.

That’s it for today – it’s been a big day of setting up blogs, reviewing this one and considering what I want to share here.

I hope you are all doing well – I have loved hearing from my little online community in the past and hope to catch up with you all again.

Isabella.

xxxx

carousel

Struggling to move ahead

I truly do not know what the future holds for me and it scares me …. even though I know no-one else knows either.

I have never been scared of the unknown in this way – I always felt like the master of my own destiny. However I feel I have lost the power in the last year since mum died.

Perhaps it has something to do with the realisation that I could not bring mum back after dying?? That I was completely and utterly helpless – her death was ultimately beyond my control. I remember pacing in my room upstairs with this rage and feeling of hopelessness and loss of control that I could not bring her back.

I have never felt so helpless in my life.

Nothing I could do, say or negotiate would bring her back to life.

And that devastated me.

I always had control. And then I didn’t.

This sense of powerlessness has been reinforced by my ex-partner Joey refusing to leave my home despite me begging, pleading, threateninig, negotiating and every other avenue I can think of. He simply refuses to leave until he is ready. Despite telling me he has not loved me for close to 2 years now. Despite having separate rooms 2 months after mum died. This situation has added to my sense of powerlessness and loss of control – I cannot even be respected enough for an ex boyfriend to move out. And no. I will not call the police as he is not violent, and I don’t want that horrible situation in my house. So I am stuck.

I’m living with someone I don’t want in my life.

And living without someone I dearly want back in my life.

Why am I not drinking. Every. Single. Day. I will never know. But I’m not and that’s a bonus.

Still crying

It is almost a year since mum died and I am still grieving. Still lost.

Without her, I feel like I have no direction, drive or desire to live beyond doing the minimum actions – work, clean the house, grocery shop and read.

I have realised that I a lot of my passion, drive, strength and focus from looking after her – in the last 3 years of her life most of my drive came from anger, hurt and frustration. I look back and there was a lot sadness and a sense of unfairness in how life had mistreated my beautiful mum and how sad and lonely she was.

Without her, I feel like I am nothing. Nobody. That I have no future beyond my reality now – which is, in many ways ok.

I have a new career I forged by turning my back on sales and management and studying for a year to enter a new, caring career in the welfare sector. I have a part-time job I mostly enjoy except for a couple of bitchy females. I have my gorgeous family home that I can afford to pay for on my own. I have a couple of friends who are wonderful. I have my health and slowly building a financial stability.

What I don’t have, and I continually focus on is a family to love me unconditionally, who call me or I can call them and say ‘Hi, I love you’. I have no one who loves me at all. I don’t have my mum to look after, or my nan to say ‘chin up, don’t get yourself all upset’. I have no family whatsoever. I miss them so much. I need them so much.

The irony is that out of everyone I know, I am perhaps the neediest out of anyone and am the one that needs family – I don’t have a partner, cannot have children, do not have siblings. I literally have no family. And that hurts.

I have always felt different, set apart  from the rest, and now even more so. Noone can truly understand the depths of loneliness I feel.

The last year has seen me have a breakdown for six months after mum died, endure a long and drawn relationship break down which is still ongoing as the guy won’t move out until he builds his house. So there is the constant reminder of the love I used to have and don’t have anymore.

I try to focus on the good, but at the moment my mind is swamped with sadness and that hurts.

I miss the old me – the fun loving, happy, passionate and driven girl who had dreams, desires and goals. Always on the go – now, I am lucky if I can find a reason to get out of bed.

Isabella.

xx

6 months today

It’s 6 months today since mum died and the pain is easing slightly but the loneliness continues without abating.

I miss her little face, her voice and her joy at always seeing me or answering the phone to me – she would always say “I was just thinking about you!”.

She always seemed to be thinking about me. As I did her.

I am still crying most days and try to keep myself busy and positive by thinking of the good things in my life, however it is hard when I am surrounded on a daily basis with a negative and depressed housemate and ex-lover. I feel as if my life has stopped some days, that there is nothing to look forward to, that this is my life and I just have to get used to it. That I will always be alone.

Loneliness and isolation have always been my issues in life – I have never felt safe, included or surrounded by people who love me – I have always stood slightly alone – the outsider looking in and observing. I find it hard to interact with people, to immerse myself in other people’s lives and become a part of theirs as I feel I have nothing to add. Yet I yearn for the connections, love, friendship and feeling of being part of a ‘tribe’.

Being an only child has not helped, or in fact probably created, that feeling of ‘being’ different … not to mention all the secrets I have carried to this day – when I share them, I feel over exposed, vulnerable and unsafe, so it is easier to not share.

So today, I will think of the positives in my life, my achievements in the last 3 years – particularly since mum died – and I will try to celebrate and be positive – because I have a lot to live for and be grateful.

Mostly, I am grateful to mum for raising me so strong and resilient – I am truly my mothers daughter and I am proud.

 

I have truly lost everything

Everything and everyone has gone.

I am now trying to rebuild everything.

Job. Career. Study. Friends. Life. Health.

I lost my mum, my beautiful mum nearly six months ago.

It is only now that I have started living again – some days I truly did not know how life could start being good again. Or if I wanted it to.

Since mum died, I lost my purpose, my reason and desire to do anything or to achieve anything other than getting out of bed … I was lucky to have a shower.

Now. I have finally gotten a job, in the welfare sector that I love.

I am starting to find me for the first time in 40 years.

All because I lost her.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria

Dodson ADHD Center –

Willliam W. Dodson, M.D., is a board-certified psychiatrist who has specialized in adults with ADHD for the last 22 years. A former faculty member at Georgetown University and the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center, Dodson is a Life Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a member of ADDitude Magazine’s Medical Advisory Board.

Dr. Dodson uses a multimodal treatment for Adult and Teen ADHD.

Dr Dodson writes:

I have been specializing in adults with ADHD for 22 years.  I have found that some parts of the ADHD syndrome could only be talked about after the person had gotten to know me and see me as a person who liked them just as they were and didn’t see them as flawed or defective.  After our relationship developed over time and some trust was established, patients were confident enough to reveal a part of their emotional lives that they did their best to keep hidden.  This became such a universal experience that it is now the first trait I ask about on the checklist after the traditional 18 childhood criteria from the DSM IV…

  • “Question # 19:  For your entire life have you always been much more sensitive than other people you know to rejection, teasing, criticism, or your own perception that you have failed or fallen short.”

Over the last 20 years 99.9% of my ADHD patients have not just endorsed this criterion positively; they have underlined it, put stars by it, and added “This is my major problem!!!”

This is the definition taken pretty much verbatim from an old psychiatric textbook of a technical term called Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD).  This, in turn, was the hallmark of an unofficial diagnosis called Atypical Depression.  In other words, clinicians only saw what they already knew (depression rather than ADHD) and continued to think in terms of mood but just said it was not typical as compared to other mood disorders.  The reason that it was not typical was that it was not a mood disorder, it was ADHD.

The term dysphoria is literally Greek for “difficult to bear”  which should give you some idea about how painfully your husband experiences your pointing out his short-comings no matter how helpful you try to be.

People with ADHD nervous systems often state that this RSD is the most disruptive aspect of ADHD in their adult lives.  They have found ways to manage the ADHD impairments in their academic and work lives.  It is the constant vulnerability to being “wounded” by anyone at any moment that continues to throw them into a tailspin without warning and then disrupt their lives for days with obsessive worry about “what did I do to make them hate me so much?”  It does not even have to be real rejection or criticism (although that is common enough in the lives of people with unrecognized and untreated ADHD).  Perceived criticism and withdrawal of love and respect is just as devastating as the real thing.  Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria is often experienced as if it were a physical wound.  Patients will hunch over and clutch their chests as if they have just been stabbed with a spear in the chest as they recount episodes in which they have experienced RSD.  People tend to react in one of two ways.  If they internalize the pain they can instantaneously drop into a full Major Depression-like syndrome complete with suicidal thoughts and impulses.  The difference, of course is that unlike Major Depression which comes on over weeks to months for no identifiable reason the plunge of RSD is instantaneously complete and clearly triggered by some perceived rejection.  Because RSD is always triggered by some event and because the mood shift matches the nature of the trigger, the internalized RSD can be considered a normal mood in every way except its intensity.

The RSD can also be externalized.  This usually takes the form of a rage at the person or situation that wounded them so severely.  Luckily, this period of rage is usually expressed verbally instead of physically and passes relatively quickly (Dr. Tim Wilens refers to these sudden, short outbursts as a “bottle rocket temper”….fzzzt and it’s over for the ADDer although the rest of us are still getting up off the floor).  It should not be a surprise then that informal surveys of persons who are court-mandated to anger management classes due to “road rage” or domestic violence have found that 50% of both groups have previously undiagnosed ADHD.  The combination of neurologically based rejection sensitivity and impulsivity combine to produce a violent response before the ADDer can see it coming and gain control of the outburst.

Original article written and found: http://www.dodsonadhdcenter.com/rejection-sensitive-dysphoria/

Reset button

“I am currently unsupervised, I know, it freaks me out too…..
But the possibilities are ENDLESS!!!!”

Yep. Unsupervised. SCARY????

Yep.

Nope.

Possibly.

I have spent the last few months (read 6 months) just wanting to press RESET…. I wanted to throw everything away – job, apartment, new relationship – EVERYTHING.

I dreamt and day dreamed of getting out of the car on a busy, fast freeway and a semi coming along and collecting me. BAM. Done. Gone. Without fuss. Without action from me. Just GONE. You must have seen the ads – the guys is driving, he is texting and stoned and his girlfriend talks him into pulling over on the side of a busy freeway so she can drive. He gets out and BAM. He is collected by a semi. Gone in an instant.  That’s what I wanted. A lot.

Things were building up …. I couldn’t handle things anymore.

Then after an incident with the little ray of sunshine, my grandmothers funeral and seeing my abusive uncle for the 2nd time in 20 years I lost it. I swallowed a bottle of pills after a lot to drink. And it was bliss. Exactly what I wanted.

Then I woke up. In hospital. With the little ray of sunshine looking at me over the side of the hospital bed. Works out that he had called an ambulance and they had to revive me as I was ‘unresponsive’. And covered in bruises from the wonderful hospital nurses and doctors attempts to get me to respond.

Am I proud? No.

Was this the first time? Yes.

Do I understand why I did it? Yes.

Do I regret it? No.

Would I do it again? Not now.

Because it served, as with most life experiences, as a ‘reset’ button, a ‘low’ that you can only go up from – if you are lucky enough to have the opportunity. I know so many people that were successful in easing the pain as they needed to and the only people that suffered afterwards was their loved ones.

That incident has now created the Universe to kick me up the arse and start listening to ME, and what I need and want. To not live my life for other people … to live it for me.

 

For that I am thankful.

 

And to the little ray of sunshine and the Dr’s and nurses that were there that night.

It could have been much different.

 

Isabella.

xxxx

The Universe Knows Best – Don’t fuck with it

You know, the Universe does know best.

If you try to ignore it, fuck with it or go against it’s wishes it will always draw you right back to where you should be.

2013 has officially been my “Annus Horribilis” as the lovely Queen once described one of her years. Que – wave….

Yet, throughout the year, I seem to have grown stronger and able to handle situations without the major dramas, crash and burn states that I have in the past. Let’s recap shall we? Let’s go:

  • November 2012 – slept with a random guy I met at a pub (a first one night stand with a stranger), then had to go home the next morning (bed hair and thank god sunglasses) and face the music with The Boy. Which resulted, predictably, with us splitting up. I moved out within 4 days – some would say with tail between legs, I would say with the words “FREEDOM” yelled at the tops of my lungs. I then, embarrassingly, proceeded to beg to go back, whilst, bizarrely searching for my own apartment and looking at furniture. But. Once I realised that I could do this grown up thing called life, I stopped begging and started moving into my brand new apartment.

  • December 2012 – my grandfather took really ill and I had to organise for him to go into a nursing home – a truly devastating time for my grandmother as they had lived together for 60+ years and had rarely spent time apart. I wasn’t working through this time so I spent my time at home in my gorgeous apartment, looking after my family and, well, working through my “to do list’. You know your “To Do List” – of men you wanted to fuck? My list was embarrassingly short but I made good work of it.

  • Feb 2013 – My beloved and gorgeous grandfather died. All three women in his life were beside him to witness his last breath. I would not have changed anything.

There was one very inappropriately funny moment – my mother, grandmother and I were by Pa’s bed and we had been blessed to say goodbye to him. Pa knew that this would be his last day – he wasn’t sick, just old – and we had all privately spoken with him. To say our goodbyes – I don’t know what my mother said and it’s none of my business. Same with my Nana – she adored that man and Pa had said to her “I never ever cheated on you love” and my Nan replied “I know love”. Me? I asked for forgiveness and apologised for the pain I had caused, the time spent ignoring him or not speaking with each other. I told him that I wished I could change the past – he forgave me and said “It’s alright love – we always loved you”. I promised to look after Nan and Mum – both knowing that Nan was the warrior out of us three women.

So there we were – all holding his hands talking to him, hugging each other and telling him it’s ok to let go. Pa takes a deep breath …. then ….. nothing. No more movement. No more breathes. We found ourselves holding our own breath while we tried to accept the fact that it was his last.

Suddenly, Pa’s eyes fly open. He looks around and asks “Am I dead yet!?!?” I kid you not. We were all equally shocked, speechless and, inappropriately, we all burst into hysterical laughter as we reassured him that no – he wasn’t dead yet.

Once we had settled ourselves down, Pa closed his eyes and drifted back to his inner world. We three warriors watched patiently and silently again – each of our breaths synced with his. Until, finally, we were holding our breaths awaiting for his exhale – as he breathed out we anticipated his next inhale. Which did not come – he had passed away before our eyes – no laughter or confusion this time. Just peace, calm and love surrounding him – a dignified and quiet death interspersed with humour. Exactly as he had lived – quietly with silent strength and dignity – a gentleman in every sense of the word.

  • March 2013 – My auntie died of cancer – another devastating blow to our small family. Only three of us women left now. We are all little soldiers – my nan, my mum and I.

  • April 2013 – A little ray of sunshine – Joey- I met online started being in my life by text and email. A couple of dates and the start of something new.

All through this, I dealt with the “Unreasonable Control Freak” (otherwise known as The Boy) about a settlement, have lost my home, my gorgeous dog, my two beautiful cats, a number of “friends”, took on a immensely stressful Management role against my better instincts (damn you Universe you were right). My best friend moved 3,000kms across the country, my mother has had numerous hospitalisations, work has been horrifically stressful and long hours, I saw my fathers mother for the first time in 20 years, also saw my uncle who was abusive to me as a child and …….. basically tried to keep my shit together.

Fuck. How the hell did I do it?

Well, the little ray of sunshine turned out to be the best thing to have happened to me in many years – in many, many ways. And. After knowing him for eight (yes 8) weeks, I promptly moved him into my apartment and life. Was I scared? Yep. But. For once in my life I made a decision based on MY gut instinct, my intuition and for me. There are issues but they are workable. What he gives me is total and utter support, unconditional love and encouragement to be me. When I met him, I was feeling extremely unsexy, dressed down, didn’t really care about myself but he has shown me how to love again. And I started realising that I was worth something, not the loser that the Unreasonable Control Freak kept on telling me I was, I started realising that I am a good person and deserve to look after myself as such.

Yep. A big year so far.

And, funnily enough, chronologically, I am only up to June……

In the last four weeks, I have ended up in hospital, lost my job and basically lost everything again.

Yet. I am the happiest I have ever been, as I know now that I can do anything and, when the Universe tells you to do something, you fucking do it. Because if you don’t it will make you do it even if the Universe has to almost kill you to get your stupid life back on the track it is supposed to be on.

So, anyone who thinks they are going through shit – yep. You are. But keep focusing on what you should be doing, what is guiding you and keep on track…. otherwise you will be thrown back on track. Forcibly and painfully.

Isabella.

xxxx

In retrospect

People enter your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. At the time you never know why, and its only at the end that you are able to reflect on the impact they have had.

The Boy has gone. I would like to say long gone, however he is not. Yet. He is still in the shadows, working away at spreading pain and derision my way. Nothing has changed – not even my reactions to his bile. Although my skin is tougher now and I grow stronger each time he shows his true nature, he still hurts. The Boy is the only person that causes my blood to boil, I see red, feel like I am nothing, I don’t belong and, worse still, completely helpless.

The settlement has taken nine long months. Culminating in him finally admitting that he has screwed me, telling me to “grow some balls at the negotiating table”. Funnily enough it didn’t hurt me as much as I thought it would. I’m relieved. It’s an old saying, but karma will be a bitch. I hope.

I do however long for my home. It’s spring and the smell of the ocean, the leaves on the trees rustling and the hope that is in the air still lingers in memories of my home lost. My animals, my dreams and my sense of who I was in the world. All lost. For good reason. I hated who I was. I didn’t fit in, I was living a lie, telling lies and my soul was dying.

I look back and remember how each day was started with an argument, or a look of disdain – worse – nothing at all. No acknowledgement or simple act of kindness or love. Regardless if I had been a good girl or nothing at all.

Mostly I was the girl crying in the bathroom, trying to keep the tears at bay, scared of being told off by The Boy. Which happened a number of times. My silence was required, if I showed my emotions or hid away to weep, he would barge in, throwing open the door and scream at me. No comfort or emotion. Just rage.

So I took to having showers frequently – that way he couldn’t hear my tears. I would weep, rage and bang my head on the wall to stop the pain, grow some balls and change my life.

Yet. Still I stayed.

Until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done. Done. DONE.

So I annihilated my life as I keep knew it. Blew it up.

I knew when I was begging for a last chance that I didn’t want it. Couldn’t and shouldn’t have it. I had already had another man. The complete no- no. Yet I wanted to still win, have the last say, leave on my terms, at my time and in my way.

Of course I couldn’t do that. I had to leave as the victim, scared that I couldn’t manage my own life, make my own decisions and look after myself. Be the child that I had been up until then.

Now I had done it. Forced my way into adulthood, forced myself to look after myself.

I was scared, but liberated and free! Free!

I did it, I made adult decisions, committed to a high end apartment, without an income. Set myself up with furniture and household goods, made a home and started living as an adult.

Now, nearly nine months later I look back, and recognise what a train wreck of a year it has been. How strong I have become, how good and bad decisions don’t matter – it’s the actual choices that you make and the act of making them. Rather than sitting and waiting to be told what to do, how to feel and when to feel it.

2013 has had a lot of pain, growth, strength and commitment already. Out of this dark, torrid year a lot of light and movement has occurred. I just need to now focus on the positive, releasing my need to control, to live up to other people’s standards. I need to work out my own.

And all through this I need to keep the darkness at bay and the let the light shine through.

With light there is love.


Inner City Girl Is Back

A lot has happened in 2013 – love, life and death.

Oh.

And a lot of sex.

More of that to come later.

Isabella.

xxx

The elegant art…

The elegant art of falling apart … the graceful beauty of surviving…

Having spent an entire long weekend with myself, centering myself and learning to be at peace, I have not experienced anything like this before.

True happiness and serenity has been mine for most of the weekend – loneliness and depression has not been a part of the picture. What I am experiencing at this moment is the result of choices and decisions made in the past; what I will experience in the future depends on choices and decisions I make now. Happiness is a daily decision.

 

I’m Back!

Oh yeah. I. Am. Back.

In a big way.

In a good way.

Stronger and better than ever before.

Life has changed so much and I have learnt how strong I am, that I can look after myself.

For so long I thought that I needed other people to look after me, protect me and be there for me. To support me – not financially, but in every other way. Pick up the pieces for me.

Well. I am no longer breaking things. No longer breaking myself. I am not needing to pick up the scattered remnants of my actions and life.

In fact, I am building a life.

Sure, with some false starts, mistakes and embarrassing moments but the point is, everytime I am falling, I am getting back up again, dusting myself off and getting on with things. And not making the same mistake again.
Well not quite true, however less and less.

At least this time I was quicker to pick myself up, less collateral damage and quicker turn around for feeling brighter.

I can only keep trying.

I Can See Clearly Now

So confusing. Life.

The Boy and I have split up and it is so hard.

I am so close to getting all of my shit sorted, exercising and money wise not to mention everything else, but I could not cope any longer with the lack of love shown, anger directed at me and removal of communication. So I got really drunk. So stupid. So So Stupid.
I begged The Boy to talk to me, not to yell, but talk to me, talk about our issues, not push me away from him, physically and emotionally. But he wouldn’t.

So, it’s so stupid, we don’t want to but we have split up possibly for good and it is so sad.

Somedays I want to sit down with The Boy and say let’s stop this stupidity, sort our shit out together and move on. Others I want to move out into my own place and live, breath and run my own show, do it myself. But at the end of the day, I just wanted The Boy to love me like I loved him, not to yell at me etc.
At least I am getting healthy and fitter slowly, looking at my own apartment and starting to think about myself and my life.

Dammit.

Such a loser

Ok so reality check which is what was required unfortunately. Why do I always have to learn the hard way?

The one fucking person I should have listened to and respected and I didn’t. Thought I knew best and that he didn’t understand me, wouldn’t listen to me.

But what it all comes down to is that I didn’t love myself, trust myself or even like myself so why on earth would I do the same to the person who loved me? To trust him would mean to trust that I am loveable.

Fuck. This is going to be hard.

I want to be normal and look after myself, love myself, eat healthily, exercise and make good safe decisions.

I also hope that when I do get my shit together that The Boy and I still have a chance. I think we have the potential to be great together and I love him – unfortunately more than I love myself at the moment.

I don’t think I have too far to go to do this – it’s in my grasp. It’s just so fucking painful.

Quick Update

Well …. its been a long time since I have been here.

 

I have read back through a lot of my words, and wow, so confused, fucked up and basically a mess.

 

The good news is that I feel like I am on the way to happiness…. real happiness. Core happiness.

 

I don’t feel like I am trying to herd cats when it comes to my thoughts.

 

I don’t wonder what is it all for, why do I bother getting out of bed? Is it worth it, what’s the point and can I escape my life, me.

 

I feel like I am on the way out of the depression that had me for as long as I can remember.

 

I now know why people get out of bed in the morning happy.

 

I understand why a simple thing like walking the dog is not a chore but a blessing.

 

I get why people want to be healthy and fit.

 

Why normal people love, laugh and sing.

 

It’s because life can be great if you let it.

 

If you don’t fuck it up by hanging around the wrong people for you, work in an environment that does not suit your skills and personality.

 

I have figured out you get back what you put out and in.

 

For the first time ever I feel like I am beginning to know who I am and I may like her.

 

So how did this come about?

 

In May I lost/quit/resigned from my well paid corporate job through stress. Then started my own business working by myself, for myself, with clients I like. I will not pretend that it has been easy – it hasn’t at all, it’s been stressful, tiring and a huge learning curve which is still occurring.

 

However, what it has given me is this:

 

  • The ability to choose my hours, my clients, my work and my environment.
  • Structure my own day and week so that I can work towards incorporating a good work/life balance –
  • walk the dog if I don’t have meetings in the morning,
  • exercise 3–4 times a week is an aim,
  • eat well is still an aim,
  • be happy and positive with loved ones,
  • be there for friends.
  • Appreciate life and nature

 

Finally, it has given me a reason to get out of bed in the mornings – because I am working towards being fulfilled and happy. I still have my incredible days of depression where I wonder why I bother, why do I keep going, and question if anything is worth it. However those days seem to be getting less and less thankfully.

 
I still have a long way to go and expect a few more ups and downs, but overall I know that I am on the right path finally and will continue to work at it.

 

“Happiness is not a destination. It is a way of life”

 

 

 

Isabella.

 

x

 

Health Health (Photo credit: 401(K) 2012)

 

Fractured

Fractured and torn.

Upside down and inside out.

Losing grip on reality, capturing it for a fleeting moment, only to watch the wisp of normality slip through my fingers.

The Boy: “Just be normal!!!”

Me (screaming): “WHATS NORMAL????? HOW AM I NOT NORMAL?????”

I know I am not ‘normal’ – and please don’t start the age old debate about what is normal is abnormal – we don’t need to intellectualize the concept.

I am struggling with normal reactions, emotions and how to respond in social situations – I have always had to be careful, wary and watchful to ensure that my reactions are appropriate. I am constantly trying to assess my reactions, copy others, think of the way I should be responding rather than being the awkward adolescent I am.

The longer I am sober, without drink or drugs, the harder it is to hide the fact that my grasp on reality and life is tenuous at best. Since I can remember, I have always looked for cues on how to behave, react and just be – I have used other peoples perceptions and standards be my guide on who to be.

To my grandparents – I was the perfectly respectful grand-daughter who always wore the clothes they liked, had my hair neatly in a bun or ponytail, stood silently until spoken to, called everyone Mrs/Mr and was the most politest child I could possibly be. In return I had their unconditional love and support, the safety of their home and was looked after well. I was loved.

To my mother – I was the Mother. I looked after her. I was the grown up. I still am today, although I feel like a lie, an alien and I wonder how long I can keep up appearances.

I always related best with adults – they always had an agenda and an expectation of who I was. Children didn’t – they allowed you to be who you wanted to be which was scary as I didn’t know who I was. So I became a grumpy, surly and defensive little thing – hard to make friends with, but once you broke down the ice fortress I was overly sensitive and continually watching and trying to fit in.

Now, as an adult, I am lost. Completely and utterly lost. I don’t know who I am, where I am going or who I want to be. I am raw, without protection or layers of skin – I have been flayed in the last 6 weeks until I do not know who I am. Nor do I have people around me who want to tell me who I am – they just want me to be me.

How can I be me if I am afraid of me? Afraid of who I will find if I let me out. I am petrified and feel like I have lost grip on everything I had built up – I felt myself in some parts of my job, yet that has gone and that persona is too harsh and structured for real life.

I want to be happy, free and loving – I just don’t know how to be.

I am upside down and inside out and feel like I am in pieces – scared that I will shatter even further until no-one will be able to put the pieces back together again.

Now I know why I was so scared of reality – in reality there is no me.

Child Abuse

It’s been a while since I have dropped by …. the 4th Step had in knots and still has, however I am starting to untangle the biggest twists.

In the past week, someone close to me was open and honest with me – she put a name to my past and all of the pain and memories I have held onto so tightly for fear of drowning in pain. Instead of confronting, learning and nurturing myself,  I dulled my pain in wine, drugs and any other way I could find a way to ease the hurt and confusion.

I always knew that my childhood was abnormal – dysfunctional at best. Chaos, secrets, pain, death and blood featured heavily in my memories and life up until the age of 13. I am still struggling with remembering a lot about my childhood that does not feature drunk parents, suicidal mother and an abusive, extremely sick father. The complete opposite memories are of being the perfect grand daughter who looks lovely, says the right things at the right time, who is the keeper of secrets and the teller of all. Talk about conflicting expectations and experiences – in one day I would go from holding the hair out of mummys face while she vomited Victorian Bitter beer into a blue bucket I had retrieved from the kitchen that morning –  in the hope she could brush my long hair so I could go to school.

Come afternoon, after school, I would go home to an empty flat, spaghetti bolognese simmering on the stove and a note from my mum telling me she was at the “Collo” with Judy – that she would be home in time for dinner. My best friends mum and my mums drinking buddy. I would call Brandy at her flat across the internal car park – I could see her kitchen window from mine – and let her know where they were. I would then wait. Wait for my mum to return to feed me. At around 8 o’clock, I would start the phone calls to the pub – the barmaid would know me – and ask mum when she would be home. Eventually I would have turned the spag bog off in case it burnt. I would be hungry so I would eat bread until mum came home – mostly past midnight when the pub would shut.

Then, on a bad night, I would be awake at 3am calling an ambulance and my nana and pa to come and get me. Mum had slashed her wrists in the bath again, or taken an overdose of pills, or dad had been around and bashed her. Either way, I would open the door to the burly ambulance officers who would take my mum to hospital. Hopefully my nana and pa had made the 20 minute walk in time to be there with me to ensure I wasn’t left alone – we would then walk back to their place where I would spend the night, the week or whole months living with them until mum was back to ‘normal’.

Countless other memories include needles, drug abuse, men, women, strangers, police and guns.

And apparently this is called child abuse.

I was not physically hurt myself, however I was witness to the chaos that was my parents life. And this is a form of child abuse.

I still feel strange thinking about my childhood in those terms, however it fits. It resounds on an intellectual level.

I should never have been exposed to that life, a life of blood, death and abuse of self – nor should I have been asked to be the keeper of secrets and the teller of all.

I am now starting to feel compassion for the little girl with long hair that just tried to survive in any situation as much as she could. She did the best she could with the tools she had. She wasn’t bad. She didn’t mean to hurt people. She was not supposed to be the protector of her mum. She was not to blame for the death of her dad, nor the pain that her mum inflicted on herself.

She was innocent. I was innocent.

I was abused in many ways, I wasn’t protected as I should have been.

But that’s ok. As long as I deal with it now as an adult and feel compassion and love for that little girl that is still lost, hurt and scared.

Keep coming back.

Isabella.

Happiness Means…..

Why life is amazing when waking up without a hangover and still sober:

  • Waking up at 6.00am on a work day and having the day off! Legitimately and not as a sick day!!
  • Freedom from fear and guilt – not a sick day!
  • Being able to appreciate this view from couch –

    Morning glory
  • My favourite childhood show on in the background – Bewitched 
  • Yet I am feeling like this:

I'm Late, I'm Late, for a very Important Date

 

Multiple other reasons but I am about to start Step Four – hopefully it doesn’t end with me on the floor like Juanita The Weasel (Thank you Bloggess).

The Agony Is Real

Isabella

xx

 

 

The Search for Connection

As I age, I realise that I have been searching for something my whole life – just what it is, I am never sure, however sometimes I think I know what I am looking for.

Sometimes I am searching for my father – The Yugo –  I think I see him crossing the street, sitting in a bar, playing with children, holding some woman’s hand that is not my mother. I am constantly disappointed and lost.

occasionally I am looking for my mother – The Beautiful Girl that I feel I have lost through her own pain and due to my mistreatment of her beautiful soul. I am lucky she is still with me, however I feel that I have lost the connection with her – particularly when I was scared and horrified that I would end up like her. Which, in retrospect and now, I would be lucky to end up 1/2 the woman she is.

Other days, I am searching for a  connection – any sort of connection that will help me feel alive, recognised and validated – human, animal or inanimate. My search takes me wherever I think I will find the place that fills the void that sits in the centre of my being, that deep dark hole that I carry around inside of me.

Over the years I have used drugs – speed, ecstasy, trips and prescription medication to try to fill the void. I have also used shopping to try to fill the hole, to feel something, albeit briefly. I have always been in relationship – except for a two-year stint of my choice – hoping to fill the void with someone else – obviously I wasn’t good enough so I needed someone else to help me feel, act and be normal.

Alcohol has always been my constant companion, my crutch, the answer and the solution – my best friend, my sibling and my family. Until the bottle of white wine was no longer my friend, he no longer filled the void, he violated me and took advantage of my weakness, exploited my trust and nearly savaged my future. He still wants to annihilate me, however I am struggling to stay strong and free of his abuse.

I wrote this article when I was seeing a drug and alcohol counsellor in 2010 – he believed that writing was the key and was the one of only 3 counsellors in my life that agreed that no one else was my problem. My problem was my addiction to drugs and alcohol. He asked me to write how I feel about drinking and this is what I found ……

Searching

Always searching for someone, a friendly face, a recognised face. As soon as the doors closed behind me I feel both exposed and hidden. Walking up to the bar, I lean against the wooden ledge, careful to avoid the surface sticky with beer. I place my foot on the rail at my feet, leaning forward, relaxed and open.

I wait to catch the bartenders eye, smiling, watching their movements and assessing how long until I will be served.  How many people are in front of me? What will they order? How slow with the barman be serving them. Will the punter fumble with their money, further delaying my turn with the barman.

Finally. Its my turn. I smile, share a quick hello and order my drink. I have my money ready, no delays here, no fumbling, let’s get this moving along nicely. I don’t care how much, don’t need to know the details. I know what I want.

I make sure to smile again and say thank you once the deal is done, I have my wine – you never know when you will need him again, to serve you quickly and efficiently.

I turn from the bar and assess where to sit. I have already figured out a general area, however I want to make sure it’s the right place – I don’t want to move again.

I sit down, take my book our, arrange myself. Always keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anyone – this is my private time.

Finally I pick up my glass and take the first sip – it’s a challenge to make it look relaxed and not rushed, like I haven’t been waiting for this moment impatiently for a while. From then on, I try to slowly savour the glass, knowing that I’ve a propensity to drink fast, with dedication and enjoyment and surely that would be obvious to others watching me.

I get up for my second – making sure I walk tall, steadily and with purpose. I position myself at the bar so that I can watch my bag – again impatient to be served. But I keep my manners and have a little joke with the same barman… it’s a conspiracy.

Again I keep my head down reading, not making eye contact with anyone, not wanting to be noticed.

After my 3rd, I loosen up a bit and look up from my book… look around at the bar, observing who is there, ensuring I don’t know anyone. I am getting bored with my book, reading is getting harder to concentrate on.

I start looking around, observing happy, laughing faces, wondering if I know them, do I know their lives, their thoughts at all? What makes them so relaxed to be in such a place? They have friends with them, all happy to be spending the afternoon in a pub on a sunny day, drinking beer, relaxing and having a fun time.

I want to be a part of that – I want to feel its ok to sit in a bar with a group of friends and have a couple of drinks and a good time.

I want to relax with a group of people I like and admire, have some fun, then go home and have something to eat, go back to normalcy.

I want it to be ok to be out in the world having fun, a couple of drinks and know when to go home.

I don’t want to be scared of drinking too much, slurring my words or embarrassing people. I don’t want to have to avoid those situations or be strict with myself beforehand. I know I can control my drinking when I am with friends – its only when I am alone, lonely that I am unable to.

 

 

Choices

So glad I have a choice now.

Normally I would have been drunk by now having drunk all week.

 

Drinks at work tonight – not a craving.

Tonight I thought about drinking in an abstract way – glanced at a bottle shop and decided against it.

Walked past a bar and a cafe that I used to drink out tonight – not one moment of hesitation.

So now almost another day has gone by and I am still sober.

After feeling like I was completely broken twice this week – about work and about The Boy – I reminded myself to stay in the moment, to ride out the pain and tomorrow would be a new day.

This week there have been more moments of gratitude than intense pain, more reasons to be thankful than resentful and more reasons to stay sober than get drunk.

There is light at the end of the tunnel.

I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Has Gone ……

Feeling ungrounded and out of sorts is a trigger for me to want an escape, find something to ease the pain, help me feel or to simply be in control of something. Distraction is my default position.

Not drinking, taking any other substance, including food or medication, over shopping or escaping into work to manage the feeling of being lost and confused is a really hard lesson to learn. People’s natural instinct is to run, hide or deny uncomfortable feelings or situations.

The urge to run is also compounded when the feeling of a strong network or community is absent in one’s life, weak in strength or numbers or of a dysfunctional abusive nature.

The search for relief is also a distraction from the real issues in our life as we spend more time obsessing on how to find relief, taking the ‘medication’ and then, ultimately and in the short term, recovering from that supposed medication.

Alcohol and drugs are a temporary fix and medication – no sooner have we achieved the high we desired and the level of numbness required to not think and feel do we find ourselves having to deal with the inevitable lows that are the comedown. Then, dealing with the hangover or comedown takes up even more of our time and energy to recover from – again distracting us from the real issues.

Hence we are dealing with what it is known as a progressive disease – we need to drink more and more frequently to distract us from the pain and uncomfortable situations we find ourselves in.

The level of clarity that I am (occassionally) experiencing is wonderful. They are an indication that I am not crazy, that I am not nasty and spiteful or hateful, that I am a good person and that I do deserve to have a life filled with love, comfort and support.

Of course those times of clarity are more often that not in between times of confusion, pain and a feeling of loss – these feelings seem to be more prevalent than the clarity I seek. The highs and lows I am experiencing are frightening, crazy and amazing to observe yet as long as I try to step away from the feelings – they are just that – feelings. I hold onto the trust and the belief that the craziness will be soon followed by clarity and understanding and growth.

I have a sneaky suspicion that something I have been denying for many, many years is about to rear it’s head and I really do not know if I can ignore it anymore – particularly if I want to live a healthy, safe and happy life.

One thing I have now that I didn’t have a month ago seems to be a network of support and understanding – a network of people that are there for me if I so chose to be a part of it. I also have the knowledge that I am ok, that I will be ok as long as I don’t pick up that first damn drink.

I am really looking forward to having some FUN and share some laughter with the people in my life sooner rather than later. Unfortunately my sense of humour is quirky and the happiness I find is in the simple things – hugging my puppy, seeing her run, knowing that my animals are surrounding me with love and speaking to people who care.

Looking forward to another challenging day – of which I will no doubt grow and learn something new as a person who’s sight is no longer obscured by the rain.

Day 40 of My Sobriety

I wish I could celebrate and jump up and down with joy at hitting 40 days of sobriety. I am happy – truly – however with this 2nd round of sobriety has come the realisation that this is really my last chance.

Trust me – this is not a drum up, a depressive state or some bizarre way of convincing myself that I shouldn’t drink, this is the reality of my drinking to date. Sadly, and yes, sadly, I cannot drink ever again – not ever – unless I want to lose my entire life as I know it. Unless I truly want to lose everything that I love, cherish and have worked hard to build and gain.

Friday night I was really wanting to ease the pain that the week had bought to me – one of the hardest weeks for a long time because I was sober and I did not use anything to numb the feelings of failure, fear, resentment and anger. I just sat with the feelings, sat with the lessons and shut my mouth as much as I could – I cried a lot, despaired of myself and my moods and in the end faced reality.

If I was to drink again my life would get worse immediately. No doubt about it. Everything within me knows that I came close again this time to losing my relationship with The Boy and, once again, I am close to losing my job due to my inconsistent moods and inability to manage one staff member. Plus other reasons.

I was hit with this realisation on Friday night after an AA meeting – that had not helped in a positive manner – but had ripped my soul open and exposed the truth.

I am one of the lucky ones because I have stopped drinking before I lost it all.

My bottom is high, however if I do go out and drink again I will be left with nothing this time.

How depressing.

So I started to grieve for my old friend – and I seriously considered not breaking up with him, to stay with his stable warmth and see it through to the end. Was all this hard work of the past 40 days worth the break up with the beloved friend who had been there with me through thick and thin?

Yes. Everything I have been through is worth it for one reason – nothing I have gone through, or will go through, will be as bad as the future will be if I continue to drink. The pain will be far greater, the sorrow much deeper and the regret will be profound. If I live to see that day – which I have an uncomfortable feeling that I will because it is my destiny to live to extremes.

So. I have committed to follow the steps, ask for guidance and to not pick up the first drink for any reason and, although life is tricky, painful and it sucks in areas I am determined that I will not let it get worse due to my drinking.

Some catchup reading and reflections to, well, reflect on:

  • “Love and tolerance of others is our code” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p.84) – I need to practice loving others and to release all resentment, anger and hurt towards those that have harmed me – intentionally or not. I will focus on doing so to the best of my ability – otherwise I will rot from the inside-out.
  • “Fear … of economic insecurity will leave us” (AA, p.84) – I have lived my life in fear of economic insecurity since I was young. In fact, I know that if I continue to drink, the first thing that will go is my financial security. If I return to drinking I will lose my job and The Boy and I will end up exactly where my nightmares take me – where I really feel I belong, yet have spent my entire life fighting not to end up. I still feel that I am at the mercy of the Universe in relation to my job – this week at work showed me that – and I still do not have a strong grip on my finances and spending. I am meeting my commitments, still have my home, however am still living one pay to the next and about two months of pay in debt. So really not that bad, however if I didn’t shop like I do, I would not be in debt – however how minimal. Debt is debt when you don’t have a job.
  • “And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone – even alcohol” (AA, p84) – This week has been a lesson to stop fighting everything and everyone – do I think I have learnt the lesson in full? No. But I have tried to stop resisting, to listen and keep my mouth shut (extremely hard for me) and I was successful some of the time. Mostly at home, work is a different kettle of fish – I am severely conflicted at the moment, feel like a huge failure, like I am the most immature person in the world, and who needs to pull her head in and grow up. I am mortified that my drinking has bought me to this place that I am quite obviously unbalanced and too immature to do this highly responsible job. Yet I know that my heart is in the right place, that I can do the work and develop a strong team – my drinking has just severely impacted my judgement and my behavior. It remains to be seen if the situation is salvagable – I keenly hope so as I truly like the work, the people and the role – I just haven’t like myself.
  • “Once an alcoholic always an alcoholic” (AA, p.33) – enough said really.
  • “I often did not think … (I) reacted to people and situations” – When I was drinking I was a ball of reaction and resentment – I did not, and could not think the situation through. My brain was too crowded and foggy to be able to make a clear assessment of my next step or word, so I responded on impulse and regretted instantly. To cover the pain, to dull my response time and calm the biting pain I would drink to take it all away, to no longer have to think things through or over. Soon, I was drinking to just survive as I found myself lost and confused without a drink or a hangover – I needed the relief of wine in my system to remind myself that I could feel something and control something even as I was losing control of myself.

And finally.

Today is Gratitude Day.

I am so grateful that I have this 2nd opportunity to live life to its fullest, to have this last opportunity to right the wrongs and live life sober.

So grateful that I am able to attempt to change my work situation sober – that I am not still drunk and having to deal with being fired.

Grateful that The Boy is still here by my side and my heart no longer burns with the acid of resentment and pain of yester years.

Grateful that I still have a dog, my cats, family and friends and a place to call my own.

Amazed that the Universe is giving me this last chance to get my shit together – because God knows I have been given many opportunities and have been saved too many times.

Understanding that the future I fear could be mine if I so choose – so choose to continue to drink – the life of my nightmares is waiting just around the corner for me. The beast is hungry for new meat, new pain and a new plaything that is in the depths of despair – that will be me if I continue to drink away my so-called demons.

Hope that the life I dare to dream of will be mine if I am willing to go to any lengths to stay sober, to do any work that is required to keep safe and healthy.

Day 40 is a good day.

Isabella.

xx

I Am Blessed

Such an emotional day today – from the pits of despair one minute to a sense of safety and comfort 30 minutes later.

Where to start?

I had three things on mind this morning that were creating great anxiety and stress which I kept on praying and reminding myself that everything would look different by this time next week.

So – quick wrap up.

Last night I told The Boy how upset I was about him going to the strip club and how betrayed I felt – it didn’t go down exceptionally well, but at least I said something.  Still felt emotionally scarred and hurt, however I told him.

Today I met with The Manager and, although the two hour meeting was not pleasant, and tears were cried (a little), we are both on the same page, and nothing was really a surprise. What was clear is that I am starting to face the mess that my drinking has caused – the unmanageability of my life and the consequences of my actions. Painful but OK.

THEN (yep) the day isn’t over yet – I met my sponsor and spewed out all of my thoughts and feelings, did Step Three and am now on Step Four. Am I proud, pleased and amazed? Yes I am. I am also incredibly thankful for AA, for my Sponsor and my friends that I have made in AA – of which I have gained great strength from.

After walking out of my Sponsors apartment, I called my budding Kitty Kat, who has 40+ days sober and was struggling. Bad news. She had fucked up on some medication which took her straight back to Day 1 which then prompted the evil addiction of alcoholism to dig it’s claws into her tender flesh. She is drinking whilst I type and we are texting each other. I am so sad for her, but safe in my own sobriety – my sobriety comes first. Yet I refuse to not be there for someone in need and as long as she answers my texts I will be there for her supporting her. Dear sweet girl. I know something of where she is right now and I can only be there when/if she comes back. Never turn my back on her but never lose sight of my own safety.

So, I then went home to my sick Boy and hugged him and shared some good feelings and love. My gorgeous little girl Sparkles begged me for a ‘mummy’ walk – her 3rd for the day – so I invited The Boy and we went for a walk. And counted my blessings and shared my story about Kitty Kat with The Boy as a demonstration of how easy it is to fall down.

I can now reflect on the day, give thanks for all of my lessons I have been taught today and in the recent past.

I am blessed each day I am sober and each day I am given another day to make amends by following Gods will.

So in eight hours I went from:

 

To this:

To being blessed because of this:

 

The Love of our Lives

Isabella.

xxxx

 

Crushing Sadness

I feel this crushing sadness and heaviness to my whole being – hard to describe, but like nothing can lift it, I cannot be bothered to even verbalize the pain I feel.

It is all I can do to care enough to try to get out of this funk, to even bother trying to get my message out tonight.

Not really a hard day, just a day of soul sapping, non events that I cannot control – in fact, I was fine at work but now I am at home I feel like crying. If I had the energy and the desire to discuss with The Boy.

Three things are bothering me – from the greatest to the least (I think):

  1. Work continues to be a point of stress – I think it will be until I see The Manager tomorrow and we have our meeting. However  a huge part of me wants to listen to his (undoubtedly) negative feedback – because of course I am the all knowing – and then throw a resignation in his face. Stupid thing is that I really like my job – I just do not have support or assistance.
  2. Moving or not moving to Abu Dhabi. So.Over.It.

I know …. nothing of the above can be controlled by me, I know that I have to ask for help to manage the feelings of anxiety and depression. I know that this too shall pass, that I will wake up in the morning and feel better – in fact – I will feel better once I speak to The Manager tomorrow so that is one issue off my mind.

Too bad I cannot seem to shake the low feelings.

Crushed.

Really.

Crushed.

Anxiety Attack

Today I have had a day of anxiety attacks off and on.

It is Monday today and I am in the middle of a 4-6 week training program of my new staff that I have had to create, develop and rollout without assistance from any part of the business. Plus my Manager is coming down from Sydney tomorrow and I have a 3 hour meeting with him, that I am slightly nervous about.

Work feels rocky at the moment with a lot of going on, a lot of focus on me and my team with minimal support from my interstate Manager. So I am feeling really out in the cold and without a life jacket – I am just trying to keep afloat, meet my business targets and keep my team focused, happy and bringing in revenue. I am supporting them all as much as I can, however without any ‘go to’ person witihin my office or state so no one to bounce ideas, issues or frustrations off.

AND.

The Boy still hasn’t found out about Abu Dhabi – his work has only JUST asked if he is interested and at what package …. so we are still a few days (if any) away from making a life changing decision. Which is stressing me.

I know it shouldn’t but it does – I want to know NOW.

Having spoken to Kiitty Kat (AA buddy) this afternoon, we agreed that I should be trying to live in the now and try not to worry about the future as I cannot control it.

I can only control myself … and even that is questionable at times.

So I am trying to focus on now, rather than ‘what if’.

Doing a lot of ‘shifting it out of my focus’ and begging for assistance to get rid of that horrible anxious, butterfly, sick feeling that I usually drink on – at least I used to know what a drink felt like and how I would feel like afterwards.

Will just focus on getting through today, then tomorow and let the rest worry about itself.

Well that’s the plan.

12 Steps of AA & Prayers

The 12 Steps Of AA:

  1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
  2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
  3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
  4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
  5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
  6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
  7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
  8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
  9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
  10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
  11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
  12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

12 Step Prayers:

3rd Step Prayer – ” God [of our own understanding], I offer myself to Thee – to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always.”

7th Step Prayer – “My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellows. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding.”

11th Step Prayer – “We ask God [of our own understanding] to direct our thinking, especially asking to be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self seeking motives. Thy will be done.

Serenity Prayer:

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things we can,

And wisdom to know the difference.”

 

Sobriety Counter

34 days sober

**
Drinks not consumed: 120

Calories saved: 14,461

$$ Saved: $607.00

No wonder I have lost 3kgs, although I don’t seem to have saved money … but have bought a few new clothes – nothing unusual.

It’s been rocky in many ways, except for the cravings for a drink – they are non-existant 98% of the time. It’s just the other shit that I have to deal with, which makes me closer to normal than ever before.

** This is based on approximately 3.5 drinks a day which would be absolutely right. At $5.00 per glass.

Isabella.

xx

The Magnetic Fields – Absolutely Cuckoo

Don’t fall in love with me yet
We only recently met
True I’m in love with you but
you might decide I’m a nut
Give me a week or two to
go absolutely cuckoo
then, when you see your error,
then, you can flee in terror
like everybody else does
I only tell you this cause
I’m easy to get rid of
but not if you fall in love
Know now that I’m on the make
and if you make a mistake
my heart will certainly break
I’ll have to jump in a lake
and all my friends will blame you
There’s no telling what they’ll do
It’s only fair to tell you
I’m absolutely cuckoo

Isabella.

xxx

This is Gold

Juanita
Photo credit: Paul Lowry

I have just found a wonderful website – http://thebloggess.com.

Her humour is right up my alley – particularly Juanita the Weasel.

Other news for this morning – Sparkles the greyhound has been out for a walk, and is not talking to me because I have bought her a BIG FLUFFY bed that she is unable to sleep on properly. As if the round cat bed would be more comfortable for her. She is precious. But she does share the love – mainly sardine scented kisses. Gotta love the baby 32kg 6 year old. She is such a princess. Just like her mum.

Final thought for the day – I may have bought yesterday on myself by being resentful, obstinate, determined to be right and ‘the victim’. Interesting concept – dammit.

Total credit to The Bloggess for the below image – if I can get it to load. If not. later.

 

 

 

Not Much Better But Still Sober

Well, today was not much better to tell you the truth, however I got through the day, without drinking.

Although I did walk out of an AA Women’s meeting halfway through, then broke down in tears in the middle of the street on the way back to the office. I was a mess and everyone was walking past me looking at me crying – lucky I had large sunglasses on.

I tried to call M (my sponsor) and left a message – which is absolutely fine – so I called The Boy (my partner) who answered the phone. I then proceeded to lose it further for about 10 minutes whilst talking to him about work, my feelings of pressure, being overwhelmed and unsupported by the company I work for.

The Boy was supportive, talked me through a couple of the issues and helped me see that I didn’t need to spend so much time at work – that no-one cared that I was working long hours and over the weekends. The Boy talked me through the need to leave on time, make sure that I was doing all I can during business hours. He advised that if I was not able to complete all tasks, I should just leave them so that the business can see how under resourced I was, and could benefit from support. As a Manager of a team, a complete control-freak and excessive pride in my work, I find that extremely difficult to do. But I will have to for my sanity – I know that.

After the call, I went back to work feeling a little better and in control, only to be further bombarded with issues in the office, more problems and falling further behind my to do list. But I managed to leave at 5.05pm by shutting down my laptop, picking up my bag and walking out of my office.

Then called my sponsor, had a long debrief about work which was wonderful and good to hear – that I am getting sober and dealing with the issues, feelings and pain.

I then spoke to another AA member regarding The Boy and the night before and again felt better.

The good news? After reading (as I was advised to do by a loyal reader) the last two posts, I realised that, again, I still did not crave a drink. It was the last thing on my mind.

Sure. I fantasized about handing in my immediate resignation, to then move out of the home I share with The Boy into a studio apartment and just get the hell away from everything that threatens my sobriety. I may just do that if pushed further – we can dream can’t we?

So. It is now 10pm, I am sitting on the couch, able to reflect on the day and know that it was the pits, but it is not as bad as it could have been.

And that I am surrounded by people who care as long as I care and do the right thing – both in my personal life, my work life and office, AA and …. amazingly …. online.

So there is a silver lining to every cloud … and It is what it is and certainly not as bad as other people’s struggles.

 

 

Where to Start? It’s been so long.

Where to start my friends?

Well. I am still sober and completely and utterly happy about it – I am in a really good place, the sun is shining, I am at peace with the world and with myself.

That makes it 27 days sober and alcohol free.

I am pretty pleased about my progress, without getting to ‘up myself’. I have had a lot of help from others, had a lot of down moments, however the biggest change in me has been that my cravings have gone. My instant default thought is no longer that I need a bottle of white wine to energise, dull or sedate me. My thought is that thank god I have options – many, many options and I don’t have to drink anymore.

It is mind-blowing to be in my head at the moment. I have been sober for six months before –  over a year ago now – and it was a constant struggle to keep going, to fight the urge to drink and to keep sober. It was exhausting, mentally draining – I was full of anger, denial and resentments. There was no peace in my heart or mind, no serenity or let up from the madness that is my addiction to alcohol and drugs.

Today. I wake up happy that this is my life, that I no longer have to struggle or fight myself, that I just have to be – to let someone else do the heavy lifting, to steer the boat and to make the decisions. My job is to keep being willing and open, to hand over my life to someone who knows best, because god knows I don’t – that’s how I got into this mess in the first place.

I would like to share a couple of readings I found today that sum me up at the moment:

“Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p.34

Second reading:

“Our whole trouble has been the misuse of willpower. We had tried to bombard our problems with it instead of attempting to bring it into agreement with God’s intention for us.”

Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p.40

 

As you may have guessed, I have turned to the last place I have to help me with my addictions – AA.

A year ago, I left AA in resentment and anger as I thought of it as a cult, full of people who really didn’t care and who were blind to the psychobabble. I was still fighting the need to let go of my self-will, failing to see that it was my self-will that had gotten me into some pretty damn scary places where I had no right to be. That I could not trust my self-will, even though it had done a lot of good as well.

It was only until this weekend that I realised that my self-will had gotten me into a situation where I had a loaded gun put to my head, and I still stuck around because I could get free drugs. It was my self-will that saw me (extremely drunk but fully aware of what I was doing)  get into a car full of ICE addicts and go to their place to score some free speed. My self-will should have me dead. Indeed I think I wanted die.

This weekend, M helped me see that my self-will was full of disease, that I had no right to trust my self, that I was not following a healthy path. However I used to marvel and thank god that I had gotten out of a situation unharmed and alive. Which told me that I have always had a universal soul looking out for me, helping and protecting me – I have always been aware of that, of him, and have always thanked him after the fact.

So this weekend I decided that I would flip this sorry situation on its proverbial head and hand my self-will over to my universal saviour and let him decided what is good for me. I will no longer be apologising for my behavior after the fact, I will be asking for guidance before acting.

My reward thus far is feeling serene, happy and most of all – craving free – I do not even want a drink, I am not scared of myself nor am I needing to get away from myself. That in itself is amazing.

Life is amazing.

I am blessed.

Isabella.

xxxxx

If This is Sobriety

Wow. If this is sobriety – I want it.

Awake at 5am because I had slept enough – Not because my hangover was kicking in.

Spoke to The Boy clearly and consciously this morning – And I remember everything we said, we didn’t end up fighting and it was good.

Walked Sparkles (my dog) for 30 minutes because I should – Rather than not going because I was hungover and needed to rest before going to work.

The desire to drink last night was strong – so strong I called my sponsor and talked it through then made myself do Steps 1 & 2 again as revision. And didn’t drink. Somehow.

So if this is sobriety – it will only get better in many, many ways – I will be trying to hold onto it.

Isabella.

 

xx

That 24 hour shit works

Last night I nearly drank.

I chose not to go to a meeting or call anyone.

I put myself at risk.

As is the norm for me.

What I did do is connect with other people and their stories online.

And I have woken up at 4am – still sober.

Am so, so happy.

Isabella.

Xx

A quickie

Just a quick note for today.

Life is a little confusing, up in the air, intense and not at all bad. What’s going on:

  • I have been consumed with work for the last week – literally consumed – and sleeping for 5 hours, waking up on Saturday and Sunday at 4am and working for hours. Knowing that the next 6 weeks are going to full on focus on my staff, training them and ensuring that they are fully trained and able to excel at their work. And it feels like everything is on my shoulders. Without support or positive feedback from my Manager (who is another state). But that’s ok – I know that I don’t need smoke blown up my arse.
  • My grandfathers 90th yesterday – and he spent the lead up worrying that he wouldn’t make it, then spent the day overwhelmed god love him. It was hard to see how old my grandparents are and how scare of dying they appear to be. I hope that I face my death with dignity and strength and positivity – I don’t want to end my life afraid and thinking the end is within the next minute.
  • The Boy is away for ten days – in the UAE of all places. And, if he likes working over there, and is offered enough money, I have agreed that we will up and move over the for 12-18 months. Which means giving up my job, leaving my poor mother behind, leaving AA and support group I have built up over the last 8 weeks, potentially leaving behind my beloved dog, and everything else that comes with moving across the world. Did I mention that if we agree, he has to be there mid April? I am excited, scared, up for it for soooo many reasons, but at the same time there is a huge amount of anxiety because, well, let’s just say that I don’t do change well. At all. I tend to (cough) drink too much to cope. So. Interesting.
  • My health is a bit of an issue at the moment – my Gastroenterologist did some testing last Monday and he ruled out Chron’s disease, however whatever is going on, it seems to be progressive (just like alcoholism) and has been getting worse in the last 2 weeks – to the point I am eating minimal food due to the discomfort and lack of appetite. However, the positive thing is I have lost 3kgs in one week.
  • I am already distancing myself this week – possibly because I am so damned tired and lacking in sleep, however I am worried about myself as I am isolating myself which is BAD.

So bad that I was seriously toying with the idea of drinking tonight and nearly went out to buy a bottle – imagined myself doing it – it was just lucky that my feet didn’t follow my brain. To distract myself – even for a minute – I didn’t feel like it – but I logged on and read my comments from my readers. Boy – I still cannot believe that people actually read and comment – but knowing that some people care actually made a huge difference. Such a big difference in that I didn’t drink.

So thank you everyone for your support. I am feeling guilty that I have yet to touch base with you all and read your stories, however when my life is a little less crazy and I have some time, I will be reading, following and supporting.

Love.

Isabella.

xxxxx

Self Will Run Riot

“So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the alcoholic is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn’t think so. Above everything, we alcoholics must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kills us!” Alcoholics Anonymous. p.62

 

I still have difficulty understanding Self Will and that I was consumed with myself all the time.

HOPE – The Message For Today

Exactly what I needed today:

“Do not be discouraged. Few experiences are of less value to me than fast sobriety. Too many times discouragement has been the bonus for unrealistic expectations, not to mention self-pity or fatigue from my wanting to change the world by the weekend.

Fatigue is a big one for me this 2nd time around and 15 days into sobriety. I am physically spent, however I am pushing myself in all areas and it is definitely affecting my health.

Last year I had six months sober – AA fatigue and unrealistic expectations and self-pity allowed me the excuses to go back to drinking – with a vengeance.

So I know I am at risk this early on in my journey.

“Having come to believe that I keep what I share, every time I encourage, I receive courage. It is with others that, with the grace of God /HP and the Fellowship of AA (and others), I trudge the road of happy destiny”.

Key words for me:

  • Shared
  • Encourage
  • Trudge
  • HP
  • Others

This week has been physically challenging and of great discomfort, however the flip side is the mentally and spiritually I have been feeling great love, receiving great love and am reaching out, and reached out to, by many people. People that I had never imagined I would be speaking with, learning from and sharing love and honesty. This has been my lesson this week – clear mind, healthy heart and the world is my oyster. But only as long as I give what I receive.

Isabella.

xx

Step 1 – Is My Life Unmanageable? (Reposted)

I have been told (advised) by my sponsor to think about how my life has become unmanageable. Because – you see – I am struggling to understand at a deep, intrinsic level, that my life is in danger and has become unmanageable. I have a strong desire to stop drinking and stop the madness, however the addiction is strong and the voices persuasive.

My life on the outside is one that many people would envy and is one that I can see that I am very fortunate to have. I am not overly wealthy, I don’t have a ‘normal’ life (no kids, not married), however I am safe, secure and have people who love me for the person they think I am.

Yet. On the inside, I am a boiling cauldron of hot mess and I have a self-destructive nature that is constantly battling the urge to live, succeed and be healthy. It is an ongoing battle that is an internal one.

So – is my life unmanageable? Let’s see:

  • I am constantly wanting to divorce myself – to leave me behind;
  • I am paranoid and constantly worrying that there is something going on that I am not aware of;
  • Fear is a large part of my daily life – I am petrified of being caught out, seen as a fake, a failure;
  • I am constantly depressed – occasionally with thoughts of ending it all, however not having the energy to bother;
  • I am moody and all over the place – I feel my highs and lows hourly;
  • Confusion is a constant – I don’t understand others, I am always trying to figure things out;
  • Normality is an unknown to me yet I strive for it and feel the absence keenly;
  • Lying is a big part of my life – lying about drinking, how much I have had, how much I have spent, why I am late – always to cover up a binge.

The list could go on, however looking at it these feelings have been with me since I was a child. So yes. My life is unmanageable – my internal life is rather than my external. I cannot go on as I am – I don’t have the energy or the will. The only way to stop the insanity is to stop the cause.

Alcohol is a poison to me – one drink will set me off again.

BUT. There is good news – I am now six days sober – by 12pm tonight I will be seven days sober.

I will share the last binge with you another day soon – when the horror has died down a little, and when I need another injection of reality as a reminder why I need to stop drinking.

Isabella.

xxx

Whats a Girl?

 

*** Reposted as I will be starting a Steps insight as I am now up to Step 2 and would like to focus more on my recovery steps and my experiences with AA, as well as my daily challenges, difficulties and wins.

Drinking is not an option

I have had the most fucked day. Good outcomes overall but fucked.

People going off half cocked without the full story (why let the facts get in the way of a good story), people slandering people’s abilities without facts.

Leaving keys in the office thus having to walk back to the office to leave carpark (15 mind each way).

Thus missing my meeting to review Step 2 with my sponsor.

Finding car window this morning has been open during drenching storms so car smells.

No hunger so haven’t eaten all day.

Specialist wants to see me sooner rather than later.

What have I done it deserve this????

But. The good news is that I am able to deal with these things quite calmly and have a laugh.

And drinking is not an option or even a desire!

Thank god!

Isabella.
Xxxx

Happiness

I am in such a happy place at the moment. I have worked from home today and had a chance to really be creative with a number of writing projects I have on the go. My creativity is a such a high, that I really do not want to go to work – I could work all day, every day on my writing.

Added to that, I am working on the health of my body and the health of my spirituality.

I really feel like I am on the right path at the moment – still have not had a drink and it has been 15 days.

My cravings are almost non-existent, and when I do have them, I pray that they will go away and they do in some miraculous way. I just cannot explain it.

I have been focused on reaching out to other people as well – I have at least 4-5 people on speed- dial that I speak to at least once a day, so I have support and I provide support to others.

Big decisions may be coming up in the next 2 weeks – do I dare to dream???

 

 

 

The Loss Of Life

An amazing new concept for the day at least – strength arising out of complete defeat and weakness, and the loss of my old life as a condition for finding a new one.

The ability to be who I want to be, not the person I was.

If I choose to work on myself and be clear on the steps I need to take.

Do I want this? Yes.

Can I do this? Yes. If I apply myself as rigorously to the path of health as I did to the path of destruction.

Isabella.

Xx

Awakening

Have woken with a headache and sore neck. Another day where I am struggling to get out of bed and go to work.

If I didn’t have so many meetings this week I would have a day off. Or if The Boy was not here I would. So many reasons not to have a day off.

So many reasons I need to collapse in a heap – even for a day.

Still thankfully sober – 9 days. It’s a miracle.

😊

Isabella.

Xx

I’m Part of a Whole

For so long I have felt different and alone. As a child of 12 I used to catch the bus for the hour long ride into the city just to feel a part of something. That practice continues today. I seek comfort in the community sometimes – particularly when I am drinking. When I drink alone at a bar, hotel or cafe, I do so to be social – to feel a part of society. Don’t get me wrong, I quite often sit on my own reading, then observing, then if I have the time or enough wine, I socialize. However I always leave alone and disconnected – feeling buoyed by the talk and safe in my anonymity.

I have always have the feeling I am searching for someone – someone I have lost. Someone who will find me.

Now, I don’t feel as different, I have found out that I do have a group that I belong to and they are there should I choose to accept them. I just have to reach out and ask – which is hard for everyone and I am no different.

At the moment I am part of a “hole” that is within me – one day I will be part of a “whole”.

We all will be.

Isabella.

Xx

The Adventures (or Misdemeanors) of Isabella – Part 1.

Forgive me for the following – this must be written in the 3rd person for me to allow this to see the light of day – Isabella

Saturday afternoon and Isabella is lazing on the couch after a long, busy week at work. She is extremely tired – cannot stop yawning however she has tried to sleep without any luck – her brain will not stop and her body is not tired. However she is absolutely exhausted – a disgusting feeling.

Laying on the couch, Isabella fantasizes about a glass of cold white wine and pecan pie … she tries to distract herself, however not with any real intent on doing so. She has already made up her mind – pecan pie and white wine is in order despite the fact she spent the last week either drunk or hung over every day of the week. The drinking demon has been calling and Isabella has been answering – every 2nd day she has been smashed.

Finally, at a decent hour, once lunch rush is over, and she recognises there is no getting out of it, she heaves herself off the couch, announces to him that she is going out for coffee and won’t be long. Isabella knows that she has 1-2 hours max, and that she daren’t dress up out of harem pants and t-shirt just in case she gets drunk and continues to party on.

Ha. What a joke – she had no idea what was to come.

So she goes to a nearby cafe and has a *few* glasses of sparkling red wine, then walks to the closest pub and has a couple …. ok. ….. 5 glasses of white wine in an hour. Yep. In an hour. If you are doing the math, Isabella manages to pack away 8 – 9 drinks in less than 2 1/2 hours on Saturday afternoon.

She makes it home within a decent time – at least the 2 hours she had said. Luckily she hadn’t driven as all the amenities are within walking distance.

She then proceeds to share a bottle of sparking wine (champagne in the old terminology, bubbles for the cute) with him over dinner. Well.. Actually. He had two glasses and Isabella finished the bottle.

Well. It WAS Saturday night.

At around 10.30 they decided to go to bed – Isabella waited until she heard him snoring before she put her makeup on, got changed, put her cards and cash in her back pocket and snuck out of the house. She chose not to take her mobile phone – god knows why.

Walking to the pub, she is fully aware of what she is doing and why. She wants to party and she needs to have some FUN!

Isabella is feeling cute, fun and flirtatious – a little like Alice in Wonderland – too funky and retro to stay at home at least.

After 20 minute walk, Isabella gets to the pub and it is pumping…..walking up to the bar, Isabella is feeling in control and completely sober…. She knows that she definitely will not be  going home with a guy for a one night stand – she has never done so and never will. She is there to have fun and let her hair down with some innocent fun, dancing and drinking.

A couple of glasses of bubbly kick-start the night, followed by vodka and soda.Isabella has loosened up and started to scan the pub crowd for a likely connection – correct – likely connection. She has slid into the 2nd stage of her addiction – the scoring of drugs – speed preferably.

To be continued.

Isabella.

xx

Step 1 – Is My Life Unmanageable?

I have been told (advised) by my sponsor to think about how my life has become unmanageable. Because – you see – I am struggling to understand at a deep, intrinsic level, that my life is in danger and has become unmanageable. I have a strong desire to stop drinking and stop the madness, however the addiction is strong and the voices persuasive.

My life on the outside is one that many people would envy and is one that I can see that I am very fortunate to have. I am not overly wealthy, I don’t have a ‘normal’ life (no kids, not married), however I am safe, secure and have people who love me for the person they think I am.

Yet. On the inside, I am a boiling cauldron of hot mess and I have a self-destructive nature that is constantly battling the urge to live, succeed and be healthy. It is an ongoing battle that is an internal one.

So – is my life unmanageable? Let’s see:

  • I am constantly wanting to divorce myself – to leave me behind;
  • I am paranoid and constantly worrying that there is something going on that I am not aware of;
  • Fear is a large part of my daily life – I am petrified of being caught out, seen as a fake, a failure;
  • I am constantly depressed – occasionally with thoughts of ending it all, however not having the energy to bother;
  • I am moody and all over the place – I feel my highs and lows hourly;
  • Confusion is a constant – I don’t understand others, I am always trying to figure things out;
  • Normality is an unknown to me yet I strive for it and feel the absence keenly;
  • Lying is a big part of my life – lying about drinking, how much I have had, how much I have spent, why I am late – always to cover up a binge.

The list could go on, however looking at it these feelings have been with me since I was a child. So yes. My life is unmanageable – my internal life is rather than my external. I cannot go on as I am – I don’t have the energy or the will. The only way to stop the insanity is to stop the cause.

Alcohol is a poison to me – one drink will set me off again.

BUT. There is good news – I am now six days sober – by 12pm tonight I will be seven days sober.

I will share the last binge with you another day soon – when the horror has died down a little, and when I need another injection of reality as a reminder why I need to stop drinking.

Isabella.

xxx

Whats a Girl?

The way I am going.

It’s weird but the way I am going is unsustainable. It cannot keep going on.

But I feel like I don’t have a future anyway. I just can’t see it.

I desperately want to be the person that everyone thinks I am but in reality I am just a fuck up.

There is no way that I will hurt myself in this state of mind but I wonder why I am so self destructive.

I look at other women and they are nothing like me. Absolutely nothing like me.

I seem to be on a mission to prove something. But who to and what?

Who does the shit I do??? I know of no one else.

I have been so fortunate in my life in every aspect – there are many situations that I should not have safe. Yet I was. Do I have an innate ability to chose people that won’t hurt me? How long will that last if I do?

Or do I have hard working Angels who are about to give up, ringing their hands in despair? They can only do so much.

I am loved and I love.

But my demons seem to be too strong or I am weak.

I fear I am going to lose this battle and the casualties will be many. Which I desperately don’t want to happen.

But I don’t have anyone to turn to or help me. How can they understand something that I don’t?

Isabella

Second Time Around

What I have learnt so far:

  • I am self-will run riot;
  • This 2nd time around at AA has meant that my alcoholic cravings are extremely strong and painful – they are emanating from my liver and are insane. I did not have many physical cravings the 1st time, 12 months ago. Nothing like this;
  • I am allergic to alcohol;
  • I have a disease that is both mind and body;
  • I am not weak or lazy;
  • I am definitely an alcoholic in all forms;
  • I cannot drink at all;
  • I will never be able to control my drinking – in fact, if I start drinking again, I will relapse much quicker and my bottom will be a lot worse that it is at the moment.
  • My cravings are alcoholic and for sugar, as alcohol is purely sugar.
  • The fact that I grew up with an alcoholic mother and father has a lot to do with my existing self.

I am glad to be back on this path.

5 days and 20 hours sober.

Isabella.

xx

Good Morning

27th January, 2012, 7.20am

I weathered the storm of yesterday by reaching out to others, staying focused and not secluding myself from the world.

I didn’t allow my mind to take over, to isolate myself with a bottle of white wine.

Instead, I stuck to my commitments, made more commitments and spoke to more people than I would normally.

No resentment of lost time in my home, away from the sanctuary of the bottle and the dulling of my mind.

Instead, I wake up on a Saturday morning blissfully healthy with my cats feeling safe, secure and clean.

A vast difference from last Saturday.

For that I am grateful.

Isabella.

x

Don’t Pick Up The First Drink

Well, as you know, I was not having a great afternoon and it only got worse. The cravings were really strong, my liver was screaming out for a glass of chilled, sav blanc to soothe the tension and stress that it was feeling. It was a physical sensation – quite separate from my mind. It is an extremely weird sensation – your mind is saying NO and your body is screaming for something.

Usually my liver is throbbing trying to flush out the alcohol, or toxins, that I had poured into its sensitive little chamber – literally throbbing and pulsating. When I am hung over, I can literally FEEL the cold water hitting it and soothing the little fucker. Likewise when I have a glass of cold white wine, it instantly hits my liver and, again, soothes the savage beast, lulling it into a sense of calm and peace…..until I stop drinking for the night or day.

If you are into visualization, I feel like I have a little green gremlin in my liver that screams, shouts and jumps up and down for a white wine, or sparkling champagne, then once he has gorged himself, he lays down, opens his mouth and just lets the alcohol pour down into his fat little stomach. That’s all I hear from him. Until the next morning when he is dragging himself across the floor moaning ….. “Water, Water … wine … ANYTHING cold – I need to cool down, I am burning UPPPPP”.

Then it takes the fat little gremlin a day and night to brush himself down, get back on his feet and start stomping, shaking the bars of his cell demanding  feeding again – WINE, CHAMPAGNE – ANYTHING!!!!

So that is where my addiction sits. In my liver. The gremlin has a lot of strength and power over my body and mind – although my mind is in cahoots as well sometimes. I can go into a fugue state, where I am not able to think, I just walk into a bar, sit down and order a drink – even though I am screaming at myself to stop.

So. How did I get I get over this afternoons really bad cravings? I nearly didn’t. But I imagined tomorrow morning and not fronting up to the meeting, not being able to meet with my new sponsor and having to start all over again. Go through the last 3 days again????? No way. Not at the moment thank you.

So I went to a meeting that I had never been to before – full of young, old, gorgeous, glowing people with 20+ years to 2-3 days like me. It really eased my cravings which is bizarre – really bizarre. Once I had somewhere to go, and people to talk to about my issue (not that I spoke too much), the cravings eased and I had a sense of calm.

Then, another danger zone – Friday night, party night. Luckily, as The Boy is away for 3 weeks, I had arranged to meet up with a friend to go for a walk around the local seaside suburb I live in, have some dinner, fresh air and conversation. Which is what I did – plus a 15 min should/neck massage which really eased the tension of the day and after two hours walking, talking and looking at the sights, I was home at 10pm, showered and relaxed.

Safe and Sober.

Almost a miracle.

What it has shown me is that you have to put the effort in and make a choice about doing something different from drinking.

Now. Change of scenery.

So The Boy and I haven’t seen each other for nearly two weeks due to work and him taking off to another state for a holiday followed by work next week. I have taken to calling him to let him know how I am tracking – particularly if I am having a shitty time as he needs to know.

But. He is out drinking with his mates – who I know are alcoholics, and I know he will end up drunk tonight and he has already started sex – texting me. The last time he did it full on, he had been out with his mates, in another state, yet another mini holiday, and he had been to a strip club. I am really trying not to feel resentful, and think I am succeeding, however where is the empathy? Would I call him drunk if the situation was reversed? Would I rub it in his face if he were the one trying to stop drinking for good? No. I wouldn’t. I would support as much as I could.

A friend said to me that I do need to stop as he has a feeling that if I don’t stop drinking my life will come crashing down. At my lowest ebb, I get really depressed thinking that if The Boy and I were to break up – particularly due to my drinking – I wouldn’t cope and that would be the end of me.

However, even the last 1 1/2 weeks, I have really enjoyed the time alone – even though I have gotten smashed a lot, I have enjoyed the freedom, quiet and the ability to do what I want and when I want. I feel like I am free and me.

I hope this continues this sobriety thing – I am just in the infant stages, however I am trying and I know the alternative.

But the flip side is, that if The Boy and I were to split up ……… as long as it was not to do with my drinking binges …. I think I would be ok.

Anyway.

Enough for tonight.

 

Isabella.

xx

Stressed Out

I have had enough.

My liver is craving white wine, work is driving me nuts and I just want to run away from it all.

I haven’t had a drink since Tuesday night which is now three days ago and I really need one.

However, I am going to an AA meeting and seeing how I go.

Isabella.

xx

Back Where I Started

48 hours ‘dry’.

My routine is to have a binge, get a hangover the next day, recuperate then drink the next day … so cannot really deny I have a drinking problem. Every 2nd day is a drinking session.

My last drink was on Tuesday night – after going to AA meeting on Tuesday noon. But then went home and drank because I was lonely, resentful and depressed –  1 1/2 bottles of white wine, did not drive and got up the next day to go to work.

I immediately called the AA hotline and asked them to have a female AA woman call me to help me out.

On the way to work, I promptly had a minor car accident. I was hungover, tired and feeling a little (not a lot) seedy.

It was definately the Universe telling me to slow down, be careful – next time I could be drunk behind the wheel and have an accident. Then BAM that’s my life over.

The second coincidence was that when I got a call from the AA contact, she had been at the meeting the day before and was going to stop me to speak to me but I bolted. After I spoke to her, I lost it at work – was so stressed, pressured and worried about getting through work in time to get to the next meeting on Wednesday night.

Got to the meeting and met a cool chick who offered to have a coffee with me today ……

I keep seeing cops on the road – one was parked outside my house tonight and I thought it was luck that I wasn’t drunk. Another coincidence and another reminder that I am one drink from having my life crumble beneath me.

Don’t think for a second it is easy – it’s bloody hard – I really thought I would drink tonight but I went to a meeting and got through it. JUST.

 

One day at a time – sometimes one hour or one minute.

 

Isabella.

 

xx

How.

Isabella would really like to know how she can be really in control of cleaning up after herself, talk to people (within reason and usually people she doesn’t know) AND STILL LOOK AND FEEL SOBER??????????!? It does not look like she has been drinking to people she doesn’t know!!!, LIKEWISE IF SHE WAS TO GO OUT SMASHED ( and she does not want to) people wouldnt realize she was drunk. How does this work?

Mojo

Ahhhhhhhhhh…….. I have my Mojo back.

Problem – next door neighbour is still screaming at young children. and she would be drunk. At the very least unreasonably angry. She chose to have children with her husband!!!! FUCK.

“change you fucking behavior please” she says to a less than 10 year old. Fuck me. And I am apparently bad.

I think I’m an alcoholic. At least I am only harming myself!!!

Isabella.

Xxxxxxx

Isabella is unsure.

Really. I am unsure. Is it REALLY good for me???

I know she says she is having fun and that she can be herself but is it really her? Or her playing up to a crowd? Is there an alternative motive? Just to let her drink?

Who is she trying to impress.

I, Isabella, knows that she is a lot more relaxed and friendly after a drink but does that really look good?

Isabella

Xx

I Like ME

I actually like me when I have had a couple of drinks. I am fun, chatty and engaging when I have had a couple of drinks.

Flip side – I’m not hungry. At all.

I am much more interesting.

Isabella

X

Hiding Out

It’s 7.30pm on a Friday night and Isabella is still at work – having started at 6.30am and she is still not ready to leave.

Isabella also worked late last night until 7.30pm.

Is Isabella avoiding something?

She finds it easier to work back late as she has the energy, focus and enjoys her work, however she finds herself delaying going home tonight and she is curious as to why.

Last night with The Boy was a bad night all round – things got off to a off start when The Boy called Isabella “Precious” when she couldn’t figure out where he was when meeting up. Then, when they did meet up, The Boy was obviously annoyed which, because she was tired and wanted a glass of white wine, she reacted to. There was no fighting, no arguing or aggression, just silence. Golden silence.

Isabella did not have the energy to argue, discuss or try to make things better – she just, unusually wanted to be left alone. The urge for flight was strong, however she remained seated and in the vicinity of The Boy as much as she could – she just wanted to get out of there.

When they got home, Isabella found she couldn’t sleep – partly because she was too wound up, partly because she wanted her own space and also because The Boy was starting to snore. Ahhhh domestic bliss.

From full on passion to passive agression in 24 hours – talk about head spins and heart failure.

So Isabella got up early today, having slept in the spare bed, soundly and securely and raced off to work to ‘get things’ done. At least at work Isabella can keep her mind occupied and busy, with worthwhile tasks.

The other benefit is that she doesn’t eat much and will hopefully lose weight. Plus. The bonus people – she doesn’t drink or shop or further antagonise The Boy.

Result all around.