feelings – Page 6 – Honest Lies

flowerssss I remember when I was a teenager and I was suffering from depression. I would always be in my room, with the curtains closed, headphones on. I wouldn’t speak. I’d get angry easily if my parents tried to talk to me (too much). My room was cluttered and dusty. One day my father brought home a bouquet of flowers home for me. To cheer me up. To bring a bright little bit of nature to my stale, closed off room. I cleared a space on my shelf and put them there, so I could see them wherever I was in my room. My father continued to bring me fresh flowers every few weeks until my condition improved. I missed them. “Why don’t you buy me flowers anymore?” I would ask, whining at him. However later he would begin to ocassionally buy me flowers – for good grades on a particularly difficult set of exams, to welcome me home when I came back from Malaysia.

Today I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. I was puzzled, not expecting the postman. Through my window I saw a florists van. Sure enough, I opened the door to a delivery of a pail of fresh flowers, scented ones even. I received them calmly, but once I’d closed the door I couldn’t stop grinning. I put them on my dining room table, took a million pictures from every angle and of every flower. I read the card from my mother and father congratulating me on my grades, telling me how they proud of me. Later I cleaned up my desk and put them there. So they could be close to me where I usually sit. So that when I wake up, they’ll be right in my line of sight. Just like before. It makes me smile to see them there. As I sit at my desk, they are close enough that I can smell them.

I love small, thoughtful gestures like this.

“You never thought things would turn out like this, did you”

➔ My sister came down to visit me last Friday so we could go to the S Club 7 reunion concert. I know, how cool are we. ;) She drove down in the afternoon and then we took the bus into town – a long journey – followed by a long walk where I was amazed to discover a whole part of the city I’d never been to. My sister thankfully found this amusing. We made it to the venue OK – after a little lost detour- and there were tonnes of people there. Mostly female. Thankfully my sister held my hand and allowed me to follow her around like her child; I did not like the crowds. It made me feel anxious. Thankfully we had seats so we had our ‘space’. The opening act was OK, but the atmosphere changed remarkably once S Club 7 were announced. The stadium, that had been a little empty and with people coming in and out, was suddenly packed. Everyone stood up, everyone had their cameras out. The excitement was tangible.

It was an amazing show. I was nervous after watching the children in need performance, but they must have been training hard afterwards as they looked and sounded amazing. My sister and I joked about how unfair it is that they still all look so good. They performed all their hits and everyone was jumping around and singing… I was too young to be a really die hard fan, but it was cute seeing all these near 30 somethings jumping around and singing along perfectly. It was cute to see my sister like that. She, like most there, knew all the words. Some people even knew all the dance moves. It was really fun, and a much needed break from work. Afterwards, a long bus ride back and straight to bed. We slept in the next day, and although we had rough plans to go out and do something we just walked to the local town center and did a bit of shopping, before going to a pub for a meal and parting ways. It was a great weekend.

➔ I had my first exam on Monday, and my second exam yesterday. The first one went OK, with some good questions and some truly baffling ones. Nothing could have prepared me for how terribly the second went. Firstly, it was in a really weird location. The exam was at 4:30pm but I had to be on campus for 15:45 to catch the bus to the location: which meant I had a good 15 minutes surrounded by students buzzing with nerves, talking about exams and revision, and then a further 20 minutes hanging around at the exam hall. I really hate coming too early to exams; it does nothing for my anxiety to be surrounded by the energy of other students, to have to listen to them fretting, to see their revision notes etc. when I’ve got my own mind and its criticism to deal with. There was no other bus to take though. Then the exam started and the paper was terrible and it was one of those exams where all the questions are compulsory, and if you don’t get the answer to A then there’s follow up questions right to F that you cannot answer either. I wanted to cry. Then after the exam, the same bus, still sardine-d in by students, wanting to cry, wanting to flee. Walking home, listening to sad songs. I arrived home and immediately phoned my dad to complain, but he was busy and did not really want to talk. I have my third exam on the 4th of June and it’s the one I’m least prepared for. I’ve only done a tiny bit of revision for it thus far. I am filled with despair. If these two exams which I was prepared for did not go well then…I don’t feel at all motivated. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything useful today.

➔ My grandfather passed away suddenly last week, on Wednesday. I do not know how to deal with it. Much like when my grandmother died, it is happening in South Africa, so it feels so distant from me. So it doesn’t feel real. I am not sure I’ll be able to go back to South Africa now. It feels like the tenuous connection I had to it is fracturing, and now if I go back I’ll have to also deal with the fact that the family members I was closest to…aren’t there. I am terribly worried about my father and my grandmother.

➔ I decided to speak out about my concerns regarding me thesis. I did not feel like my supervisor had supported me enough and wanted this to be taken into consideration in marking. I saw my tutor last Monday about it, and embarrassed myself terribly by crying and sniffling through the entire meeting. Then I saw my supervisor, and the head of year. And basically the outcome is: it’s my fault. As expected, it’s my fault. They did say they will be extra careful about the marking, but I got the distinct impression that they were taking my supervisors side. And this was why I left it to the last minute, why I didn’t say anything earlier, this was why I didn’t want to speak up at all. I knew that my supervisor would win. The teacher is always right, it is always the student who is too stupid to understand, right? I am so, so worried about this. My entire degree rests on this. I desperately need a 2:1 to get my job, and it feels like there is no point to anything anymore, because my thesis….

➔ The more I think of my job, the more I want it. My mother told me not to worry so much, if one door closed (i.e. the job did not work out) another would open. “But I want that door,” I told her “that’s my door” I told her, on the verge of crying. I have come a long way to get where I am and I cannot let anything happen now that door is in sight. It is everything I want. I pray for it not to be taken from me. I didn’t want my supervisor to take it from me, so I spoke up, even though I was terrified of doing so, and it did not really make a difference. And it makes me feel so helpless and so sad.

➔ I’m not writing this entry very well. I can’t think straight. As typical of this time of year (exam and coursework deadline season) I am anxious. I feel sleepy and sad. My grandfather dying has increased these feelings. I want to go home to Cape Town so much, but I don’t want to at the same time. I feel conflicted about it.

➔ I want to be comforted, to escape, but I know no matter what I cannot escape from my own mind.

➔ On the plus side, one exam left, a couple of project presentations and then I’m FREE. I mean DONE with university. Then it’s just the long, anxious wait to results and hopefully I’ll be able to get my 2:1 and my job. Fingers crossed.

➔ My driving test is booked for July 15th. Also fingers crossed.

Post Title: Mflo ft Yoshika - Let go

Meanwhile

molly3 dunham_8583 dunham_8537 dunham_2599

Breakfast, Dinner, Tea and Supper.(Click for larger)

“Dearest – Thanks. I love you, my own beautiful darling. Long be with you always. Thou art mine and I am thy faithful devoted lover till death and beyond” (click for super larger)
dunham_05

I went home last weekend! I feel like every entry is starting this way. The truth is I have been spending a lot of time at home because I have needed to. I’m depressed right now. There, I came right out with it. I’m not clinically depressed, but I’m feeling really low right now. My disordered eating is bad, my anxiety is bad, and I cry a lot and struggle to get out of bed in the mornings. There is not so much to write about there. Deadlines are piling up and no matter what I do, I never seem to get close to completing anything. It’s making me feel very overwhelmed and anxious.

This is why I’ve been going home so much, of course. I didn’t admit it to myself until recently – but I need help right now. I need people around to make sure I’m eating properly and doing my work. I need looking after. I need my cat. (Please don’t judge me for that one.) And it has been working for me; I had fun during previous trips home, and on my latest two trips back I also had a great time. I managed to get lots of work done, whilst also being able to relax and get out the house a few times to take my mind off things. My cat also stuck to me like glue, and is there anything to make coursework more palatable than a warm, purring cat sleeping on your lap? (Well, apart from her little claws digging into my thighs.)

The previous weekend it was just my sister and I, which was a lot of fun. With my sister breathing down my neck, I got a lot of work done. Whilst also being able to spend time with her, spend a lazy Easter Sunday in Costa with my best friend, and give my cat lots of cuddles.

Last weekend, I was mostly with my mom and dad. I mostly stayed at home and ploughed through some work, but we did go out as a family (minus my sister) on Sunday to a local stately home and gardens to have a wander around there. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the place was already very busy despite getting there early. We decided to head into the mansion first, in order to try and avoid the crowds that would surely come later. Besides, it had been years since we’d been to this place and it had recently been renovated, so we decided to have a thorough look around.

The mansion was partly set up as a war time hospital and we first had a look at those rooms. It was really interesting reading about the early medicine, which was actually a lot more advanced than I realised, and they also had some old newspapers on display which fascinated me, especially the personals as shown above. Life without cell phones, right? I love the woman looking for the person she met on the train, and the love notes are also beautiful. They did however have a bunch of actors wandering around the hospital in character as people from the time which was super creepy. You can see an injured soldier up there browsing through some papers… The rest of the mansion is set up as it would have been lived in, which was also interesting. I fell hard for the library especially, and spent some time enthusiastically talking to the guide in that area. Apparently, books were sent to the house unbound, and if accepted were sent away to be bound with the house’s personal crest on the spine. They also have some very old books, with one dating right back to 1539 although I was disappointed to learn that was not on display. Either way, working in a bookstore has definitely turned my love of books into a sickness.

After the house we went to the cafe for a hearty lunch at the ever wonderful National Trust Cafe’s – I had a delicious vegan spicy bean soup. Then we went to look at the gardens. I had been dying to see the bluebell wood, which always reminds me of I Capure the Castle, but unfortunately we came at an awkward time as the things we wanted to flower were either finished (my bluebells :( ) or yet to bloom (the lovely new rose garden). It was still very pretty. I was taken with the Chinese Red Birch and there were some beautiful tulips, cherry blossoms and magnolia trees in full bloom.

I also liked having my parents to myself, selfish, but whatever. As the younger, quieter sibling it is nice to have their attention without having to fight for it. We had a braii later and again, it was nice and relaxed and pleasant to be at home, with my family and my cat. Monday passed quietly with more work, and then Tuesday much the same, except that evening I went to Paint Nite with my sister. Paint Nite works like thus: you get given paints, a blank canvas and loose, casual instructions as to how to paint a certain picture and then you can do what the hell you like. There is a bar close by, and drinking is encouraged (although neither my sister and I wanted to.) My painting is shown above – I’m pleased with it but the lack of planning shows, I wish my background was stronger and that my cherry blossoms had a logical shape! Either way it was great fun, very casual, not competitive, and I’m planning to go with my sister again sometime. It was great to have a night off and to truly forget about university for a few hours. And to be honest, I had not painted since high school and I had forgotten how much fun it was. My dad drove me home after that, and thats where I’ve been since. This week has been bad, because once I don’t have my parents around to watch me I slip easily back into bad habits.

Apart from that, nothing much. Nothing much at all. Still learning to drive, with my test coming up in June. Still working at the book store and mostly enjoying it. But most of all I’m just trying to get through these last few weeks of university, and mostly failing, but at least it will soon be over. I pray for it to be over.

“The more you pretend to be strong, I see your weakness. The more you bare your fangs, I see your pain”

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I went home over the weekend. I seem to be going home a lot lately. I don’t know why. My excuse this time was it was my sister’s birthday, mother’s day and I had a dentist appointment which I couldn’t avoid because I’m on wisdom teeth watch right now. Also my father was home for once, which meant I could spend a bit of time with him. I went home on Friday and my father picked me up from the station. I spent the evening quietly talking to my parents, and then doing some work. The next day my father took myself, my sister and her boyfriend for a walk/climb up Shutlingsloe. This is a walk we’ve done as a family many, many times. In every weather but sunshine. It seemed like it would be a good day on Saturday so we were optimistic that for once we wouldn’t be battling the elements – well, my father was keen to tease me about ice and wind anyway but I was optimistic. We set off late in the afternoon. The walk started with a steep climb on a narrow country road, entering gloomy forest and carrying on steadily upwards. The path is lovely – the pines are thick and tall all around and the ground is coated in fallen pine needles – it’s complete fairytale woodland. The smell of fresh pine is delicious too. The walk isn’t too challenging either. At one point the walk opened up and the path turned to wooden boards and I just burst into a run, for no reason other than I could. I’m fatter now and not anaemic, and I can run if I want to. I can run and then hike up a steep woodland path right after. It felt pretty great. My heart was racing and I felt slightly out of breath, but I wasn’t in pain or feeling faint. It felt amazing to be this capable. I just grinned at my dad and said “I can run!” and I’m sure he thought I was a little crazy. Nevermind. Every time I think I hate my body I will try to remind myself of how great that feeling was.

The walk eventually opened up onto grassy fields, the woodland becoming sparser. The views were amazing from our height. I have recently discovered that I can take panoramas on my phone and I was like a child with a new toy on Saturday, stopping at every viewpoint to play with it. I think I got some good ones. I think my family was annoyed with me lagging behind to take them. I think it is fiddly and time consuming to get the photos to align in high winds, and it’s awkward when half way through your panorama people end up coming behind you and you end up looking as if you are trying to photograph them.

As we got higher and more exposed it became colder and windier. So far it had been a pleasant day and I had been regretting not wearing a t-shirt. Well, I had to layer up then. We eventually came to the bottom of Shutlingsloe. I was a little nervous – I don’t like the climb up Shutlingsloe. It’s steep and exposed. I have experienced hill walking in such high winds that you literally couldn’t stand up. I was very nervous. I started off OK but near the top I ended up standing still, too scared to carry on. My sister had to hold my hand and guide me the rest of the way. It was nice on top of Shutlingsloe though, as it always is, with pleasant views of the countryside. It was crazy windy though, which was pretty typical too and I don’t know why I expected it may be different. We tried to take pictures of ourselves by the white pillar- signifying the top -and I’m sure there was a lot of stray hairs and squinting. I’m glad to have photos though. I currently have a photo of my dad and myself on Shutlingsloe in my windowsill from several years ago. I’m too skinny, and my smile is forced. I think it would be interesting to compare the two. I want to see how I’ve changed.

Of course, once up we had to go down. This was also a bit nerve-wracking, and I had my dad hold my hand this time. By the time I got down though I was fine. I was feeling pretty energetic, up for running all the way back, all flailing limbs like Phoebe in that FRIENDS episode, but I paced myself properly and let myself enjoy strolling back. It was getting late, cold and a little gloomy. But it was still pleasant, and it was great going downwards. We took a different way back so we could visit our (my father and I’s) favourite view point – the second to last picture shows the view from up there. It’s always quiet and there are some nicely placed benches to sit for a while and just soak in the scenery and fresh air. Which we did. Then we got back to the car and went home. I made supper for everyone, then retreated to my room to chill out, too tired to work.

Nothing much happened on Sunday. Just spent it at home with my cat and my dad mostly, although in the evening I spent time with my sister and her boyfriend. A little awkward, but I tried to be nice and enjoy myself and not let anyone know that actually, I wasn’t feeling very comfortable with it. My sister is very grown up now. I am still struggling to adjust.

On Monday my dad drove me back to Uni after a morning dentist appointment, and this was awkward as my room hadn’t been cleaned and the medication my parents don’t know I’m on and the chocolate I’m not supposed to be eating were all on full display. I felt very embarrassed, awkward and yet I’m hopeful that I atleast managed to hide away all the medicine packets before my Dad saw. My dad sat with me and helped me with some work then dropped me off at uni for my Japanese. I wish I could have spent longer with him – perhaps gone out with a meal with him, like we used to. I missed my dad when he was away, as he has been for a great majority of this year, and I wanted to spend time with him. Japanese isn’t going so well either. I skipped last week’s lesson because I just couldn’t be bothered, and I could hardly concentrate on Monday. My heart is no longer in it. I’m just so tired at the moment, that it is hard to really care about anything.

Nonetheless I made Tuesday and Wednesday OK days too. I went back to work on Tuesday and everyone was so nice, they didn’t tell me off for my sudden time off at all and they were all interested in what I had been up to and congratulated me on my new job. I was thisclose to quitting and I’m glad I forced myself to go back. It has been a really good thing for me volunteering. Anyway, I managed to wake up today and attend my 9am lecture, and spent some time in the library doing work. So it’s not too bad. I’m still struggling, but I am making positive steps to improvement, I guess.

I want to go back home and laze about with my cat, to be honest, though.

Post Title: Hamasaki Ayumi - Kiss O'Kill

“A stone on the path means the tea’s not ready, a stone in the hand means somebody’s angry, the stone inside you still hasn’t hit bottom.”

I haven’t really done much this week.

I went to Japanese class on Monday evening, and I went into uni for the day on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday I overslept and missed lectures, and then I had to rush to get ready so I could go to my driving lesson before catching the bus to go up to Leeds. I had another assessment centre on Thursday. I wasn’t looking forward to it, although I was looking forward to a night in a fancy hotel.

The train ride was fairly quick but it was boring. And packed. I was packed in with another lady, both of us with our suitcases wedged in front of us, both of us reading. It was quite nice in a way, to be doing the same thing. But not particularly comfortable. Eventually I felt a little sick and more than a little moody, so I sat and listened to music and stared out the window for the rest of the train ride. I got into Leeds in the evening, and it was strange being there again. My sister had gone to university in Leeds, so I associated Leeds as her city, and as a place I have many memories of spending time with my sister there.

As I stepped out through the ticket barriers I fully expected to see my sister waiting for me there. I’d never been to Leeds and not had her there. I saw her so clearly, right down to the details- her clothes, her silly hat, her smile- that I had to stop for a moment and try and bring myself back to reality. Nothing had changed in that station and it was like stepping back in time. There was my sister waiting, there was the McDonald’s she brought me to for breakfast before I got my train that one time. That memory made me smile: it had only been around 7am but I had insisted that she buy me a mcflurry, and naturally I felt nauseous the whole train ride home consequently, much to my sisters amusement. And then the other memories came and I longed to be with my sister. I wanted to go back to her house and spend the whole weekend lazying about marathoning The IT Crowd. I wanted to go buy cheap £1 cheese pizza slices with her. I wanted to go see bizarre French films at her local art cinema with her. I wanted to take selfies with her in front of her uni. (Well actually, it was our reflections in a glass building, which only made it that more ridiculous.) I wanted to go see Dir en Grey with her again, my first concert, taste vodka for the first time with her at that concert, curl up and go to sleep beside her and wake up to my sister annoyed because I’d punched her accidentally whilst I’d been sleeping, although we were so tired we ended up laughing over it. We’d always laugh over the fact that she slept like the dead whilst I am a violent sleeper who moves around a lot, all flailing arms and cold feet pressed against her.

There were so many good memories. I remembered that one weekend I went to hers after fighting with my mother, how she took me in on less than a days notice, the way I went to see her on my birthdays – she took me to see Dir en grey and complained the whole time, but sat through it and took videos for me. She took me to a comedy show for my 18th birthday and introduced me to different types of alcohol and let me get drunk, but also told me when to stop. That that was my limit and I must always stick to it. (I decided after that not to drink at all, but I still appreciated it. )

OK maybe I’m making the memories more glossy than they should be. There was that time she wanted to go to a bar with me and some of her friends, but I was too young so we all had to go back to hers. Her friends were being drunk and rowdy and I hated it. But even then my sister made sure to attend to me- to give me something to eat, to tell her friends to back off if they were being too much. That’s why my sister is my sister, but also my best friend, and even a second mother to me. I was always aware of how she nurtured and protected me. It made me feel so loved. It blew me away really- how much she loved me. How lucky I was to have that kind of relationship with my sister. I thought things would always stay that way between us. That we’d never drift apart. Other siblings, but not us. Nothing would ever be able to break us up. She would always be there. Her standing in front, protecting, and me standing behind, being protected.

Except something did change. She grew up and entered a new stage in her life. I remained the same. And I am taking the changing nature of our relationship hard because I need my sister so much. Probably more than she needs me. Grief is such a weird emotion. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so devastated over something so intangible and hard to describe as sisterhood, and the loss of whatever it is.

Arriving in Leeds was like arriving home to something, something familiar about it, but also strange because that familiarity was long gone. I stepped out of the station, shook of the memories and focused on finding the hotel.

I did a literal double take when I saw the hotel – the company had booked me a room at the Queens. Which is one of the best hotels in Leeds, according to both google and my sister. It had a red carpet to the door and spotlights shining down on the entrance, a concierge in a top hat and suit waiting before the door. I couldn’t bring myself to enter for a moment and when I did and the concierge greeted me as madam and wished me a good stay I felt desperately anxious that maybe I’d got the wrong place. That only got worse when they couldn’t find my booking. Thankfully they eventually did and I went to the lifts – which were lined with golden mirrors inside if you please – and to my room. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Lets just say that 4 star in Bangkok is very different from 4 star in the UK. It was nice though. I was taken with the décor – all bold patterns, reds and creams and dark wood. I looked forward to a quiet evening in doing work.

I went out to get Mcdonalds, how classy am I eating cheap mcd’s in my four star fancy hotel, and then sat back and did not work – but watched kdramas and enjoyed my crappy food, being able to have the heating on really high and the quiet, clean atmosphere. The next day I couldn’t get the shower to work and had to phone reception to get someone to fix it and lets just say it wasn’t broken. That was embarrassing. I think I realised why it was a four star hotel then, and even more so at breakfast. The service was impeccable. From the polite front desk staff, to the friendly concierge (who remembered me the next day!) to the service at breakfast. Man, this was the first place which has had a disclaimer about allergens on the menu. So I didn’t feel too uncomfortable asking the waiter if I could get porridge made with water. And he was so nice about it. I got my porridge with water. I got green tea. Fresh cut fruits. It was delicious and the service was friendly and helpful and so wonderfully aware of and accommodating to different dietary requirements. It was the first hotel breakfast buffet where I had that luxury. After that I packed up and checked out and waited for the taxi. There was a mix up with the booking which was stressful but I eventually did get to my assessment centre, even if I was unfortunately 20 minutes late.

It didn’t go badly but it could have gone better. Of all things to go wrong I ended up having a coughing fit in the middle of my technical interview- a full on eyes watering, snot dripping, cannot breathe, choking, kind of coughing fit. I had to excuse myself from the meeting it got so bad. It was not the image I wanted to present. The day was turning out to be embarrassing in all kinds of weird ways. After the day ended I went back to the hotel to pick up my luggage and get changed in the cramped hotel bathroom stalls, into something comfortable, because I still hate wearing work attire. This time I wore a skirt and it was good for keeping me sitting up straight, but also so tight around the waist it was hard to move or like, breathe. I was wearing stockings too and they kept shifting down. Such a pain. I got subway for a hasty supper at the train station, very healthy eating these pasty few days right, and joined the crowds waiting for the train. The crowds were so thick that they came almost to the edge of the platform, and I felt worried watching anyone walking past, as they did have to walk right on the edge of the platform to get past. Eventually the train came – late- and I was squished up into my seat again as it was again packed. I have always wondered, ever since I commuted by train and every time I use the train since, where all these people are going and what for. Train stations get so busy, even the long distance trains get packed up daily, where is everyone going? Why? It fascinates me.

I was exhausted, too exhausted to really care about being uncomfortably cramped, and so exhausted even that I passed out and only woke a few minutes before the train pulled into my stop. On one hand, lucky me for waking up then. On the other hand, I could have easily ended up in Plymouth. Can you imagine? I dragged myself and my bag to the bus station, it was pouring with rain just to make my life that more fun, and very dark and quiet in the back streets I had to walk along, which was scary. I got the bus and eventually got home, went to bed.

Haven’t really done any work this week. Have managed to send off a few more job applications. Have mostly spent a lot of time in bed, exhausted and not feeling very well. (I have my third cold/possible virus in three months. My body hates me right now.) It does not really feel like I’m at university right now. I feel distant from it. I feel distant from everything, to be honest. I am aware that I am becoming reclusive. I haven’t been to work in a couple of weeks, I have only just been keeping up with my driving lessons, I have been skipping a lot of lectures and meetings and not studying. I get this way when I get sad and start feeling like whats the point. I start withdrawing. I want to quit everything and just stay indoors and never, ever leave. Its not good. Again, I’ll have to set the deadline as Monday and hope that this week will be the week I can do better.

Post Title: Richard Siken - Crush

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