| (no subject) |
[Sep. 29th, 2004|06:02 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  satisfied | ] |
Is it really terrible that when Dr. Maitland told me I'm in danger of becoming anorexic, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment? |
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| All I am is disillusionment. Fucked up. |
[Sep. 25th, 2004|03:30 am] |
I like to strip off and lie down on my bed. I like to finger all around my bones, tapping on them, pressing down on them, pushing my fingers all around them and between them. I like to picture myself without my flesh, imagine my bones just covered with that thin layer of skin, the way it clothes my collar bone or my spine. Imagine how exquisite that would feel all over my body, under my finger tips.
But then there is this damned weight in the way. It comes between me and what I aspire to be. So it angers me. Fucking angers me that it is there. I can move my hands back to the skinniest parts of myself to capture that fleeting glimpse of almost-perfection again but then there's still that feeling of failure over my stomach or my arms or legs. No matter how far I've come, it will never feel good enough as long as that is there.
Jennifer, you will never amount to anything. All that you are is a number that counts down at an excruciatingly slow pace. All that you are is that feeling you get when you look at yourself, naked in the mirror. All that you are is sucking your belly in to imagine what you could be like if you continued to fuck yourself up a little more. All that you are is confusion, contradiction and lies. All that you are is insomnia and tired limbs and a colourless face. All that you are is in the packets of food you hide in your room. All that you are is the words in your diet journal; the records of calories, exercise, minutes, hours, vomit, sleep. All that you are is the fear that strikes you when you think someone may have found you out. All that you are is the strange mixture of relief and disappointment when they soon forget about you, when your achievements go unrecognised. All that you are is the pounding of your own fists into your gut. All that you are is your cheekbones; you are not the colour of your eyes or the length of your hair, you are not your banal personality or your forced smile. All that you are is masturbation, an explosion waiting to happen. All that you are is sick in your head; the opinion held by others that you are strange; the raised eyebrows and the sideways glances; the act of not noticing or caring; the art of pretending that they don't exist to you. All that you are is the attempt to control your whole world, including the thoughts and feelings of those around you, as it slips between your fingers and you forget to keep a hold of reality. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 24th, 2004|10:19 pm] |
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Aaaah I hate these emo posts but I cant help them. I need to get them out because I cant talk to anyone anyone anyone about it or they will think I'm crazy no they will know I'm crazy. I think I'm going psychotic. I'm an emotional wreck only without emotions because at the same time I'm feeling very apathetic and also I am high right now as well. In other news I've become extremely overweight I'm horrible and fat and I'm also very hungry and I hate weighing myself at therapy and I hate it when she writes the big numbers down I weigh 45kg that's huge now I've put on so much weight and what else did I want to say... fuck it. it doesnt matter anymore. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 15th, 2004|08:07 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Postal Service - Such Great Heights | ] |
I've had the worst day. I woke up this morning at about 1:30 and couldn't get back to sleep. My legs were aching and I was coughing constantly. I went into my mums room and asked her for a sleeping tablet but she didn't have any, so she made me a cold flannel and put it on my forehead. At around 6 am, I couldn't take it any more so I got up and went to mum again. Hehe...I knocked on her door and she answered but went back to sleep. I think I was annoying her at this point so I grabbed my blanket, went to the lounge and watched tv. My legs were still aching and I couldn't really stay still for very long. I think I was watching Jenny Jones or something. Yeah, it was. It was one of those ones where a girl is trying to find the paternity of her child, and she has about three guys who could be the father and are all calling her a hoe and saying they were positive it wasn't their kid.
It was around here where I started to feel progressively worse. I felt really cold and I was shaking, but I had a really high fever. My grandma came down at around 7:30 when I was trying to take a panadol, but it was one of those gross soluble ones. I could never take them. Then I went to the sink and threw up. Yay, fun. Mum got up and we rang the doctors and they said they were booked up but they could slip me in. At around 9, we went in and I sat down in the waiting area. I swear, my face was COMPLETELY WHITE. Like, sickly. It was brilliant. And I was kindof whimpering because the muscles in my legs were hurting so very much. Heh, people in the waiting room were looking at me.
A nurse came and brought me in to the surgery room to wait alone. The nurse took my blood pressure, my pulse, listened to my heart and took my temperature. Then she left and after around twenty minutes a doctor came and took me and my mum to his room. He said I had the flu pretty badly. He felt my stomach and said I had a very high fever and gave me a subscription for some anti-inflammitary tablets for my muscles and some panadol. After about five minutes, my legs werent hurting. I swear, it was the greatest feeling. If I would have to spend my entire life with that pain I would rather die. Its horrible. Then I slept for about seven hours. Ha. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 14th, 2004|10:47 pm] |
So I went to the Transition Unit on Monday. Turns out Christine wasn't let out. Bentley and Richard told me on Saturday she jumped the fence and they didn't bring her back until the next day and now she is in Lock Down for good. Why do I have to miss everything?!
On another note, I found out Justin is gay. I was really excited. Me, Justin and Aleisha walked to a near-by park during lunch and he said he really wants Richard. And they really want to have a party with just us three and have a session. Silly kids.
I had a great time on Sunday at Amplifier though. I met a few really cool people and got squashed in the mosh pit. My right shoulder is killing me. And next time I am wearing jeans so I can crowd surf. BTW - Kelly, you and I are crowd surfing together! |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 10th, 2004|09:27 pm] |
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I'm finding it hard settling back into the real world. I mean, I like being outside in the air but its overwhelming after spending over a week indoors. Its like being invisible and lost in a large crowd of people with no direction or meaning. Its so much simpler in hospital. Hospital isn’t a happy place and nobody likes being there, but it’s easier than the outside world, so nobody really wants to leave. It’s kind of like someone flicks the “off” switch on life, everything is put on hold and all you need to worry about is existing. It’s much simpler. Today I actually went out for the first time since I've been discharged. Ivan and I took the dogs to the dog beach. I enjoyed myself but found everything a bit too open. I was searching for seclusion and was relieved when we left. I guess I just have to get back into reality slowly. One step at a time, one foot infront of the other, through leaves and over bridges. |
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| This Place is a Prison |
[Sep. 9th, 2004|11:22 pm] |
I woke up in a white room on hard sheets and bruises on my arm. I had no idea where I was until I remembered what had happened the previous night. I was brought in to the Bentley Adolescence Ward, a branch off a string of other hospitals on the same street. They had given me a needle and placed me in ‘Lock Down’, an area where patients go who they want to isolate for a certain amount of time. I fell asleep a few seconds after I fell into the bed in the white room they put me in. So there I was. I think it was around 9 am when I woke up, feeling a stabbing pain in my forearm when I pulled myself into a sitting position. I looked down and saw a bruise in the crook where my arm bends and realised they had taken blood. For the rest of that day, I stayed curled up at the end of that bed clutching a pillow over my head as a girl in the room next to mine screamed and screamed and screamed and tried not to cry, myself.
The next morning I was moved out of Lock Down and into the main ward. There were around six other kids there. Two girls and four boys. I went into the T.V. room, sat down and a girl named Christine introduced herself to me, along with her friend, who I forget the name of. They were both Aboriginal, Christine looking like she was only part. I met a few of the other boys, like Richard who was around 6’4” tall; Todd who was staring freakishly; Bentley who was grinning and friendly and David who was mumbling and making odd twitching motions with his hands. Rochelle, one of the nurses, told me he hears and sees things, but is harmless.
I went to my room and unpacked some things and lay down on my new bed listening to music. Looking out the window I saw Christine and Todd sitting under a big gazebo in a tiny back garden, having cigarettes. I think it was about then that the realisation set in that I was there to stay for a while.
At around 8 o’clock, I got dressed into my pyjamas and went into the T.V. room, sitting down next to Bentley who asked, “How you keepin’? Good?” Bentley was full-blooded Aboriginal and looked far older than his fourteen years in existence had provided him with. I couldn’t understand what he was saying a lot of the time so I just nodded and agreed when I didn’t know what he was saying, and I think he had trouble understanding me too, because he asked me to repeat some sentences at times. Christine’s friend left that night and she had only been admitted the day before. So I got to know Christine pretty well. She told me openly about what had happened to her, although some parts of her story made me wonder if it was the real truth. After a while, I realised Christine had more problems than I thought, ones that she herself didn’t even know about. She talked a lot about cones and repeated information she had said around three or four times. It was pretty obvious she had done some serious damage to her brain from all the drugs. So every time she said something I knew was not true, I just nodded along.
My first night, I lay awake until about one o’clock listening to the wailing coming from the Lock Down ward. It was really, really horrible. I could hear this girl smashing things around and crying and just ripping herself apart. Every time the girl let out a violent shriek I would cringe. A nurse came in to check on me and gave me a sleeping tablet (something called Tamazopan, or something) which conked me out after around ten minutes. I woke up to the same sound the next morning, although distant.
That day we did pretty much nothing. I got to know the other patients a little bit better, mainly Christine because she seemed to want to stay with me since we were the only girls. She reminds me so much of my Uncle Jim. Especially after she told me she was ADHD, and it was obvious. Every day she was certain she was going home. She even had her bags packed and everything. Every morning she would say to me, “Yeah, I’m definitely going home today.” And it would always go the same way. Either her family wouldn’t come, or the doctors would tell her she wasn’t going home yet. She would get really, really worked up and start kicking things and telling me she was going to smash all the windows and punch out the nurses. She was always talking about her father being a bikey, and how he had ‘connections’ and that the nurses were afraid of her because they were bikey’s or were married to bikey’s and they knew what her father could do. Then later she told me her father wasn’t a bikey, but had a lot of friends who were bikey’s and he was like the ‘Head Bikey’ or something.
She’s a really skinny girl as well. When I came in, she was around 40 kilos, and she’s my height. Although by the time I left, she was around 45/46. She would repeat things to me around four or five times during the course of my stay there and I couldn’t be bothered telling her that. So I just nodded along like it was news to me. Every hour she would be holding a cigarette in her hand, counting down the minutes until they would open the back doors so they could go our for a fag. It really made me glad I am a non-smoker.
I started knitting when I went in. I bought really nice yellow coloured wool and now it’s long as fuck. The whole time, knitting knitting knitting. Everyone would always be commenting, saying it was getting longer. Richard, the really tall guy, said it looked like popcorn, so it’s called The Popcorn Scarf. I liked that guy, but he weirded me out sometimes. He was like a zombie the whole time, unless he was talking, and that was rare. The way he would walk around the place reminded me of Frankenstein’s Monster. Seriously, apart from the raised arms, that’s how he walked. He would just get up randomly and walk out of the room without a word. He was otherwise, a really nice fellow. We talked about music and why we were in there. He had been in there six whole weeks. I have no idea how he could handle that, but he’s pretty doped up. I always felt pretty safe around him though. I don’t know why. Like, if me and him were sitting in the T.V. room together, I knew nothing could happen to me. I was kind of afraid of David, but if Richard was there, I felt okay. I suppose it was because he was so tall. Heh.
Bentley (or Black Elvis, as we called him) was just the greatest guy ever. Full-blooded Aboriginal guy who gave me a huge hug my first day. After a couple of days, I began to understand him a lot better, and he me. He told me about the ‘black man’s law’ of covering a new-born baby in emu oil, which helps them grow and that was why he looked much older than fourteen. He also told me all about his ex girlfriend who cheated on him and played his guitar and sang songs about smoking ganja. We coloured in pictures in the music room and he drew me an Aboriginal flag and a red landscape with a low-residing sun. He gave the greatest hugs and said I was a good friend.
Another patient there was Todd. He was by far my favourite person in that place. He was pretty quiet and stared vacantly as if he was completely empty inside, however once he began talking he was just like any other seventeen year old boy, then once his mouth was closed he resumed that blank, expressionless exterior. His mother came to see him every day and was a lovely lady. I never really found out what was wrong with Todd. He told me he suffers from depression but I got the feeling there was something else wrong, but didn’t press the matter. We stood outside and smelt lavender plants and he mumbled how strongly scented they were.
Then there was David. He never really spoke in real words unless he was swearing. He would stare at the television screen and punch at it like something was taunting him. I was sitting alone in the T.V. room one time, and he walked in and kicked the t.v. screen really hard then walked out. I just sat there staring, thinking I should just keep still so he wouldn’t have a go at me. The T.V. whirred and became fuzzy for a few minutes. He would randomly scream out “F*** YOU!” if one of us talked to him. I remember one time I told him he had to go to the office to take his medication and he came right up to my face and screamed that, then walked off, leaving me pretty shaken. My last day there, David called Bentley a “bloody black boong” because Bentley was playing his guitar. Christine got really angry at this, obviously offended because she is half-Aboriginal. She yelled at him and he yelled back, threatening to hurt her. He chased after her and pushed her over then walked off. After a while, Bentley, Christine and I were sitting on the couch and David came back in and ran towards Bentley and started kicking him then stepped back and pushed me over, then started kicking Bentley and Christine again. Some male nurses came in and took him to Lock Down. I hope he stays there. Christine and I were both shaking after it, and I had to tell Bentley what a ‘boong’ is.
I didn’t have a bad stay there. Despite what I have told, I had an alright time. The main thing bugging me in that place was the boredom. I had nothing to do for a solid week, but sit around and occasionally have activities. On Thursday and Friday, some art teachers came in and did art with us, which was fun. And one of them brought games and we played Uno for a while.
I liked the nurses. One of them was named Vanya and said I was intellectual just because I knew about Russian history, which made me feel nice. Another nurse, Luke, was great. He played me some songs on Bentley’s guitar and was really good. He played me The Flintstones, ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ and ‘Father and Son.’ I really liked that guy. <3
One day I was sitting near the Lock Down doors doing nothing. I heard a rustling noise and looked at the doors and saw a piece of paper slide under them. Picking it up, there was some sort of racing car drawn on with an Aboriginal flag and something like, “IM Mercy” written on it. I didn’t really get it, but I went into the music room and drew some stars, coloured them in pretty colours and slipped them back under the Lock Down doors. I hope they liked them.
On Monday, we all went to the Transition Unit. It’s a ward next door where day patients (people who are not boarding or who were previously in-patients) go to regularly and where in-patients go for activities. It was the first time me, Christine and Todd had ever been there and we were pretty excited, since it meant we could do stuff rather than sit around all day or talk to doctors. We were cooking lunch (and by cooking, I mean I was grating cheese), and some nurses came in and asked for a blood test from me. Now, earlier in my stay at the hospital I had refused a doctor of a blood test. This is how the conversation went:
Doctor: Okay, we’re just going to take a small blood test.
Me: Blood test? I don’t want a blood test.
Doctor: …We kindof require one.
Me: I don’t like needles.
Doctor: It won’t hurt. It will take less than…30 seconds.
Me: No.
Doctor: …Pretty please?
Me: I don’t want a blood test.
So now these two nurses had come into the TU asking for a blood test. I couldn’t be bothered arguing with them so I agreed and we went into a separate room where she gave me a blood test. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. My first blood test was worse. And the other nurse held my hand and didn’t mind when I squeezed really hard. Then I went back to grating cheese and met a day patient named Justin. He liked my hair. I liked his. It was a mutual thing. His friend Aleisha freaked me out a little, since she told me she had the “major hots” for Rochelle, one of the nurses who is quite obviously a lesbian. After lunch some people came in and gave us a talk about ecstasy. They showed us some old English video about this guy at a party who tries ecstasy and really trips out, thinking he was in space and was talking to ‘reality’ personified as planet earth. Then we had a talk about alcohol and Aleisha asked the woman to bring her to the bottle shop.
After that, we had to sit around for about an hour, waiting to go back to the ward. I don’t know what happened, I suddenly felt really horrible. We were just sitting around, doing nothing like we had been all week, when there was lots to do around. I got really frustrated and uncomfortable and was walking around the place. Todd came up to me and asked if I was okay, saying I didn’t look alright, and I told him I was sick of doing nothing and he agreed. He is surprisingly perceptive. I walked out into the hallway, looking at all the paintings and drawings and flyers on the walls. Kicking my foot against the wall, I got really homesick and angry and all my frustrations of the past week came out in that tiny, narrow hallway and I began slamming myself against the hard walls. I don’t know why, it sortof let out my anxiety and I felt a little better afterwards.
That night I talked to Rob on the phone. I felt pretty down since he didn’t really seem interested in talking to me, plus Natalia in Lock Down was screaming and screaming and screaming. I managed to cry myself to sleep without a Tamazopan that night.
The next day a new girl came. Her name was Dianna or something, but she told us to call her DJ. Right. I didn’t really like her. She was so caught up in herself and talking about getting back with her ex who is related to Shannon Noll and I got the impression she thought she was really hardcore for being in there. She left that night though. Hah. But yeah, the morning she came, I was in the T.V. room with Todd and Richard, watching Yu Gi Oh! And waiting for Pokemon to come on (shut up, I like that show!). But yeah, it didn’t come on, Rugrats did.
Me: No! Pokemon’s meant to be on!
DJ: Pokemon sucks.
Me: You suck.
From then on, she seemed to follow me around and tried to be all friendly. She even gave me her number when she was leaving and told me to give her a call. Psh.
We went to the TU again that day and we had a talk on sex then got to go in the gym. My arms still hurt. Then we played Uno with Wayne, one of the nurses at the TU and I played ‘Come on Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners on the juke box. Apart from that song, they had some really bad music on there. Luckily, I love that song.
I finished my scarf that night as we watched Chicken Run. That’s a really good movie. Especially after you have watched The Bone Collector, which is boring and disgusting at the end. Feh.
The next day I got to go home. Bentley gave me a big hug and Christine was happy for me and saying she was going home in two hours. I wonder if she really did, or if she is still in there.
Thankyou, Thomas, for saying ‘Welcome home’ to me.
<3 |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 8th, 2004|04:14 pm] |
I just got back from hospital. The Bentley Adolescent Ward, to be exact. Its all one big blur and I'm trying to grasp it all and believe that it really happened.
Later I will do a longer post and talk about it more. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 30th, 2004|11:59 am] |
In December me, mum, John and Alex are going to Bali. I can't wait. I went to Bali around three years ago in year 9 and I loved it. This time it will be better though, because we know places where to go and where not to go. Like that Monkey Forrest place. That freaked me out. You couldn't hold banana's behind your back or in your bags because the monkeys would smell them and attack. Which I found out because the people infront of us had banana's in their pockets. Mum and John are letting me and Alex off on our own aswell.
I really need a haircut - I can almost tie up my hair in pigtails. Actually, I can.
I'm going out with mum today. I really want a polka-dot skirt. If I cant find one, I'll just get the material and make it...somehow. I'm not really good at sewing. Oh well. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 29th, 2004|05:01 pm] |
So I didn't go to Carnegies last night. I was looking forward to it, but luckily, when I found out I wasn't going, Brad told me he was going to see Nathan Gaunt and the Blackeyed Dogs play that night, so I tagged along. It was at the Fly by Night Club and they didn't ask for ID, thankfully.
Nathan Gaunt was amazing.
Seriously. Woah. I went to the dance floor with Kate and Nessa and their other friend and sat down infront and just watched him for the hour or so that he played. He can create music so passionate and intense it astounds me. Through the remainder of that night, I felt extremes of emotions I've never felt watching a band play.
At around 12:30 am, me, Brad and Lexi left. The club had been freezing, so being in Brad's car with the heating was nice. Brad dropped off Lexi and began driving me into the city, then drove me home! Thankyou Brad, that was so great of you, and I enjoyed our conversation about drowning. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 27th, 2004|07:34 pm] |
Today Sinead, myself and my family went to the new Convention Center. There was some sort of expo, with lots of stalls and exhibitions. It was pretty interesting. There was some guy dressed up as a pirate and Sinead and I got a picture with him! After we asked he offered to pick me up. He was really cool.
( ... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 24th, 2004|08:36 pm] |
I have the worst cold. I spent today walking around the city with mum and blowing my nose. Eventually I went into Fun Fair outside Target and bought some pretty tissues with 'I love you' written on them. We also had lunch at the japanese restaurant. I forget what its called, something like Tansawa Tei. I just love their prawns. Mmm. So good.
I got my stitches off today. It was allright, not painful or anything. I'm going to have a scar though. Oh well, I expected that.
I put a deposit on the best couch set today. In Northbridge there is this great antique store, full of seventies stuff. Right on the corner opposite to the Horse Shoe bridge. The couches are in the back room. They're great, all retro orange. When me and mum move in with John, my room will be big and I can put them in there and decorate my room all retro and oh it will be so pretty.
Apparently I'm going with Prue to Carnegies on Saturday night. I'm kindof scared, but oh well. I will know some of the people there, hopefully, so it will be okay. Won't it? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 19th, 2004|03:39 pm] |
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.
Mary Frye (1932)
Yeah, its sad and kindof flowery, but I like it alot. I get what she's saying and feel envious of it.
I heard it first the other night. Ivan and I were up late, since I couldn't sleep, and watching tv. We flipped to Showtime on channel 3, and a movie was starting, so we decided to watch it, because nothing else was on at that hour. The film was called 'Song for the Raggy Boy' and was about this teacher at a reform school in Ireland in 1939. It was pretty horrible. The boys going to the school were getting beaten black and blue. The main character was this kid called Liam Mercier, and his teacher made him stand up and read out this poem by Mary Frye. It was really nice. The kid had a lovely northern irish accent and the sad words uttered by this boy getting the shit kicked out of him just made it more sad. I guess I can say that now, because at the end of the film, one of the teachers beat Liam to death. Man. That was depressing. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 17th, 2004|11:07 am] |
I cant wait for this weekend. On Saturday I'm going to Ky's, and there is going to be some sort of sleep-over thingo, I think. Then the next day we are going to the Unpaid Dept show! Shall be good, methinks. I dont know if I will be going to New Port that night. Craig said he would drive me, but its 18+.
The other day I bought a Dashboard Confessional shirt from Joynt Venture. Eee. I love it so much. It fits perfectly and its so pretty. Black with hot pink writing 'Dashboard Confessional' with little skulls in the letters. Hurrah. Then I got cornered by Jahova's Witnesses-type people telling me I'm going to hell if I dont repent my sins and love Jesus with my heart and soul.
Oh well. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 11th, 2004|10:30 pm] |
My mum is engaged.
Woah.
What should I do? I wasn't prepared for this.
( and I hang like a star )
People at Tafe are robotic.
A school of ghosts. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 9th, 2004|03:46 pm] |
"You're the one whose choking Trojan"
What does choking Trojan mean?
Eep. I'm scared.
Tomorrow I'm starting Art at Tafe. I went in today to get a tour and its big. Big and scary. With big and scary people. Well, not really. I just hate hate hate starting over. |
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