Overcoming Mental Illness

The last four weeks have been somewhat action packed for me:

• Saying goodbye to my family once again.
• Saying goodbye to the UK once again.
• Returning to Melbourne; the place where everything in my life collapsed to the point that it cost me everything, including very nearly my life - on a few occasions.
• Working myself to exhaustion with no income, little funds and few meals to rebuild my life from scratch.
• Self harm reared it’s head.
• As did side effects from the medication, which was helping me focus, but still, who likes side effects?
• Few moments of pleasure interspersed between the constant work and interviews.
• Living in hostels, surrounded by people and little personal space, challenged my social anxiety and on many occasions panic ensued.
• A mixed episode saw several manic and severe depression phases which were tough to work through, affecting both physical and mental health somewhat.
• An overdose and night spent at the hospital.
• And all the other stuff which has appeared on the blog in various guises.

And let’s not even list everything I’ve been through over the last eighteen months - we’d be here til Christmas 2056!!

To say I am exhausted is an understatement. I’ve barely slept, my mind has raced with flashbacks and hallucinations. To say I am surprised I’m still standing is an understatement!

But then I think about something, something wonderful and something…interesting.

You won’t hear me say it often, perhaps it’s because I haven’t slept much…

…but here we go…

…I think about just how amazingly wonderfully intensely AWESOME I am!

Seriously, I don’t care if people think I’m useless and pathetic. I don’t care if they think I’m grotesque or not worthy of anything. I just don’t care at the moment. Over the last eighteen months I’ve had so much shit thrown at me, I’ve been to hell and back (many times) and have resided in places I hope none of you ever visit in your lifetime. I have done things I’ve never spoken of and witnessed things which I’ve never spoken of. I have dragged my reasonably cute butt out of the chasm on many many occasions and stood fast and fought hard against all the shit I’ve had thrown at me.

A useless, pathetic, unpassionate man would have curled up and died.

Me?

I kept fighting…kept working…kept battling…kept trying…kept doing everything I could.

Because I’m more passionate, more committed, more caring than most I’ve met.

I have a strength few people ever see, because I usually don’t let them. I will however let you in on a secret.

If you’re looking for strength - if you need some from yourself - all you have to do is find one thing just one thing; a place, person, object or emotion to focus on.
Focus on it with every ounce of your heart and soul and I guarantee the strength will come.

My something, it’s easy, it’s just: 
FIVE (SIMPLE) WORDS 
That’s what gives me strength, it’s what has given me strength for the last eighteen months and what will give me strength through the times ahead.

So for once, just this once, give me this moment.

Give me my modest bastard moment!

‘Cause I’m a bloody strong, amazing and awesome man who occasionally, very occasionally, is an inspiration and should be looked up to.

[PS...don't ask what the five (simple) words are. I can't tell you! I'm not being mysterious. I just can't tell you. There are only about three people I could tell in the RL who would 'get them' anyway, but seriously, I can't mention them here. Simply because they're something I just cannot talk about on the blog and if you knew the words you would understand why that was.]

Although this blog isn’t a direct continuation of my previous one - in other words this is intended to be more of a stand alone progression rather than a direct sequel - it occured to me today that there will inevitably be references made to my previous life and my previous blog. Thus, treat this entry as a wee “Previously in the journey of Addy,” designed to fill in the blanks as to exactly who Addy is.

I’m a 29 year old guy who was born in Leeds. I spent my pre school years in Treharris (South Wales), my primary school years in Portlethen (Scotland) and my secondary/high school years in Caldicot (South Wales). Following leaving school I backpacked around Scotland and then onwards to Canada before returning to Inverness (Scotland) where I spent a few years studying photography/film at college before beginning a long career in backpacker hostel reception/management which would span two continents.

In 2002 I emigrated to Melbourne (Australia) where I continued my backpacker hostel career before leaving this in order to kill myself. You see to understand me, you have to understand my mental illnesses. I suffer from many, and have been fighting them my whole life. That’s what the last blog was about. To strip it down to lamens terms:

I developed social anxiety when I was at school, which led to depression and self harm. All of these three illnesses grew in strength throughout my teenage years and came to a head in late 2000 when I prepared myself for my first suicide attempt. Unsuccessful in this I carried on fighting. In December 2007 I was struck with Glandular Fever, which came at just the moment I had overcome all of my mental illnesses. A series of events followed in February 2007. Over the course of ten days I was diagnosed with leukemia, dumped by text message, kicked out of college and had my study/medical benefits denied - all whilst suffering from Glandular Fever. With no income, a serious terminal illness and the loss of my social network my brain collapsed and I suffered a nervous breakdown, which I am still battling against to this day. In November 2007 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 1 and in January 2008 forced to leave Australia. Which didn’t help, in fact it made everything worse. So now I’m back in Australia, in the city I love, doped up on medication and fighting hard to make my life work and prove to everyone that I’m not useless pathetic fuck up - that I am actually a decent human being worthy of life. A fact which is debatable in itself.

Although this blog isn’t about mental illness I have no doubt there will be references here and there to this part of my life. I still have good days and I still have bad days, there’s not much I can do about that. As I stress however on my previous blog I am more than my depression, I am more than my mental illnesses. I am a person, full of love, life, passion, exitement and humor - I know who I am at heart, it’s just that most people can’t see past the illnesses I suffer from, the illnesses I am tired of hiding from everyone and pretending aren’t there just to earn acceptance into the lives of the judgemental majority.

So that’s kinda a brief history of who I am, more detailed information can be found through the old blog at www.myjourneywithdepression.com, this blog is more about me; my life, my passions, my desires.

To paraphrase the ’about me’ page of my previous blog; I am a self harming, frequently suicidal, manic depressive with a severe social anxiety problem. I have few friends, am terminally lonely and suffer from a terminal illness along with numerous other physical complications. The chances of me living the life I wanted have gone, I just have to make the best of what time is left.

This blog is me - sharing my life, thoughts and loves with the world.

“Rhum possesses a unique field mouse, Apodemus sylvaticus hamiltoni, which is said to live nowhere else. Could this perhaps be the “fairy mouse” of the Hebrides, which has strange and terrible powers? If a fairy mouse runs over the back of a man or beast, the creature so treated will become totally paralysed and never move again. There are cures, but they rarely work. Even the flick of the tail of a fairy mouse on and or foot may have dire consequences. Some have claimed that the fairy mouse is the lesser shrewmouse and that the greater shrewmouse, if sacrificed or even passed over the paralysed one, can remove the disabilities put on by it’s lesser brother. But no natural history book that I have consulted knows the lesser shrew under that name, nor the greater shrew either, just “shrewmouse.” However, water in which the head of a shrewmouse has been boiled will cure “bite of shrew,” and a shrewmouse can bite. It is bravest little creature imaginable. Hebridean mice were believed able to sing, but it was death to him who heard them. To find a dead mouse was also a death omen, but eating a roasted one will cure whooping cough and jaundice.”

Day #6 - Rhum and then an evening with Nevis

The first Scottish island I ever visited was Skye, although now it is connected to the mainland, is it still technically an island? Following this I jaunted to Orkney, then Mull, then the Western Isles; Lewis, Harris, North Uist, Berneray, South Uist, Benbecula. Iona was to follow next, and then repeated visits to Mull, Iona, Orkney, and - of course - my regular excursions to the Western Isles. It has long been a dream of mine to visit all of the islands that dot this coast - including St. Kilda, and island I would adore the chance of visiting. So it came with great joy and excitement that I am able to add another to this list, Rhum (or Rum, depending on which guidebook you read.)

Rhum is one of the four islands which are collectively known as the Small Isles, the other three being Muck, Canna and Eigg. They lie of the west coast, nestled in the Sea of the Hebrides between the Ardnamurchan Peninsula and the Isle of Skye.

The island is entirely a nature reserve owned by the SNH and is long considered to be the jewel of the Inner Hebrides - it’s peaks soar to over 750m and the entire island is noted for it’s effluence of wildlife. Wild goats, deer, manx shearwaters, golden and white tailed sea eagles and of course the humble Apodemus sylvaticus hamiltoni!

Even though I knew Rhum was considered to be a beautiful wee island it was not my choice of which of the small isles to visit. This would have been Eigg, but a combination of the ferry time-table and the utterly gorgeous weather I was treated to this day meant Rhum was the ultimate destination for the day.

In a way I am glad, as without doubt, it truly is one of the jewels. Granted I was only on land for about 2 hours (due to the strict timetable) my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trip to the island was well worth it.

I dropped down from the ferry into the hamlet of Kinloch where stands the castle, most appropriately called Kinloch Castle (which was built by the Bullough family who owned the island between 1888 to 1957) and was in a state of repair during my visit. Following this I just started roaming this desolate, almost unpopulated island (at most times around 20 people), and found myself hugging the coast across moorland at first and then into a wooded area where birdsong filled my ears and I attempted to record the second of my video diaries. Perchance I disturbed a mouse’s nest as every video I recorded on this day was atrocious but one will be posted following this entry none the less!

Then, as I was recording I spied the ferry making its way down the bay and began a speedy return to the pier. As I did so my boot was swallowed by some odorous liquefied peat in one of the numerous bogs dotted around the woodland.

I did however make the ferry.

Even though I was on the island for a mere couple of hours part of the fun with island hopping in Scotland is the journey. There is something almightily joyous about ferry travel and it easily surpasses the pleasure of flying (is there any?) and almost touches on train travel as the greatest way of seeing the world. Not only do you get a sense of scale, unlike planes, but for seeing the dramatic and varied coastlines of this country there is nothing better. The weather, being as spectacular as it was, threw up the veritable vista of; the Morar hills, Southern Skye, the greatest view of the Cuillans I’ve seen and then the indominatable body of Eigg with it’s distinctive basalt peak the ‘Sgurr of Eigg’.

CalMac ferries have always been a pleasurable experience for me; from the mini-cruise I took to Mull in January 2000 to the bordering on erotic experiences between Mallaig - Armadale, and later journeys to the Hebrides. It was, after all, a CalMac vessel which ferried me to the point where I would lose my virginity. As such, the initial stepping onto the boat was, dare I say it, orgasmic?

Even though my day had begun incredibly early in order to journey the Road to the Isles to Mallaig by train, it did not end early, for when I returned to Fort William that evening I took in the second ‘bout of enjoying the Festival festivities. The previous night I had enjoyed the Film Festival evening, this night, was the Nevis Connections evening.

The theme was ‘Nevis’ - i.e. the mountain, the glen and the area. A celebration of all things Nevis. There was music, readings, short films, discussion and a debate on the issues affecting the area and the possible directions which the region could be going in. Music was provided first by the ‘Lochaber Community Wind Band’, and was a rousing (at one point almost tear inducing) movement celebrating the ravishing beauty of Scotland. Secondly, there was the delightful music from ‘Flutes in the Fort’, a small group of flautists beguiling us with their trade. This was set to video footage, although my seat obscured the majority of this - instead allowing me only to see the posterior of one of the players, which in itself wasn’t such a bad thing!

The leader of the debate, Cameron McNeish, is unequivocally the 2^nd most contagiously passionate person I’ve ever met; his adoration for the area and the outdoors made me want to run naked through the hills! I didn’t, but there is still time!

If you would like more information on the Nevis area, or perchance become a Friend of Nevis, you can visit their website at www.friendsofnevis.co.uk

And to close, a small poem from Kenneth MacLeod which I unearthed during my research on Rhum:

The grail of the dream land, the youth land, is love lit,
Beside the hill water a foam to sea,
Like tangle at noontide, like snow-wreath in moon-light,
And thou who art yearning, shall yearn them to be
O Bride! ‘tis seaward, the dream land, the youth land
O Bride! And seaward the coolin of Rum

When I last left you it was Sunday, and I was experiencing a rather nasty reaction to the Prozac I was prescribed. It messed me up as Sunday was meant to be Glen Nevis/Cow Hill hike day - instead it was “lying on my ass and throwing up whilst wondering which of the wonderful side effects I was to experience next” day! I did however attempt to salvage something from the bowels of medicinal hell and dropped by the Fort William Mountain Festival: Art and Photography Exhibition which was somewhat spiffing I have to say.

There was a plethora of immensely talented work on display. Numerous drawings and collages from school children which - it has to be said, took my breath away - as well as paintings, photography and mixed media from local established and non-established artists. Such as:

  
(CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VIEW)

As the festival bumph states “From slacklining to biking and from Ben Nevis to Everest - the 2008 Mountain Festival is bursting at the seams with inspiring events guaranteed to get you in the mountain mood!” It’s a 100% bursting at the seams celebration of all things mountains! From hiking, climbing and biking to flowers, prehistoric organisms and, of course, the humble goat.

But we’ll have more of these festivities later, first up, we will resume to manic adventures of Addy (not quite in full on manic mode, has to be said, but the Prozac certainly wasn’t helping keeping the Hyde at bay!)

Day #5 - Glencoe and Table Mountains.

When I began this whistle-stop tour of Scotland I knew the places I was going to be visiting would fall into one of three categories:

• Those wonderful brand spanking new spots I had always dreamed of visiting.
• Those wonderful [no-where near brand spanking new] nostalgic paths of old which I have worn out over many years of traversing.
• Those not-so-wonderful [and in no way brand spanking new] places of old I had once upon a time arrived and - as departing - stated “never again”

This particular day falls into the category of numero (ii).

Glencoe is one of the most intensely beautiful places in Scotland. Much like a mug of steaming hot chocolate which is over-flowing with dark chocolatey goodness - this region of Scotland is jam packed with history, wildlife, flora, fauna and an overwhelming sense of how miniature, pointless and insignificant we are in the grander schemes of the world.

My first visit to Glencoe came in September 1999 when I undertook my grand backpacking tour of this bonnie country and I have returned there on numerous occasions since. Upon this first occasion I became lost in the woods surrounding the river and took rather a lengthy sojourn in finding my way back to the village and bus-stop. I’ve traveled the glen by car, train and tour bus. Hiked the hills and forests and generally had a romping good time in this fau-chocolatey wonderland.

On this occasion I traveled to Glencoe in the weirdest bus I have ever seen. Granted, and rather unfortunately, it was not weird in the way Miyazaki’s Cat Bus is weird - but weird in the sense that unlike any bus I’d been on before (wherein the make up is:

[seat] [seat] {n i c e a i s l e} [seat] [seat]

The layout of this particular vehicle was:

[sea[seta]t] {redicuslouslytinyaisle} [se[astea]ts[eat]

To get across how tiny the aisle was think of a general school ruler, which is 30cm in length. This WOULD NOT fit in this aisle, in any way you could try and put it there! I tripped over three people, smacked a nice old lady in the head with a flailing arm as I did, and then, as a struggled to (a) climb over the seats and (b) retain balance - my head very nearly ended up in the crotch of a rather sprightly looking twenty-something woman. Which, from my viewpoint would be no bad thing - but from her viewpoint, having a strange man’s head delving into her nether regions on a public bus might not be her idea of a good time. I stress might not be as - really - everyone’s different and it’s all “each to their own” as in actual fact it might have made her year! We shall never know, as I retained balance and threw myself into the world’s most uncomfortable bus seat.

If anyone has ever traveled the A82 from Fort Willy to Glencoe I’d be willing to put money on the fact that the scenery is embedded in the core of your mind; it is unflinchingly one of the most beautiful stretches of road in this country. The views over Loch Linnhe toward Ardnamurchan are word defying, and as you cross the Ballachulish bridge you receive stunning panoramas over the North of Argyll toward the Pap of Glencoe, and the mountains beyond.

I departed at Glencoe Village and promptly began hiking up the glen. I paused for several moments at the visitor centre, reacquainting myself with the area before continuing further up the glen. I couldn’t say how far I walked, nor how many sheep I spotted, nor how many times I gasped in utter amazement that there is no-where quite like this on the planet.

A brief historical sojourn:

Glencoe is the scene of one of the bloodiest most upsetting moments in Scottish history. For it was in 1691 when the infamous “Glencoe Massacre” took place” Disgruntled with all the rebellions and conflicts William II issues a decree that any Highland clan would be given a pardon should they sign the treaty. The MacDonald clan leader, much like myself, was rather a slack fellow and left it until the last minute for the lengthy ride to Fort William to sign the treaty - which he did sign, albeit several days late of the deadline. Jumping on the chance an issue was ordered, and the Campbells (aligned with William) were sent to the Glen and enjoyed the Highland Hospitality offered to them by the Campbells. The Campbells stayed with the MacDonalds for ten days; sleeping in their homes, eating and drinking their food, having their way with the bountiful lasses (no doubt) and then one black morning the command as given and the Campbells duly began slaughtering every MacDonald under the age of 70; men, women and children. It was supposed to show what would happen should a clan stand against the wishes of William II. Many of the MacDonald’s did escape into the hills, but being a bleak and unforgiving place were killed by the elements…and for a far more in-depth retelling of the Glencoe Massacre try the book “Glencoe” by John Prebble, which is an excellent account.

As with Glenfinnan before it I spent the day hiking in the hills before returning to Glencoe village for a spectacular view out west as the sun was setting.

Upon returning to Fort William I dashed back to my abode, changed, made myself smell of honey (or at least better than how I smelt after a day’s hiking in the hills) threw up (because of the Prozac) and then had to remove the odor of vomit from my person before heading to the Nevis Centre (the entertainment hub of this fair town) for an evening of film as part of the festival.

There were short films, longer films, a couple of crap ones and a couple of spectacular ones. Stand outs for me were; 65 Degrees North in which a bunch of intrepid skiers headed to Greenland to be the first to descend some previously undescended peaks and the magical Puento; a one hour documentary dealing with exploring the table mountains and their caves in the Venezuelan rainforests. (This film, should you be given the chance, should not be passed up. It not only made me want to become a spelunker, but also elevated my desire to visit South America even more than it already was (and as South America is second on my list of not-visited-countries which I want to go to) this desire was already pretty fracking high.

Anyway, after a long day, I returned home and still somewhat queasy, clambered into bed. I was to be up early the next day as for the first time in seven years I was to become a sailor, which unfortunately did not include a cute little uniform, but I was island bound!

—1—
Strip naked (yep, get it ALL off!)
Go stand in front of a full length mirror.
Now, instead of focusing on all those moles, hair patches and love handles…
…concentrate on all the drop dead gorgeous things about yourself.
Yep, it’s bloody hard, but you can do it!
Try three things to start with.
Say them out loud to yourself - and mean it! Things like:
“Addy - my god - you have the cutest smile you’ve ever seen!”
“Look at those nipples, they’re damned awesome, how could anyone not like those?”
“And good god, look at that adorably spankable ass? Absolutely mind blowing,”
See, you’re starting to see yourself differently already…
…now do this everyday, every-single-day!
Adding one more thing each time.
Within a few weeks there’ll be nothing left you don’t love.
—————

REMEMBER YOURSELF WHEN YOU WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL SERIOUSLY
AREN’T YOU JUST SO MUCH MORE FANTABULOUS NOW?

—3—
Single?
Lonely?
Sick of all those couples pashing, snogging and fondling in the street?
Beat them at their own game.
Go on a date with the person you love - YOU!
Cook your favourite meal (or order take-away), light some candles, throw on your favourite movie.
It sounds silly…
…but enjoy it…this is you time…anyway…
…the fun parts still to come!
What do all those sickening couples do at the end of their dates?
Yep!
So get nekkid!
And get that butt to the bedroom for some naughty fun and games!
It’s purrfectly natural.
So don’t go feeling all guilty about it.
Remember his is ‘you’ time - so love yourself in every way that you want to.
Your mind and body will adore you for it!
—————

—4—
It’s dead easy to beat yourself up about being wrong.
We’ve all been there.
Sitting there alone, bemoaning to ourselves about all our mistakes…
…whilst spanking our inner moppet for all those silly things we’ve cocked up.
Stop.
It’ll take time, but start catching yourself doing things right.
Instead of smacking yourself for messing up…
…hug yourself for doing something awesome.
You didn’t burn the cheese sandwich this time? HHHUUUUGGGGGG :)
Yay! You’ve remembered to take the garbage out! HHUUUGGGG:)
Bugger…forgot to sign the report…but hey, it was a damn well written report. HUUGGG :)
Get the idea?
—————

LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF AT LEAST ONCE A DAY

—5—
If S.A.D is making you feel crappy what can you do?
(those not in the know - S.A.D is this case being Social Anxiety Disorder)
Talking is so hard isn’t it?
I know.
Been there.
Done that.
Always coming up with that awesome story or wit-tastic one liner about three days too late. Well, there are things you can do…
Start small!
Don’t aim for that big conversation first time out. Build up to it and you’ll be feeling so much more positive about yourself in no time. So to prepare yourself for that potential panic attack at the big night out with your mates on Friday, start earlier in the week.
a) On Monday, ask a stranger for the time.
b) On Tuesday, ask a shop-keeper about the weather. It’s a cheesy way to start but a small conversation will follow.
c) On Wednesday, do both Monday & Tuesday’s things for practice
d) On Thursday we need to up the anti - try start a conversation with a complete stranger. Make it about something you like so as not to throw yourself into the deep end.
e) On Friday, have your absolute favourite food for lunch. You want to feel really positive for that big night out - no chickening out now with excuses about being sck just ’cause you don’t want a panic attack in front of everyone.
And then by the time you hit the pub with your mates you’ve got several spontanious conversations with complete strangers under your belt.
YOU’RE AWESOME!
So starting a conversation with people who actually know you should be much easier,
Take your time until you’re comfortable,
Then start a conversation with the person you are most comfortable with.
This will ripple on to bring someone else in.
And another.
Soon, everyone there will be chatting because of you.
How awesome is that!
No panic attack.
So then all you need to do is try and have a fantabulous evening…because next week, you’re gonna do it all over agian - upping the anti each time. By the end of the year you’ll be feeling so much better about yourself.
:)

More ideas will be posted soon…so keep loving yourself until then…you are awesome :-)

One of my pet peeves about suffering from bipolar/depression is the constant judgement I receive for being a depressing man. I do not view myself as a depressing man, nor do I view myself as depressed. To say I am “depressed” or “depressing” is labelling me with the illness I suffer from. It would be like labelling someone with cancer as “cancerous” or simply “cancered”. My illness does not define me, nor should it label who I am or my personality, but on so many occasions and by so many people (who could be described as ignorant) it does.

Depression is my illness, not my personality! Just as cancer is something someone has, bipolar/depression are things I have, and not am. (i.e. I have bipolar, I am not bipolar.)

Whilst writing a blog on mental illness it is difficult sometimes for people to get to know the real me, as often I am merely writing about how these illnesses have and are affecting me. In this first post of a planned series I hope to start showing people who I really am by exploring some of the idiosyncrasies and passions which make my blood bubble and my mind explode with pseudo-orgasmic delight.

Photography

I’ve been interested in photography for as long as I can remember. Now I’ve never considered myself to be a great photographer, but I will admit to thinking that some of the photos I’ve taken are great. I’ll not actually say which ones (that you’ll have to work out for yourself) but I do like my work enough to be incredibly proud of the images I’ve taken.

I’ve gone through so many cameras in my life, far too many to actually remember them all. I went through all sorts of dodgy 35mm and disposable ones when I was but a mere babe, even a couple of APS (remember those) when I was a teen. Of course as the bug continued to bite I graduated to a wonderful beast of an Olympus OM2 which took me through my photography course and then a glorious Minolta Dynax 5 which I was obsessed with for years and was the artifact which hurt me the most when I lost it last year.

If I had to choose a particular field of photography I’m most obsessed with, it would be people. With is a bit of a misnomer really as this is the field I have dabbled in the least - an unfortunate side effect of social anxiety. When I say people I mean portraiture, body abstract and nude; I take so much pleasure photographing the beauty and wonder of the human figure it really does make me explode with pseudo-orgasmic delight, or in the cases when I have dabbled in this field, pre-orgasmic delight ;)

[I can't show you those though!]

So instead here’s a small selection of my work:

And some work from photographers whom I admire greatly (some you’ll know, others you may not) and is a mix of all sorts of genres; landscape, portraits, candid, humorous, arcitechture, nude and abstract:

If you fancied checking out more of my photos I have a blog called Stray Thoughts Photography which is added to every now and then showcasing over a decades worth of photos - good and bad (!) Hopefully one day I will resume taking photographs; one of the most relaxing and inspiring past-times I know, and one which I’ve missed greatly.  

Other posts in this series are:
Faerie Art

Well, it’s been a rather ‘meh’ month for the blog really hasn’t it? It’s fairly obvious to all that my mind hasn’t quite been with it in the way it was when I commenced this whole project, but with this ever fluctuating mind I’ve been saddled with it’s sometimes hard to find the concentration required to write posts. It’s a bugger really, but I’m trying bloody hard at the moment following my final weeks in Melbourne - which really kinda stuffed me up!So without further ado I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, or rather, squeeze myself back onto this crazy space hopper that is life.

In terms of the blog I realised I haven’t really been giving it any love of late. If it were a relationship you could say I’d been giving it the occasional grunt before heading off down the pub for several pints before coming home and crashing out on the sofa a drooling pissed-up wreck (i.e. not exactly many snuggles)…but realising my neglect today I took it out for a slap up meal before coming off, stripping it naked and doing things to it which would make even a porno star blush!

Or in other words:

• I’ve been adding to the “About Me” page. One of the original provisos when I established the blog on Blogspot was to create a blog which wasn’t just about mental illness, but about me, so I’ve added a few pages which show a little more about my interests. You’ll find a music page, television page and a movies page, all of which contain several music videos and movie/TV exerts which I love, adore and/or admire. So rather than just reading a list of things I like you can experience them for yourself.
• There are also a few more photos of my good self, including the first photo of me in nearly twelve months! (Be afraid, be very afraid!)
• I have also been doing a lot of stumbling lately, so if you’d like to find out a bit more about the kindof stuff I peruse on the ‘net drop by my StumbleBlog. I use it mainly as a photography/art blog so there are lots of pretty pictures for you all to look at should you so desire, and if you’re a stumbler to, don’t forget you can add me as a friend if ya’d like.

• My Facebook page is currently out of action and I’m in the process of trying to get my account back, so all you Facebook addicts bare with me and hopefully it will be sorted out soon!

In terms of other areas of administrative excitement: (What? Some people have office/admin fetishes!)

• I’ve also been working on two pages in the Understanding Mental Illness section; they deal with Schizophrenia and Eating Disorders. Although I do not suffer from either of these illnesses (or at least they’ve never been diagnosed) I feel it’s important to add them to this section to give people a better understanding of them.

 Schizophrenia

 
Eating Disorders (coming soon)

• I’ve been working hard on trying to further establish the blog carnivals which I run in the hope that the next issues will contain a few more articles relating to mental health and a few less articles on how all we have to do is think positively and we will find our mental illnesses cured forever (i.e. the “just cheer up” approach) So if you’d like to help out in this area you can submit your articles below: 
  To submit to Cutting and Self Harm Awareness Carnival click here.
  To submit to Mental Health Down Under click here.
  To submit to Carnival of Mental Illness click here.

With regards to my sister blogs:

• Eliminate the Stigma of Mental Illness has been getting some lovely feedback but I’m not on a bit of a “contributor drive” so if you’re interested in sharing your stories and opinions on all topics related to mental illness quit hanging around and sign yourself up as a writerfor this wonderfully low-key yet highly exceptional blog (don’t blow my own trumpet too much, but a bit of self love is okay from time to time)
• All those stray thoughts is just enjoying sunbathing naked in the heat of exceptionally talented artists, so if you should so desire, you can peek over the fence and have an eyeful of some utterly marvellous art. It’s being updated a little more frequently now.

So even though it may not look like it from just a tertiary glance over these blog pages, things are happening, albeit beneath the surface. Help yourself to a wee poke around and see what you can unearth…and I’ll be back later today with Getting back on the space hopper…part II, which will be all I’ve been up to over the last few weeks - and where I go from here!

It’s been 64 months that I’ve been in Australia.It’s been 64 months of ups, downs,  highs, lows, excitement, misery, laughter and despair.

It’s been 64 months…wow…still can’t believe it’s nearly over.

It hasn’t really sunk in yet, even though it should’ve done. All the things I didn’t get to do are flying through my mind and joining up with all those things that I did do.

It’s been a long five years, it’s been an incredible five years, it’s been an emotional five years, and by fuck I’m gonna miss it here!

This is a month by month, memorable moment by memorable moment, account of my time in Australia.

This has been my 64 months in Australia…

A quick note on the links:
The links which are bolded will take you to a photograph taken by me.
The links which are italicized will take you to one of my blog posts on the subject.

…rather a hectic 64 months really! :-p

When I conceived this blog I intended it to show that even though I suffer from depression, self-harm, social anxiety and bipolar; I am not defined as a person by the labels these illnesses place upon me.

As such I have opened a small sister blog to share with you an area of my life which I am greatly passionate about: art and photography.

All Those Stray Thoughts
imagine - create - inspire - deviate

Although none of the artwork on the site is my own (I can’t draw for toffee and am no longer in possession of a camera) it is all work I adore and wish to share with the world.

It’s cute, beautiful, ravishing, emotional, inspiring, sensual, controversial, challenging, unique, kinky, erotic, passionate, gorgeous, intelligent…

…just a reflection on all that goes on in my soul ;p

And so 2007 is slowly drawing to a close…as my clock goes (AEST) there is a mere 25 and a 1/2 hours left as I begin this post…and as with most people at this time I am thinking of three things:

1. So, what are my chances of a New Year’s pash…
2. Blimey, better get cracking on making some resolutions…
3. The internal-analysis of the last twelve months…

Well I can categorically tell you that my chance of a New Year’s pash are zilch (zero, nada, nought) unless I somehow manage to enter a manic phase in the next 25 hours 27 minutes - the chances of which are pretty slim! And what exactly is the point of making resolutions anyway?

My mind however has been mulling over the last object on this list with a kind of exasperated urgency. Voices, songs, screams and agonised yelps are haunting my every waking moment. The thing I find hard with my bipolar is getting all the ghosts to shut up, they’re just there, constantly, bickering away at my soul until I am nothing but a cowering wreck on the floor.

So let’s for a moment, just a moment (allow me that) forget that the events of the last eleven months happened. Let’s rewind the clock and take a peek at the year that wasn’t, a year that this time twelve months ago was going to be one of the best of my life, instead of the bitch year from hell it became!

[NOTE: From this point on everything not in italics is what could have happened if 2007 had gone the way I had hoped/whereas everything in italics is what actually happened]

…click here if you’d like to read more about my year that WASN’T/WAS…