Category Archives: Postaweek2011

bad but funny dating

I promised I would try to have some nicer, “feel good” kind of dating stories.  I ran out of in-person dates because I’ve spent lots of time flushing them out and there wasn’t many men worth meeting.  I had also promised myself I would be making the first move more often which is really out of my comfort zone.

How the heck do I do that?

I tried a few things like emailing one guy, telling him what a great smile I thought he had.  He didn’t bother answering me back.  One guy said he didn’t like fat chicks and yet another said all my picture showed him was one watery eye and no tits and ass.  So he could care less unless I could meet him at his car in an hour.

This wasn’t working so well.

The Calm Before the Storm of the Bald and Beautiful

The dating site has this chemistry test and matches you up with men who the computer feels you would be attracted to and vice versa.  I kept seeing this very good-looking, athletic-type guy on the site and never really gave him a thought because, well,  he was athletic and bald and very good-looking.

One day, he appeared at the top of my chemistry list.  The number one spot.  I thought I should really let him know just in case he had no idea that the dating site of all dating sites deemed us to be chemically matched.  Not imbalanced at all.  So I emailed him.

Not him but sorta close

You are the number one person on my “chemistry results”.  Just thought I’d let you know.

Smooth, eh?

He wrote back right away, seemingly polite and laughing at my joke.

lol Thanks for that

Not needing too much encouragement, I followed with the winning line:

Me:  No problem..Really you’re like .2543 or something.  Very high.

Him: wow Coolness lol

Me:  K, I’ll leave you to get on with your life as it is now complete.

Him:that’s it ?? no more??

(later) Me: I’m so sorry, I’ve made a terrible mistake.  It’s .23702.  But still the number one position.
🙂 Marie

Him:  Why thanks Marie
said (Vin Diesel)thats me lol chat later grocery shopping beckons

Just to be clear,  I changed his name to Vin Diesel as Vin Diesel is not his real name.  This went on back and forth for a week or more.

Slowly we built up a friendship, with the anticipation of a first meeting soon.  I really didn’t believe it; if you could have seen this guy!  I knew I would never meet or be with a guy like this, no matter what he was telling me. His life had been filled with slim women with jobs and careers not a pudgy on pogey. Besides, I could never keep up to him.

It didn’t matter to me as it was so much fun and not to mention a real boost to my much bruised ego.  He was never inappropriate, just a flirt. We finally moved from emails to chatting. It was obvious from my screen that he was waiting for me each evening. Hours and hours and pages and pages of emails and chatting.  We eventually exchanged private email addresses and set up msn messenger.  This is usually the last step before meeting someone.

I haven’t gotten that far very often.  Umm, once.  See the first installment here for that particular story.

Then that’s the night it went to hell.

How?  Well there I was in the living room of my home on the computer with this guy and waiting for his msn to load.  I was so happy!

Then my son plunked his 26-year-old self beside me and started reading some of what we were typing.  He asked me about the guy I was talking to and what did I know about him. I actually knew lots about him; name, work location, etc.

He asked me where he worked.  I told him.

Jay’s mouth went into a thin line.

He asked me what he did there.  Again, I told him.

His eyes narrowed so much I thought his eyelashes would poke out his eyeballs.

Then, my sweet boy went nuts.

Jay is not one to be soft-spoken or diplomatic.  His yelling at me brought out my daughter, wondering what was wrong.  Turns out that my Bald God worked at the same place where my son’s dad works part-time and its also the school where my daughter was fairly sure she was going to take a course next year.  So there they were; yelling at me in stereo, and my sexy, bald man typing away frantically to find out what was going on.  I finally, among shrieks from my offspring, told him the story.

He wanted to know who my son’s dad is.  Despite my kid and his bellowing at me not to tell him, I told him who it was and how we’ve been divorced for 25 years.  His only reply was not to worry and he wouldn’t say a word.  I apologized over and over and let him go so I could do damage control.

I moved my computer to my room that night.

Later that evening I tried once to talk to him.  No answer.  Same with the next night. He ignored me.

Of course I don’t want to look pathetic so I’ve left him alone.  But what a charge it was to have a man like that interested in me for longer than 5 minutes.

So that’s a better story right?  I can’t imagine it ending any other way.

What do you think shoulda/coulda happened?

a story about bad dates but not so funny

My adventures in bad online dating haven’t been limited to the men I’ve met in person.  No, no.  Remember I mentioned the chat option in one of the previous entries?  This feature is an effective way to flush out the ones who really should go down the toilet.

If it were so easy!

I learned that there are guys out there that hide their profile from everyone else; in other words they can see you but you can’t see them.  I know this because many times guys ask to chat and when I go to find them in the “Online Now” window, they aren’t there.  You can, however, still check out their profile.  You can never see when they are online though unless you and he happen to exchange emails on the site.

Another advantage for this sort of sneaky behaviour is to bypass any parameters you may have set in your email options.  My parameters give a lot of restrictions so it’s not so easy to send me an email first.  Once I send the guy an email then the parameters are off.  This resorts to some people to try to chat with me.  If they don’t have a picture, I tell them to email it to me on the site.  Believe me, the majority don’t because they can’t get through.  Some use really lame excuses about why they can’t upload it onto my email on the site but, hey there sweetness, I can send it to your private email no problem.

I only allowed that to happen twice.  The first guy was fine and it was no problem.  He was a nice guy with whom I became friends with, never meeting each other in person.  He’s a man with many problems and difficulties in his life and appreciates the fact that I am not going to fix him.

The second guy caused me so much grief in a 48 hour period.  He wanted to chat and I said it wasn’t fair unless I knew who I was talking to.  I always want more than one picture just so I can see the guy has more than one picture of himself and not of a model on Google.  So the odds would be that he was more real than not.  It’s not foolproof but it’s better than what the site offers.

So yadda, yadda he didn’t know how to upload the pictures to the dating site and asked for my email.  I checked his profile.  I gave it to him and he gave me his.  We chatted for a few more minutes and I thought I would just clarify something in his profile with him and went to click on it again.  It was gone.  So was he.  I frantically tried to find him, remembering his profile name.  Nothing.

It was so weird.  I stressed about that for a bit and updated all my virus protectors and such.  A while later an email came through:

Hello dear friend how are you doing .? Hope everything is going on well with you, I am Maxwell from hope you remember right.I am just trying to see if the email address you gave me is working so please drop me a line as soon as you receive this message okay. Bye for now and please take good care of yourself..

I quickly emailed him back:

Hi Maxwell.  Not sure what you’re up to but suddenly your profile does not exist.

As soon as I hit send, I realized what I’d done.

The day turned into night and I couldn’t stop thinking about what this guy could do with the information he could get from my simple email.  My IP address would tell him where my computer was.

He could come here.  I put my daughter and I in grave danger.

I didn’t sleep that night at all, barricaded the door, watching out the windows.  Full paranoia mode had hit me.  I knew this was happening but there was nothing I could do.  I got my daughter up for school as soon as I saw her moving, wanting like mad to get her out of the apartment.  I went back home and walked around and around the apartment.  I debated calling the police.  Nothing had happened so I knew they could do nothing.  Soon it was time for me to pick up my girl.  I kept us out of the apartment for as long as I could.  She became suspicious and asked me what was wrong.  I just said I was creeped out.  I wanted Carly to stay at a friend’s place that night.  She agreed, but not after feeling creeped out herself.  I couldn’t tell her what happened. I didn’t want to go home. I knew he would be waiting for us.

We got to the apartment and I made her stay away from the door while I went in first to check it out.  She was really becoming alarmed.  She kept asking me what happened.  I just told her it was part of my illness and it will pass.  I would feel better with her staying at her friend’s place for tonight.  She packed her bag and I took her to a safer place; at least to me it was safer.

I finally fell asleep from exhaustion.  I slept for hours and hours.  When I woke up I felt better.  I went to the computer planning to do the whole search thing and agonized over my mistake again.

There was another email:

Hello Marie how are you doing this morning .? Hope everything is well with you, sorry for not answering your message earlier ok i also can’t find my profile too and very surprise i think there was a technical problem.. Please send me a message and ask me anything that you want to know about me and i will tell you ok. This is my picture and i hope it’s not going to scare you away (smiling).. Bye for now and have a nice day..

Saying he tried to find his profile was the kicker.  You can’t find a profile unless you already have one.  The email had 3 pictures attached.  Needless to say I did NOT open them nor did I reply.  I systematically blocked him and reported him as a scam to my Hotmail account.  There was nothing I could do on the dating site as he deleted everything he had on it.  This won’t stop him from opening other accounts on the same site.

Maybe he didn’t mean to be malicious. I felt vulnerable enough, though, to have a full-fledged paranoid episode which only happened to me one other time in my life.  Believe me, they are beyond anxiety.

So that ended better than better.  I never gave my email out again.  So, if my readers are on the dating sites please remember this safety tip; don’t give your personal email address to anyone until your third date or you’re getting married or something.

I do have some nice stories to tell and I think I will tell you one in my next installment.  So please stay tuned.  For some of you?  Please don’t read it while walking.

You know who you are.  😛

about bad dates and funny stories continues

I’ve had good feedback for the first installment of my online dating experiences.  There were a few private messages concerning my conduct and how I should be more careful.  I totally agree with my friends about that.  Never, never should I have had someone pick me up at my home.  Never ever should I give out my phone number so fast.  Never, ever, NEVER get into a stranger’s van no matter how much I think I can take him.  I really did learn my lessons and haven’t done it again.  Lucky for me, there was no harm done and I won’t risk a next time.

So let’s talk about Bobby; a piece of work for sure.  Again, a man who’s older than I; 62 to my 50.  Charming on the phone and online.  Musician, articulate, educated. He had an incredible speaking voice.  We talked for at least a week before I agreed to meet him. There must have been warning signals that I missed or ignored.

I met him at the casino where we were going to have tea at the restaurant.  I made it first and sat down in the lobby to wait for him.  A nice looking man came up to me and, after saying my name, held out his hand for me to take.  His hair was dyed jet black and he was balding on top, confirming my original suspicion that the picture he sent me was more than 10 years old.  We walked into the restaurant already laughing with each other and happy to finally meet in person.  That lasted 2 minutes.  We approached the hostess.

Bobby explained, rather loudly and in an almost threatening voice he wanted a quiet table as he was fixing to seduce his woman.  Uh oh.  The other waitresses thought he was charming and giggled at him while the hostess looked for just the right table while he nattered about seclusion and time alone.  She seemed to have spotted one and led us to it.  Right away Bobby didn’t like it.  He felt it was in a potentially busy area.

He kept complaining about the table especially when a group sat down at a booth 2 tables away.  He was so angry and wanted to leave the place altogether.  I wouldn’t go though.  He demanded the waiter move us to a better table.  He gave the poor guy so much flack.  He pointed out several areas to Bobby.  None would work for him.  It was all a conspiracy of some kind.  At this point I was dying inside.  I haven’t even had any tea yet!

The waiter finally let Bobby decide where to sit.  He looked carefully around the restaurant and chose one in an area that looked closed off.  Again they bickered.  Finally, the manager came over and said to just go ahead and sit there.  Behind Bobby’s back, the manager gave me a very solemn nod.  I knew he was keeping his eye on Bobby.  Our tea finally arrived.

I was not impressed by how badly he treated everyone; how loud and belligerent he was when he didn’t get his way.  More than one person there rolled their eyes and ground their teeth.  I couldn’t wait for this to end.

I asked  him questions about his kids who were all grown and about his grandkids.  It was easy to tell he did not want to talk about them.  Meanwhile, he wanted to know all about my illness and what some of the symptoms were.

In no time, of course, he got around to talking about sex.

His feet, sans shoes, ran up and down my legs.  He complained endlessly about the people around us, convinced they were hovering just to listen to our conversation.  I explained to him that he parked us on the other side of the half-wall where the buffet was.  He also suspected that the waitresses, who were busing tables near us, were only doing so to listen in and spy on us. He gave anyone who passed within 12 feet of our table the evil eye and I think he even growled once or twice.  I know he did shout at  someone to mind their own business and move along.

Bobby seemed to have some kind of personality disorder.  I may even guess it’s not regulated by medication of any kind.

After barely an hour, I explained I had to go cook supper for my family and thank you for the lovely time.  He wanted me to pay for the tea but ended up doing it himself.  He started walking with me to the door of the casino.  I told him it was only 5:00 and I could find my car fine.  He insisted he wanted to make sure I got there safely (ha!) and he wanted to spend some more time with me.  On the way to my car he asked if he could call me for a second date.  I hemmed and hawed a bit and said sure, thinking I would just turn him down when he called.  I didn’t want to see what happened to him if he was rejected in public.

As we walked, he yelled at cars to get out of our way, made rude noises at people and generally was a humongous embarrassment.  He held fast to my hand and literally steered me everywhere.  I finally found my car while fending off his questions of what was the biggest penis I ever saw, how many times have I had an orgasm and do I really have a 6 date rule.

At my car I thought to dump my purse in the car right away, figuring I would need both arms to defend myself.  I hung on to my keys though. Bobby tenderly asked me if he could have a hug.  I said sure and gave him a very sisterly hug.

Not so bad.

As I pulled away and started to say goodbye there was his tongue straight down my throat without any preliminaries whatsoever.  He slammed me up against my car with his hands on my backside, grinding against me.  I fought him off pretty easily.  He finally let go of my teeth long enough for me to say “noseconddatenotonyourlife” at which point there was his tongue again.  I just couldn’t believe it.

I finally got him off me and far enough away for me to get into my car and lock it.  He was knocking on the window, grinning and concerned at the same time.  “Can I call you tonight?  I’d like us to do something tonight. I really like you Marie.  C’mon!”


No I didn’t hear from him again and I’m so grateful. I decided then and there that I’m going to be the one to seek out someone next time instead of me being “selected”.  It’s funny too, how I always thought I liked it when somebody picked me first.

Part 3 will be coming on soon.  I hope one of these segments will have a happy ending!

funny stories about bad dates

My sister and I went for our walk tonight.  She wanted the details of my dating experiences I’ve had so far with an on-line dating service.  It was good to tell her about my week; I finally could see the humour in it.

And there was a lot.  Of humour, I mean.

I can sit watching the dating site’s in-box feature where everyone you corresponded with will show up; the site making sure you know they’re online and available to chat.

In my case, since I am a chatty thing, there are lots of names there on any given evening.  Almost all these men shall now become a part of this post.

Including the guy who posts a picture of himself 200 pounds ago.  Now I knew how big he was before we met so it wasn’t really a surprise.  What surprised me was how much of a predator he was, how full of himself, and pompous.  It was all about the hunt.  Mr. Octopus by the third date.  He had stuffed animal-toys in his house and they all had names and different voices.  Kinda creepy. He tried to change my diet Pepsi habit, my salt intake and what I listen to before I go to sleep at night.  When I sort of broke it off after a date of more fighting him off, saying we could just start over and take our time more, he decided he wasn’t physically attracted to me.  No problem.  and Whew!

Then I talked to a guy on-line for a few days.  He sent me a picture; it was pretty good but I didn’t believe it was really him.  The guy said he won’t post his picture on the dating site because then he gets bombarded with too many unwantables.  Apparently, I was a wantable.  We switched over to a better chat host and he sent me another picture.  This one took my breath away.  He was absolutely gorgeous to look at.  Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt.  I kid you not.  I was amazed I had this guys attention.  So amazed, in fact, that I missed a few key clues along the way to his personality . But I did catch on in time that he was psycho.

Not him but sorta close.

The night before we were going to meet for the first time, he decided for some reason, to bring up porn.  He asked me if I liked porn.  I said no.  He asked why.  I told him why.  He flipped out.  He wrote in all caps (screaming) that I was a victim lover and help make society restrictive and unbearable to live in.  He called me names.  Really bad names.  But none that I hadn’t heard before.

I disconnected and proceeded to block him from anywhere I had talked to him.

Then I went and had a shower.  I had almost met this guy.  Scary stuff out there.

More recently, I found a fellow on the site, who said he had a rare form of arthritis.  I wrote to him to ask him what kind it was.  He answered back and we tried to chat.   I gave him my phone number so he wouldn’t have to type so much with one finger.  We had such a nice time on the phone I agreed to meet him the next day.  Turned out he lived a block or so away from me.  Because of his age (60 to my 50), my safeguards (name, address and phone number to my kids) he picked me up at my place.

Well I was waiting at the agreed upon time when he called to say he would be late by 20 minutes.  Okay with me.  I tried to do something better with my hair.

I went out front of the building to wait for him.  Along comes this van, hurtling itself around the corner to my street, screeching to a halt, backing up to turn around, narrowly missing a parked car.  He sped up to the door, almost resting on the boulevard.

My thought was:  oh dear.

I opened the door and there was this smiling, very wrinkled face looking back at me.  He was practically bouncing up in his seat.  He kept saying”Oh wow, you’re real. Wow what a woman” and checking out every inch of me.  He continued to do this as we were driving, swerving into the other lane jumping the curb once.  I made him stop the van for a moment so he could collect himself.  He turned on all the lights in the van so he could show me his deformities.  They were absolutely severe.  That wasn’t the problem though.

He smelled really bad.

Those who follow my blog know about my sensitivity to odours.  Gooood ones and baaad ones.  This was a bad one but it would get worse.

We got to the pancake house where George announced to everyone that this was our first date.  Everyone made a fuss over us and led us to a quiet table.  I had tea and he had coffee.

Not 5 minutes into the conversation, he suddenly stopped talking about his deformities for the fourth time and asked me what my favourite sexual position was.  He really did.  I didn’t tell him, of course, but did tell him how offensive that was.  He was so sorry but asked again in a different way a few minutes later.  The waitress kept coming over, cooing how cute we were and looking at me like I must be some kind of saint.

George finally left the table to use the washroom so I took the opportunity to frantically text my daughter to please call in a few minutes and ask me to pick her up.

George came back to the table excitedly shouting to the waitress to please save him, bring more coffee.  I sank lower in the booth.  He sat down and started rubbing his leg up against mine.  I told him not to do that.  He said it was an accident.  I kept checking my phone. He kept rubbing my leg and making these grunting noises.  I finally told George that my daughter has to be picked up shortly.  He said he would love to come with me, with a leer on his face and his tongue sticking out from between his missing teeth.

My daughter finally texted me back saying “but mom I’m going to my friend’s house remember?”

Great.  Good job.  We need a code.

We finally got back in the van and were heading back to my place.  I know I was quiet and it was mostly because I was trying not to throw up.  With him drinking the coffee along whatever other smell he had on I was having a hard time not being sick.  I don’t mean to be disrespectful about this or his deformities.  It was so bad and too much for me.

We pulled up to the front of my building, almost hitting the same car.  He put the van in P and flung off his seat belt and held open his arms and said, “c’mere”.  Oh Jeez.  I opened my door, saying I had to run or be late getting my kid.  I nearly ran up the steps.

The next day he sent me an email saying he thought about it but he didn’t feel we would work out.

Double whew.

The next guy is a whole post on his own.  So this will be at least a 2 parter if not a series.  Stay tuned.  It does get better.

Depending how many frogs I keep almost kissing.

I’m not even going to pretend to know what these guys are thinking.  This has been a whole different world for me.  When I met my last fella on the same site he was the second guy I met.  It’s not so simple now.

Later, I’ll tell you all about Bobby (not his real name).


I know what I’ve written may read rather all over the place.  I’ve edited as much as I’m able to.  I’m satisfied though, that my message is clear.  I ask not to be judged and appreciate your support.

When will this ridiculous disorder decide what it’s going to do already?  I’ve had enough of new or exaggerated symptoms.  I want a way out of this prison that is holding my brain hostage and my life in limbo.

I’ve experienced the deep, dark blue of depression where it was all I could do to hold on to my life.  I’ve even lived through the highs: racing thoughts, reckless abandon with money, big ideas.    What I was not prepared for was the all encompassing consumption of this disease, even while on meds.


I’ve been consumed with various things for weeks, none being productive nor good for me.  I mentioned my racing mind.  That’s a huge symptom and the springboard for the others.

The worst times are the nights.

I stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning.  Every day.  Not easy getting up at 7:30.  Not good either, considering I’ve been going to a wonderful program and working at my contract part-time job.  The job was only for 2 weeks and I did lousy at it.  I’ll be lucky if they call me again.  Both the program and the job ended this past weekend.

What do I do during the night?  Why, I’m right here.  For weeks not writing in my blog  as some of you may have noticed.  Not researching jobs I should be applying for.


I’m on dating sites.  Talking to strangers who really aren’t pretending to want to know me except in the carnal sense of the word.  I could think of nothing else but to see whether anyone had messaged me.  I even checked my phone while at work, taking more breaks than allowed.  Even as I write this I’m peeking at the other page to see who’s on.

Men messaged me, saying all the nice things I wanted to hear.  Good thing there was SOME judgement left in me where I made sure to talk to them for quite a while before meeting them.  I even had a safe plan if I was to meet anyone.   One guy went ballistic when I gave my view on porn after he asked.  A real bully and potential emotional terrorist.  Didn’t meet that one, but it was close.

Another man seemed to be perfect.  He was very spiritual and funny.  So amazing looking in his pictures; what could he possibly want with me?  He didn’t talk about sex at all until about a week of talking online and then it was for one evening and, charmingly,  he was filled with regret the next day.  I made the mistake of letting him read my blog.  So here is this stranger reading about the most vulnerable times in my life.  I was so anxious I did the wrong thing.  He assured me otherwise.  He felt closer to me than ever.

Then, a few days later, he stopped answering my messages and emails.  I only sent 3 as I did not want to look more pathetic.  I was devastated.  We were just about to meet in person. He played me like some kind of stringed instrument with a background of primal african drums. When I got to my Sara Riel program the next day I couldn’t focus and I cried throughout the class.  The other participants and the facilitator were so wonderful.  I stayed until the end of the day and wallowed for a couple more but went on with my life, as it was. One morning, I woke up and it was done.  But now the other symptoms were becoming more apparent.  In hindsight that is.

I only met one fellow in person and ended up hurting and confusing him with my scattered thinking and poor judgement.  I felt nothing for the guy except that he was funny, made me laugh and feel good.  As a matter of fact I felt shocked that this was the first time in my history with men that I didn’t imagine I was in love with someone I was with or even turned on with HIM.  I was clingy and paranoid.  I accused him of things that were ridiculous.

Sex had consumed me and my every thought and movement. There seemed to be no way to stop.  It was destroying my life.

This had never, ever happened to me before. “Hypersexuality” it’s called. Thank god it’s ending now. Unfortunately, that usually means a crash. I hope I’m ready for it.

I was also drinking.  Every day.  Weeks of it.  Never giving a thought as to how this fucks up my meds.  It wasn’t until tonight I realized there is something definitely wrong with me and did some research.  I found out that not only does alcohol retard the effects of the medication I take, it also can cause death, and not rarely either.  My meds affect my central nervous system and, mixed with alcohol, are lethal.

For those of you who are living with bi-polar disorder or who love someone who is, please visit this website here.  Read it, read it, read it.

Now for my plan:

  • It’s cold outside but I am going to walk at least a block every day and slowly add to it.
  • Somehow I have to limit my time on the Web.  That’s so hard to do since my life is so isolated.
  • I will read more and even watch TV.
  • I have to stay off that dating website as much as possible.
  • I will eat better and buy groceries.
  • I will NOT drink alcohol at all.

Thank you all for being here with me and making it all the way through this post.

I wasn’t sure I was going to.


How do I feel right now?

I’ve been racking my brains about what to write with no inspiration at all.  Most of my starts were lame this week; usually this doesn’t happen to me.  Then, I thought of my favourite print a woman I used to know owned of a bed with rumpled white, white sheets under a window that looked out upon a summer morning.  I couldn’t find it online but this one felt almost the same.

From both photos, I get the sense that something wonderful happened in that bed.  It didn’t have to be sex at all (although that would be nice) but a night filled with whispers in the dark, secret touches, breaths colliding in unison, and two minds exploring the dreams of the other.

Then a morning escape for a day with a future.

Makes one sigh.  I sure did.

Trust Within

I felt it was time for an update for my readers about what the hell is going on.

I wish I knew.

I know I was in the depths of despair not long ago and rallied somewhat.  Then I couldn’t seem to write a word.  Now I can.

I last posted a beautiful photograph I found on Stumbleupon.  Before that and ever since I have been searching for beauty and, hopefully, finding strength in it.  In order to do that I had to find beauty/strength from within.

I never really knew how that worked.  How can one find, among this jumbled, cock-eyed mess that is my head, find beauty?  It turned out to be kind of easy.

Because I’m no longer working I have time.  So I’ve taken it.  I’ve had naps which I know are not allowed.  This deep restful sleep has made me see things in my head I never knew was there.  The bad part is, I would wake up rested (good), drive my daughter to school and/or volleyball practice then come home again only to feel the force of my head wanting to hit my pillow (bad), with my mask over my nose.  I promise you, my eyes were so heavy there was no way I could refuse this absurd seduction.

So I would sleep.

When I grew stronger and I had to go out, I would make a point of noticing things.  Well, people mostly.  What they wore, how they carried themselves and how I could see them.  I learned a lot.  Mostly that whatever I was wearing made me look like a person with a mental illness. So I started to notice what I was wearing and how I was carrying myself.

I wanted to fit into this world that was going on without me.

This changed a few things.

My strength was palpable within a week.  Maybe not as noticeable to most folk but I felt every. little. step. forward.  I bought food that made sense so Carly could have lunches for school.  I drove without as many people honking at me. I smelled every wonderful smell and also the horrible smell of slaughter when the wind was wrong; i.e. coming my way.  I watched TV for the first time in over a year.  I made connections with people and discovered kindness I never knew existed and the majority coming from strangers.  Mostly, I was able to accept those very things that were offered to ME.

I realized it was okay to wake up and stay awake.  I could see colours I never saw before.  I ventured out of my comfort zone more than once, got lost more than once and found my way every time.

I learned new things I thought I already knew. I realized and admitted I didn’t know and now I do.  I was able to accept the praise of people I love and strangers too and that’s amazing.

I saw my GP last week and got disturbing news about some lab results.  My hormone levels went through the roof, at least triple the normal level.  I had already figured I was in menopause for obvious reasons but this was beyond that.  There was a hint of a possible ovarian cyst or tumor.  But that’s not what I see for me.  Thanks to Sherree , a fellow blogger, I found a whole new avenue on Google to explore.  My fears of terminal illness has been put to a tentative rest.  Theories abound and I must not waste my time on this earth worrying about it and using it as another excuse to hide from this world.  I am able to wait for the follow-up tests without panic, at least most of the time.

I know I’m stronger than before.  I have some proof if you need it.  I kinda did.  My readers may remember a scant 2 months ago I parted ways from a boyfriend who I was madly in love with.  We were together for just over a year.

We communicated last night for the first time since our breakup.  I’d only allow us to chat without the benefit of video or sound.  He seemed to have a lot to say.  Mostly he wants to “take me away from all the stress”, rent a hotel room and spend a weekend together.

So yeah, readers, I said no.  For an hour and a half I said no.

Dr. G asked me how hard was it to say no.  It was so hard, unbelievably hard.  How did I do it?  I just kept repeating in my head what it was he really wants and the hell I’ve already gone through.  I know I have feelings for the guy and there was no way I could survive “just a weekend” with him.  I also knew that if he offered more I knew I would never survive that either.  My kids hate him. I realized then how cruel he really was.

Dr. G was so proud of me.  I’ve been patting myself on the back all day and this evening too.  This was a great opportunity to demean myself but I finally realized:

I’m worth more than that.

So I’m doing better.  I start a new phase in my life (again) and I got here with a lot of heartache, torture and self loathing.  Mind you, having a good day with the difference of knowing how to hold on to that extraordinary feeling that there are still good days.

Thanks for reading.  RIP Steve Jobs.

Picture Therapy

I really felt like looking at something beautiful tonight and found this on Stumbleupon.  It takes my breath away.

Naps Are Not Allowed

I am overwhelmed by the response my last post had on you people.  What an outpouring of love and support from those who have never met me and only know me through my writing.  I am humbled, more than I was before.  More truthfully, I am affected like you can’t believe.  I’ve had emails, twitter DMs and, of course, comments here on my site, all rooting for me to win and get back into the land of living. Today, I opened the curtains for the first time since “Black Wednesday” as my beloved sister calls it.  The sun came pouring in, warm and friendly against my skin.  I even let the cat sit beside me on the window sill (it’s a no-no as “no pets allowed” in my apartment).  I feel more connected with the world than I did a few days ago.  Hell, better than yesterday even.  Today was the day to get moving.

I woke up in time to take my daughter and her friends to a VERY early volleyball practice.  I wore my PJs as I planned to go right back to my bed.  Which I did, setting my alarm first.  I had an appointment at Sara Riel for 10:00.

Now I thought I had the right day, time and location as had I entered it all into my phone immediately after talking to the intake worker last week.  Today my mind was still in a state of disorientation and, man, was I ever shaking.  I googled everything so many times and even wrote down the directions (my printer is out of ink) and left in plenty of time.

I found the part of town the building was in easily enough but there was no such address.  My worker, Christy, had said it was on the fourth floor at 410 Kenny.  There was nothing but garages where I was.  I circled around but everything remained the same….wrong.  I pulled over and tried to google map it on my phone.  I could not see the little map-thing, it was so tiny.  I was in the right spot but it was still wrong.  Checked the time.  10 minutes before the appointment.  Luckily I had programmed their number into the phone already.

Try getting a real person.  I tried 4 times.  Not even pressing “0” brought me to a real live breathing, direction-giving person.  I finally went through the directory until I found someone named “Christy”.  No answer, voice mail.  ARGH.

I couldn’t hold the phone any more as my quaking was making me do ridiculous mistakes on the keyboard.  Times like this I wish I still smoked, even though I quit in 1987.  It would give me something to do while I tried to figure out what to do.

I eventually reached Christy, who informed me our appointment was supposed to be the hour before, the address was at 210 not 410 and she was on the second floor.

I had the day right.

I arrived, finally, signed in and didn’t know what to do next, only because there was no one there to greet me.  I didn’t dare venture out of the waiting area so I started reading posters and calendars. A staff person approached me and asked who I was seeing.  Then she asked me if I was cold.  I wasn’t, as I was in the middle of a quaking, stupid hot flash.  What a sight I must have been.

Finally I was sent upstairs, no elevator, where the first staff person must have warned the second staff person that I was pathetic/suspicious and she waited for me at the top of the stairs.  I was led into a waiting room where I was told to sit in a specific chair.  I sat in the other one.  The woman grinned at me and asked me if I wanted anything to drink.

Well. the other chair was closer and my wobbly legs were giving me trouble.

I met my worker, Christy.  She’s wonderful.  She had to fill out a form about me but we talked about so much other stuff that didn’t make it onto the form.  She gave me facts, she showed me what was real in my thinking, and she really seemed to care.  She recognized my skills.  She tolerated my shaking, asking, just once, if I was coming down from anything.  She knew how the world worked for someone with my mental illness, that bipolar disorder did work in the regular world and I would be able to work in that world too.

She was shocked at the things I revealed,   She had heard it all before, of course, but the speed of my transference, my show of  trust in her and how matter-of-fact I could tell my stories. She felt I should do public speaking.

I left there, two hours later, still shaking but hungry for the first time in days.  Carly and I had a lovely supper later.  We went and saw my son for a while when I got a call from a very nice woman I met recently.

Sue.  She has written comments on my blog fairly frequently lately.  She’s one of the people who had contacted me with words of support outside this blog too.  She was trying so hard to help.  Tonight she came by with a bag of groceries (it had ice cream in it!) and a heart full of hope and experience for me.

We talked about many things we have in common and some things we don’t.  As most of my readers may know, I don’t seem to attract friends very easily but Sue has gone above and beyond.

My sister called tonight too, trying to find a way for me to make money from my writing.  Books maybe or have my blog make money.  I just said it was a lot of work right now.  I would love to write a children’s book on her three-legged dog. 

So there you have it.  I’m ill and most people still accept me.  Apparently in the working world this will be true as well.  I was told by the wise Christy that most of her clients are encouraged not hide the fact they have a mental illness.  This would be a new thing for me.  Not to be ashamed of who I am and also know that this is not all who I am.

I hope tomorrow is good too.  I’m very busy and hope I have the energy to go all day.  Hard not to take a nap/  I see my GP tomorrow for test results she wants to talk to me about.  After that is orientation at welfare then over to my son’s to weed his yard as he is putting his house on the market right away.  Then Carly and I are off to a program she started in Grade 6, meant to get kids into university who have the smarts but not necessarily the means.  They regroup them in Grade 9 then again in Grade 11, offering them paid work to do capacity building with kids in Grade 6.  She balked at first but I’ve been talking up university for a while, looking up courses.  She’s headed in the right direction.  I only wish I had the opportunity when I was her age.  My life would be very different now.

Oh yes, I had a chance to make a train wish this morning.  All I wished for was for something good to happen.  I also found my mother’s rings that I couldn’t find before.  I put on one of them and have been wearing it ever since.

Tomorrow,  I think I’m ready for you now.

To learn more about Sara Riel click here

Who Are You?

It’s funny how many people I can be.  I’ve written about this before, I think.   I’m known, at least I know, I take on the personae of someone else.  If there is a situation where I ‘m confused about what my “proper” reaction should be, I resort to the capable, tried and true, traits of others.

I wish to remind readers I’m bipolar and not schizophrenic.  That’s pretty important to keep in mind right about now. I’ve also used the real names of the people you’re going to read about.  I hope I don’t get in trouble.

For example, when I need to be very assertive or borderline aggressive, “Mona” takes centre stage.  When Mona weaves her confidence and superior intelligence the job gets done.  Very organized and takes no crap from anyone. I liked that the best.  A marshmallow, though when it comes to love.  That was Mona.  And parts of me when I need it.  Forget the marshmallow part though.

I’ve missed Mona lately.  I haven’t seen the woman in the flesh for over 15 years but she stuck with me all this time.  Unfortunately, she’s been scarce in my life/brain the last few years and this is a time when I really need her.

Then there was Nanci.  Well, in real life Nanci and I ended a friendship but not before I stole a few key ingredients which made her so special.  People loved her so much and I was enormously jealous of that fact. I did tell her and we hugged and were friends for a long time. Even though she could be very cutting, she was also so charming.  She had a laugh that made everyone around her smile.  She was so much fun; Nanci was always in the fun car and I was not. I burn to be like that.   When I’m “on”, lots of times I channel Nanci. I stole some loyalty and “how to make friends” from her. She never seemed afraid of anything.  She has the most incredible eyes I have ever seen. She would see the world so differently than I.  She’s a large woman just like me, the difference being she could care less.  She’s beautiful and carries herself proudly.  I strive to use her uniqueness for my own gain.

I take on many traits of my younger sister.  Especially Colleen’s calmness when I need it and her unfailing strength.  Lately I’ve been calling on that strength more times a day than I can count.  Her gentleness with humanity, especially with children and animals has helped me gain the distinction of “being good with people”.  I’m able to see things in a different light just when I thought that light went out.

I do have to mention Corrie.  What did I steal from her?  Corrie is “fun”.  Corrie does “things”.  Corrie takes chances and took a big chance on love a few years ago.  It’s working for her.  I try to take chances too because Corrie helped me not to be afraid to try. Corrie taught me about friendship and love going together.  I hold on to that everyday.

So these are small parts of my “me”.  Things do get confusing because I don’t really know what part is really the “me” me.  You know?  I think we are all made up of people we work, socialize and live with because we’re influenced by them and we take the good and the bad from each other.

I always wonder who and what I’ll channel next.  I only hope it’s some good stuff, because, man, I need some good stuff right about now.

Peace and love.

Do you change who you are according to where you are or what situation you are in?