In which I jump ahead to now

I should have kept this up. I should have kept writing, remembering, but now I need to write about what is happening now, and hope, I guess, that this blog just stays in obscurity. Such a strange clash of interests, needing to put it out there, but hoping it never gets seen.
I'm sitting here watching the text bar flash at me. It's not helping, not offering me any solutions to my problems or suggestions on how to accurately describe everything that I'm feeling. I watch it flash and a million thoughts cross through my head.
"For the first time in a long time, the person I'm in love with and the person I'm constantly thinking about are not the same," my mind narrates to me, "and I hate it."
I don't hate the person I'm thinking about. I don't regret it. It does make me feel bad though. I shouldn't be thinking like this. This isn't someone I want to settle down with. I don't envision us with a cute house, a beautiful garden and a son and daughter, the way I see myself and my boyfriend in ten years. I just want to rip all of his clothes off and kiss and bite him... but at the same time I don't want to. I've got a good thing. He's got a good thing. That would really fuck things up, and I don't want that.
He really gets me. I love it. I hate that I love it. There are countless times I'll open my mouth to say something and he speaks my very thoughts. He notices the subtle things I do to catch his attention. Not that I should be doing things to catch his attention, but I'm still working on stopping myself.
Caustically witty. Kinky. Intelligent... Intelligent enough to know exactly what we're doing without the restraint to stop ourselves. We should. We know we should. It can't happen again. We both know it might. Both have a real penchant for self-destruction. I feel almost helpless in my own mind.
I can hear the crowds, the commentators of the public inside my head. "Why don't you just stop? Show some self control. Self respect. Stop being a slut!" I wish I could. I mean, I don't mean to be. I love my boyfriend, I do.

In which grade 10 is a lot like grade 9...

Grade 10 was my last normal year in my life. I had good friends, good times, decent grades...

The only thing of any real note from grade 10 is that Dave started hanging out with my group of friends. A year younger than us, but still much smarter and much more mature than other guys his age. Our Three became a Four as Dave became part of the "core".

In grade 10 I was still playing piano, still figure skating, and I also volounteered at Camp X occasionally. Brewster and I were still dating long-distance.

This is also about the time I seriously started doing stuff on the internet. I'd casually putzed about in chatrooms, frogs in blenders and stick death before that, but grade 10 was an internet awakening of sorts.

Airedine and the ouroboros

From Wikipedia:

The Ouroboros (or Uroborus) is an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon eating its own tail.

[...]

The Ouroboros represents the perpetual cyclic renewal of life, and infinity the eternal return, and represents the cycle of life, death and rebirth, leading to immortality, as in the phoenix.

---------------------------

Hi. It's me, Airedine.

I'd like to take a moment to talk about ... my own experiences. Be warned: this may get a little rambly.

I want to start by saying that if this touches you, if you need someone to talk to. Even if what you're experiencing has nothing to do with what I've experienced, and you just need someone. Anyone. I'm here.

In the following, there may be content that will make you uncomfortable. Maybe even lose respect for me. I've done some shitty things in my life that I don't support. But I did them for a reason, and that's why we're here, isn't it? Trying to deal with these things. Feeling lost in our own skin. I've been there. I'm still there. I'm still a good person. If you'd rather not know, and I can't blame you, please don't read on.

Let's just get it out there: I've got anxiety issues, mainly stemming from, what my councillor described as "severe female-pattern adult ADHD". I also frequently suffer from bouts of depression.

Let's start with the ADHD.

When I was a child, I had male-pattern ADHD. What this means is I was hyperactive. "Attention span of a gnat" as my mother would say. Adventurous. Dangerously so. Extremely active. Very bright, but could never do the work that was needed. I was always well behaved, in my own way, though, having avoided the oppositional-defiant-disorder that often goes hand-in-hand with ADHD. ADHD, when it is let to run its course, changes through the teenage years. I am often dismissed when I say I have ADHD. "But you're so calm!" Yes. That's one of the possible outcomes of growing up with it. I'm mostly quite calm, with a great ability to focus. Sometimes. What it is, is my ability to focus on many things. By ability, I mean need to. I have dual monitors on my computer. I can't ever be working on one thing, with nothing else going on. I always eat with a movie or TV show playing. I'm always browsing plurk or facebook while working in SL. When I don't have many things going on, I get restless and anxious. Ah, anxiety. This too comes with growing up with ADHD. The depression comes from having ADHD, anxiety, and some unfortunate circumstances. I also have a very mild case of OCD when my anxiety gets bad. Books and stacks of coins out of order can make me cry.

My grade one teacher tried putting my desk in the corner, and I would create imaginary worlds out of the papers and strange looking cracks on the wall in front of me. She tried putting me on a disciplinary rubric. She tried putting me on a bribery rubric. "If you behave for a whole half hour, you can win this butterfly pencil!" (I only ever won that one butterfly pencil.) Eventually, by second term, she gave up entirely. She let me play with the puppets, and when I was too rowdy, she'd send me into the hall to do cartwheels.

I figureskated, did karate, soccer, horseback riding, track and field. I learned to play just about every instrument I could get my hands on. I was the kind of kid who got in trouble for reading too much. I never had tv, which is probably for the best because when I was younger it was very difficult for me not to pay attention to every bright, moving thing.

All in all, for me, my childhood was great. I say for me, because I've been told on many occasions that I caused a great deal of anxiety for my parents. "Oh god there's our four year old child 70 feet up in that pine tree over there," or "Jesus H. Christ, there she goes, running across the monkeybars." My mother never put me on ritalin or any other drug. Until I was well into elementary school, I was on an entirely organic diet. My mother would not have anyone dismissing my behaviour. "Well maybe you feed her too much sugar?" No. "You know red dye..." No. "And the chemicals..." NO.

My childhood gave me a wealth, a bounty that I am greatful for. An active imagination. Activities to stimulate body and mind. Creativity, words, love! A mother who fought for me. A wonderful sister, 7 years my junior, who has (though certainly aggrivating as piss at times) been like a best friend to me when I needed it most. She's brilliant and beautiful and I'm so proud of her that I'm a little jealous sometimes.

Things took a turn for the worse when I was about 16. My father left, and all my activities went with him. I spent most of my grade 11 cleaning up after him. Literally and figuratively. It was the first year I ever failed a course in school. I couldn't give a rat's ass that I failed grade 11 university-level math. I was too busy trying to get my mother out of bed in the mornings. Listening to her cry herself to sleep. Being the mother that my mum couldn't to my young sister.

I became a serial monogamist. I still am, really. I think the longest I've been single for since grade 10 is a span of about 7 months... and that wasn't 7 months without sexual activity. I dated several guys in a row before things went badly. I got cheated on and dumped for the first time, the summer between my second year of university and my first year of college. I took it hard. He cheated, dumped me and took all my friends with him. I was barely able to get out of bed in the morning. Most days I didn't. I could usually manage three, maybe four days of being out of the house for a few hours during the day before I collapsed again. Of course, at school I was charming and witty and brilliant. Fun to have at parties. Darling conversation over lunch. I had never before contemplated suicide... but I did off and on. I thought about what it might be like. What would people say? Would they miss me? All I could think about was my beautiful sister and my wonderful mother and how broken they would be if I did something like that. Despite anything else, I did also have friends. They would be devastated. I could never hurt anyone else like that, no matter what I was going through. I would suffer through it so they would never feel that pain. And I did. I suffered. I wrote angsty poetry and songs. I slept with an embarrassing number of guys.

Now, that's another interesting thing I learned from my shrink. Promiscuity is just one of the lovely things that I deal with that stems directly from what she, again, referred to as "severe female-pattern adult ADHD". Admittedly, there have been a few times where promiscuity and serial monogamy have overlapped. I won't brush it off, blaming it on my disorders. I did bad. I know I did. I love my current partner to death, you who have me on plurk know this. I haven't cheated on him, but it's still difficult sometimes. That's awful to say, isn't it? But it's true. "Why don't you just stop? Push those feelings away?" I wish I could. "Doesn't he treat you well enough?" He treats me better than anyone could ever hope for, and more. "Then why do you still want to fuck other guys sometimes?" I don't know. I don't. There's no easy answer. Trust me, I've googled. The important thing is that I don't. While the feelings may make me feel absolutely helpless in my own body, they can't be helped. My actions can. I keep busy.

The worst part for me is knowing WHY I do what I do. I've studied psychology. I'm intelligent enough to hold forth on the subject. I watch myself from the outside in, doing things, which makes it feel nearly beyond my control. If I know what I'm prone to do, why can't I just NOT DO IT? Why can't I NOT be a statistic? Why can't I break away from these 'daddy issues' and bullshit that comes with, what I cringingly call 'mental disorders'? If I KNOW what I'm doing, WHY I'm doing, why can't I just NOT? I wish I knew.

Through all this writing, I am trying my best not to disqualify myself. I read an article not long ago that described how people tend to devalue their feelings by dismissing them. "Oh, I must be PMSing" or "But I have ADHD so whatever". I am who I am. I feel what I feel. All of it... all of this is for a reason. Every experience cluminating in myself at present.

And you know what?

I'm pretty alright.

Sure I still have bad times. Really bad times. Dark days. Dark weeks. Months... I've been stuck, afraid of moving forward for almost two years, dealing with depression and anxiety. I can't tell you there's a fix. It's day by day, but what gets me through it is knowing I'm not alone. I have my friends in SL. I have my friends in RL. I have my boyfriend. I have my sister and my mother. I have people to support me that I don't even know about.

I am not alone.

YOU are not alone.

I want to be better, and though I know I will never stop having anxiety and depression, I can change the world around me to help me cope. My anxiety attacks are rare now that I'm in a stable, healthy relationship. My depression comes and goes, but it is no longer crippling. I can't concentrate for shit, but I start work sooner.

The ouroboros is the symbol of rebirth. The cycle of life. To me, it's the symbol of continuous motion. We are neither the head nor the tail, but we are both and everything in between. Every day is a new day, as they say. We evolve with every experience, moving towards tomorrow.

So love yourself, despite all your flaws. Accept what you can, do what you can to change what you can't. Know that you are not ever alone.

In which I start highschool

At the end of grade eight, Marek and I went on the grad trip together. On the way home from Canada's Wonderland, we were holding hands under our coats, and that is how we started dating. Over the summer we had our first kiss in my back yard. We hung out a lot and did all of those cute things when you first start dating. It was sweet while it lasted.

Highschool... In grade eight I remember how worried everyone was about how different it was going to be. I was only ever excited, ready to be out of that "small pond" hell-hole called elementary school. Shortly after starting highschool, Christina decided to switch to Chrys.

Chrys and I had a bunch of classes together, and slowly we added to our group of friends. Our main addition was Lorin. Lorin (at the time) had long dyed black hair, and a real FOAD kind of attitude. She was in our english class and I always admired her drawings. (Chrys and I were both into drawing and anime at that point). Chrys had biology with Lorin and told me that she found her frightening. Being the social butterfly that I was back then, I ignored Chrys and started to talk to Lorin. The three of us made up this strange little group of neurotic misfits... but we worked. New friends came and went, and rotated between us and the other group of our friends... kind of like a Venn Diagram, of sorts.

Marek broke up with me on the way to English class not too long before my birthday. I was talking to him recently (we're still friends) and he told me that in class I stood up, threw a book at him, yelled "WELL I GUESS IT WAS ALL A LIE THEN" and ran out of the classroom sobbing. All I remember is crying in the girl's bathroom and Chrys coming to check on me.

I joined the school play in grade 9. We did the Sadako story. I think it was called 1000 cranes. Chrys was the assistant director, so when the girl playing Sadako dropped out, Chrys filled in. I was the main character's sister.

Later, around the beginning of second semester, Chrys, Brody, Lorin and I (Along with a few other friends) started hanging out in the math/computer room on the third floor. There was a guy that started hanging out with us because he had a small crush on Chrys. Brewster wore goggles every day, was in the gifted program, and was a nerdy, happy kind of guy. After a while, we started dating and, as far as I remember, whe had our first kiss between the two classrooms in the computer repair area. (Basically a long closet filled with old CPUs and busted monitors.) His father got a job in Alberta and after only a month of us dating, he moved away. We continued to date long distance. He came back for about a month during the summer and we went on lots of dates and daytrips.

Grade 9 for me is just a bunch of bits and pieces of memories. Nothing terribly linear overall.

Chrys and I pretended we were lesbians after someone made an ignorant snide comment about how "close" we were.

Amy, Chrys, Tyler and I danced on the art room tables, singing Stand By Me on the last day of classes.

In which I get my first kiss

But first, let's catch up on the whole "boyfriend" thing.

In the FI (french immersion) class, we were a pretty tight-knit group. Pretty much a family. In the group of guys I hung out with on occasion there was Brody, Phillip and Marek. (There was also Cameron at one point but he moved away)

In grades 1&2 I had a huge crush on Phillip and would kiss him every chance I got. Just cute kid kisses, mind you. I actually tackled him and skinned his face on valentines day in grade one. Let's just say the feeling wasn't mutual.

Sometime in grade 2 I started to have a crush on Cameron, and that lasted a number of years. I asked him to be my valentine once and I got an "I guess". Then he dated Christina. Then he asked me to ask another girl out for him. Then I realized... it was about damn time to move on.

Brody and I dated for a whole week in grade 8. We decided it was weird, while we sat together on the wooden border of the playground, and broke it off.

Shortly after that I joined a theater group. We put on a Midsummer Night's Dream. I was a fairy.
Just as a bit of reference, At this time, I was into dance music, glitter and butterfly clips. I'd never kissed a boy. I'd never fallen in love. Felt lust. Masturbated. Had my period...
And there was Zach. Same age as me. Tall, blond, devastatingly gorgeous, troubled, a total badass with a smirk that would make my knees jelly. For almost the whole production he saw me as one of his 'guy friends'. He would tell me about all of his girl troubles at school. I would always hug him and console him. He'd tell me deep dark secrets and I relished every second of it. Then he started hanging around one of the other (older) girls. She had a boyfriend, but they started to get pretty heavy. Thirdwheel'd. After a while she decided she couldn't have him on the side and ditched. Guess who was there to console him. Oh yay. Sometime after that, I decided to become pro-active. Wear cuter clothing. Be flirtier. Play the game.
I was looking through my diary from that time a while ago and I actually have a whole page covered in lipgloss kisses, all marked and labeled. "Too greasy" "too much colour" "Not tasty!" For the tech rehearsal, I decided to wear my favourite (low-cut) top, cute embroidered jeans and I did my makeup and hair. Nothing atrociously trampy, mind. Just enough to look like I hadn't done anything but still looked stunning. Well he noticed. On our break, he invited me to come chat in the back of the band shell. It was a brand new band shell and they hadn't put any electrical in yet. So there we were, the two of us, sitting on opposite sides of the small room. Him on a chair- me on a table- the door cracked a few inches to let in the daylight. After a few minutes of just listening to my heart pound in my ears, he shifted and looked at me, raised an eyebrow and said "Why don't you come sit on my lap. We can talk about ... whatever pops up."
My heart raced, my mouth went dry. I looked at him, thankful for the dark, and said as convincingly as I could "Why don't you come over here?"
He walked towards me, pushing the door closed as he walked by. He cupped my face in his hands and started to kiss me. Slowly at first, then he slid his hand around the back of my head and kissed me passionately.
I hear about other people's first kisses, and... Mine was amazing. Exhilarating. My knees were still shaking the next morning. We talked about it after we were done. He wanted to know if I wanted to date. Oddly, I said no. We were from different towns, and he was a bit of a womanizer (already, at 13). I think that must have been a bit of a thorn in his paw. I don't think he'd ever really been turned down as such before. We didn't really talk much after that.

In which I introduce myself

I'm in college for animation.
I'm engaged.
My parents are divorced.
I have ADHD, anxiety and depression.
I'm trying to work my shit out.

Now that I know that I have 'unmanageable anxiety' it's hard for me to sort out what I really should be upset about and what my brain is blowing out of proportion. My councilor said to start a diary. Here I am. Fingers crossed.

It's been a rough couple of years, and I'll get to that soon enough. How about we start at the beginning . Might as well. I don't plan on sharing this with anyone I know. Probably.

I grew up in a tiny Ontario town called Beaverton. We lived there until I was almost five. I had some friends there, but they moved away before we did. I still talk to one of them over MSN and Facebook. We had a half-acre back yard, tall trees I could climb, a treehouse and a jungle gym. My dad used to mow mazes into the tall grass, sometimes with a picnic area for us to eat in. We had a cat. Dad worked hours away, and mum stayed home with me. I started playing piano at age three. I also played violin. Took ballet. Highland dancing...

We moved then to Port Perry. It's a nice town for the adults, little children and the elderly, but for teenagers it's a wasteland. It's not as bad as Oshawa, but it's a tiny town with nothing to do. I went to school in the french immersion program. I was never popular. All my friends in elementary school were either nerd guys, gifted kids or delinquents. (I'm only still friends with the nerd guys.)

In grade five my teacher picked on me so much I started having nervous breakdowns in school, and my mum would have to come and get me. I switched over to English in grade six and was semi-popular for that year. Probably the best year of my life so far, to be quite honest. I had a great group of girlfriends who would actually call me to see if I wanted to come play, we'd do fun girly things, sit together, gossip... and the teachers were nicer too. Grade seven I went back into french immersion. I made friends with a girl named Carly. Carly had another 'best friend' named Christina. She used to alternate between us, and badmouth us to each-other. By mid-grade eight Christina and I actually started talking and realized that Carly was not worth being friends with.

Since grade two or three there had been this cliq of about five girls that basically ruled the school. Mila, Caylie, Shelly, Megan, Katelyn and Justine. Mean Girls had nothing on these six. They were the cruelest most soul-crushing group of bitches you've ever come across. They started wearing makeup in grade 5. The term prosti-tot springs to mind. Not that it's terribly relevant now. I've seen a couple of them once or twice since the end of high-school, but I had to put up with their shit for 8 years. And then there was Jason. Mercifully he left after grade 5. He used to pull my hair and sucker punch me, kick me, and generally abuse me. I used to come home every day covered in bruises. I was a tiny kid. I broke 5 foot in grade 8. My mum put me in karate in elementary school, and I went until I got my blue belt. I've only ever punched someone in anger once in my life. My mum would get so mad that she was spending all this money teaching me how to defend myself and I wouldn't. We were taught that we should not fight back unless it was a life-threatening situation... which it never was.

Next: Highschool... But That's another post for another day. Must stop procrastinating! Back to work!