head stuff

Enter title here

September 29, 2014 · 0 comments

Now that I can open all the pages to write a blog post about ordering Indian food online, I don’t wanna.

I’m too tired to think up something witty. No, I’m not tired. I’m drained. I feel flat, not perky or sparkly, not what I need to write a food most that is, afterall, mostly pictures, and a few captions here and there.

It’s the same on Facebook at the moment. I can share something, something political, or whatever. But I can’t craft the words for the discussion. THERE I can quip one-liners. But I don’t want them here right now, and, yes, I seem like I can ramble on the words, blurt them out on the page, but that is this. The personal ramblings that I reserve the right to do over here. By remembering to renew my domain name for its thirteenth year of service, and by knowing that my hosting allows me til the end of next month to remember to pay the bill for the upcoming year.

I reserve that right, just as you reserve the right to tune out once it’s not food porn or purple gay sparkles. Once it turns to me ramble and whether to hit publish. Once I know that too many hearts of people are hurting at the moment and I don’t know what to do with all that hurt and pain and grief and sadness without imploding myself. Without becoming another casualty of their pain.

Looking after those around me, while trying to keep moving on forwards myself. I have a good feeling on one job I applied for, but I can’t let myself get excited, because all it will do is crush me if it falls through. I have to keep trying, at least enough to get it on paper to be asked why it isn’t all working next fortnight.

Away this weekend, but I doubt it’s a real break. Too many family things to deal with for others for me to be able to relax, I need to be on guard. To look after others. To be the strong one. Because I can do that, it just takes a lot of energy. I used to always do it, but I’ve let my skills slide. Let myself be the one being looked after. I just need to have my own basket at least packed away for the weekend, so I can be alert, be in tune, be the one in control of myself and my emotions.

I’m okay. I’m keeping afloat. I’ve had my moments. I’ve run crying away from things, or retreated into a ball. I’ve allowed myself to sleep rather than think any more, I don’t want to do it all, just some, but I need to do what’s handed to me. I need to keep up with some things. I’ve failed at some, I try. I try.

Or I distract. With nail painting, with flowers, with … I don’t know.

I think about things, like on the BINGO list of things that would just fix it for me.

Bingo

And it would be okay. It is okay. I AM “okay”.

I’m gonna make it through to the next round.

Jim's Milkbar Icecream

Here is an icecream. Mint choc chip and Macadamia, from Jim’s milk bar. Because sometimes regressing to your childhood happies can be a good thing. And sometimes it isn’t, because you either can’t make the feeling last or it comes with other feelings. Like regret, or sadness, or anxiety or fear.

The crush. The weight.

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On writing from the dark

September 25, 2014 · 1 comment

I’m putting together a post for Mental Health Awareness Week next month, for Tegan over at Musings of the Misguided. Not sure what I’m going to end up with – it could be experiences of therapy, or life, of medications, or acting out and self-medicating (could be an exciting ride).

I have chunks. Chunks from different periods of time.

From High School, from the HSC, from Uni. From last weekend, from last night.

From my seventh birthday.

From less pin-pointable childhood moments. Fuzzy. Sad, fearful, confused.

Unable to label.

From starting therapies and medications.

(The horror of admitting I needed help from these, that I couldn’t just will myself out of it)

Including shame at failing at things like work, or therapy, or relationships, or loving myself.

Moments of tears and laughter. Regression. Helplessness.

Disjointed and unclear, but vivid too.

All parts of my existence. Rejecting parts and re-embracing them.

On paper. To certain songs that are my soundtrack.

can’t you do it for me, i’ll pay you well
fuck i’ll pay you anything if you could end this

can’t you just fix it for me, it’s gone berserk…
fuck i’ll give you anything if
you can make the damn thing work

can’t you just fix it for me, ill pay you well,
fuck ill pay you anything
if you can end this
hello, i love you will you tell me your name?
hello, i’m good for nothing – will you love me just the same?

dresden dolls – perfect fit

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Good Things

September 21, 2014 · 0 comments

(aka counters to the negativity)

Red lipstick
$3 BYS Red Liptstick for Liptember

Spring
Spring Flowers

Paper puffs
Puffy Paper decorations

Ez Ears
Mini-mes

Rainbow Jelly Cake
Rainbow Jelly

IMG_20140919_124530977_HDR.jpg
Antipasto (From Grind)

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Hello Kitty nail stickers

Grind Cappacino
Hot Coffee

Ice latte
Cold Coffee

Sisters
Sisters!

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I hate yelling

September 17, 2014 · 1 comment

Custom Monster High
by Szabó Varga Katalin

I hate yelling, being yelled at, and most of all, hate seeing children told off, angrily, for just being kids. It scares me, it makes me want to, or to actually run away, escape someplace “safe”. Outta there.

“Getting in trouble” is that feeling. Where I’ve done something wrong, and am getting in trouble for it.

Maybe I phrased something the wrong way.

Maybe I forgot to do something I promised.

Maybe I looked at someone the wrong way in the presence of a lover.

I’ve done something to slight someone and they’ve picked up on it

and all I wanna do is hide.

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Tied in a knot

September 16, 2014 · 1 comment

Flowers

Had myself in other knots today…

Trying to see my way out of them

Talk my way out. Puzzle my way through.

Like, how to dig my way out of my unsocial hole.

The one I dug myself into through being unsocial.

The one that saw me not knowing that one of my highschool friends wasn’t just getting married on x weekend,

but that it was the Friday.

And the casual “I’ll see you all tomorrow at the wedding” by one girl stabbed into my guts.

Then seeing the photos online.

Or hearing the thanks-es.

I know I did that to myself.

By withdrawing. Not showing to trivia nights, or other events.

Not knowing.

Flowers

So this weekend. A couple of birthday dinners.

And I was almost in a mess about them

When I’ve RSVP’d and all. But didn’t realised health insurance came out last night.

Checking my account ballance in a panic. Misread it. But then realise it’s ok.

I can still go on Saturday night, still go to dinner. With those people I miss.

Who might miss me.

Flowers

The other knot.

The one I can’t talk about.

Not here, but it’s still there.

It’s still there.

Flowers

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Lifeline offers a number of training opportunities including:

Below is my last few sexay liptember poses. Hot enough to Donate for? ;)

Fuschia

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http://www.liptember.com.au/fiona-moore

http://www.liptember.com.au/fiona-moore

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Happy #Liptember!

August 31, 2014 · 0 comments

liptemberpurple2014

Welcome to the month of something-bember! This Semptember, I’m taking part in Liptember to help raise funds for Lifeline and The Centre for Women’s Mental Health.

liptemberberry2013

My family and I have quite the history of mental illness and suicide attempts and hospital stays through the generations… It’s not easy to talk about or seek help for, so I think the more service variations (such as emergency help lines, specialist counselling by diagnosis or well funded government services such as hospitals and generous Medicare funding of rebates and medications) the better.

liptemberberryme2013

So, you will be seeing me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook puckering up with my gorgeous PURPLE lippy trying to get you to donate ;)

I’m open to lippy dares (where would you like to see my lip-print? On an orange? On your cat? I’ll do a lot for $5!) and taking photos for shoutouts and the like :)

liptemberez2014liptemberli2014

Happy Liptember!

Liptember Lippiues

(Wanna buy your own Liptember Lippy? Hit up Chemist Warehouse in person or online. There are the brights [red, yellow, green, blue, purple] for $4.95, a selection of pinks (also $4.95), and a few more premium lippies like the Liptember Berry I got last year for $9.95 that are great for daily wear [it's my current fave!!])

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Insert post here

April 14, 2014

argh

So things are going good, in that my moods are good.

The lack of employment is both good and bad though.

Good for my sanity, bad for my self esteem

Trying to keep filling the days with meaningfulness.

Helping with family mostly

Probably should get a volunteer role.

And Newstart.

But yeah.

I’m okay

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Which is why, even though I’m dealing with my owns shit, I can deal with hearing yours, empathizing or sympathising. Giving hugs or virtual ones, giving love and comfort and advice.

Right now I’m letting too much impact on me of my own shit

So I’d rather hear about yours

And help you out

Be useful

Cos if I can’t help myself, I wanna help you.

And feel potent.

(That’s the opposite of impotent, right?)

Xxxxxxxxx

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Knowing your limits

June 16, 2013 · 4 comments

Most of us are terrible at saying no. Squeezing more and more into our days, trying to, apparently, get the most / give the most out of them.

What do I expect of myself?

Do I have expectations that aren’t guided by someone else’s (actual or imagined) expectations of what Fiona does, who she is, and what she can manage.

Manage.

Zoey just wrote about ‘managing’ depression. For me that is very similar. I manage. I get by. I tread water. Trying to stay afloat for that day when I can do more than that.

The day when it goes from struggling to tread water and keep my head up, to being able to float there, and perhaps even enjoy the swim. One day.

At the moment, I’m feeling myself stretch my energies too thinly. Leaving less energy to keep me treading water, and giving me more lapses. I have moments of forgetfulness, of slower processing, of not seeing a point to getting out of bed. I get frustrated with myself for not being able to function as well as I should. I get angry for putting myself in this position. For not respecting my own limits. For having those limits, but not thinking about them until I falter.

Bronwyn writes that accepting her own limitations has become easier with time. I still have all these shoulds in my mind. Like that I should be working full-time, and managing outside obligations, and have a social life and be happy and healthy. That I should be the Fiona that I think you all expect me to be.

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