Thursday, September 4, 2014

make your life an ongoing process of being who you are, at your deepest, most easeful levels of being. everything other than this process is secondary.

“There is little change or hope for the individual like Bartleby whose internally-constructed walls are more impermeable than any person can understand...he is elegant and economical...neurotic [and] vulnerable.” —Jane Desmarais

Slightly sad and frustrated update for y'all:

-My once beloved hospital is now painful...walking ghosts of Oliver follow me through corridors or rush at me as I avoid the same old pavement cracks or see our favourite pro-soy milk barista...his absence haunts me and has turned sweet memories into bitter ones (the foreshadowing of my French roommate and her parting words, “look after Oliver, won't you? He's going to need all he's got to fight the depression is painful and raw)
-AP asked if I wanted to sack” him today during our appointment. He said he could tell I was bored or disengaged with therapy and found our sessions unproductive...having said that, I'm not allowed to sack him without finding alternative support and since my kind CASA worker is bidding me farewell next week and DJM is gone for good, I'll have to accept him for now
(I'm not able to practice psychotherapy on you...why parrot a book if you've probably read it? ... the only time I truly feel foreign in this country is when your voicemail cannot translate my voice message to text” AP's thoughts of the day)
-I made an official complaint against an English tutor this week for asking the class to discuss their experiences of rape/sexual assault/sexual harassment/intimidation with the rest of the class after we read a short story on the very subject (the protagonist is raped and murdered in a field in outback Australia). Felt petty and selfish for finding it so upsetting and resented that my lived experience was, once again, brought into the classroom (I should have put up my hand and said, yeah I was raped by a man who I trusted and although he didn't murder me, I sometimes wish he did.)
-I submitted my 2015 uni scholarship application today with reference letters from Lis, Bubbles, Alaska and Toronto...hope my sob story is enough to earn me first place (free public transport next year would be a serious perk!)
-I've had three housemate interviews so far and all have ended rather seems you can either board with young single men, overly friendly bogans or hipsters who don't use public transport. Hoping that the right place is just around the corner because searching is exhausting and I'm losing faith
-I've been speaking with Lilla's grandmother about a joint fundraising project with sounds really odd but they donate 50c for every survey completed and split the money between 5 nominated charities of the month. I want YAMS to be one of them and to help raise awareness of NB (“we miss Lilla so much, it is 6 years since she died last week, she has been gone more than she was here” said her Nan)
-I've also been speaking with Oliver's mum (love the dead relative theme going on) about donating some of Oliver's shares and remaining money to Aninals Australia over a long period of time (not sure why a series of donations feels better but maybe because that's how he donated when he was alive?)
-One day I want to call up the coroner and find out whether his death was deemed an accident or actually listed as seems vital to have the actual cause of death listed and part of the Australian suicide statistics as he spent over half his life fighting against depression, psychosis and OCD and my experience tells me that numbers often speak far louder than words

“I apologise Peta for, well, I suppose I felt sometimes I spoke and did not listen. I took the role to make sure I was not miserable around you because I had plenty of time to grieve alone. I wanted our time together to be an escape from your reality. So I am sorry if I ever felt inappropriately happy. In the end it became my cover for the sheer grief to the fact that I was losing you.” —Letter from Peta's friend in the book ‘Being Peta’ by Peta & Leonie Margetts