:: 2016 1 August :: 8.40 pm

I got my tubes tied July 14th, 2016 :)

[April 19,2016
I've been reluctant to post about this on facebook...but am happy and excited to have made the permanent decision to not have children that are biologically mine. Many females grow up always knowing that they one day want to have children, I grew up the opposite (knowing I never wanted children that were biologically mine). I've struggled with the idea for some time now, often wondering what was wrong with me, what people would think? What my family would think? Was I a broken human for not wanting something we are programmed to make? etc. The closer I am to my surgery date the more confident I grow in my decision. I no longer care what people think, or feel as though I have to justify my choice (you know... the choice I, an adult, am making about MY body). It's extremely freeing and I am grateful to have the support of my wonderful family and friends. <3
The statement I'm faced with most is "But you're so young, what if you meet someone, you'll change your mind" ... a) I've been pushing to have this since I was 18 (it is not just a spur of the moment thing) b) If I ever met someone who didn't want me because I didn't want children, they are defiantly not the right person for me. c) Adoption is a thing.
I don't typically post stuff like this, but am just feeling it today. Negative comments or disagree with my decision? Politely gtfo.]

Save my sanity

:: 2016 1 August :: 8.23 pm

& all I want & all I need;

I've been really struggling lately, battling my inner demons.
I have always had difficulties fitting in, and even as an adult, that is no exception.
Lately I've been really struggling with my self perception, identity and self worth. I've never had good self perception or worth, my self esteem has never been above par and tends to hover on the non existent line.
I try really hard, to stay active, to create peace, to savor the little things. But lately, something is missing. And it's really causing me to criticize my wants, needs, aspirations, etc. for awhile I thought I was on a good path to figuring out more about those aspects but currently and often I just feel empty.
Unworthy, is a term that frequents my negative self talk, among other things.
I hope that one day it isn't so hard anymore. Because I'm really trying.

Save my sanity

:: 2016 6 April :: 5.22 pm

In regards to a writing...

I meant to reply to this after you first asked me...sorry it’s taken me so long. And I honestly wish I had a better answer as to what intrigued me so, or that I could better express how your writings make me feel. Unfortunately I am not the most articulate person, and get easily frustrated trying to convey emotions. It’s also notable that I am also easily moved by eloquently put words, although certain things speak volumes to me much more than others.

Your first piece really resonated with me on several levels. I too, often struggle to open up, even to myself, let alone others. I crave simplicity, in my needs and wants and being, but I struggle immensely defining those most of the time. I feel like many fractions of a whole, and get overwhelmed thinking about the vastness of the world and its complexities, never mind the people in it. One thing you said...
“that self-hatred was so deeply ingrained in my mind that it then became something purely my own”
That almost brings me to tears, because I feel it so deeply. And even though most people experience it, it is still such a singular thing, something that is truly your own.
Even though I feel like I’m constantly evolving, it’s almost as if I’m becoming more confused about who I am, what I want and need as a person. Yet I’m so bent on becoming “happy and whole” first with myself, that I leave little room to allow people into my life on any sort of remotely involved basis. And I wonder, if that is even attainable, or have a set myself up for lifelong sabotage, like I so often do.
You say the idea of revealing the core of yourself to others is alien now? That is both heartbreaking and hopeful, because at least in some small way does that not give you a sense of knowing and grounding within yourself, the fact that you have at least some sense of what that would mean to you?
I think what strikes me most, is not only the feelings it brought out for me and the fact that I feel as though I can relate, but more so having to reply to it means looking at myself in such a way that is so foreign to me. I’m at the point where I wish I could say more, but can’t formulate the words. I can say, that I am so happy and grateful you shared that beautiful aspect of your soul, I definitely admire that.

Your second writing just really appealed to my kinky side, definitely drooling over words, whether or not you intended it to be that way. I wish my brain could appreciate it more for its depth, but alas, I am only human.

Save my sanity

:: 2016 21 February :: 10.52 pm

The ordinary rhythms and appearances of life, however innocuous or pleasant, were far from the truth of human existence.

Save my sanity

:: 2015 14 October :: 11.50 pm

Post yoga class:
Jodi: Did she hit a dong at the end of class?
Holly: *stares quizzically*
Jodi: yeah, I was just laying there wondering why she hit a dong
Holly: ...its called a gong...
*commence some of the best belly laughs in years*
Oh I love you

Save my sanity

:: 2015 3 September :: 9.06 pm

So turn me on, you set me free.

I had an exceptionally productive day. Woke early, went to aqua-fit, had a really good counseling session, worked the afternoon and finished the night of with a yoga class.
Now I'm trying to distract myself from the drop I usually get after a good day.
Bath, book, bed are in order.

Save my sanity

:: 2015 29 August :: 10.49 pm

Obliteration never looked so divine.

I do not live in this world, I just merely exist.
Struggling to find balance, myself, hope, strength, clarity, peace, reason, any reason or desire to live.

Save my sanity

:: 2015 25 August :: 9.58 pm

You run away, cause I am not what you found.

I so desperately want change, and I'm trying my damndest.. to take the steps, to be the change I want to see, to see the bigger picture, but I'm so stuck inside my own head, my own hate, my own fear, that I can't see a light at the end of this tunnel.
I dont know how or why this hatred and disgusting vision of my self and self worth came to be...but somewhere the seed was planted, and its festered into something that is so beyond me, so beyond my capacity or ability to even consider otherwise. Its not important what started it, although I can speculate, but the importance lies in the desire to change. How do you let go of a lifetime of hate? I've never felt worthy, important, smart, capable, strong, on a fundamental level and superficially its even worse. I'm fat, ugly, short, freckled, my hairs too thin, face too long, I have cellulite and stretch marks, my boobs aren't big or perky enough. I dislike ever single cell in my body. I exercise, I eat well, I receive compliments from friends and strangers; nothing anyone can say makes any difference. Because if I dont like me, how can I believe anyone else would? This hatred is real, its deep, its ruthless and its mine.
This is what I deal with every day, every waking moment, like a constant nagging in the back of my mind. I have conversations in my head, in attempts to battle these demons. I've tried and do try every skill I've learned to fight this, and while I do not give up, every failed attempt makes me fearful that I won't ever get out of this distorted "selfception".

I am my own worst enemy.

Save my sanity

:: 2015 19 August :: 5.58 pm

I love you, I love you, and all of your pieces.

It's been almost 3 months since my dad passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. To say I'm having a difficult time grieving would be an understatement.
It was Monday, May 25th, about 4pm. My mom came into my work with a police officer, I knew immediately something was wrong. That entire week was a blur, my life had suddenly shifted into what felt like a new world. A world without my dad. Without the chance to say goodbye. It felt like half of me was gone. Not only that, my sister and I now had to deal with coroners, funeral homes, lawyers, notifying people, estate deals, and more. For the most part I soldiered on, knowing I just had to get through it. It hardly phased me when we went to identify his body, my only goodbye. It hardly phased me during his celebration of life. It hardly phased me going through the motions and amount of stress and responsibility that was sprung upon me. It hardly phased me, and sometimes it still doesn't. Sometimes. Other times, the overwhelming anxiety, fear, sadness I feel knowing I can never see my dad again, never talk to him, never hear his voice, see his face, no more morning facebook messages or weekly dinners. I feel hurt, I feel cheated, I feel like it isn't fair. I knew my dad would never live to be old, he didn't want to, but never did I expect this. I feel angry, at him, at others, at family. A year and a half ago he was in the hospital, his COPD had gotten so bad he almost died then. Two weeks he was in there, miserable, determined not to let this ruin him. I was there the day the doctor told him "If you do not quit smoking you will be dead within six months". Finally, I thought, he has been scared straight. Two things dad was terrified of was hospitals and dieing. It took awhile but slowly he started changing his habits; he was on oxygen for a month after he got out of the hospital (another grim reminder). He started walking, and as of March 2014 he was walking over an hour and a half a day (sans oxygen). Then in June he went back to Manitoba, his family is from there. He loved it out there, fishing, hanging out with his family, go on trips, truly enjoying life. It didn't take long for him to pick up smoking again, at first the effects of his COPD far less prevalent than before. But by the time he got back to Victoria in the beginning of May his health was clearly declining. He could no longer walk the length of the dock without having to stop because he couldn't breath. He was (as he always had) overusing his inhalers. All the while, unbeknownst to me, still smoking. I confronted him on it and he came up with some excuse that I was foolish enough to believe. I didn't want to believe he was going to go through this again. The few days before he died several people, myself included, had offered to take him to the hospital. He hummed and hawed over the thought, knowing he should go but quite frankly being to scared that he'd have to spend another two weeks in there. Around 9pm on Sunday the 24th we were texting a bit, talking about game of thrones. The corner says he passed away between 10 and 1, the last message he sent was to me, and in that I find some sort of solace. One of the things I struggle most with is knowing that he would have known he was dieing, he would have been terrified, and that thought makes me sick. When they found him, it had looked like he'd been on his hands and knees. When I went to collect his items out of his room, I noticed his puffer was knocked down beside his bed, in that moment it was clear that he had struggled. He had been reaching for his inhaler, dropped it and couldn't pick it up. He would have known at that moment it was the end.
I find it difficult to connect with people, I don't have any friends who have lost a parent at a pivotal time in their lives. I felt like I would have been more prepared to loose a grandparents, or my cat... yes it would be devastating and upsetting, but knowing they lived full, happy lives, is more than anything I could ask for.
In the end, it pains me to know he wasn't willing to quit smoking, and wasn't willing to go to the hospital. If he wouldn't do that, the outcome was inevitable. I don't feel guilty, I don't feel like anyone should have or could have done more, in the end he brought this upon himself, but it has effected my life more than anything I've ever experienced.

On another note, and I know it should be expected but my mental health, which was not good to begin with, is tumbling down that slippery slope yet again. No matter how hard I try, I'm struggling now more than ever. I'm meeting with a counselor next Thursday, and hoping we click so that I can have some consistency in the professional help department.

As always, I could say so much more, but energy and focus is fighting me these days.

4 Bullets in my heads | Save my sanity

:: 2015 1 July :: 10.19 pm

What do you mean you don't know how you fit as a sexual being? That intrigues me tell me more.

To elaborate about not fitting in sexually
It’s not something I particularly like to talk about and it also brings up a fair amount of anxiety and general upset; Partially because I struggle with it and partially because I’m still unsure what causes or triggers it… that being said, I am sure it is beneficial to talk about, even if I don’t fully understand/can’t explain it.
The easiest way to explain would be to say my libido is bipolar. I go through long periods (sometimes weeks, but usually months) with no desire for any sort of sexual or non-sexual contact…which I guess I would label as low libido or asexual periods depending on how its defined…Alternated with periods of hyper sexuality. I can’t anticipate when/what/how long either stage will last and it is not typically a gradual change either. Both the low libido and hyper sexuality stages tend to be at the opposite ends of intensity, so there’s no middle ground. As you can probably guess it causes a lot of emotional/mental stress and frustration, not to mention feeling completely “abnormal” especially for my age. It’s also dramatically impacted just about every relationship I’ve had in the past 4 years.
To add to that I’m often more physically attracted to women (even though I prefer men) and would probably characterize myself as bisexual but lack the experience to confirm that. So together, all that leaves me at times confused but often just distressed, apprehensive and vulnerable.
All I can do is try and be clear of my feelings, needs and wants as they arise, which is another reason I find communication and trust super important.
Probably not the intriguing answer you would have thought… also more than I think I’ve told anyone, but again I tend to just avoid talking about it.

Save my sanity

:: 2014 21 December :: 10.02 pm

How nice to feel nothing and still get full credit for being alive.
~Slaugtherhouse Five

Save my sanity

:: 2014 25 August :: 9.07 pm

She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world;

I never elaborated on my hospital trip last November, maybe I was never really ready, but it’s almost been a year now, so better late than never. In so many ways I feel I have changed and so many ways I still struggle daily.
Last November I went through a really rough time. I always tell people even though I get extremely upset, sad, hopeless, etc. at times, as long as I'm feeling I will be okay. About two weeks before
I got committed I was feeling just that, upset, sad; hopeless… this comes and goes to varying degrees. But it was significantly worse this time. I went to my mom for help and we figured it was best to go to the hospital, which we did. This was on a Tuesday night, I spent the night in the hospital, spoke with a doctor and psychiatrist, they set me up with an appointment the following week at USTAT “urgent short term treatment and assessment”, and I was sent home. Unfortunately a week was to long; I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t get out of bed, and my feelings started to disappear. I spent the next 5 days in a state of nothingness, such unbearable emotional discontent that I disconnected from everything and everyone around me. I just didn’t care. I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel like there was anywhere to turn to or go. Not to mention this was taking quite the toll on my mom.
Sunday night came around and my mom and sister had gone to the store. When they came home I was in my bed with a bag around my head drifting in and out, this was not a conscious attempt to commit suicide or anything of sorts, at the time I just wanted to know what it felt like to suffocate physically, as I already knew what suffocating emotionally was like. Regardless, the paramedics were called as well as the police and I managed to take off before any of them arrived. Even I recognize at this point I was a completely separate person. I ran to the person I felt safest with (Greg) my best friend. Eventually he convinced me to go home. When I arrived I was escorted to the hospital by the police for further assessment. At the hospital I was further admitted and detained under the “Mental Health Act” (which I had no idea existed until that point”. This basically stated I was being involuntarily admitted for my/others safety. Now, I get that we only have limited resources here but forward to my “worse than jail” accommodations… Archie Courtnall or PES (Protective emergency services). A place I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It’s a set up with only a few beds, left mainly for the drug addicts and super crazies, two washrooms (not men or women’s, just communal) and an open area with several fold out chair beds and a handful of recliners. This is where people come and go at all hours of the night to be assessed, wait for a bed on one of the wards. I, by some stroke of luck, was able to sleep on a roller bed in the hallway. For others, they slept on the roll out chairs crammed next to strangers. Forget about privacy, dignity, etc. Your basically stripped of all that when you go in. Anyways… I don’t need to elaborate on that, I will never forget it, the people, the (uncaring, uncompassionate) staff, the lack of basic necessities (The single male/female shower had no curtain and urine on the floor), being force fed drugs… I could go on.
After three exhausting, terrifying, enraging sleep deprived days, I got a bed on a ward, 2 North, where I spent two weeks. The ward wasn’t so bad, except for some of the staff and lack of adequate mental help of any kind. The food was good, Monday-Friday they had a craft session for 1 hour and activity group for 1 hour. My family and friends were able to visit and take me out for 20 minute fresh air breaks… eventually I got the privilege to go on my own, but that was later revoked due to a meltdown that wasn’t really my fault (but that is neither here nor there). For the first while I felt like I was only going deeper and deeper into the abyss, I attribute that to PES. As well as a lack of counselling, coping skills, etc. I got more help talking to other patients than I did to any of the staff. I met with a psychiatrist for about twenty minutes during weekdays, whom I never did really talk to, for the simple fact he was a stranger who I could in no way, shape or form relate to, but was expected to tell my life story to. After a week or so I began to “stabilize” and while I wouldn’t say things went good, I was back to my regular emotions (depressed, sad, etc.) at least I was feeling again. Feeling means I’m not crazy apparently.
After two weeks I was able to do a weekend visit home, and boy was I ever happy to sleep in my bed and see my cats. After that I was discharged and was set up with twelve session at USTAT, where I saw a counsellor and psychiatrist weekly. I also was enrolled in an 8 week cognitive behavior therapy for depression and anxiety group. Well I don’t really think I gained much from the group , because I was still so emotionally borderline, it did give me some focus, if only briefly. As far as counselling goes, by no means can I achieve much in twelve session, especially when it was mainly focused on my hospital stay. But I was thankful for it nonetheless.
It saddens and scares me that our mental health system has such a lack of resources (and yes, people may argue at least there is something… but it doesn’t discount the fact that I have feelings and they are real, just as real as someone who has less than me). Not only was I turned away when I reached out for help, but when it got to the point that they couldn’t turn me away I was treated with less privilege than a convicted felon. Here is something I wrote after being force fed Ativan (I refused to take it and was told either you take it or we inject it in to you) I wasn’t being unreasonable, I just don’t like how I feel on drugs, Ativan makes my anxiety worse and I’d rather calm myself down then take it.
Written November 11th 2013
I have never felt more helpless and alone than I do now, here in this place. My entire sense of self and being stripped away, forget any pride, dignity or self-respect. Check that at the door. This place o depravity and sickness that encourages and enforces self “no self” medication and deterioration.
Thoughts, feelings, soul, mind dissipate. This place is a sick joke. Immoral and disgusting, gripped by a silent grief that is horrifyingly real. Sitting, waiting for nothing, the less instilled in helpless and hopeless. Contradictions daily, yet I’m the one not “mentally capable”. Drugs, drugs, drugs start this one, stop that one, take this, take that. Stop, start, stop. You are choice less and voiceless. Because nothing is better than something. How thankful I am to not be able to physically harm myself, but this place has broken every ounce, aspect and entity of my being. None of this will matter though, because I’m sick in the head.

It is still hard to read that. It brings up so much emotion, and even though I am by no means “fixed” or even close to “better” I can without a doubt say that I am nowhere near where I was that day.

2 Bullets in my heads | Save my sanity

:: 2014 25 August :: 8.56 pm

Quotes:

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal"
~Winston Churchill

"Boundaries & Vaseline"

"A mind forever voyaging through strange seas of thought"
~ William Wordsworth

"Life only demands the strength that you possess"
~ Dag Hammarskjöld

"The biggest human temptation is to settle for to little"
~ Thomas Merton

"Full of faults but not without its splendors."

"Keep your crayons sharp, your sticky tape untangled, and always put the tops back on your markers."
~ Ernie Coombs, Mr.Dressup

"Intimate Zone: 2-6 fists."

Sam: "20?" (pointing to the timer on the treadmill, referring to how long to spend on it) Hollie: "I don't know, I prefer older guys"

"If you compare yourself to others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself."
~ Max Ehrmann

"You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
~ Max Ehrmann

"It is often when wandering through the emotional carnage left by the worst of humankind that we find the best of humanity as well."
~Bruce Perry

"Though the radiance that was once so bright,
Be now forever taken from my sight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass,
of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind."
~ William Wordsworth

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another."
~ Thomas Merton

"A question that sometimes drives me hazy, am I or the others crazy?"
~ Albert Einstein

"What you'll never remember, I'll never forget"
I love you Annie ♥

Save my sanity

:: 2014 9 April :: 10.56 pm

"Not in the state of Canada unfortunately"... Oh drug reps.

Save my sanity

:: 2013 30 November :: 8.58 pm

Hollie: "I've been dealing with this since I was born" Mom: "And I think that's where a lot of your depression stems from" Hollie: "What? Being born!?" Mom: "Nooooo, that's not what I meant"


In the few hours since I've met her she has told me about her horrible diarhea (we share a bathroom), asked why we needed a curtain between our beds (privacy...), told me about her worker and how she comes every night to tuck her in/sing her a song (thankful didn't witness that), splayed her many clothes and belongings around the room, then had a meltdown because they took away her donuts because she's a diabetic (She kept saying "why are you doing this to me")... I feel bad for her, but I really don't think this is the right place for her... not to mention slightly detrimental to my own fragile sanity. Thank god for a weekend pass

Save my sanity