I need a drink

Today was hard. I want to use a lot of swear words but I’m being censored internally. Working a lot lately, trying to keep up with some big new work opportunities, that generate a hell of a lot of admin for us. So my life is currently gigs and admin with the occasional housework and sleep. Nowhere near enough sleep.

If we have the excitable ones out it works okay, they thrive under pressure and work like dogs. Today sucked however, it was freezing cold and wet. It was supposed to get warm and sunny but didn’t. We left our jumper home, so slowly chilled through the day. This is not at all good for pain levels with the fibromyalgia. Due to the weather there was hardly any work, which is emotionally exhausting. You’re on display the whole time and have to stay cheerful and friendly, even if the occasional nutty person treats you like scum (why is it some people think face paint should always be free?). There’s always some wonderful people which is usually enough to make the day worthwhile. But a 5 hour shift, very cold, in a lot of pain, for very little pay, and an hour and a half driving either side of it after a previous two days of work, pain, and sleep deprivation was too much today.

I also got into a conversation with someone who thinks face painting is easy money, and someone else was clearly a bit confused that I find the drive home really hard. It is so depressing some days to deal with the chronic pain and invisible disability, to be held to standards I can’t meet. More than depressing sometimes, triggering. We were rocking quietly the whole afternoon, a major warning sign, we’ve learned the hard way.

Between lots of coffee and more food than I wanted to eat I was able to get back down the freeway without having to slap myself on the face to stay awake like I had to the previous week. I got to Rose’s place where she was just waking up after her night shift to put on some dinner. We crashed into a shaking, weeping, exhausted, nauseated mess. It isn’t helping that Rose and I are both working hard and at different hours so most of the time we spend together one or both of us are trashed and sleeping on a couch. Dinner was beautiful, I’m so lucky to have a girlfriend who’s an amazing cook. Rose napped and I watched the box feeling like I had a javelin in my back. Crashed into a weepy conversation which was badly timed and going nowhere good, switched, played around a bit before Rose went off to work, then went hunting an open bottle shop because sometimes too much sobriety is bad for your health.

Adelaide is lousy for that, at only 10pm nothing was open except for a bottle shop in North Adelaide, which turned out to also be shut but hadn’t bothered to update it’s hours online. So, I came home with 4 litres of milk and a bag of salt and vinegar chips, which wasn’t what I had in mind. At home I raided my liquor supply, which considering my hopeless liver severely restricts my drink intake, is in pretty good shape, and decided the evening would look better through the bottom of a large glass of black sambuca and ice.

I was right. I’m now in bed, wearing an old jumper of Rose’s, with a kitten, watching Dirty Harry. I feel pissed off and sore, but a hell of a lot more stable. Nobody will be cutting tonight. Boots firmly on the ground.

Overdosing on cute photos

Today I helped a friend paint walls, and then did grocery shopping and a lot of admin. Because I like you, I’m not going up talk about it. Instead, you’re getting photos of babies and kittens. You are lucky!

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My gorgeous god daughter Sophie is nearly one now and had figured out how to crawl. Every week when I visit I feel closer to her. I love holding her and playing with her. I was a little worried at first that maybe is only bond to her as a tiny baby and detach as she grew older, but the reserve seems to be happening, I’m more comfortable and confident and in love each time I see her.

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Given my own baby plans in blessed to be inheriting get outgrown clothes and belongings. This week I was given her delightful pea green carrier! I adore this. The rest of our baby stash is living in Rose’s shed, but the carrier came home to my place where I can admire it. Tonks decided to try it out for size. Provided no babies are allergic to cats I think we’re going to be okay 🙂 What we do about bouffy Zoe I really don’t know.

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So there, don’t ever say I’m not good to you. 🙂

Amanda Palmer spoke to me, and other wonderful things

Yesterday, I got into using Twitter, and posted my Homelessness & Poverty post online with a link to her as it was inspired by a post on her blog. I got this back:

@amandapalmer: @sarahkreece amazing. beautiful. mind if I quote some of it in blog??

Shared via TweetCaster

Wow, talk about make my day!

I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately about life, and safety, and community, and mental health work. I saw my shrink on Monday and literally stalked about her office waving my arms around talking about this stuff, grief, frustration with services, and my burgeoning recognition that a life goal I have working hard towards: full time work and being off welfare, is not currently an option for me. I’m just not well enough to pull that off. I’ve also spent the past several years building a resume and career in mental health but I’m starting to hate the sector. It costs me so much to maintain credibility in that world. I want to make a difference and I want to be an artist. I think maybe I can do both from the same place. I think that maybe getting out of a framework where I feel a like a failure for needing welfare, useless and irrelevant, might be the most exciting thing I can do.

It’s finally occurred to me that I’m not at risk of the same kind of homelessness this time. I have people to store my books while I travel. I have access to a van with a bed in the back! I have a community of people who don’t just pity me, they value me! I bring good things into their lives. I don’t have to feel like a charity case because I have something to offer. I can afford to take risks.

I can walk out of the world of mainstream mental health and still have a voice and still make a difference. I can write, tweet, talk, and build services. I can also stop feeling like I have to fit in.

Whoo hoo! This is a good place for me to be. Today I dragged my bones out of bed and went to Tafe and gave a mad, passionate talk about mental health and Recovery. (see Recovery is not a one-way street) Tonks didn’t make getting out of bed easy
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But I did it, and loved it, stalked around the room waving my arms around (See a theme?) reading poetry and raving about trauma informed care, and the need for freedom and dignity and real relationships. It was awesome. World Hearing Voices Congress 2013, here I come! I think I’ve found my feet.
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