Charity week

That's how this week seems to be panning out and that is good. My mood state is highly labile and I need external cues to keep my head from disappearing into my personal black morass. It is so easy to rely on 'party face' to get through the nights (or occasionally days). It is harder, however to get up of a morning and switch to performance mode, the face so expected in the 'real world'.

To quote the lyrics by Peter Allen... "Don't cry out loud, keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings". You'd think after living with this bloody diagnosis for over 25 years now I would have learned the tricks better. Unfortunately by promising myself a 'wellness year' and mental stability, I can no onger just 'go with the emotional flow' and be swept up into the raptuous luminosity, as I know the crash inevitably follows and it is so hard to fend off the fall. That's the roller coaster I am riding this week.

I want the high... the ecstasy. The theatre and nightime offers me this at present... but these grey days of normalcy... gee they are tough. I catch myslef asking 'is normal worth the effort?' then I reach for a sherry, sauv blanc or champagne. Followed by chocolate or French cheese.

The next day is a day of punishment over the slight movement of the scales... and then add to this the loss of self-esteem that accompanies not working or getting short-listed for interviews, a sense of looming guillotine with the PhD.

Eventually, I just want to escape to the fantasy world of mania.

So... I have been trying to think of others. A donation to the Educate Girls in Africa campaign one day, a small donation to the Swinburne social club's Prostate Cancer luncheon, then a Watle Sprig for Wattle Day (after the earlier Daffodil Day cancer research donation). Is there a beneficiary for Wattle Day funds or just a recognition of our wonderful Spring indigenous blossom?

Next followed a Legacy badge... it's Legacy week also, and lastly today I bouth a fundraising book for a friend's local Children's Day Care centre.

I am also hoping to organise a Books for Kids drive at Lilydale in the next fortnight to support the Fred Hollows Foundation for Indigenous education (to follow on from the momentum of book week). I must remember to corner all the writers at the Trades Hall this Sunday for the Free Ang Sun Su Kyi readings for Burma.

Do you think I have earned enough Brownie points to escape falling into the abyss?

A dear friend had to confront her own demons unexpectedly this week and the pain of old wounds came flooding back. She is still feeling confused and assaulted emotionally, and on returning 'home' from seeing her I stepped right back into the horror pit of emotional and economic abuse that was my life prior to weight gain. It was horrific and resulted in an imediate appointment with my psychiatrist.

At what point do we grow up enough to say 'Stop, I don't deserve this any more'?
At what point can the woman say "to hell with you all, I want what's best for me... you deal with your own masculine shit... it's not mine to own or be blamed for!"