Mental Health Olympics

I don’t know about other fields, but certainly in the arts we see a lot of funding comparisons made between us and sport, the comparison is getting a little tired but it’s still telling of where we as a society place value. Today’s Croakey blog had an interesting comparison between mental health and sports funding in the most recent budget. I found it interesting, maybe you will too. I for one would be very glad to see elite sports funding slashed dramatically and for it to be redistributed amongst the many vital services (and the arts) which remain disgustingly under-resourced.

Chocolate Myki

I dreamt last night that I needed to catch a train from one very busy station to another; they resembled two stations I frequented in my youth, but much busier and sinister looking (if you can imagine Melbourne train stations looking any worse). I was using Myki for the first time, but it was called something else and was shaped like a star. A young boy was screaming at station attendees because his star wouldn’t scan and he was about to miss his train. I eventually found a train that was heading in the right direction and boarded, only to find that everyone onboard was drunk, drugged or really smelly. People were fighting. I sat opposite one man and felt uncomfortable, so I moved. My next seat was across the aisle from another man who kept staring at me. A beer can rolled down the aisle. I ate my Myki star because it was made of chocolate. I worried how I would scan off the train.

The Best Hermits Are Smelly

I haven’t been going out as much as I should; I expect a good talking to from my psychologist on Thursday and another from my psychiatrist next Wednesday... something along the lines of “The only thing to avoid with anxiety is avoidance itself”. But the thing is I don’t think this most recent spell of eremitism stems from anxiety; my mood has been terrible and I just don’t want to face the world at the moment. Last week I got some amazing news and was truly excited, everything seemed to be going well, and then the following day I got some bad news many times worse that my good news was good. The bad news on its own would hurt, but to go from having a rare feeling of contentment to utter despair really sucks.

I feel disgusting at the moment, I’ve not left the house today – actually I’ve only left my bedroom for a couple of short adventures to the kitchen and other necessary rooms. I haven’t bathed or even brushed my teeth and I don’t plan to despite the current feeling of filth. I have no need to leave the house tomorrow so probably won’t. I would forgive you for reading this and thinking that I should just go and get a job; it’s true, I should, but it’s not that easy. I’m scared of people, and on the days that I can bare to be around others I’m lucky if my mood allows me to get through the day without wishing the earth would open up and swallow me. It’s hard to concentrate with these things going through your head and would you really want to trust someone like that with any task?

I try not to use it too much, but I tried cooking straight after taking a valium the other night; it was an interesting experience I’m not too sure I’ll be repeating...

Another One

I promise this blog will not merely by me posting articles from The Age, but as I recline here on the couch snuggled in a beautiful warm blanket it just seems fitting to share this with my so far non-existent readers. I was brave yesterday; I didn't have much choice in the matter. I went to a crowded cafe, caught three trains and went to two shopping centre megaplexes, all without even a tiny meltdown. By the end, however, I longed to be only in the company of my lovely man and insane cat. Today I might go outside, or I may just stay snuggled in my pyjamas, wrapped in a blanket, it's currently 4pm!

Faith Restored

I just stumbled upon this article in The Age. The writer, Hugh Mackay, was speaking at the same conference Jessica Rowe was quoted from in the article I mentioned in my previous post. Bit of a difference eh?! Mackay is addressing a different topic to Rowe, but at least I now know there wasn’t an entire conference spewing forth the sort of nonsense we read yesterday. A little more acknowledgement from Mackay about the seriousness of significant mental illness and the dangers of avoiding treatment would have been wise, but that's not really what he was talking about so I can overlook it.

A Disappointing Read

I attempted to write a post yesterday, but after close to an hour I gave up. I fear being judged for my ill thought out ideas, poor grammar and the punctuation of a 10 year old; so I spend far too long reading, editing, deleting and re-writing my posts, when I doubt many people care if I don’t know how to use a comma.

So yesterday I was trying to have a little blog rant (which I deleted) about this article in The Age about Jessica Rowe's recovery from post-natal depression. The massive Life & Style logo at the top should have served as a warning of what was to follow. I disobeyed my better judgement and read the whole 208 words (yes, I’m nerdy enough to do a word count on it); by the end I was infuriated and so arose the previously mentioned rant. I first had to find out who the hell Jessica Rowe is -I don’t watch television and so am blissfully unaware of a good chunk of Australian popular culture - Rowe is an educated and experienced contributor to Australian television, she has inhabited the misogynistic world of channel nine and survived (just). Given her education, career development and personal experiences of post-natal depression and misogyny I would expect more insight from her than was offered in this article. I therefore direct my disapproval at the mystery Age columnist, and not just Rowe. I think it is demeaning to sufferers of a significant mental illness to have simplified and saccharine cures thrust in our faces. I acknowledge that this tiny article is in the insubstantial section of the paper/website, but its capacity to harm is present nonetheless, if anything it is amplified because it is more likely to be read by those least likely to analyse what they are being presented with.

Post over, who wants to count the errors?

Pumpkin Soup Success

I’ve been looking for a quick but nice pumpkin soup recipe for a while, I may have found it. I made this tonight and it was very nice, it needs something else though. Ideas?

INGREDIENTS
100g butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 onions, coarsely chopped
1 butternut pumpkin, peeled, deseeded and chopped (approx 2 kg after peeling)
750ml chicken stock
750ml milk
black cracked pepper

METHOD
Melt butter and oil in a large stock pot or saucepan. Add onions and pumpkin and cook, covered, over low heat for about 8-10 minutes until softened slightly, stirring often.
Add the stock and milk and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until pumpkin is soft.
Puree until smooth. Season well with plenty of cracked black pepper.

Outsider

This week I will be forced out of the house by four appointments of various kinds. I do get bored indoors with only a cat for company, but it’s quiet in here, and my silly brain can’t trick me into believing that people are following me, because there are none. I don’t have a very adventurous life; it’s hard to, I’m not working and have only two close friends, with a limited ability to make new ones (yes, feel sorry for me). So in this blog I will share with you, my warped perception of the world (it may make you laugh, it may just induce pity), accounts of my outdoor adventures, fantasies of the future, and whatever else I feel like sharing. This is after all my blog; self indulgence doesn’t get much better than this. Enjoy.

I Want a Puppy!

I want a blue Great Dane, hopefully it will chase away the black one who’s been stalking me for years.