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Onnaloves

Bunny woke up from his own sleep in a start and ran blindly skitting across the floor until he crashed next to my side of the bed, stamping his foot in fear. I picked him up and he stayed haunched with his tail ducked down below his butt as he hid himself between my legs, his head buried and he was crying.

As I was stroking him and holding him tight, baby girl came up to my feet and dabbed me asking what was going on? She sat there looking concerned and waited for me to give him back to her.

It occurred to me, that while I recognize the subtle inflections of their emotions, and I could possibly be wrong of course, but I “feel strongly” what I imagine they must be feeling, even though I don’t necessarily know the cause. Keith for example, never knows what Bunny is feeling, or his girlfriend. He analyses it, then feels badly afterwards that he didn’t know what the problem was until poor bunny was over-unnecessarily distressed.

It also occurred to me, that many people must also find creatures to be just as deeply confounding, even though they could be as expressive as dogs, or aloof and bitchy like cats. People rely on their pets outward vocalization of tone and pitch, to be “told” what their pet is feeling. People also anthropomorphize the behavior as similar to us with “that guilty look”.

So these are not forcing us to look for tells, or really teaching us about emotions. A bunny however, is mostly silent - bunny has learned to become vocal over his maturity by trying to be heard, when all else fails. He started mimicking my mouth movements as I babied him in my arms, and then when he was 3 years old, he accidentally made an oink which got a vivid reaction from both of us, so he’s been oinking ever since. But on the whole they are quiet restrained, little things that when they are in trouble, their nervous system shuts them down to conserve energy for healing and hide to avoid being prey.

Unfortunately, because a bunnies nervous system is wired as “fear” nearly everything can be triggering to a bunny, it’s purely autonomic, a survival instinct based on being at the bottom of the food chain.

So, if a bunny can intellectually overcome this, and start to lose its natural inhibition, and even begin to outwardly express more communication, then this is a kind of plasticity of neurology that occurs AFTER MATURATION. Whatever their autonomic system is programmed with as a memory in its genes, can, given the best environment, be overwritten.

Bunny can be free to express himself more vividly to gain our attention, instead of the core prey animal instinct which is to shut down, freeze, even reduce their metabolism to a depressive state. We say fawning and freezing for a reason. It’s the only strategy quiet bunnies have pre-wired in them.

It also occurred to me, that people of certain personality disorders, will never be able to understand what the creature is feeling in that moment. Because just as a dog or a cat owner simply imagines “oh look he wants to go for a walk, or she’s hungry!” The pet puts on a display so the emotion is worn on their sleeves with no effort to put in and excersise interpreting what this behavior must be.

Bunnies are silent, they have subtle gestures, stances, twitch speeds, ear rotations, butt dialing down, haunching, but nothing that outwardly expresses immediately the context of their emotion. It’s an execersise of empathy on a whole other level. And he has taught Keith a hell of a lot.

Keith likes dogs, because they are “man’s best friend” and simple to understand. But now he is a bunny addict, he scrolls through bunny pics, cries with paralyzed bunnies, and it’s evolved him silently over the last four years, to be more present, and learn more about “others feelings”.

The same has happened for me, although for opposite reasons, just as bunny has learned to intelectualize and overcome his prey animal instinct, I have also started to understand there is a range of sensation I never truly associated before with “feeling uncomfortable”. INFACT, I always felt uncomfortable in my own skin.

I was used to being quiet and mute. Not saying my opinion, afraid of upsetting Keith, burying my rights of assertion, and thus feeling thoroughly taken advantage of only to harbor the very resentment I have caused by being as inexpressive as I am.

Which to outsiders seems not real, surely, all my social media one would think that I am extroverted! But no, I study myself. And when I am with Keith, I let him dominate the air in the room, my discomfort is always second to his, thus when he is stressed, rather than saying he is stressed, he leans toward making me MORE STRESSED, by dumping responsibilities on me (like pay for everything using OnlyFans!) because that’s the only way he knows how to feel better.

I realized, I was never going to step up and tell him how I feel. I am too much a coward. He always rejects my feelings because they are not what he feels, therefore I must be WRONG. He is always right, and me? Well I’m just stubborn according to him because I’m willfully ignorant about stuff he smugly assumes he knows more about.

But when bunnies are concerned, his ego is not challenged by me. He learns that creatures have reactions to the bad air between us, better than I can express to him. Bunnies have become to Keith, a divining rod of tension in the room, which he cannot ignore or bunny will eat the walls forcing me to blend and paint them back with skillful colour mixes to hide bunnies damage.

I have become pretty good at this I must say, but when Keith freaks out about the root cause why bunny just arseholey eats walls, skirting boards, bed frames, and even worse - chair leather for fucks sake. Bunnies are herbivores yet he eats chair leather! Well, I’ve become expert at hiding that too.

So now, Keith is forced to pay attention ahead of bunny causing us a damage bill. In a way I could not even have tried to assert myself to Keith.

Bunny teaches me to be more expressive and assertive. But teaches Keith to be more present in the moment and acknowledging of others feelings. And this is finally how I managed to articulate that the bunnies have indeed saved our marraige.

Onnaloves

Ugh. I have another interview next week. I’m only seeing it through to validate that the company and I are not a good fit, inspite of them offering double the pay compared to Disney. Plus, it actually does some reassuring thing to Keith, that I must be “considering all options”

Disney, is the only company I have ever known, to have such rigorous entry standards, and training regimens. 13 years ago, when I did Prince of Persia, there we 400 of us in a group, hired by one agency called “Mad dog agency”. Mad dog would do our payroll, and effectively was under scrutiny by Disney to make sure they were given the best quality “crowd”.

Set days, rarely started the actual camera roll before 10 am, because after the entire crowd had been moved through a costume make up department of some 30 to 50 people, we were led to holding stations and had to wait on busses in British rain outside the soundstages we were due to fill with our “background presence”.

Call time was 5am, announcements were made, breakfast at 5:30. 6am was costuming, hair and makeup, we all had long wigs, and all the guys had beards glued on and long hair. 7:30 we had to be assembled on busses outside the relevant sound stage. During this time the lead actors were filming tighter scenes, and doing rehearsals on another sound stage with 1st unit cameras. Meanwhile 2nd unit cameras were preparing the 007 sound stage at Pinewood. The 2nd A.D. (this is often Keith’s role in film studios, where is is ghost directing second unit cameras, and directing crowd scenes. In addition he manages the budget spending from the Escrow account, releasing funds at milestone stages to each department and controlling rate of expenditure of however many millions were in the account.) the 2nd Assistant Director then instructs crowd control to bring in groups of crowd to take position all over the sound stage. Some were dancers, some were stunt guys, men and women mixed together, guards were heavily decorated with weapons and spears. The 2nd AD would then “paint the set” with the 400 people he was given, and direct each sub group instructions and cues for motion, speed of motion, variation of motion, etc, just to paint the picture of randomness in this imaginary world we inhabited.

The 007 stage, is the water tank stage, used for housing a submarine on stage in the harbor of “Das Boat” and other James Bond moments like the massive catamarans, and mini submarine scenes. The sound stage was as big as a football field, and the ramped steel lined water tank ran through the middle, at least 40ft wide and 100’s feet long.

For this one scene, the tank was filled in with excavated earth, a fortress was built with real draw bridges, and spiked gates, palm trees were planted throughout the sound stage with earth embankments that ran up to 40 ft high. The entire sound stage was surrounded in a 100 ft green screen with gaffer tape X’s placed at 20ft equidistant vertices.

It would take from 7am until 8am to organize the crowd like a painterly living picture of a strange world under these giant UFO lighting systems that simulated sunlight within an entirely enclosed massive building that could literally house a jumbo jet.

From about 8am to 9am, each group would rehearse their cues, with rolling, camera, action, and timing. The guards were taught how to synchronize. Some of us crowd people were to run or walk or weave, others would have a specific choreography to follow (the stunts people and dancers) and we had to bare all in mind with the animals that were brought on stage and trained to follow cues.

Afghan hounds, horses, exotic animals were the last part of the synchronization, then the lead actors were brought in to fulfil their rehearsals in real time.

The day would progress painfully slow with most of 400 background people waiting their cue sometimes for hours as each scene was painfully repeated about 15 takes. Some were shite, some required different camera settings, and the footage was reviewed by on set CGI artists who would check if the virtual canvasses were functioning on the green screen.

In addition, there were strict Disney Guidelines which happened to be enforced not just by the Assistant Director, but forensic budget team. They would watch the whole thing like hawks, waiting for any opportunity to discover if money was being ill-spent, and that the Director was on schedule and not making too many crazy demands.

As it happened, the Disney Auditors were absolutely not happy, some manner of politicking and the bitchiness of “Mike Newell”? The Director was not going down well. The ENTIRE crowd scene had to be recast, because the Disney Auditors didn’t like the quality of the crowd scene that the agency had brought in.

They were as it happened, and rightly so, that money was wasted on makeup crew of 30 people, to overpaint the crowds with overly dark makeup that shouldn’t be necessary if the crowd was cast correctly. Disney was not happy, they did not want to pay for 30 makeup artists to do the job of the casting agency to select more Persian looking people!

Our entire cast was thrown out after two weeks and reshot with a whole new cast of 400 people. The blame? Who knows but the AD had his ears bitten off for sure. The director, I think Mike Newell, was pretty awful to work with, not only did he constantly bitch at Jake Gyllenhall, sometimes SCREAMING at the poor actor (who was then, a nobody) but he was utterly rude to nearly everyone. Why some directors think that’s the way to behave at the top of their career I do not know, all I remember thinking was, poor Jake didn’t need to be screamed at to make a good scene out of crying. And honestly, how come Mike Newell didn’t even notice that the background cast was “the wrong color?” I mean, we were all blacked out 10 tones darker than our natural skin we looked like we came from Bangladesh not freaking persia?!

I put the blame down on the Director for abosolute ignorance around different cultures - in which he was placed to direct. No doubt, the production designer and makeup were probably fired or the AD was to blame for expenditure on excess make-up for a crowd - that would never for the most part - be close up on camera. We were background after-all! The AD picked me out a few times to do close ups with Jake Gyllenhall as the modest maid who hid under her veil etc. and I’m pretty sure the guy was actually flirting with me LOLOLOL The other background people noticed and pointed it out to me.

Anyway. It was a MASSIVE operation on the set of POP, I learned so much I was in awe at the regimen I actually enjoyed of showbusiness.

If one person fucks up, the show must reshoot. Therefore we all have to work TOGETHER, and stay focused, because there can’t be any mistakes. THAT is what I like about showbusiness.

Compared to any other job, like retail, or manufacturing, there is an acceptable level of mistakes and even failures that not only get written off as part of the cost of doing business, but actually get waved at workers like a stick of humiliation, because bad management thinks we learn best at being humiliated or making mistakes.

In my opinion, Disney, a massive corporation as it is, and some people may have something to say about that, but their formula for TRAINING US HARD like a bunch of perfectly working worker bees, IS WHAT I LOVE. During my enrollment AT DISNEY I will be expected to spend a few days in solid training, we will not be trained “on the job”. Disney wants us to perform perfectly for each show like clockwork. There is no room for moderately ok good enough shows, everything has to be the best magical show on earth, as that is the imagineering of Disney, the belief they are selling. Mistakes and amateurs and half make do attitudes are just not tolerated. Which is what I aspire to do, always.

I am literally a person who is dissatisfied with it’ll do attitudes. I do not want to be “left” in a position feeling set up to fail. I do not ever want to be told “just learn on the job” I do not want room for error. And I want colleges who are the same aptitude as I to the shared goal of putting on an absolute perfect show. This, is why I like showbusiness.

And this, is one of the main reasons I do not fit in the “let’s try this” marketing approach and train-wreck training, where one always feels alone as the scapegoat to carry the company forward or fail and get blamed for the mess.

Onnaloves

Since I’ve been moving around motels, this is our 4th motel now, my face has now completely healed, scars have faded to the point where one can’t tell the difference between my scars and my freckles.

The dramatic effect is something I have not experienced, nor the happiness or comfort to view myself in at least a decade. Something is significantly different, that my body has of its own accord, renewed itself completely.

I no longer have an scars on my back either from the bleeding pimples. Bedsheets are never specked with blood from an oozing scab. And my face has no scaley patches or crepey fine fingerprints of dry skin.

The biggest understanding I have of change is something that feels very subtle, but also very big. Like the difference in only turning a few degrees away from the sun, to feel the light and see clearly, without the wincing of sun in my eyes.

The “feelings” I refer to, are those of a constant, permanent feeling of disquiet. Like something is wrong, and it’s my fault, my own doing, because I am a fake. I have always tried to be perceived as the best at anything. Even the fake it till you make it, was ingrained into me from some kind of upbringing, that obviously permeated my whole personality, such that I always felt like - I will be found out. The anxiety of the feeling of “someone’s gonna find out” I am not so good, not so great, I sold myself above my capabilities, because in truth I really don’t believe in myself, was like keeping a house of cards standing in the wind.

Now however, I have come to accept that I’m really not that good at much, I have dabbled in too many things, too thinly, to gain any “useful experience” as a professional by anyone. The problem witb picking up a degree as opposed to a vocation, is that it doesn’t really give you hard skills. I would have been better off, learning how to lay bricks, or doing carpentry, or learning from scratch the good practices of seaming, rather than doing everything self taught, on a background of a useless engineering degree.

The ones that appreciate the degree- are not engineers but crowd control, crowd casting, where the logistics of creating a team of a hundred people require some soft indeterminable skill of being able to manage a hundred people.

But as an engineer, engineers themselves wouldn’t trust me. I am I’ll-practiced with maths to such a degree, I’d probably fuck up tight tolerance requirements if someone’s life depended on it.

So I have come to accept, I really must specialize in one thing for work, and one thing only, and keep my crazy varied explorations FOR MYSELF, for tinkering and experimenting and making things that please me, that later on could be sold.

And what is this one skill I wish to learn? To do for the rest of my life? It’s visualization skills, and real machine certification training. I eventually want to move into a position where whatever the show needs built, I could build it.

I don’t want to work for aerospace, I want to be an artisan of making. I’d be happy in a job that required me to constantly work with my hands, than do something akin to “probably failing, because I do t even trust myself.”

What I do trust, is that I am very creative, and given the chance to explore that freely, I can do good work. But that does not exist in the engineering or aerospace world. I am good at sucking up information towards my own goals and productive interests, but translating that into components of an economy that demands yet produces no proof of contribution to that end, I might as well work at a meat processing plant.

Just being one link in the chain of entertainment and show business, for me is a legacy and archive of shared imagination and storytelling. And this gives me the pride that I need. The ability to be one paintbrush, in the shared painting of many hopes and dreams, is where I want to stay.

So, working my way through Disney, and on into Imagineering, is where I’ve set my sights. The more time goes by, even in this homeless situation, the more I feel confident that I belong to this industry rather than aerospace, and therefore, wherever I go in the world, it has to hopscotch along the geography of entertainment hubs in the world. There may yet be a chance for me to once again tour the world within the entertainment vertical.

However, bunnies don’t mix with travel. So travel is not high on my priorities for a long time.

Having accepted that I no longer need to feel the best at anything, has given me freedom to accept a very structured hierarchy of work, that leaves me little room for sideways mistakes and being relied upon disproportionately to cause me to stress and burn out again. Like a prison system where everyone knows they are doing time, but in essence, they become a whole new communal support system.

Not that I’m relating working for a very structured corp as a prison, but honestly, structure and rules work for me, rather than to leave me floundering in fear that I might do something wrong or inadequate.

I feel kinda stupid actually, that I didn’t figure this out early on, and instead drove myself to madness using up all my youth and fulcrum power to steer my course, in the way society STILL DICTATED. Whereas, I could have taken a simple vocational skills job, and tinkered away with my own experiments and volunteer work that keep me happy.

Yes I may have gone into entrepreneurship, but that was out of survival mode, not of wanting to fit in, but “play the part” of faking it because I had “made it” like finding a problem and inventing a cause. The tail wagging the dog, the cart driving the horse, has always been my previous approach to life.

I give up intentionally, trying to make my life hard for itself. And look forward to the fun hobbies I will have outside the happy Disney hours of new friends from work.

Onnaloves

I was supposed to go for an interview, at a local green-power company installing these e-car charging stations everywhere. The interview was to happen next week during some massive intake job fair, where they were recruiting several engineers on the spot, so I naturally signed up, to see what it was like - what the company would expect from me - and where I would knowingly fail - just to have the pleasure of knowing this job was not right for me. I wasn’t going to waste their time persay, I just wanted to do recon. Here was an opportunity, to put myself infront of an employer in a healthy growing industry that I knew much about, and had the technical skills to operate within. I could have gone into almost any area that was listed -
Sales engineer
Business development engineer
Design engineer
Systems engineer
Manufacturing engineer

And it would r have taken that long to acclimatize to what I was supposed to be doing. Additionally, just letting Keith know I was doing an interview kept him off my back about earning more money. At this moment - I am the only one earning any money. I do so through pithy subscriptions to my various creative video outlets, prototype sales on Etsy, whoring myself off in weird creations on OnlyFans, selling ancient Chinese map translations on RedBubble, and now - soon - working 5 am shifts for 15 hours at Disney.

I have no complaint about this because I enjoy everything I do. But it’s not enough money and I know it. So, just to feel validated in whatever way I can, I will do any job interview I can get, that may offer more money, just to see if there is a chance I am more valuable than my current capability.

My current capability is $17 an hour, just above minimum wage. I’m not even trusted to be at any skill level job, I don’t have the technical skills experience to perform any higher paying job, even though, I am massively detailed, accurate, dexterous, creative, and technically sound. No job, will take me - for whatever reason that is, I just want to know.

If I could get an interview that explicitly stated what they were looking for, and where I was lacking, I would decide whether that gap was worth closing, for my own self progression or not. Not that I would take any job, but to see exactly where my doors of opportunity really lie.

I know my current worth on the market is pretty low, - if I was to apply for marketing jobs, I would be in a relative high position for a small sized company, or a specialized position at a large company. Both of which roles, I would entirely HATE, so I am absolutely staying away from it. I do not wish to do marketing for anyone except myself, and I even hate doing that. It feels so disingenuous, to be hyping oneself up, when inside, I feel like I’m useless crap.

But this morning, the interview slot I had picked at the open job fair, was cancelled with no reason. They simply wrote and in other words told me to not even bother showing up. Sadly, I can kindof imagine why, but I wish they had the decency to tell me what was amiss from my resume. I had lost the opportunity for an interview (though be it a boring company) upon them LOOKING at my resume. Which makes me feel now, my resume is worthless.

Disney employed me, WITHOUT LOOKING AT MY RESUME. It was literally at the third stage interview, where I explained I had an engineering degree, that I belittled its worth and the costume department manager told me otherwise- that my degree was actually useful to them literally an engineering degree in a costuming gig, was useful to Disney?

I am still very much looking forward to my start date at Disney, I’m excited, full of hope, expectations and realistic commitments to staying put at one level for a very long time. And yet, I will still take the opportunity to interview, any chance I can get, JUST TO FEEL like I am at least worth something and my actual degree is not wasted.

Until such time as I am “fluid” with cash and surviving well, I will not stop searching for opportunity, even if I get the chance to move within Disney, I will still be looking to fulfil more of my creative and technical ability than just - being caretaker to 200 costumes and diva performers. (Hopefully because I’m in tech costuming I don’t have to deal with Princess divas, but instead all the stormtroopers, darth Vader, and structural tech costuming types. Most likely less diva-ish)

Anyway, seeing this rejection in my inbox was sad. I kept thinking, “what was so wrong with my resume they don’t even want to see if I will fit?”.
Am I too arrogant? Is my resume pompous? Confusing yes, diverse yes, possibly stupid diverse, but isn’t that at least a skill of adaptation that few people have? Maybe they can’t see that? Maybe they see it as being something to dislike, a person so varied they will not trust to stick around. I’m varied out of necessity, I never managed to find success in any role, so I made the most of it and sideways was the only progression I could make between different industries and roles, because upwards was never afforded to me.

So anyway, I let Keith know that the power company had cancelled my walk-in time slot. And he was dissappointed. (In me?) anyway, apart from that here was some amazing news to balance out the duldrum of constant failure:
I took the time to explain to Keith, my project that I’m futzing about with, there were dollar signs in his eyes as he grew to realize, once again I was onto something, something that he could also be a part of, and he had since done a little homework and indeed confirmed there was indeed a gap in the market, for the prototypes I’ve been developing in the motel-room. Ever since we’ve been homeless, for the last 5 weeks, I have been daily working on patterning, molding, trying not to make a huge mess in the cramped space of a motel room, using any available surface from bed frames, to ironing boards, and suitcase racks.

I’ve been struggling to work two inches at a time, over a piece that is at least 80 inches in length, time and time again even after it failed. (Several times now, I have done OnlyFans experiments and trashed the piece I am working on, to have to repair and build newer versions.) But suddenly, after teaching Keith where to look in the market, he found, what I was telling him was true, and wide open for high ticket sales in a market he knew nothing about.

Trust me if I say much about it, no one will believe me. So I might aswell try here, because it’s not like a secret anyone else can copy readily, or even have the will-power to. There is a fetish market, for latex and rubber clothing, that is well established and covers many tastes. One of those niche tastes are for the somatophiles into almost asphyxiatory games of sexual interest. It appears to be “dangerous” on its surface, but for somatophiles as myself, it is the sensation I attribute to bliss and pleasure, that is unattainable in any other way. And I know I am not unique in this.

The feeling of protection, barrier, impenetrable, hugging, connection etc, is something almost primordial and so intangible that it has no description other than “fetish” which I find to be insulting. So, I showed Keith a range of products that were MISSING and an existing range of HOMOLOGUES that fall short and instead are sold under the pretense of “fetish” but, because the are literally constructed from the sexual GAZE, and not from the perspective of what a woman wants, nothing exists to make one like I, feel complete in her exploration of sexual protection.

Now admittedly Keith has no clue of the desire myself and others try to connect with, but he is very visual, and can see in my creations opportunity for unusual photography, which for him is a hobby. So he browsed the internet looking for anything close to what I was showing him, and of his own accord found once again, the price tags were in the region of 10x the actual cost, 1000% profit dependent on manufacturing skill. I have been spending the last 5 weeks iterating new processes on the bed, using all manner of experiments with sticky tape, cling film, foil, Kraft paper, wax paste, pattern cutting, molding, and developing a technique, of SEAMLESS molding. Clothing with zero seams visible. That appears just like a second skin, real skin, made from silicone. The possibilities of this are endless. And now I have effing mermaid tail craftspeople - asking how I do it. As if I would give this up?

A mermaid tail costs around $2000 by the way, and the market sustains the living of a few of these artisans, but my market, will be bigger, and higher value, due to it’s breadth.

The strange thing that happened, is that Keith asked me HOW I was making these products, after being in the same room as I for 5 weeks hearing me fussing and complaining and bitching over fails and repairs and repatterning once again. He decides to come over and make suggestions on maybe “other ways for me to try”.

So I get out my notebook, and right there infront of him spend maybe an hour, explaining to him the iterative process that brought me to where I am now, on the verge of actually succeeding but missing one thing… production molds, now that I validated prototype making and just had one more experiment to try in the bathroom.

I’ve split and burst so many seams trying to get this shit on, I’ve dissappointed myself over and over, but, I can “feel” this shit is working. I described to Keith the ideal way I would make production molds, and within two days, Keith had done a whole bunch of research to finally ask me to create blueprints for the manufacture of these molds…

He wanted to have the molds made, rather than me futz about with bits of Kraft paper, Saran Wrap and shit. He showed me the suppliers he found, I looked at their website… and I thought SHIT I WANT TO WORK THERE! underneath my happiness with finding work at Disney, my main purpose for happiness is in making, making things for display, making art, and assets to show them off. This company required CAM files to produce these mold systems, so, with what I’ve been learning on Blender and solid works over the last weeks, I decided to start building the blueprints on my computer. (Luckily I won a $70 Best But voucher the other day, so I upgraded my computer with much needed accessories to do this blueprint drawing and CAM file.) I should be finished in the next couple days building out all the molds I need…

And since I have to submit these plans for my molds in engineering format, I might slip in a resume too, and literally visit the manufacturer just to see if I can have a verbal with the shop floor supervisor about machine capabilities… and if they have any work for someone like me. so anyway, I’m super excited about this, and I will go to several of these local companies asking for quotes and a walkthrough of their shop floor, just to see if I can get an impromptu interview. Fuck it. I have nothing to lose and A whole lot to learn instead from a potential project partner.

It’s Saturday today, I hope to finish these mold designs by Monday and do a round trip of plastics manufacturers facilities asking for quotes on my engineering files. I’m excited to see this project through! If I am even right about this market, it will be bigger than Medusa, but also a fantastic way to corroborate awareness for Nüwa Medusa. (Since it has slowed to a complete stop when I gave up to find work, when I do no marketing, there are no sales.)

This new product however, won’t need any marketing. It will simply sell itself, to the theriomorphs and somatophiles among us.

Onnaloves

I have MY FIRST psychiatric evaluation next week. Apparantly, I’m supposed to see her every week for four weeks to complete the evaluation, then regularly once every week or every other week, to keep me on track with my recovery.

I am back on my Adderal medication, after being off it for three weeks, and even that was stretching out my original prescription because I cannot afford to buy them regularly, and the Doctor, fails to get the insurance preauthorized for me, no matter how often I’ve been calling him.

7 months have gone by since I started this medication, and I have only claimed 4 months out of 7 worth of medication, stretching my supply to bridge his negligence. Well, I had to fill out intake forms, and I had no idea how in depth and pretty awful it was going to be. I’ll explain;

There was a section about suicide. Have you ever attempted suicide, thought about it, planned it etc. well I answered NO just to be safe, I thought I wasn’t the type of person. But apparantly I scored so badly in the depression block of the test it bumped me right back to the suicide questions, - and I couldn’t leave them blank or write no. So now I have to explain THAT.

Yes I have thought about killing myself, when I was ten, and when I was ruined after the kidnapping of my children. Have I tried, yes twice, those same events, once tried to stick a knife in my chest but that actually didn’t work. It’s a lot harder to do it to yourself. It’s easy to go under a bus.

The second time was the rape after my children were kidnapped, I actually did stick a knife inside myself. I used a kitchen skewer and stabbed my cervix until it bled so much.

I think these were perfectly good explanations. But it went on; has there been suicide in my family? Or any attempts. Yes my brother by video Skype, said goodbye on an overdose so I called up all the emergency services to arrive at his door, and he was severly humiliated from that. And my auntie hung herself, after murdering my grandmother and losing her opium trading wealth. Lol. My family is awesome.

Do I think about death. Yes everyday. It’s a part of life and I would like to be in control of how I die. I imagine how it feels like. Do I have support system around me - family or friends. No.

Anyway, I filled it out honestly that time as there was no way to submit the form after failing some blocks miserably. And I feel like, this evaluation is not going to go well already. Me, trying to explain to a shrink, that I really am getting better, and want to recover my full energy, but I have a super fucked up calibration, and can’t tell what makes me happy or not until I delve on it for ages.

I think I’m definitely slower than average on my reactions, and for that reason I write in here. One thing has become apparent. My memory is utterly awful. I go back and read many of my previous entries, and have no recollection of them, as if there was no foundation upon which I came to the conclusion I am today.
This is rather unsettling because I’m not sure which part of me is me. Or which part of me is in control, and that seems to be dependent on the emotional state I appear to be writing in. It’s rather odd, to go back and read stuff I have no recollection of writing, let alone read it in a voice that sounds like me, but sounds kinda delusional.

What I know now, is what I am holding onto hard. I just want to be happy, inspite of a lack of success, I don’t care about poverty and food insecurity, as long as I am happy. Food insecurity is becoming a thing now, I don’t know how the mounting credit card debt will be paid. And we are sacrificing food now.

But! Bunnies make everything better! I have been learning 3D visualization to do the CAM Files for the machine cutting, and have NEARLY completed one layout in 3D with two more layouts to go.

Hopefully my files will be ready by Monday, and I can begin trawling all the plastic fabricators with my CV buried in the blueprints asking for work. Lol. I just wanna see. I’m happy I have a job, I am getting worried about my ability to stay alive for 15 hour shifts. I don’t think my brain will take it if I’m honest, but I want to. I WANT to WORK.

I’m gonna get right back to my CAM files now

Onnaloves

Recovery without the aid of a shrink is possible. They have their place. I just feel like I know what I need and what I want, and using the right medication to keep me awake and not crashing like a narcoleptic ever ready battery, I need to have extra controls and guidance on rebalancing my meds.
Outside of that I have goals now that I never had before. I can now say, compared to a year ago, compared to even a month ago, I know what I want to do with my life. I have a one year plan, a 5 year plan and a ten year plan all brewing.

The one year plan is to settle down into a job I enjoy, and using the time to further get certification on machinery. I like tech shit, and I just want to do it, I need those skills for anything I plan on inventing next, and there are a few things I plan on prototyping up the road.

While I’m in a job, and security with our first apartment or home that’s a stepping stone. I want it to be VERY AFFORDABLE so I can cut back some debt. I want to live dirt cheap, in a cost place that doesn’t require much upkeep. And get back on track in a year.
During this year, I want to develop my current product line and re-invest in Nüwa Medusa to complete production-ready molds for scaling up so I can do bulk orders more easily with higher quality and better cost margins. I want to build Nüwa into a brand store that can within a year, employ me an assistant to help with social media and shite I hate doing.

I want to keep my free time playing around making and prototyping things, there is already a list I need to make.
My five year plan is to now be working at a senior level in a small company doing innovations and prototyping. Disney is equal contender within the imagineering department as its own area, but, I think I would much prefer the dynamic of a small family business to treat as my own. I want to use this security to enable me to invest in Nüwa, and start outsourcing while continuing on my own Art.
My ten year plan is to develop an episodic or feature film, of which the outline I have already written jotted about in this journal and other places.
This storytelling is mere self indulgence and hopefully a legacy, for women, and for outcasts. And hopefully, something I can leave behind for my children.
Maybe they’ll forgive me one day for trying inspite of failing to be their mother. Wow. That made my eyes leak. I must be feeling sad they do not respect me very much. I am just a failure in their eyes.

Onnaloves

How miserable it is to realize I’ve reached a milestone in life that adults get to go through and reflect on the past-half of their lifespan, in order to make corrections moving forward.

In this half-lifetime (up until the age of 45) I surfed around catching opportunities where I could to survive a rolling sea of organizations and corporations I could never feel a part of. I survived a storm of life and that was it. The storm was too strong for me to consider a future, because everyday I was surviving until the next, towing along great sadness and dissappointment in the world around me.

But now, I know what makes me float, I know what puts wind in my sails, and it’s taken me 45 years of utter self-sabotage, shitty non-existant guidance, constant misfit bullying and a big lesson in:
Subjugation never works.
I have to take control of my life and do what I want. The most difficult part is recognizing what I want, after merely surviving with happiness and luxuries or enjoyment way out of my radar to actually rudder towards.
At least I’m facing the right direction, and surfing winds of change in zig-zags at least to get where I want. Yes there is a lot of sideways stepping and adjustments, but that was because the early part of my journey forced me to orbit what I was already familiar with, better the devil I know, but the devil all the same.
I’m mad at myself for spending my life’s energy “doing what I thought was right”, “doing what I thought was my only option”, “doing what I could do, but hating it so bad that I would crash”, when the purpose of life is to be happy and live to one’s fullest. I realize I have sacrificed myself too much for the trade of my health in improving the lives of others.
I am in quite the predicament now, with a husband’s constant indecision and refusal to accept living conditions I can afford, puts us in a precarious position of draining the last of our credit until we can no longer afford to stay at a motel, or afford food.

And this is what it has boiled down to. He would RATHER risk sleeping out of a car which must be given back within a month, than actually AGREE on taking a rough old studio, where I can at least find my footing again.

In the meantime his excuses of only being able to find a job, that’s a million miles away from Disney, forcing him to commute to the center of Studio City and film studios, would be impractical and he’ll for him. Despite the fact I am the only one starting an actual job, requiring me to start my day at 3:30 am 6 days a week.

I am not stressed, but I think my body is. These are all situations that will eventually happen, Keith hasn’t agreed yet, and his indecisive stubborn position is what makes me looking forward to being unhoused and food insecure. I would rather punish him to go through that rather than do anything other than stick to my choice of home. Meanwhile these opportunities for rare cheap homes keep flirting away, while Keith delusionals of grandeur keep him scrolling over ridiculous properties, not only we cannot get into, but our credit rating will soon dive and we won’t be able to get in anywhere.

And I can absolutely thoroughly blame Keith. Because I’m literally not bothered to sleep on the floor even, while he manages to complain about every aspect of motel living. Including his lack of sleep because of his “painful back-neck-leg-shoulders”-fuck it EVERYWHERE.

I already told him my decisions, gave him a shortlist of homes we should look at. And still he refuses.

Not my problem. I will be hand sewing leashes for the bunnies very soon, as they will have nowhere to stay except on the end of a leash until bedtime.

Keith must really hate his life right now, as I sit here taking a break from molding, making blueprints on the computer, and fussing over bunnies to stop their boredom from eating the walls again.

This is now the 5th motel in as many weeks, and the bunnies have gotten this great idea, that they don’t have to self-soothe anymore, rather EAT THE FUCKING WALL, to force either of us to engage and give them treats or occupy them, until their next crazy driving behaviour.

Onnaloves

Aside note: certain habit changes.

It could be due to homeless situation, or change in diet, I don’t know. But I have noticed a number of my go-to habits have been broken.

I no longer pick my face, or peel my nails off. I don’t know what causes me to do it, but I cannot stop, even when I know I am doing it. Well - it has stopped.

Maybe this was what stopped my face breaking out into consistent acne that has plagued me for ten years.

Snacking has stopped, I literally only eat dates or trail mix if I feel the need, and the need has gone down. I made a conscious effort to reduce my sugar intake, attributing it to maybe causing my crashes. What has happened instead, is that I feel healed. My mouth feels nice. Normally it feels kinda dry, there is a permanent frost over the tongue, occasional spots on the inside of my mouth like “pre-ulcers” that never fully break. Well, my mouth is a better place than it used to be, my teeth are definitely whiter, and my tongue is pink - the coating is clearing away.

Next, I am a tummy sleeper. I sleep on my tummy. I haven’t always been this way, if I slept on my back I would do so without a pillow. I prefer to sleep straight on the mattress rather than be propped up with pillows. I can’t remember when the change happened, I know it was something to do with pain in my abdomen, that if I lay on it, somehow the breathing through the weight of my body applied pressure to the discomfort, and I would fall asleep.

Well, now I always sleep on my tummy, I can’t get to sleep unless I’m on my tummy. Which is not only odd but a huge change in behavior pattern and even posture. I sleep with both arms raised over my head forming a cushion for me to breathe, and this is the only time I use a pillow, with my armpits on the pillow spreading the tension of the leangthened muscle evenly. I have found also that by being limber enough to sleep with my arms up by my ears, that my whole chest and back area, have become more upright. When the doctor gave me a physical exam, I had gained an inch in height. Literally maybe from my back stretching and sleeping posture. Clearly the doctor noticed it, as he pointed out and did the measurement twice, that I had indeed grown another inch. It has to be my back straightening out at the shoulders.

Finally, I’m back on my adderall and feeling relieved to be able to focus on work. I FEEL like I’m being productive, and so far, I haven’t crashed in the last two days. I hope this stays up. I dread the thought of me crashing on the job.

Onnaloves

4 years ago during my breakdown, I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on in my head but wow, shit was mad. I would drive to my boss’s apartment, and in the dark street signs swapped numbers and swam with cursing rather than street names. It was like a weird tick on my brain that just saw horror everywhere.
I shouldn’t have been driving because the hallucinations got worse before they got better. I had lost the ability to speak, except in German, and I was trying to figure out what I’d lost.

It was like being asked a question, then feeling completely brick-walled because my brain couldn’t begin to process an answer, because it was wrapped around decoding the question, let alone the rest. Like a whole area of my brain went dark and I didn’t know what I had lost, but I knew it was significant.

There were moments of demand, that I did not know how to fulfil, and soon, I was no longer able to recognize objects. When I describe this to anyone, they find it hard to imagine. But the thing about rapid cognitive decline, for whatever reason, is that when the processes in the brain shrink back, they are no longer aware of the well worn paths on the outside.

I started to feel flow in my body more strongly than I ever had in my life, not since childhood. It was so surreal I started believing in monsters and entities, from my childhood memories that had come back. But I knew they were not real.

I also knew that if I managed to get the words out and describe any of this, people would reflect back how frightening this must have been, but for me, it was the opposite. I was visualizing the whole in a completely different way, total indifference. A soup of man-made madness and the only thing that was real, was living matter. The grass, the trees, the senses, it was instead for me… a kind of awesomeness. Was not afraid, I simply saw with new eyes how my brain worked in a primitive way, and it made me extremely curious about the world, like a newborn baby.

In truth I had lost my faculties and was the equivalent to a 5 year old at most. I even tried to go to work, until I could no longer. The doctor commanded I take two weeks off work, or be sent to some rehabilitation clinic for at least 6 weeks. I took the two weeks off work, because I could not bare the thought of leaving my bunnies behind, and I was irrationally terrified about my job security, so two weeks seemed like the better compromise compared to being hauled off to rehab for over a month.

The doctors recognized I was so mentally ill, I needed to be sectioned, and the demand that I show up to the facility 200 miles away turned up on my doorstep anyway. I ignored, and my anxiety continued to deplete me because now I even felt the doctors were not on my side.

When one is mentally ill, one does not know it. One cannot literally see the spot on which they stand. And even now, 4 years later, I’m going into the world for real and taking my life back - albeit from the lowest position possible at Disney, I KNOW I am mentally not right in the head, and I need help.

I am mad at myself for many things, for not figuring out my path sooner, for feeling at the bottom of the ladder, for making wrong choices, for being mean to Keith (yes I am actually mad about that). It popped into my head how infantile I’ve been ranting and bitching about him, instead of not overcoming the cowardice of assertion to be open and honest with him, wherever the cards may fall.

The fact that he is the way he is, is not his fault. He is who he is, and I shouldn’t expect him to change or be better or nicer. This is the situation I agreed to in being married to him, therefore anything that irks me - I should simply tell him. The fear of going into the office again, my tumultuous series of being fired from every job, all these problems - are me. Not him.
And instead I turn my bad energy toward him, as the nearest being in the room.
Additionally, I know deep inside I lack commitment. I mean to anyone, people and beings - I have no commitment. I may be married, but deep down inside there’s a part of me that doesn’t give a shit. I stay because I can and it works, **NOT BECAUSE OF ANY BELIEF SYSTEM OF BEING COMMITTED **

The only commitment I have, is to myself, and I’ve let myself down a lot, for fear of something. I’m trying to work that one out! Right now, it’s dawned on me this thing I fear, has kept me on the bottom rung of the ladder, has held myself back, and what is it.

I’ve said many times I feel no fear. That is true, I don’t “actually feel fear”, I have phobia reactions, that’s a ridiculous reaction that’s severly embedded in my autonomic system. But feeling frightened or fearful itself? I just struggle to imagine that feeling.

And yet, there is something as thin as a shadow, that DOES make me feel absolutely useless, futile, fearful and hopeless. I avoid it at all costs. And I didn’t know what it was, until very, very recently.

Im going to try and get to the bottom of it with this psychiatrist. I think if I explore that part of me abit here, I’ll make the session more useful and be better prepared. One thing that has slapped me back in the face of reality is interviews.

INTERVIEWS. Somehow, THIS is a trigger for unraveling my fears. And that’s part of the reason I STILL WANT TO DO MORE INTERVIEWS, I find myself learning about myself during the interview, and also learning about the workplace, the culture, the vibe, even if it’s a place I want to be in.

Just because I CAN DO, doesn’t mean I WANT TO. Today I upped my dose of adderall just to see if I would notice any difference, I shouldn’t really do this but I’m curious to find out exactly what a significant difference “I SHOULD FEEL”.

I feel like the dose I’m on is absolute minimal to get me going, but I really need more, because my brain is just a Ferrari and I need to get it under control.

I swear the shit that goes on in my head is so tiresome sometimes. Parallel thoughts, almost conversations but instead they are interactions that through different means all try to figure something out. My brain just literally does whatever the fuck it wants. One minute I’ll be booted out of a conversation because something in my head distracted me, and now I can’t stop thinking in German, or doing calligraphy in my head, or constructing a 3D wireframe model for 3D printing, or breaking it down - visually in my head into tooling paths, then worse;
What about if I make bat wings for my bunnies? I could print those out in ABS, and cast a veined skin over it, sew a harness for my bunny’s and have them run around on Halloween, with bat-wings!

And the next thing is, I’m in the dollar shop and every other market examining bottle brushes, velvet pipe-cleaners, laundry bag netting, dog collars, lanyard straps, blanket needles, and the list of materials goes on and on in my head until I have even calculated how much this would all cost.
And what if I SELL IT?! Just for shits and giggles. Turn anyones bunny into a bat-bunny. Dragon bunny, POOP FAIRY!

You see? This 👆 is what goes on in my head, literally all the time. LITERALLY. And trying to wind this down to go to sleep at night? Like actually getting my mind to stop when it’s suddenly into something? How does one make their mind go blank? Because even if I’m blank, and just being blank, in the blackness, there is a constantly folding rhizome in the darkened that I can’t help but study - in my head, watching it morph, seeing it’s perfect ribbed polar symmetry, until I fall asleep.

How does one even see all these colors in the darkness?

And the Olanzapine - some antipsychotic meds I was given to “stop hallucinating” according to the psychiatric doctor in Austria, made me FUCKING WORSE. I can’t take anti-psychotics, they make my bubble burst and I turn into a zombie with even worse head crushing discomfort. I think Olanzapine is illegal over here anyway. It’s only prescribed in Austria and Europe. Definitely not in Britain.

Onnaloves

Ha! Just one thing popped into my head!
I was banned from listening to music as a child. Mother would turn into a typhoon if she caught me listening to popular music, I was only allowed to listen to classical music - “Peter and the wolf”. If mother caught me with the telly on, AND TOP OF THE POPS on, OMG she would turn into a banshee and start smashing things calling me a whore if I wanted to watch it - because they were “bitch on heat” disgusting behavior, I was not allowed to watch. So, I never knew about pop stars like Madonna, I mean I knew of them, but their music was strictly out of limits.
Except, Boy George. For some reason, my mother liked Boy George. And I don’t even know who he is? Is he a he? Or a they now anyway?

It’s crazy. To think that even popular music was a subject of much disdain in my household that it was never on my radar, even when I had run away from home, I never sought music out. I never even knew the names of current popstars, and that is something I have to this day, never caught up with.

Keith has gotten used to it now, he doesn’t crash the car (or nearly crash the car in surprise) I still don’t really know much about Beatles.

Onnaloves

One last thing and then I’m going for a nice long shower. Everyone should have a mental breakdown in their lives. It’s life changing LOL. If people knew what a mental breakdown was like, the world would be a much better place.

Mind you, I don’t know much about recovery status are, so I think I’ll go check that shit out now. The opportunity to reset my life and “redevelop” myself from the age of 5 years old, re-parenting myself, has been quite a journey these last few years, two of which - I spent here!!!

Onnaloves

Kay so I just been googling “nervous breakdown recovery time” and apparently they don’t call it that anymore, it’s called burnout. Burnout is a real thing, that I never knew existed, and takes at least 1 year to recover from. Many people take 3 to 5 years to recover from. For me, I am no different, I am four years in, and I still feel like I have some way to go. My chemistry is messed up.

Even Keith today, told me he never believed in psychiatry, or psychological drug treatment, until he saw the profound effect it had on me. He commented that after two days of being on my adderall, I was back to normal again and that it had been difficult with me over the last few weeks.

I recall I had one freak out outburst which I never wrote about in here, but yes I lost my shit. Scared the bunnies to death in the motel room. And I’ll explain another time. For now though, he and I accept this is a profound neurological condition.

Onnaloves

Passed the Disney physical exam no problem. It’s done by an independent who sends the results to Disney whereupon they can retract the offer of employment if one is deemed unfit, or incapable of performing tasks safely.
Was out for four hours, and when we came back to the motel, two very pissed off bunnies were sitting in the window giving us stink-eye. Even the bouquet of weeds I brought back didn’t win their hearts. I had to cuddle them each, separately for 20 minutes to get them to lift their grudges.

Along the way, I saw a dead dog on the side of the road, and it really hit me how tragic this poor dog’s life had ended, with no one to claim him, or rescue him from those last moments. My heart broke over a standard terrier? It’s the first “bump” in emotions I’ve felt since… well in years. Emotions don’t normally rise up in me, at least I think they don’t. But then this poor dog lying on the side of the road, not breathing, really upset me.
I don’t know why. I don’t think I’ve had this kind of reaction before. I notice Keith occasionally gets wet eyes over something on the news, or some music, and I have never really felt the same thing for anything or anyone else. People die all the time on the news and there are desperate plights always, but my reactions are always zero, until today.
Why is that? It’s really bugged me.
Additionally I keep wondering how on earth I DIDN’T KNOW about the existence of burnout, before it happened to me. I thought a nervous breakdown was due to some underlying neurological condition, but it turns out - burnout IS an underlying neorological problem. Things have become gradually so amiss, that even brain chemistry cannot be restored, and thinking patterns become permanently screwed.
In my case, I do not produce enough seratonin on my own, and the “antidepressants” as they are generally and misleadingly called, aid the maintenance of seratonin levels in my brain, that enable synapses along certain pathways. The seratonin pathways funnel up from the gut, where it is produced, and into the brain from the pons area radiating from there like a cone shape.
I also do not produce enough dopamine, which is what my adderal is for. Dopamine is a “resonating pathway” (I’m making all this up because although I understand the biology of pathways, I can actually feel this shit happening in my head so the areas that light up form these shapes of behavior patterns) I call it the resonating pathway because it behaves like a comparative error correction circuit, that crosses from right to left in a figure 8 through the corpus callosum. Schizophrenics have dysregulated dopamine levels. So the comparative pathways break down, and abstract cannot be separated into logic. Abstract becomes reality, as it cannot be filtered into executive function on the left side of the figure 8 path.
My dopamine paths were fucked which is why I feel so little joy. And also why I can behave like a sex addict. Because the quick and easy dose of good sex, fires up dopamine in the brain. And since dopamine is necessary for making the jump and carving new pathways, healing and plasticity of the brain cannot happen without it in my case, the adderal is having a cumulative effect, by amping up the potential of my depressed normative synapse state, to something that has more energy to jump the gap and connect with logic.
Then of course the estrogen pathways, that only exist OUTSIDE of the midbrain. In a rolling pattern rolling away and down the sides of the brain like a radiating donut. This sensation is completely void in the middle of my brain, so when I take my estrogen supplements I feel more energy rolling down the sides of my head and back up. Estrogen pathways are used to “hardwire” bond, and glue, and ensheath new dendritic connections with myelin. This happens during sleep, when estrogen produced in the brain is at its highest normal levels. So I take my estrogen supplements at night.

If a brain is not bathed in enough love and comfort, the lack of oxytocin “the hormone of bonding” fails to stimulate more estrogen. And since I am celibate and don’t have much care for anyone, or anyone for me (Keith is completely platonic), no romance or hugs of any kind, means my estrogen levels are in the toilet.

Without dopamine to reach those forgotten paths in my head (I’ll come to that example), and without estrogen “the glue” to ensheath new neural connections, one cannot heal. One cannot heal anything actually. Even scars will take long.

What I have experienced in the last six months has led to a dramatic permanent change - and I feel almost whole again. Testosterone is the last hormone that did help in the beginning, I even used deer horn velvet to help my testosterone levels, I rapidly gain strength in these cases, but it is only temporary, if I stop practicing, strength does not stay.

So anyway, I have my psychiatric evaluation tomorrow, this shall be interesting. Because she’ll be starting from a clean slate, even with my prior diagnosis of major depressive disorder, adjustment syndrome, and ADD, oh, and the burnout from 4 years ago. The point is, and the reason for why I’m seeking evaluation, is that I WANT TO KEEP A JOB. I have always failed at work, been fired, or eventually pushed out by bullying.

Something has to change in me. I’m not sure what. But something has to change, and I don’t want to be the one that is bullied anymore, or caught crashing and sleeping at my desk or in the toilet. (Hence I’m concerned about my narcoleptic tendencies of just crashing and falling asleep wherever). I don’t even care what the diagnosis is, I just want to stay healthy, safe, and balanced.

Maybe the dog was a sign of me coming back? But there were other things that happened literally in the last few days. I’ve been snatching grass from the bottom of posts while I’m out with Keith, to bring back for the bunnies. My brain knows the concept “posts”, it has a meaning, a visual stuck in the ground, and yet, I could not describe the post. Keith was so confused when I kept asking him to take the roads with the p p PPPost, in the tiny roads (I couldn’t find the word for alley either). He suddenly said “oh you mean telephone posts in alley ways!)

Because I’ve been stammering and trying to produce the right words which obviously exist but I can’t find them. “It’s just on the top of your tongue” one hears people say; BUT ITS NOT. All I have is a concept in my brain with no ability to connect the word to it. I try really hard to mouth it, and I stammer awkwardly with garbage that doesn’t sound right, so I try and try and phonetic garbage comes out while I’m making sort-of-sounds and gesturing up and down like a fapping wanker giving the longest dick in the world a good wax-on.

“OHHH YOU MEAN TELEPHONE POST…” and as soon as I heard the word, many more jumped out at me, there was literally a connection in my brain that opened up, and I flooded…
“Telegraph poles in back alleys where dogs don’t piss”
I felt that connection come back, pole, posts, lamp posts telegraph poles, telephone wires. I pointed to the power lines and said “what that too?”
My energy and excitement clearly noticeable Keith started telling me about cell-phone towers, power line towers, and I could feel this part of my brain switch on, from childhood, where I recollected my first encounter with safety around electrical stations. THAT PART OF MY BRAIN storing the concepts of posts, poles, towers, fences, BOUNDARIES, danger, telephone CABLES, power LINES, was stored in a part of my brain I had not accessed nor remembered till today.
It’s happened other times these last few days too;

CROSS, a new word for angry, I haven’t been able to connect with for a while, because these things are associated with the emotions one is taught as a child, when mother is cross. Not angry, not irritable, but cross!

And the word SHALL that came up on the news the other day, todo with Trumps defense argument that the law was written with SHALL instead of must. But SHALL means MUST! And MAY means might. These words started coming back to me from a part in my brain I distinctly remember forming around 5 years old, the telephone posts word, struck me because I even remembered the year, AND PLACE where I suddenly understood the concept. And that’s another story for another time.

So my recollection of words, comes from places in time that they were established. And my memory is frozen with the geometric patterns of wire fencing, ceramic resistor-protection bead thingies at the top of electric towers, lattice work and tall high posts that demarkated boundaries and my first experience with real world geometry. TRIANGLES! That exist nowhere else. And I was THREE YEARS OLD.

My language is coming back! I’m reaching into the dark blank spaces of my mind and reconnecting things. I’m going to recover!

Onnaloves

Update on my first psychiatric evaluation:
I am not impressed. They wanted to take me off Wellbutrin and put me on anti-psychotics.

They believe I am suffering with psychosis, and that is the cause of my crashes. The drugs I am on work, and I don’t want to change them just because some shrink who doesn’t know me thinks I’m a schizo. She really does actually and asked me to get a neurological work up, and I have to go in for more psychiatric tests. In person. Ugh.

I don’t really have much choice to keep the meds I’m on. They have to do these tests because they won’t accept my former doctors diagnosis.

So folks, I really am psychotic in a delusional schism apparantly. Just because my synesthesia kicks in when I’m sleepy. I get aberrations not apparitions. So yeh, not happy.

What is it with drug-happy shrinks? Why do they want to medicate a my day to day life, to get rid of my infrequent exhaustion related aberrations. The only time this really bothers me is if my sleep cycle is so fucked from a depressive state of my body, that I get waking dreams - in effect - sleep paralysis.

I do still get nightmares every night. But I never feel frightened or terrified, more uncomfortable or guilty, or hopeless that I just can’t get out of a situation that was likely to have been my own cause.

I have been studying Blender like MAD lately, and now I got my drugs I can sit infront the computer for 2 hours now. It’s generally impossible for me to sit still for more than half an hour. I just lose focus and can’t concentrate.

Thankfully I have decided the best form of work for me is NOT INFRONT OF A COMPUTER - all desk jobs are out. It’s just not good for me to be in a sedentary job. I will do anything to avoid sitting down. I’m so very happy I got this Disney job. Two weeks left till I start!!!

Fucking psychiatrists. I’m open to exploration but this is ridiculous. Why don’t they accept I have drugs that work?! I’m going to Google the anti-psychotics they want to prescribe me. Ugh

Onnaloves

I googled the anti-psychotics, I was prescribed once while in Austria, Olanzapine, and it actually made me worse. I swelled up like a balloon.
This version is specifically schizophrenia treatment, and once on it, I am not supposed to come off it, as symptoms may get worse when the drug is stopped.
The same happens for Wellbutrin, there is an adjustment period of two weeks before starting any new medication. Which means I have to wean off my existing Wellbutrin and probably crash again, before they can dose up the anti-psychotics.
This is really bad timing.
I can’t put myself at risk of crashing in my first few weeks of work, I wish I had done this sooner.
Anyway, this drug Abilify is not just for schizophrenia, but also for turretz and off label for autistic irritability. And also… it’s for mania, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

LMFAO

So they decided after my initial evaluation that my symptoms overlap strangely in these areas. All I want to do is stop the crashing, I thought my adderall was sufficient, it works, and Wellbutrin keeps me awake. I can’t even start the day without it as I’m dependent on it to wake me up. If I forget, there’s an immediate realization because I’m stumbling around like a zombie half asleep for a couple hours before I figure out to get my wake up pills. So that is a rare thing to happen these days because I have so much to do, I grab my pills as soon as I wake up, and within 15 mins I can feel awake and clear headed, no fogginess.
Apparantly because the ability to maintain seratonin and dopamine levels was destroyed during my seizures, and it’s unlikely it will recover, so they are specifically looking to adjust the ratios my brain needs compensating, to prevent the build up that causes me to crash.

Crashing is not pleasant. It’s not like “oh I need to sleep” it’s more like “OH FUCK HERE I GO” I have about 5 minutes or less to get somewhere before I get really heavy and literally feel paralyzed. I can’t even speak, I just grunt. And forcing me to listen to anything during this period saps me even more. So usually it’s a great way to just ignore Keith, no excuses needed if he keeps talking at me, my brain literally has enough and switches off all understanding of what he’s blathering on about.
It’s great in that instance.
I have managed to explain to Keith that my brain battery is draining if I’m listening or “recording” and processing, which is why I like silence or electronic music (to drown him out lol) it’s not just producing speech and doing tasks, it’s the actual decoding of speech and having to listen to anything (even news in the background) I just hit a limit and crash.

I never used to be that sensitive before there was more of a soft-warning I could work around. But I have limited capacity since the burnout 4 years ago.

Onnaloves

I’m going to try to start weening off the meds to see if my brain will cope heh.

I’ve learned blender and am getting a good knack for it. I took my 3D files to a plastics fabricator and basically I had done the job for them preparing all the STL files for CNC, so they were like “wow, good job!” Then they told me they couldn’t machine one part so I suggested I could remove a piece and splay out the angles to get a small ¼” cutter into the inside angle with multilevel passes.

They decided, to take, my resume. No shit. I’m so happy! I might have gotten myself another interview lined up!

Onnaloves

Example nightmare from a typical dream I am grateful to wake up out of, but left feeling extremely - dirty and at fault. (Not exactly guilty, but more like I’m the one that has blood on my hands, and I’m the one that’s an animal that doesn’t have the courage to have respect for anything).

A dream begins on an adventure I am excited about. A train ride, a boat ride, long distance to some kind of green land full of moist grass and cottages. But then, suddenly, there is a traffic jam, cars blocked up on the tiny mud road, and as we inch forward crowding on a narrow b-road it becomes wet, and the hedgerows deepen and darken, the atmosphere no longer Sun but foggy gloom that dampens sound… of screaming in the distance, but fogged put enough to only be heard by myself as no one else is the wiser or can hear it. At this point I am in a car, with others probably family or Keith, or friends. And as we roll forward the roads are now boggy with mud and some cars are slipping. People are somehow being thrown out of their cars in some kind of weird effort to lighten their load to move forward through the dug-in mud. But they are not bodies, I see the movement of a dog, covered in mud and left to die on the side of the road. It becomes apparent that there is some kind of filtration up ahead, and people are being mauled or hauled off, until the next unsuspecting victim the next car up.

At this point my perspective changes, it morphs into my ability to move within the travelling compartment, I am no longer in a car, but exiting a tiny 1900’s train carriage, the front car seat I’m leaving behind is now a train seat, and the bench has opposite it another facing seat, with belongings and baggage not just my own but others who are not around. I am in the carriage way, and I hear the screams up ahead, more clearly than ever, so I turn around and quicken towards the back, of a slowly creaking-forward one way train, where we have no control of the direction of travel.

As I travel towards the back, I realize that I am the one who knows what’s going on, and everyone else is left victim while I quietly move on myself. I am suddenly hit with a feeling of dread that I did not even stop to think twice about scooping up my precious fur babies, my bunnies, and now I am freaked out, I realize I must hurry back to rescue them. But there is no way back!
The carriage way has now morphed into tiny rooms with exits on all four sides, and the choice to go through the door behind me is blocked with fearful clamoring of people piling up and crushing themselves on the exit to get away from whatever it was that was coming, and gunning them down. Blood and bone and debris was blasting through the blocked door behind me as I dive into a room on the left instead of ahead to circle back and retrieve the things I love that I regretfully forgot I even left behind in my haste to explore an escape.

Now, each room progressively becomes torturous as people that had tried to hide, had been found and blown to bits, unrecognizable by a close up assault rifle shot that spread open their heads and brains flattening them against their place of hiding.

Whoever or whatever is after us, I have managed to evade but from which direction I don’t know. The Forrest of rooms are like a maze, every cube with four doors and stuff piled high like pianos, washing machines, pull out futons, boxes, luggage bags… and maybe my bunnies are here hiding in this cluttered heap?

I crawl into the sofa bed where my bunnies are likely to hide, just as a door blasts open and beasts roar in sniffing and searching for anything alive to rip apart, I am inside a fold up sofa bed, that appears to not have an empty compartment, so the beasts do not think to rip it open. Instead they rip off a cupboard door and find a peer of mine, some familiar person, and slash this person ripping their arms and legs off while I watch my familiar gurgle and choke without the ability to scream - on their own blood and sinue.

A head thuds down next to the futon I am hiding under and rolls enough for me to capture the eyes opening and closing and a silent mouthing of empty words. I’m more fascinated with seeing what this person sees in their final moments which last 10 more seconds before I know they are gone. And I absorbed that sensation of them dying into myself with energy. As though that persons own death in my close presence has made me energized. Even though I knew this person, I do not miss them, I do not care, I am instead - a kind of, powered up I suppose and yet, I am not guilty of their death but I feel like I should not be revelling in the transfer of such energy.

I am not afraid, but I feel I must go on. I fear for my rabbits which is crazy, hopefully, they are small enough to hide from such beasts not like my fellow peers. And in the next room… it is much larger, like an amphitheater. There is safety in numbers and more of my peers are here, but this time they are completely unaware of the danger that is about to invade their circus.

I spot a guy who I had once wanted to fuck. I still want to fuck him. And he is being flirtatious with me but I know it is a lie. No man really likes me, and I don’t blame them, I’m just weird and just clingy and needy. This is not what I intend to be and I’m sure I hide it very well. But inside I know that I have a deep need to WANT TO BE CLINGY, to want a guy to be clingy all over me and desire me so much that he is completely besotted and won’t look at anyone else.

This is the unrealistic part of the dream that leaves me feeling dirty, gross, disingenuous, a liar, a woman who uses men just for her pleasure. (In real life I am sure I am no such thing, so I wake up with this feeling of huge discomfort with myself, I feel cringe, gross, just gross, that I would bait and want to bait such men that I love to look at).

Kevin is the name of the man I wanted. And years ago I did indeed want him badly. But in the end, I destroyed that friendship intentionally, for some fucked up readon I’m not even sure why I decided to target him.

But Kevin was asking me to help him in this amphitheater to prepare a performance, and my job was to be his performing partner. We only had one rehearsal. And I performed with him, but I was clumsy and god awful to look at so all eyes were on him instead, and the audience followed him instead of me in the low pit of the open air stage. And as they watched him, I seemed to shrink and dissappear in utter shame, that I am a shit performer, I am nothing, and equally my size shrank down and I wept and scurried away from the stage just like a rabbit hiding under the seating rows…

When all of a sudden, soldiers descended into the amphitheater from all sides, gunning people down as they went, and Kevin using his agility and skill just got away in the nick of time, while the whole audience is murdered around me. And I am a rabbit this time sitting under a seat, while screaming people are being blown to bits and soaking my fur in bloody debris. No one can even see me through the piles of human flesh being splattered around, the floors are sticky and slippery, so I wait for these monsters of men to leave, they do so toying with women and girls, dragging them off not for torture, but body harvesting. Their kidneys could be worth a lot, they thought. And I was happy, that these women who watched Kevin were going to suffer a fate worse than rape I thought.

It occurs to me on waking up how utterly disgusted I am with myself, that I would rather see people die, than lose what I want. But this is what I was feeling in my dream. The images do not matter, the feeling is what makes me very, very uncomfortable with myself. I am just grossed out believing that I am this person inside, as why else would I get these feelings? It’s not something I could ever tell anyone, I write it here because no one really knows me, and it’s not something I feel I could tell a doctor or Keith or anyone, as though, they would feel deceived as though they knew I was like this all along, and in telling them it would be worse than letting them feel guilty about their own thoughts, rather than lowering myself in their eyes or opinion.

I am really not sure what is me. But these dreams are the same feelings every night. They do not keep me awake, I wake up quite refreshed after these dreams but instead I feel icky, like I have yet another secret to keep from the real world, about what I really think of people, and how much I can hate, to enjoy someone’s pain being worse than my own.

And yet I am not in any pain or discomfort or stress am i? Yet these dreams are very uncomfortable. They are uncomfortable to live with knowing this is my reaction and feelings in the dreams, and I feel guilty, only because I enjoyed such dreams. So these are my real nightmares. Nightmares are not always about me being chased, but rather instead, I know the future of what’s to come, and I’m putting myself ahead of others, because I literally do not care about anyone. THAT is what makes me feel guilty. The blood on my hands is from my own dreams, yet in real life, I am not guilty? Am I? What is the worst thing I have ever done?

I simply can’t think of one ghastly thing I have done worse than another.

Onnaloves

Weening myself off meds isn’t going to be easy, all I did today was reduce the Wellbutrin (my dopamine balance) and I didn’t make it through the day. I literally crashed - on my face on the bed. I only took the medication down by a third (from the maximum allowable dose). The psychiatrist was uncomfortable with this drug and told me she wanted to put me on a different one - again, a dopamine regulator for schizophrenics, an anti-psychotic. It works on ethe same dopamine pathways but using a different effect.

However, after even my first day (without consulting docs) just seeing what would happen if I reduced the dose - I crashed. And Keith commented that ive done it a few time this particular way over the last weeks (I stretched out my adderall meds because of doctor meds).

He said it’s the weirdest thing; you crashed on your face and I was wondering if you were going to suffocate yourself with your face in the pillow. Unlike normally going to sleep, crashing is rather different. Like right now as I write, I am comfortable and relaxed and when finished I’ll turn over and doze off. But crashing, where my eyelids are clanging shut and I have about 60 seconds to drag my heavier weight to the bed… before I feel completely paralyzed then conk out. Yah. I don’t always make myself most comfortable , I drag myself on the bed or fall on it and lights are out - even if I fight it, I’m too heavy to really move.

And Keith noticed I’ve been conking out like this lately, flat on my face with my legs hanging off the bed and knees hyper-extended over the edge of the bed and arms straight down my side, as if I literally flomped down like a walrus.

So anyway, I can’t be arsed to take another risk of crashing so I won’t tomorrow. There were the usual nightmares, all different from one another like my brain has to come up with new ideas to make me feel like shit again. I never get repetitive dreams but it’s almost as though my mind is playing tricks on me trying to illustrate a feeling or emotion that I am not capable of acknowledging.

I cannot tell at this point if the feelings in my dreams are me, or not? I’m wondering if I’m really this callous cold hearted person, or if there is another explanation I haven’t thought of. People are afraid in nightmares. That’s how they are written anyway. But I am not frightened at all, maybe I should be? All I feel is waking up with that icky feeling of permanently keeping secrets. Or deceptive intent. And it just feels uncomfortable and unworthy of respecting myself. That’s pretty shitty to start the day, yet I shake it off every day when I wake up exited to finish more 3D drawings. And making general progress elsewhere.

Not a day, or hour, where I’m vested in being awake goes by without me planning my next projects - even inspite of Keith’s constant desperate nagging and whining about our situation and lack of money and his general 100% woes.

It doesn’t even stick to me, except of course I do find it draining because it’s such a bore to listen to. Instead, I’m busier than ever, planning my next trip out to sell off some more silicone products I’ve made, and punt out for more only fans tips to aid the stuff I’m making within the motel room.

All while Keith relentlessly complains, worries, and nags me to make money on OnlyFans, Patreon and selling stuff. My ears can switch off to a degree, but his noise is just a bore.

I’m having some fun on blender and getting more quotes from fabricators this week, while adjusting my resume to include the new portfolio of product inventions I’ve visualized. Once I have the quotes I’ll drop the images here. I realize this 3D tool is just the very tool I needed to learn to accelerate my productivity! And I’m really happy about it.

Unfortunately the excitement is not enough to stop me from crashing. I’m very much dependent on the extra dopamine and seratonin from my meds, or I simply can’t keep my eyes open. And thats even if I sleep for ten hours straight. It’s like my brain is overly visual lately, and I need more recovery time from the manifestations in my mind. I guess maybe that is an overload? Visual dreaming is something I have to recover from, in addition to my far off gazing with new ideas folding away in my minds eye during the day. Admittedly since I’ve been learning Blender and CAM solidworks, I just can’t stop thinking about machine paths and stepped machining layers. It’s bloody fascinating! Like I’m addicted to having a tools to demonstrate my minds eye!

Onnaloves

I start my Disney Job this week, so I decided to put in one last effort at getting an engineering job. AN ENGINEERING JOB?! It occurred to me that I have a degree, I know how to overcome problems, and if used in the right place, I could find the family of fabricators I want to work with.

So I searched on Google anyone near me with specific SLS printing capabilities. I found two such companies, one working in Aerospace sintering metal parts for aeroplanes and using 5 axis CNC; the other doing multi-jet SLR printing, and also manual plastic forming.

Having specifically researched these companies and knowing their range of potential and client base, I adjusted my CV to include BLENDER along with my CATIA skills. NOW I am able to 3D visualize machine paths, I’m just going to try again.

If nothing I’ve tailored my resume and I can continue to pick up the CAM skills at home, and at best - if I manage to get one single chance to get past the door bitch, I might be able to leave a resume and a personal introduction to a job paying more than double what Disney is; with more reasonable working hours.

The first place I went to was the aerospace company. Now with aerospace certifications one can’t just walk in, they are not open to the public, there are no lobbies or receptionists, just a security guard or door bitch that’s only allowing people to sign in.

I saw the building from the front, and a small sign “entrance at rear” in a gated car park. Luckily we could just park the car up with no automated gate system, so Keith stayed in the car whilst I tried to infiltrate the aerospace building.

The door at the back was invisible, I looked and at first couldn’t work out where it was, but then saw in the recessed panel what looked like some sort of maintenance area, a word in block capitals: DOOR

Seriously no joke, it was inconspicuous simply debossed into a ceiling height panel, and there was a touch sensor on the wall. Another printed piece of paper above the touch sensor read “please ring the doorbell ONCE”. This was peculiarly funny.

Under the touch sensor was a concealed button, when depressed did not make any noise. I waited.

Suddenly the wall yawned and freaked open, behind the 2m tall wall, a smart woman looked surprised at me and asked me who I was coming to see. What happened next was a spur of the moment interview, and she excitedly took my Resume. She asked me to email her directly, with the digital copy, so she could get me an interview! I shit you not, she practically offered me a job on the spot and was waiting for an engineer to give me a pass.

Ha holy shit.

The second in the next post…

Onnaloves

I have literally nothing to lose. I’m happy I have a job at Disney, but instead this time of feeling “pressure” to get a job, I simply don’t care. I just want to know instead, if the company is a nice place to work for. So instead of any big corporation, I was tracking down small fast prototyping shops. These have dynamic project turnaround and rely on their employees to take initiatives. Everyone’s diversity becomes an asset. Rather than conforming, they want me to be different, because a small company recognizes the diversity of their workforce, represents the diversity of client base that they can retain.

In recognizing this, it actually made it pretty simple to track down these types of companies, and there are lots. INFACT, I picked two places last night, but today went so well, when I start work at Disney I will continue to punt out for jobs at these kind of companies.

The strategy of applying online simply doesn’t work for me. The system looks for keywords and I cannot compete. It’s far easier for me if I just GO IN and literally ask if I can check them out if there’s any opportunity to work for them.

And that’s what I did at the second place. Again, there was no specific entrance, but as I approached the unmarked door, a man returning from refuse approached me and asked what I was doing.

Hi! I was hoping to speak to the owner, about my skill set to see if it’s anything they could use, because I’ve checked your company out and really want to work here…

The man said “wow! You came on the one day boss is off sick, but please give him a phonecall directly, here’s his phone number”… the man to refer to pull out his phone and read out the owners personal number.

“I have a resume I can leave behind, incase other techs want to check it out?”

“SURE! He said, but he indicated his dirty gloves from the refuse disposal, and instead opened the security door and led me in to instruct me where to place it for him so that when boss comes in, he’ll let “Locke” know.

As I moved to the remnant parts “display” that was casually piled up next to the upstairs office stairwell, I spied a piece of engineering work that got me excited. I pointed to it, picked it up gently, and said “NUSI?”

“A yes, he comes here and gets all of his work prototyped here, we prototype a lot for him, you know him?” No but I am a fan, and not only that, I do similar work to Nusi except I work in elastomers not polymers, so I would create something similar from specialist molds I have to make myself, to reproduce these type of parts on a multi scale.

At that point the man told me his name, Aaron, and excitedly made sure to me that I MUST CALL LOCKE he will definitely like to meet me.

And that was that, a random second location interview, where I was not given any interview, but instead decided to turn up and just GET IN to speak to ANYONE. Since everyone that works at these prototype places, tends to know everyone else, and probably wear many hats.

And just like that in one day, I was requested a call back. I’m totally happy now, that I have a job, and can possibly even move sideways and upwards immediately, with choice.

I’m giving myself a break this week and then I’ll rinse and repeat next week and target a few more of these small shops.

I suddenly feel like, for the first time in my life… I AM IN CONTROL OF MY FUTURE.

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