Another week-end where I haven't really been productive, and I apologize to whoever I owe time, emails or texts too. Why am I still feeling like recovering from 2011 ? Well, there are so many reasons for that. And according to a habit I implemented a few years ago, I'm gonna put an end to this troublesome year by making a review of things that happened to me or that I accomplished. Here are the stories, as I remember them.January 1st, I did fall asleep on the couch, reading Tales of a Female Nomad... I had made excuses for not attending NYE parties as I didn't feel so sociable. I was let down on Christmas day by my local boyfriend, a pothead (sadly the best word I found to describe him, and how people described him to me) who was too drunk to remember he had requested me to spend the day with him. I didn't want that to happen again to I lowered my expectations and went back home to enjoy the night, the silence, the fireworks and the absence of my crazy flatmate. Around 4 a.m., he got home, and woke me up for sex, as high as usual. I was groggy from the deep sleep and did not react much. That was wholly unpleasant. In my memories, that was the last time we slept together, though we did hang out a bit before he started frankly avoiding me. And dumped me with a Facebook message. "It's not you, it's me". Then deleted me. Welcome, 2011 !Falling out of friendship was a deception. My true love was so far away from me, and falling in love with someone else. I felt pretty lonely, especially when the crazy flatmate started playing games again. Leaving the front door open by -30oC as she walked away. Banging her head on the walls. Singing loudly Madonna songs in the middle of the night. Making everyone around us uncomfortable. Shouting at us. Burning food on a close-to-daily basis, at any time of the day/night. Feeding the crows (huge turkey-sized ones ! friggin' scary ! ). Feeding ham to the dog (we didn't have a dog), freezing a femur she's found on the streets. You know, the usual crazy flatmate stuff. A woman who knows how to underline the distinction between "home" and "place where you sleep at night".And then I was working on reviewing the book I co-wrote with a bunch of volunteers, re-reading, commenting, editing... It kept me busy and helped me focus. The other flatmate and I had an awesome time inventing ourselves a band, playing around town, doing gigs for fun. We did some stuff and put it on our Myspace, and I should add more stuff there soonish, because we recorded some weeks ago, for the sake of playing together again. She became my closest friend.And her friendship was critical when I went through one of the toughest week-end I can think about. First, some 11 years-old kid tried to stab a teacher in my wing. I felt stressed out by that event and asked my dearest love to join me for a skype conference. He did, but is heart was somewhere else, and he'd been struggling with the thought that maybe we should stop being a couple, or so I felt. The situation became so tensed that I left the school in tears, thought about getting drunk at a friend's place (polyamourous couple with a lot of empathy), but they surprisingly had no alcohol left. We talked, though, and I felt much better, much more confident to be sorting this out. I went back home and checked my emails. My grandpa had died.We cancelled the crosscountry skiing that day and stayed home to mend the pieces of me. The relationship did not improve. In fact, I had a Damocles sword over my head. We finally broke up. He said: "So long and thanks for all the fish."So I got on a spare spot behind a friend for my first snowmobile ride. But 30 minutes through the trip, we had an accident. Nothing we broken, nothing but my right hand, which was snapped between the two drifting machines as I was holding on to the handles. Shit happens.That's enough drama, don't you think ? Luckily, I was brought to the hospital where they gave me powerful painkiller. I didn't have to work the following day except that... I kinda had to, I was training people on Internet/computer applications that could be useful in using the SmartBoards, those big interactive whiteboard I knew nothing about until I got North. I was quick in understanding them, so they hired me to give... a hand.So we did gigs, and I hid in my room, and edited the book. March did not really exist for me. I had no idea where to go next. I couldn't go back to Belgium as planned. The pain was huge, and the physical only masked the emotional one.April was just crazy, I got hired for the elections and ended up working cray hours while two old friends visited me up North. I fell for one of them and wanted to give it a try, so I decided to move back to Montreal at the end of my contract. My job for the elections lasted longer because everyone had left - I just couldn't leave the ship sinking behind me. That were 7 weeks to remember... And I was exhausted. Then we had to leave. My nice flatmate stayed there and is my worse lost, but leaving kinda saved me. I was sinking too. I did make friends with a nice intellectual man upon leaving, but it was too little, too late.June was full of hopes - but the relationship turned sour. So quickly. I felt I was cursed. When he kicked me out of the flat, I went to my parents' place, but this wasn't the best solution. I quickly depressed and in August, I was at my lowest when I settled in a tiny room in Montreal. By then, I was becoming more promiscuous, compensating for months of sexual desert. But I didn't feel good. My unemployment benefits would not be paid, without any reason. I started to think I should sell sexual services and so I juggled with that idea for a while, waiting before doing anything that would make me feel vulnerable.On the positive side, in July, I did sign a contract with the biggest publishing company in my field. The book would bloom, in French at least.Then I met M. Our relationship was fusional. Being with him was like travelling again, and be hosted. I didn't like my tiny room, although my landlord/flatmate has a big big heart. We were seldom fighting, only sometimes on weekends when he'd drink; his behaviour changed so much ! But this did not give me a clue. When he asked me to marry him, I thought this was crazy. I had tried that game before. I thought I was 30, getting a bit too old to be a princess and I felt we were looking in the same direction. I said yes, October 11. We'd get married on Feb 29, 2012, a funky date. We'd make our gown and suit out of pieces of fabric our friends would send us...I kept on falling ill (bronchitis, fever, complications following a dental surgery...) but he cared for me...But the honeymoon-time did not last long. Drinking and driving. Incapable of being sober, making me responsible for it. The open relationship went berseck when I walked on him sleeping with another girl. I was exhausted again. I was beginning to feel low again, a normal part of cyclothymia. So he dumped me, unilaterally, all of a sudden, after a tougher seven days. I was flabbergasted. I was humiliated and shocked. I felt like I was letting my friends down, but I couldn't do anything. I had paid the wedding fees. We had signed a joint lease for an apartment. Seriously, what the hell ?So I did hold on to what was essential to me : publishing the book and getting the credits for my uni courses. Everything else was futile. I did not cry, or so little. I found 2 or 3 lovers to spend light-hearted time with and avoid those sleepless nights I lived while at home in my tiny room. I canceled the winter hitchhiking trip to Yellowknife I was hoping for. I tried to regain control and I slowly did.I started recovering. But my health is still pretty low, I've been sick forever, or so it feels.And here is where I am right now. I just got my loan and bursary for last semester after winning a fight against the system. I'm hoping to be back on unemployment benefits now, but my file might be stuck again, who knows ?I'm not made for a sedentary life.Me too tired now. A 2012-based, filled with projects and more positive post will follow.
See original: 
