The house I live in is a typical suburban Melbourne terrace house with two small patches of ground out the front. When I moved in,they were filled with native grass that had gone wild,a waist-high,needlegrass-filled mess. We ripped it all up,dumped it all on one side,then I started to work on the other. The ground was filled with bark and rubbish,so I had to sift through it by hand to get most of it out. The ground in Northcote is very clayey,so I sprinkled gypsum over it,dug it in,then dug in lots of pony manure I collected from my grandmother’s farm. While I was digging,I found two telephone cables close to the surface,so I built a meandering brick path over them so we wouldn’t dig them up while planting things.

I have always been interested in gardening,but have never actually done it (an aspect of depression I will talk about at some length in another post.) I am not doing proper gardening yet,just preparing the soil,but the work fills me with joy. Running my fingers through the soil,digging and feeling how the consistency has improved with the gypsum,turning up worms and grubs and bugs. Getting close to the soil and seeing all the little bits that make it up,insects and dirt and roots. I bought some flowers and a lavender bush to plant –I adore lavender,but it gives my mother hayfever so we never had it planted in our garden. One of the flower plants had a bud on it when I bought it – it is now pushing out tiny pink petals,and two of the others have put out buds. It is silly,how thrilling this is. I shall probably cry from happiness the first time I pick lavender from my bush to put in a vase. As much as I’d love to plant flower everywhere,we are going to plant a vegetable and herb garden,probably train a passionfruit vine over the (hideous) front fence (I will push for a clematis over the other,the smell is divine.)

There is a shop in Westgarth which looks like the most amazing secondhand shop EVER. I say looks like,as I have never been in there – it is always closed. My housemate Harriet said it is owned by a woman who is absolutely bonkers. She opens it at odd hours,only lets a few people in at a time,and will lie down in the doorway preventing people from going in. I walked past at 8.30pm tonight,and it was open. The owner was standing in the doorway,drinking tea. Although I looked in the window for awhile,then had a nice chat with her about how dull it is when married people started dressing the same,when I tried to enter the shop she wouldn’t move out of my way.

I decided to walk down the street the next one along from mine,as on my evening run I had seen a pile of stuff at one end and wanted to see if there was anything interesting there. There wasn’t,but on my journey I met a delightfully friendly cat with no nose or ears,and found a gorgeous retro bureau in the front yard of a house which the owner said I could take with me. This is excellent,as I am sick of living out of a suitcase.

We went to pick up some of my things from my grandmother’s house today. She had two kittens that she had rescued,one had a home and the other was one its way to the shelter. Tim fell in love with him,so we now have an adorable kitten called Oliver who is the king of four-people belly rubs.

He is incredibly soppy and snuggly. He will just lie in your arms purring,gazing adoringly at you. By contrast,Pepper tries to maul you as soon as you open her cage door. I was lying on the couch today reading. She started scrambling up,and just as I had formulated the thought:“This is going to end terribly,” she had run up my arm and clamped down on the top of my ear. It bled profusely and she nearly pierced the cartilage. Despite this,I love her dearly,and forgive her anything when she performs her crazy happy ferret dance. Katzen the one-eyed cantankerous old cat who lives here is rather put out that there has been two cute new additions in one week.

I keep having ideas for paintings. Since I can’t afford paints or canvas at the moment,I am scribbling them down,and will be posting them at atolerantwoman.com when I get around to it.

I need to learn not to be afraid to vocalise my feelings. I think I missed what could have been a wonderful opportunity with someone,just because I totally misunderstood how they felt. I think this was also based on me not trusting my initial instincts and believing the worst. So instead of asking how they felt,I decided I didn’t want to look foolish for falling for someone who didn’t feel the same,and I just bottled everything up and didn’t speak to them anymore. Now I have lost not only a potential lover,but a potentially wonderful friend.

My new baby,Pepper. (Photo is of Tim &Pepper and is by our housemate Harriet.)

I recently came into posession of an expensive cage (for freesies!),and suggested getting a rat to Tim. He countered with a rabbit,which,although I would like a bunny,I think it would be unfair to own one when I live in a place with no grass. I half-jokingly suggested a compromise of a ferret,and after a few YouTube videos Tim agreed,and probably ended up far more excited than I did.

We haven’t even had her a day yet,and we are in love. She is adorable and cuddly and funny. She has ridiculous amounts of personality and is always entertaining. I can’t wait for her to meet Gus (unfortunately he can’t live with me at the moment,but he’s having lots of fun on a hobby farm trying to take down stags) (I wish I was joking.)

BUT WAIT. Who is this Tim and why isn’t Gus living with me and what what what? I shall go back a bit to before I left New Zealand.

Where I am now is radically different to where I expected to be when I moved to Melbourne. I expected to have a nice job,a little apartment just for Gus and I,a potential love interest,and a wonderful group of friends. I definitely do have a wonderful group of friends,so that,at least,turned out fine. The rest of it though…I have no permanent home. I have no idea what the hell happened with the potential love interest,and I think my curiosity will never be sated as to why. I get depressed by the amount of job rejections I get. I am pretty broke,which I was looking forward to not being once I finished university,and my beloved cat is staying a long way away from me.

I have somehow managed to get into a relationship (aforementioned Tim),who has a four-year-old daughter who lives with him half the week. The idea of dating a single father would previously have been completely ludicrous to me,but the reality is just so easy and comfortable. I needed a place to stay,so I have been living with him since before we even officially started dating. I have never “lived” with someone before,so it is a whole new experience for me. Learning how to compromise,like music he loves and that I have discovered a profound and passionate dislike for. Discussing the parameters of our relationship,such as making sure his daughter is ok with it and remains the number-one priority for both of us. Learning how to be a sub-parent. Realising that a traditional relationship is too chafing and restrictive for me at the moment,and experimenting with a more relaxed,‘open’relationship. Living out of a suitcase in a room I share with two other people,and learning how not to get grumpy about my lack of personal space (which,growing up as an only child,I have become accustomed to.) Getting along with the other housemates who have personalities and habits I have to fit around.

While I am staying with Tim for the meanwhile,it is not a permanent home. I was wanting to get a job before I started looking for somewhere to live,so I would have the money necessary to pay a bond and buy house necessities and know that I can pay the bills on time. Alas,every day more rejection emails come in. It seems no one wants to employ an Arts graduate who studied Ancient Greek. This makes me down-in-the-dumps Depressed,so all I want to do is eat chocolate biscuits and lie on the couch feeling sorry for myself. And during this cold snap,I tried to put on my jeans and discovered that they were rather too snug,which makes me even more depressed. So I want to eat more chocolate biscuits. And so it goes,around and around.

Having Pepper is good,because I have something I need to care for and make sure is fed and played with at the same time every day,she is a lot more responsibility than a cat. Having just a little bit of structure and routine aids in lessening the feelings of hopelessness and uselessness. I have started making a list of things to do each day so that I have something planned to do – if I don’t,it’s all too easy to sit around and mope. I need to start thinking of what else I can do to earn money and be productive if the joblessness continues. That seems too overwhelming at present –I am far more happier contemplating a regular 9 -5 job (for now) than trying anything entrepreneurial. It is particularly the air of uncertainty which terrifies me,but I am also not particularly an ambititious spirit.

Unemployment blues notwithstanding,I am pretty darn happy. I wrote somewhat jokingly on Twitter a few months ago that while I was in Melbourne I wanted to be young,poor,and in love. Aside from the first,I was not really planning on this,but it has turned out to be rather prophetic. It is nice to have somebody to cuddle me when I am sad,and who does silly things just to make me laugh.

I know I was going to try to avoid taking about depression again,but recently I had a small Depressive Phase. Things aren’t going the way I’d planned they’d go in Melbourne,which threw me into a fit of depression. I managed to dig myself out,and actually,I much prefer my radically-altered plan of Life in Melbourne.

Most days,I am pretty fine. Overjoyed,even. But occasionally,I enter into a Depressive Phase. I am not sure what definitely triggers these – maybe the chemicals in my brain just aren’t responding to my medication that day,which means I can’t withstand Life as well as I usually can – but I have started to figure out the warning signs and coping mechanisms. It’s not something that I can avoid. All I can do is ride it out and take measures to try and make the phase as brief as possible.

It begins with drowsiness and irritability. This then proceeds onto full-on Grumpiness,and this is the stage where I realise what is going to happen. When I am Grumpy,I take pains to stay away from other people,because I am highly liable to snap. I have no shame in telling someone,“I’m feeling Grumpy at the moment,so I’m not going to talk to you because I don’t want to take my grumpiness out on you.” I have discovered that it is far more beneficial to disclose my mental state to people,rather than have them think that I am angry or annoyed with them personally.

Then Life takes hold. I start thinking about everything that is going wrong in my life. I start dwelling on past incidents,going over and over them,trying to figure out where I went wrong,what is so broken within me that things turned out this way. Everything is horrible,problems are insurmountable,and thinking about abandoned kittens makes me bawl. As counter-intuitive as it sounds,the only thing I can do at this point is just give in to it all. If I try and fight it,it makes it worse. To feel better,I have to experience the bad and get it out of my system. I put on loud,sad music,such as Bright Eyes or Elliott Smith,I lie face-down on my bed with my pillow over my head,and just wallow in the misery. Miserable,miserable,miserable. Everything is terrible. I can spend a whole day and night like this,dozing and being depressed. In the past,I have spent days like this. When it gets this bad,I am completely unable to remember what it is like to be happy,or to even believe that I can be again. I welcome the depression,because it is somewhat of a relief to know that I am able to feel something.  Things that I would usually be able to withstand,or laugh away,take on a new dimension. They are terrifying,life-ending,all-consuming.

It is difficult to describe how much of a physical illness depression is. Sure,it all starts and ends in the brain,but it affects your entire body. My limbs are heavy. When I was at the very bottom of my depression,the only thing I was capable of doing was slowly lifting my arm up,fighting against gravity,and then allow the heaviness to win and let my arm crash back onto the bed. It felt like a boulder was dropped beside me,the whole bed would shake and the springs would complain. My chest hurts so much. Sometimes I curl up in a ball,sobbing,hoping the pain would go away. It can be difficult to breathe. Most physical actions are difficult,in fact. Eating is not worth the effort,and sometimes I have to crawl to the bathroom. There is a constant,sick feeling of dread in my stomach.

I know that things are starting to turn when I think to myself,“Poppy my girl,it is time to get out of bed and have a shower.”

I remember reading once that in institutions,patients are encouraged to take an interest in their appearance. This is because when you are depressed,it is hard enough just summoning the energy to be alive,let alone to take care of yourself. I know that I cannot manage the willpower to lift a toothbrush,or get dressed,or clean my face,and what is the point anyway when I am hideous and hated? So having a shower is acknowledging that yes,I am worthwhile,and yes,I do have surplus energy so I am able to care for myself. Next,I may brush my teeth,brush my hair,get properly dressed. Life still seems quite dreadful,but there is a sliver of hope and so there is a point to making myself look presentable.

At this point,I could slide back into depression if I am not careful. If I take the appropriate steps,however,I will be bouncing and back to usual in no time. I have a list of Happy Things,and if I do a few items on that list the depression will fade away and I will begin to forget what it was like to feel as though life is not worth living.

- The first time I saw American Psycho,was as a pretense for going back to this guy’s house. The scene where Christian Bale is dressed in a raincoat and is axing Jared Leto in his living room will be forever entwined with the memory of receiving amazing oral sex.

- This may come as a surprise to people who know me as bolshy and a bit of a bully,but I am a complete and hopeless Submissive. I have tried,but I am absolutely and utterly useless at being dominant in the bedroom. (Outside it,is another story.) If you’re a balanced person,you probably won’t understand,but it is almost impossible for me to say no to a Dominant person when we’re in that mindset (which is not necessarily in a sexual way). I don’t think I’d like to spend the rest of my life involved in that kind of power play,I am too independent and rebellious for that. I would need a little of it to keep the sex interesting,though.

- I would be entirely happy to be the breadwinner of the family,and have my husband/wife/non-genderly-aligned partner stay at home and look after me &the animals. Conversely,I dream of owning a house and doing homey things like gardening,cooking,making furniture,and raising chickens. I also don’t want children,which would kind of defeat the purpose of having a stay-at-home partner.

- Previous two points aside,I am scared of getting into a long-term relationship again. I was in love with my last boyfriend,and thought I would spend the rest of my life with him. That didn’t end up happening,so if I feel like that again I will automatically distrust it,and I am worried this will affect my ability to commit. When I was fourteen,my form teacher told me she could picture me being a free spirit who travels around and has many different lovers until one day I meet The One and fall madly in love forever and ever. This may sound like a weird thing to tell a fourteen year old,but it was in response to me saying I wanted to be a hermit spinster who adopted lots of cats. In retrospect,I think she was completely right,and anxiety/depression took those essential characteristics away from me. Since the travelling &The One thing isn’t feasible at present,I am currently wondering what number constitutes ‘many’in regards to lovers.

- I have a weird little OCD tic thing. I’ve talked to a psychologist about it,and she doesn’t think it’s really much to worry about (yet.) It’s hard to say what it is unless it actually happens – things like needing to be ‘balanced’(if I chew one corner of my lip I have to chew the other) straightening things (sometimes I need to remind myself that what I am doing is Not Normal,otherwise I would straighten entire shelves of books in a bookstore) uncategorisable compulsive things (particularly to do with typing – can’t explain but it’s stuff like needing to type out whole words/sentences even if I’ve changed my mind about what I want to write and then need to delete it,sometimes I need to write random letters and then delete them.) I also have weird fixations with carpet and tile patterns,and change my walking stride to step on cracks or lines in the pavement with a certain part of my foot. This can mean I sometimes hop or skip along. I like patterns,rhythms,and orderliness,the latter of which is pretty funny since I am actually a very messy person. I have also become more and more freaked out by the thought of germs. I wash my hands a lot at home,and need to have clean feet before going to bed. I usually wash my feet as soon as I come home from somewhere,too. I carry hand-sanitiser around and sanitise my hands before and after eating (although I’d prefer to wash them) and after handling money or touching an EFTPOS keypad. I try not to think about people touching my food with their bare hands,as it grosses/freaks me out. All this aside,I am aware of how irrationally ridiculous these tics are,but as they don’t interfere (much) with day-to-day life,I am not bothered enough by them to put in the effort to recover from them completely. I need to keep a little of my madness.

- I have a fake Facebook account so I can play Castleville. I have 56 friends on there,all (save my mother) added purely because they play Castleville too.