R.K. Belford's Blog, page 6

Was, Not Was

Reality is both subjective and fluid to a person with bipolar disorder. I’ve touched upon my issues with delusion in previous posts. It’s a difficult thing to explain to someone who is not mentally ill, that there is nuance with delusion and psychosis. I think people can wrap their heads around crazy; they can picture the person who hears voices, who sees things and who is detached from reality. What is trickier to understand is that this same person might appear normal. That they might funct...

The Girl That Wasn’t There

Around the age of 6, I developed the delusion that I was invisible. Not all the time, of course, but it seemed to be a condition that would come and go, with increasing frequency. It started in little bits. Outgoing and chatty around close family and friends, I had always beensilent and cautiously observant with new people — not so unusual for a young child. But reaching school age set in course a series of events that fundamentally changed how I viewed the world.

Abuse in daycare taught me to...

A Card Would Be Fine

For my 16th birthday, my father told me he had cancer.

It wasn’t until several years later that I found out it wasn’t true. He hadn’t started out with the intention to lie to my brother and I, but as usual, things got away on him. He’d gotten pretty far behind with his child support payments and to get my mother off his back, he told her he was dying. I think she initially met this claim with skepticism(I’m not sure of the circumstances, but he apparently had used this tactic once before when...

Birthday Book-apalooza

It’s my birthday! And it’s Good Friday! So I’m taking the day off with my dudes to head to Montreal to be tourists. But I’ve decided to invite you to share in my celebration by gifting you with something you didn’t even know you wanted: Free books!

From today until I go to bed on Monday night* you can download either of my e-books at the links below. (After that, you’ll just have to go back to buying them at their regular cheapo prices!)

Cracked: A Novella

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/crac...

This is My Story, Not My History

There is a huge difference between a memoir and a biography. It’s not that I don’t care if my recollections are accurate — I do. But a memoir isn’t about facts. It’s about impressions and personal experience. I can understand why biographies appeal to historians and genealogists: their focus is on dates and where a person fits into history. Memoirs just serve a different purpose. Memoirs are about storytelling.

When I write about my personal experiences, I do so honestly and earnestly, but wit...

Lies and Magical Thinking

It’s a common stereotype that young girls idolize their fathers and build them up to epic proportions. My young mind certainly did build a mythos surrounding my dad, and in the early years it was largely positive. My mother was superbly effective at keeping us in the dark to any conflict between her and my father – she didn’t speak ill of him around us and picked up the pieces when he broke promises or cancelled plans. So for a time, it was easier to focus on the good things, even as the bad...

10 Reasons You Won’t Date Me

(aka Why I Won’t Date You Either)

As I read profiles on OkCupid, there are certain words and phrases that are an automatic turn-off for me. I mean, beyond the expletives and crass references to what you want to do to various parts of my anatomy. Some of them seem fairly innocuous, but for me they’re pretty triggering.

1. “No drama”

I’m going to go ahead and assume what you mean is you don’t want me to argue with you. Ever. Don’t challenge you. Don’t get emotional. Basically have no feelings of a...

The Heart is a Leaky Boat

The old adage of“what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is a lie. It’s one of those things that people tell you in the midst of suffering in the hopes that it propels you to the other side. Pain and suffering leave lasting changes, many of them negative. The ‘strength’ that people point to is perhaps more aptly labelled perseverance. But trauma also leaves you with weaknesses in your armour; cracks and soft spots that are prone to rupture at the slightest prodding.

I discoveredearly on as a...

Cigarette Burns and Paper-Clip Chains

The oldest purely good memory that I have of my father is of a summer day when I was about five or so. It was just he and I, as it was for a few years until my brother got older. He had taken me out that day to some sort of city fair where we then stopped and got cotton candy from a vendor. The sun was shining so bright I remember having to squint my eyes, and I don’t remember much beyond his hand holding mine and the corner of the cotton candy cart. But then we got our picture taken together...

Cigarette Burns and Paper Chains

The oldest purely good memory that I have of my father is of a summer day when I was about five or so. It was just he and I, as it was for a few years until my brother got older. He had taken me out that day to some sort of city fair where we then stopped and got cotton candy from a vendor. The sun was shining so bright I remember having to squint my eyes, and I don’t remember much beyond his hand holding mine and the corner of the cotton candy cart. But then we got our picture taken together...