"Thanks to all of you for listening, and we hope you have a story-worthy week...", Dan Kennedy's voice continues, giving credit to the producers, PRX and the like.
I'm in the kitchen, listening to The Moth's non-fiction storytelling podcast as I do the dishes.
Dan's words, "... and we hope you have a story-worthy week...", has an odd effect on me.
I want to smash the Royal Albert teacup I'm holding and just SCREAM.
I want to yell, "Dan, I ran away from home this week because of invading lesbians! Dan, when I see French-polished fake fingernails I remember shooting porn in an apartment on Collins Street; the flashguns attracting the attention of office workers across the road! Dan, did you know when a body is released from the Coroner, sometimes they still need to keep the brain? It's not firm enough to slice into for an autopsy in the usual state so they need to pickle it, which takes a few weeks."
Story-worthy week? Story-worthy, and possibly somewhat accursed life.
It's around 5am, Tuesday morning. My buddy Oliver is sitting on my bed, helping me do a breathing exercise. Words coming out of my mouth like a busted record, "Can't...can't...can't...can't...can't... help...help...help...please...please..." I'd woken up screaming several times that night.
For the last week I'd been trying to get a new GP - the old one was fine for vaccinations, pap smears and colds. Terrible for mental health issues. Very anxiety causing, so I'd been taking Valium every day whilst I searched for a new one. Taking Valium every day not only very 60's-70's-80's, it's also very bad for you.
Around this time, The Boyfriend lets a young nineteen-year-old colleague stay with us for a couple of days, because she was being stalked. Plus, she also has an abusive forty-one-year-old girlfriend with whom she is extremely co-dependant.
Those couple of days turned into many days, every inch turning into a mile. The colleague's abusive girlfriend then comes and stays without permission, for one night, then two. More of their stuff was being moved into our house. This was very bad. And I was freaking the hell out.
So I ran away from home at stupid-o'clock in the morning with Oliver, whilst The Boyfriend had the nasty task of evicting the colleague/freeloader and her girlfriend from our house that night, after he came home from work.
I checked myself into a hotel room, hating myself for being broken, for not being strong enough to help with the whole, "Get out of our house you sociopathic bitches," thing which was The Boyfriend's task.
The Boyfriend is gentle, kind, strong and sweet, not unlike the treasured Mr JLB Matekoni from Alexander McCall Smith's 'No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency' series. I am a far, far nastier person than The Boyfriend.
I was also scared, because I had an appointment with a GP the next day and I was terrified that she would not be The One and the painful search would continue.
Looking for a new doctor isn't great under any circumstance, but looking for a new doctor whilst being a mental wreck is really, really difficult. I'd been to two already - the first guy gave me the creeps and the second guy just wasn't interested. It was like a shite version of OKCupid and Craigslist combined, but with my mind at stake.
And then the crazy Sapphic duo invade our home?
Seriously, you cannot make this stuff up. Sometimes I look at the sky, and wonder what character I am in this f**ked up script. What plot device comes next? What challenge will the protagonist face to move the story along?
So yeah Dan-from-The-Moth, I've had a 'story-worthy' week.
My whole life is a story no publisher would accept - they'd say it was too far-fetched, too unreal.
Death. Pornography. Honesty. Integrity. Madness. Dysfunctionality.
I live in interesting times. I have story-worthy weeks.
F**k you, fate, life and all the laughing deities. I will prevail (in a somewhat bitter fashion).
The freeloaders have been successfully thrown out. I have a new, better GP who will actually co-operate with my psychologist. I live in hope, but am curious about what the next 'plot device' is going to be.