Keira-anne.com

Who hasn’t played around with PhotoBooth for Mac at least once? I’ve had a fun-filled day with some great friends, and that included a little bit of PhotoBooth to entertain and delight. Here are a few snaps for your viewing pleasure…

Check out my Flickr page for many more photos that we took throughout the day. Ange, Emily, Jayma, Phil, Mel and I went to Wings for dinner and then spent the evening joking and talking around my pool while dipping our toes in. Friends that you can be yourself with are one of the most beautiful blessings that life brings.

But it is almost time for Halloween. Okay, not the holiday, per se, but the remake of the 1978 John Carpenter flick of the same name. Now, the idea of someone remaking a movie by John Carpenter certainly had me a little apprehensive. We are talking about the same director that made my favourite movie of all time, Big Trouble In Little China. However, when it was revealed to me that the 2007 venture was being helmed by my favourite kingpin of terror, Rob Zombie, I was thrilled.

For those of you that are familiar with Zombie’s work, you’ll know that he directed both House of 1000 Corpses (a favourite of my aunt’s) and my favourite horror movie of all time, The Devil’s Rejects. Zombie has an eye for direction that I believe is very unique in comparison with other directors. There’s something terribly fresh and exciting about it. In reference to the latter of his two film-making endeavors, by the end of the movie, most viewers find themselves actually sympathizing with the so-called “bad guys” and not the victims. Though, I suppose that’s where the beauty in that film lies…the line between the antagonists and protagonists is completely unclear.

That said, the lovely and luscious Sheri Moon Zombie (with whom I plan on one day engaging in a panty-clad pillow fight and videotaping it for the masses) is also starring in her husband’s remake of Halloween. Two more brownie points.

And, just when I thought this couldn’t get any better, I was even more excited to find out that the role of Dr. Loomis will be filled by none other than the incomparable Malcolm McDowell. This doesn’t need any further explanation. Well, except to say that I’d give my right arm to be a 20-year-old woman in 1972. Now I really needn’t say more.

Curious for a taste? Here’s the teaser trailer…

Halloween hits theatres on August 31, 2007.

In other, more depressing news, today I wore a strapless dress for the first time this year. With it, I wore a strapless bra. Both items were purchased within the last three to four months. I found myself hiking both up all day. I miss my “girls.” Well, sort of.

P.S. Let me know what you think of the external linking I did. Is it useful? Irritating? Did you even bother? It’s just something I wanted to try out.

I am wealthy - incredibly wealthy. In fact, were you to possess the world’s largest calculator, you’d still not have the ability to measure or even guesstimate at the extent of my wealth. It’s immeasurable and irreplaceable. No genius-level mathematician nor any abacus whiz has the slightest chance of appraising my fortune. For my fortune cannot be listed on a bank statement nor fanned out in the cash I pull from my wallet. I am rich of heart.

By that, I simply mean that my heart, my spirit, my soul is gilded with boundless joy, experience, wisdom, heartache, heartbreak, love and truth. It is a simple truth - one that is all too often over-looked and completely forgotten.

In the wee hours of this morning as Rod, Matt and I sat around talking and sipping tea as we usually do, Rod’s cell phone rang. Rod’s father, Ray, who had long been battling aggresive lung cancer, succumbed to his affliction just minutes earlier. Despite the inevitability that we all knew Ray’s death would be, the words still filled our ears with shock and our eyes with tears. As we all embraced and loved each other, it was in those moments that the unyielding reality of life came crashing down around us.

To say that experiencing the death of a loved one, whether direct or indirect, causes you to consider what really matters to you is one of the oldest, yet truest, clichés. However, I believe that it is imperative that the course of life brings us such disheartening experiences because it is those experiences that keep us grounded. It connects us with our pasts and reminds us of what is truly important while molding us into the men and women that we are this very day. It reminds us of what is temporary and fleeting in comparison with the abstract that enriches our lives.

I have a ridiculously large catalogue of things in my life to be grateful for, both tangible and not. But what I am most grateful and most thankful for are my loving, adoring and supportive family (being my mom, my aunt and my brother), my beautiful extended family (being the Joneses, the Hunchucks and the Goods), and the countless dazzling and exquisite friends that I have accumulated over my 26 years. To sit here and list you all would take much more time than I have at 11:00 p.m. on a Sunday night.

Were I to say anything to any of you, and were there to be one thing that I wish for you to know deep down in your souls, it is this: You are loved. You are loved so deeply and so wholly and so completely. Your hearts are my heart and that is a true treasure.

Today is the fourth day since my night of intense revelation. I have to say that Friday was by far the hardest, as everything slowly started to sink in just as a sponge absorbs water, bit by bit until it’s all consumed.

One thing that I will say is that, despite the heaviness that comes with recognizing that one has a personality disorder, to recognize myself as such is also incredibly freeing. At this point I have no answers and no solutions. All I have is concrete reasoning for the way that I am today. So though the road ahead of me is most likely long and labourious, I take the first steps with a smile and a joyful heart. I know that this road will only lead somewhere really, really great.

I have had an overwhelming outpouring of love, support, care and concern from those around me. It has come from obvious sources and obscure sources. From a chat until the wee hours of the morning with Dianne and Lauren to phone calls with Jane and Rebecca and even a sunny afternoon walk and talk with Matty, everyone seems to think that nothing but positivity will come out of this. So to all of you who have taken the time to talk, think, listen, share and care, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I truly had no idea that I would be surrounded by so much goodness. I have so much love for you all in my heart.

From here, I just ask that you cross your fingers. I have urgently petitioned with my employer to amend the perametres of our health benefits and coverage so that it may be inclusive of Registered Clinical Counsellors. Unfortunately, without the coverage, I can only afford maybe a handful of sessions, but even that looks doubtful. However, I did manage to pick up a new book today by renowned psychologist and author, Susan Anderson. Ms. Anderson deals specifically with those that have suffered great loss and, in turn, deal with the turmoil and trauma of the Fear of Abandonment. She is also the one that coined the term “abandoholic” as seen in my last post. Her book, Journey From Abandonment to Healing, should hopefully begin to point me in the right directions so that I, too, can find healing in my heart.

Thanks again, everybody.
Much love.

The Abandonment Recovery website defines an abandoholic as:

“one who has a tendency to become attracted or attached to unavailable people. Abandonment survivors are often caught up in this painful pattern. Instead of being addicted to a substance, abandoholics are addicted to the emotional drama that accompanies heartbreak.”

Abandoholism is a new concept, and the definition sounds rather masochistic, but it’s entirely accurate. Much like a physical addiction, such as alcohol abuse, abandoholism causes the body to rely on certain chemicals and the flow of stress hormones to sustain.

Also, much like a substance addiction, when one chooses to change their current path of self-abuse, an admission is always the first step.

I am an abandoholic. I suffer from what’s known as Fear of Abandonment.

Last night, my mother and I shared at great lengths with each other some very real truths about who I am at my core and how certain events in my life have shaped the person that sits here writing at this computer today at 26. I’m frightened and scared and completely overwhelmed. It almost feels as though I have to re-learn who Keira is. In fact, I have even gone so far as to delete my MSN picture because I can’t even bear to look at my own face. I don’t know who I see anymore.

I have long held the belief that, though my Opa (who was very much my best friend) died when I was 15 and my own father died two years later when I was 17, I have always been a person of fortitude in regards to dealing with fall-out. I have taken pride in the fact that I have “dealt with it” and am totally fine discussing those past events, as well as answering questions that any may have. This is not the case.

In the years since my father’s death, a pattern has most certainly emerged in my life and I can no longer deny it. My fear of abandonment has since caused me to reach out to a few men in my life that were, to me, unattainable. They were a challenge and I thrived off of it. People have told me countless times that I choose unavailable men and I was always slightly offended at the notion. Perhaps there was some truth in what they said, but I certainly wasn’t ignorant enough to deliberately do so.

When attracted to someone (whether romantically or platonically), abandoholism arouses in the sufferer a fear of losing this person, which in turn triggers a landslide.

Because these patterns were cast in past experiences, current situations cause the ramifications to manifest. As a teenager, two key sources of my approval and self-worth vanished in the blink of an eye. Chemical connections allowed this to internalize, turning it around and making it about me.

“What did I do wrong?”
“How was I unlovable?”
“What could I have done differently to make him stay? To make him change?”

The scariest thing about this is that rather than the fear of abandonment dissolving over time, it unfortunately only tends to gain intensity. This is revealed through insecurities, and each rejection only encourages that insecurity to grow. From here, the drive of abandoholism causes the afflicted to berate, compare and belittle themselves in comparison to any others. This is, undoubtedly, where my seemingly unending doubts of self-worth or image are being revealed.

Is it any wonder I am constantly questioning whether or not I’m good enough or attractive enough or smart enough or loving enough?

What I am experiencing is of vital importance. I have ultimately concluded that this is something that needs to be fixed. I don’t need a Band-Aid solution or sugary-sweet coating on any of this. I think that, were I to continue living my life under such a pattern, things will only continue to get worse. I will continue to live a life of destruction rather than one of exhortation. I truly think that seeking a professional counsellor is the only concrete solution.

I want things to change. I want to be healthy. I want to make smart choices. I want to be of sound mind.

I have wonderful and amazing people in my life right now, and I want to have spirited and strong relationships with all of them. I know that, deep down, the people in my life today that I love, I love completely and I love them true. I need to find some balance. I don’t want my irrational fears of that person abandoning or leaving me to interfere with the connections that should be made and solidified.

The readership of my blog may not be in the double digits, but it is most certainly loyal. There are few things in life between people that are more important than honesty. Though come to think of it, there really isn’t anything in life that is more important between two people. Admitting all of this and laying my cards out on the table is the first therapeutic step I can take. To those of you that took the time to read this, I thank you.

It’s true. I really am accumulating a delicious tan. This was on Saturday, mind you, so it’s even more luscious today.