Daily Archives: May 24, 2013

Fun Friday: Tug Toner

A bit racy, but fun:

On the Benefits of Being the Black Sheep

Baah baby, baah. Except not in the herd sense!

Baah baby, baah. Except not in the herd sense!

My entire life, I have been the black sheep in pretty much every aspect of my life. I’m the only child from my mother’s first marriage (I’ve three siblings by her second husband). We moved all  the freaking time, so I was almost always the new girl. When you’re always on the outside, two options crop up — do you try harder to fit in with the flock or do you go your own way?

I, naturally, chose to go my own way. I accepted the gift of my stubbornness (a la ‘A Wrinkle in Time‘ — ‘Meg, I give you your faults), and dedicated myself to being my own person. That isn’t to say that I don’t care what people think of me — indeed, I desire to be liked as much as anyone else. I just realized early on that there was no point in sacrificing individuality to ‘fit in’. I wasn’t going to fit in anyways, so why waste my time? I’ll always try to live by the Golden Rule and treat people as I wish to be treated though, ’cause that’s good karma!

Mind you, it’s not easy breezy in the slightest. Even being an introvert who delights in her own company, it can get very lonely and isolating. Because I am unapologetically myself and confident in that, I’ve had a lot of people try to tear me down just to feel better about themselves. Folks get intimidated and don’t want to talk to me, or think that I’m not interested in them because I almost never have the spoons to reach out on the random. Or my ‘favourite’ — growing up, friends and family acted as if my feelings were invalid. I find it exceedingly difficult to lie about how I’m feeling, so pleasantries and I don’t get along — I hate the phrase ‘How are you?’ for the lack of actual meaning it has, and the soundbyte most people want in response as conversation filler. I also had some pretty severe stunting in being able to express my emotions, and couldn’t manage more than a vague ‘eh’ until I was into my 20s.

So, I guess, it’s like pretty much everything else in my life — I am doing what I can to make the best of whatever comes my way. It’s not always possible, but there’s still learning and thinking and contemplation to be had no matter what the situation. I don’t subscribe to regret for that reason; everything that happens can serve as a lesson if I put my mind to it, good and bad.

Anyhoos, I hope everyone is having a good day, and a pleasant weekend to look forward to.

<3

The post On the Benefits of Being the Black Sheep appeared first on The Scarlet B.

Weekly Photo Challenge; Escape

Tagged: Daily Post, escape, Lizzie Cracked, photo challenge, Photograph, photography, postaweek, running with scissors, WordPress

Quills

It was neither a good or bad day. It just…was. Another cog in the wheel of life’s daily grind.

I took my kid to the doctor, the new doc is young and very cool, I liked her. Spook has a dual ear infection, so now she is on anti biotics. Once I dropped her off at my mom’s and had to head to the shop…

My mood entered a wary gray space.

I call it “porcupine” mode. Because I know I am so tense that I send off vibes warning people not to get in my way. Like a porcupine with its quills standing on end.

Only my quills are meant for self protection. Against that which might push my mood out of the gray space into a darker space that I do not like. I was monosyllabic, humorless, and pretty much in my own little quill protected world. I cannot explain it but sometimes, I get in this precarious space where one more insult against my psyche just might be the one to send me spiraling into the abyss. Thus my armor goes on and the dangerous pointy quills come out. It’s not even conscious. It just is.

But being in the gray space, fully protected, made me less quick to become angered or annoyed with R’s “me, me, me” bit. I mean, he didn’t even ask how Spook was doing after her appointment. That’s more like a boss who is uninterested than a friend who cares. But I said nothing. Because it does no good. Because eventually, the anger is going to boil over and I will froth at the mouth with a tirade of complaints and statement of facts he doesn’t want to hear. I hate bottling shit up. But when someone is so oblivious they corner me into that sort of action…Then when I do blow up, as far as I am concerned, they deserve it. Put on the big girl/boy underpants and deal with the problem at the time. Putting it off only makes me angrier.

Neuroses? Perhaps.

But then, I am a walking book of neuroses.

Example: I saw something on line today this guy posted about “my psycho bipolar ex girlfriend.”

And I literally cringed. Because so many people do equate being bipolar with being psycho.

I am not psycho. I have my moments, I think everyone does, but if anything…Part of my ongoing torment is that I DO see myself for what I am and I DO feel bad and I DO want to do better, be better. My life would be so much easier if I could just live in denial and never take a look at myself and be self aware.

Also part of my torment is that knowing how much I have changed, I desperately want to see the people around me make changes. Because they’re the ones who told me I needed to change. Seeing that none of them ever do or even care to, it makes me angry. Which makes me obsess on their flaws. I have to pick out every single flaw and focus on it. Because now everyone tells me their only problem with me is my mood swings…And being judged for something I cannot change makes me a bitter vindictive bitch. They view being bipolar as a choice. Like you do it to torture them mentally. They never once look at the flip side and wonder how mentally exhausting and destructive it must be to live your life as a bipolar person.

I went 20 hours without a dose of Xanax. Then the paranoid “someone is watching me” thoughts began to creep up like a ninja…So I knew it was time. One pill and no more crazy anxiety. I don’t know how it works for me that way but it does and I’m not arguing with it.

More neurosis…R’s wife called me earlier but I couldn’t dig my phone out of my purse in time to answer. So I called her right back and got no answer. She hasn’t called back so now I am torturing myself over what she could want. She’s a loose cannon. I told R I fear her more than his ex-wife, who is a child abusing borderline personality crazy bitch…But that’s all in your face, none of it is hidden or held back. I can deal with something I see coming. This current wife of his…My first impression of her was that she was a two faced elitist snob, and while I may be wrong (he swears she “really” likes me) my gut is telling me not to let my guard down for an instant. I mean, she got jealous one night because R and I were laughing so hard over some customer story and she felt left out. Loose cannon…Maybe powder keg. Or she wanted to invite Spook over for a playdate with their granddaughter tomorrow night.

I don’t know. It’s gonna keep me awake though. I’ve taken 25 mg Trazadone three straight nights, I don’t think I want to take it tonight. Sure, it gets me to sleep faster, keeps me asleep longer…The trade off is I don’t get the cobwebs off my brain until afternoon. I really don’t like that trade off.

Even as I write this, I am tense and wary. Quills are sticking out, ready to stab anyone who gets near me. I don’t know why I feel this way. It’s no logical or rational.

But my gut is telling me to keep the paranoid wariness up and the quills protruding.

Last time I ignored my gut, well, the Donor happened.

So paranoid and irrational or not…I’m going with my gut this time and just hoping it’s nothing.

Now it’s after ten pm and crazy scumbag brain is itching to get into the bedroom. It seems to be the only place I feel safe at night once I put my kid to bed. I can’t explain that either, but it permeates every fiber of my being, every cell of my brain. I feel imprisoned by it, but thus far, I have escaped it only by drinking and I have decided it not only doesn’t help my depression, it doesn’t help me feel better. My kid deserves  better than a mom too weak to deal with things without being pickled in booze. Drinking should be a choice, it should not be the status quo to survive. It’s going to be a battle, because Damiana, the neighborgirl, is on my last nerve and I have found a couple of drinks make her tolerable but I can’t live that way, I won’t live that way.

R says I’m giving up drinking to feel superior to him.

Truth is, I already feel superior to him simply because I recognized the drinking as a problem and wasn’t afraid to face it and work toward changing it.

Maybe I am wrong to feel that way, we all come around in our own time…But after all his “rise above it” speeches…I have started to look down on him for being so oblivious and immovable when it comes to his own issues.

Above all else, I despise hypocrisy. And it takes some major self delusion to put someone down for something you yourself are absolved from by your own denial and logic. I will never NOT have a problem with that.

It may be my downfall, it may mean spending my life alone, but I am surprisingly okay with that.

Besides, my personality disorders have never been the issue that kills my relationships. It’s always the mood swings no one can live with and sorry, but that’s not going to go away magically.

I’m a realist with just enough of a dreamer left inside to think maybe just maybe there is a guy out there strong enough and smart enough to recognize the quills are for self protection and the mood swings are a legitimate disorder.

Monkeys could fly out of my butt before that happens, but…It’s nice to have hope. Even if inevitably the world stomps on it, pisses on it, and laughs in your face.