Daily Archives: June 2, 2014

My Kingdom for an Index!

I finally figured out how to set up an index of poems, by category and title. Until now, unless it appeared in the "Recent Posts" or "Top Posts" lists, all you could do was select the category and then scroll your little heart out.

I’m Forest Gump Running

So I have been trying to keep super busy lately.

I’ve been keeping busy to stop thinking crappy about myself and my life.

I have decided to become a Girl Scout Volunteer. Last weekend was my first GS Camp, and I loved it. I was tired and hungry by the end of it, but the girls were so cute and volunteering really helped me think of other things.

Now I am running again. I am in NY to see my family, which is helping but my mother (and maybe my grandmother) have a mental illness so sometimes its hard also.

I am running from myself, my home, my illness, my responsibilities, my pending fate…

Whatever that may be…


Filed under: depressed, Ranting

Can I not be me for a while?

Can I be someone else? Not for good; just for a little while? I don't need to be anyone specific. Just not-me.

Fitness Update June 2, 2014

Here is last weeks fitness update: Maurice bought a book last week called “Secret Stairs: “A Walking Guide to the Historic Staircases of Los Angeles” During the early part of the last century Los Angeles built stairs all over the hilly sides of LA. These were put in place to give people easy access to […]

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This Is Not What I Want


Ah... just when I thought things were going fine around here today and were going to last through the night... My husband had to get all pissy and demand the blinds be open in half the room, turning this place into an oven. All I could do was turn on my fan and ask myself why he's being such a dick. Why ask why? To make me miserable, of course. He knew I'd hate the sun and the heat. Then maybe a few minutes later, he asks me what I'm doing, all nice sounding, then quickly slips in the question of whether I have any cigarettes. Of course I had to open my trap and ask why he had to be so snippy about the shades. His answer, which made no sense, of course was,"well, if you wanted them shut, you could have done it yourself." I was already up and looking for a cigarette in my purse when he said, "just forget it. I don't want it anymore." He mumbled something else, and I asked him to speak up, and he told me not to ask him for anything anymore, and that I'm no joy (or something to that effect) to be around. Thanks. Mature. Supportive. Well-chosen words! You should have used my good kitchen knife, I just sharpened it the other day. Or maybe I should use it on you? 

Now you see why I had sickening anxiety asking him for a ride to the shrink or drug store? He always throws that dagger straight at me, fucking with my head and heart the most. After I gave his sorry ass a bunch of quarters for laundry first thing this morning, because he's too irresponsible to get them himself. He has time during the day and on a Saturday. 

He knows what I'm going through, that I'm going through pms on top of it, yet he stabs away. Well, I didn't bleed, and for some odd reason, I didn't weep. Not a tear fell. This coming from someone who's been weepy at the drop of a hat for the past few days! Anger instead, but not the same kind of anger that was ranging on the seroquel scale running from stabby, to slashy, to murderous. It was just... what a thoughtless selfish dick he's been! Pulling this "asking him for anything" shit, which is alluding to "asking for a ride", rendering me immobile, a prisoner, to suffer again. 

He went out in a huff, got his cigarettes, thew a few bucks on my lap for the quarters I gave him for his damn laundry today. Rude. He had his smoke, came back in and realized Game of Thrones is on. After that, bed. 

Sleep. Won't have to deal with his rudeness. Just sleep and turn my back on it all, and be alone tomorrow. Maybe I'll attempt to go out. We'll see tomorrow. I'll try and get up and out early, though I know he has to leave super early tomorrow. I look forward to tomorrow, and hope it's better than this evening, which I'm sure it will be. I'm looking forward to sleep and dreams. It's no wonder I find myself in different dreamworlds where I am safe with someone else.

This Is Not What I Want


Ah... just when I thought things were going fine around here today and were going to last through the night... My husband had to get all pissy and demand the blinds be open in half the room, turning this place into an oven. All I could do was turn on my fan and ask myself why he's being such a dick. Why ask why? To make me miserable, of course. He knew I'd hate the sun and the heat. Then maybe a few minutes later, he asks me what I'm doing, all nice sounding, then quickly slips in the question of whether I have any cigarettes. Of course I had to open my trap and ask why he had to be so snippy about the shades. His answer, which made no sense, of course was,"well, if you wanted them shut, you could have done it yourself." I was already up and looking for a cigarette in my purse when he said, "just forget it. I don't want it anymore." He mumbled something else, and I asked him to speak up, and he told me not to ask him for anything anymore, and that I'm no joy (or something to that effect) to be around. Thanks. Mature. Supportive. Well-chosen words! You should have used my good kitchen knife, I just sharpened it the other day. Or maybe I should use it on you? 

Now you see why I had sickening anxiety asking him for a ride to the shrink or drug store? He always throws that dagger straight at me, fucking with my head and heart the most. After I gave his sorry ass a bunch of quarters for laundry first thing this morning, because he's too irresponsible to get them himself. He has time during the day and on a Saturday. 

He knows what I'm going through, that I'm going through pms on top of it, yet he stabs away. Well, I didn't bleed, and for some odd reason, I didn't weep. Not a tear fell. This coming from someone who's been weepy at the drop of a hat for the past few days! Anger instead, but not the same kind of anger that was ranging on the seroquel scale running from stabby, to slashy, to murderous. It was just... what a thoughtless selfish dick he's been! Pulling this "asking him for anything" shit, which is alluding to "asking for a ride", rendering me immobile, a prisoner, to suffer again. 

He went out in a huff, got his cigarettes, thew a few bucks on my lap for the quarters I gave him for his damn laundry today. Rude. He had his smoke, came back in and realized Game of Thrones is on. After that, bed. 

Sleep. Won't have to deal with his rudeness. Just sleep and turn my back on it all, and be alone tomorrow. Maybe I'll attempt to go out. We'll see tomorrow. I'll try and get up and out early, though I know he has to leave super early tomorrow. I look forward to tomorrow, and hope it's better than this evening, which I'm sure it will be. I'm looking forward to sleep and dreams. It's no wonder I find myself in different dreamworlds where I am safe with someone else.

Things I’m So Tired Of

I'm always surprised at the feeling when I lay this body down. In my head, I still feel 19, I feel 23, I feel 35. Where'd this extra decade sneak in?

Destressed

It was good to have a break from the mommy gig. I slept til 11 am. Although, I did wake at 7 am with the sun scorching my retinas and swat around cos I am so used to Uzi being in bed with. Then I thought, oh wow, did she really sleep all night in her own bed? THEN it hit me…She’s not here. I can go back to sleep. So my scorched retinas and I did.

I was cobweb brained when I woke, but after a few smokes and some pop, I woke up. Fixed chicken noodles for lunch. I’ve written 16 pages in my story. I haven’t done shit towards housework but I really don’t care much.

It’s been a good day. My mood’s been stable, anxiety minimal. I felt good. And even now, it seems to be holding. I think the split dose of Paxil may be doing its thing. I still want to ask her about adding something like Strattera. I’ve been forced by the system to do things in an underhanded way. Yes, I like the idea of a dual antidepressant, but what I like more is, it’s also an ADHD med so if insurance would approve it for depression…It’d totally be winner, winner, chicken dinner time. Like that’ll happen. Luck is a lady and she’s a vindictive bitch who keeps kicking my ass.

So now Bex and I are watching “Freddy’s Dead”, the spawn is asleep, the heat is dissipating…For the first time in awhile I feel at peace.

I know it won’t last because I get so bent over every little stressor but for now…

I’m just gonna go with it.


Toxic Nostalgia

So I’m back home trying to unwind. I broke up the trip home here and there but otherwise it was a long meandering (and somewhat nostalgic) ride through the Appalachians, and I’m now in fresh PJs with my overly lovey dovey cats watching Sex & the City DVDs… also somewhat nostalgic.

satc4

At one point during the weekend N asked me while we were watching Friends reruns and trying to rock the baby to sleep: “Remember we were absolutely certain that we were going to be 30 and fabulous, like Sex & the City fabulous?” Neither of us answered, just sort of pondered, because I think it hit a bit of a raw nerve in both of us. Though we both have good lives I, for one, certainly wouldn’t describe either of our situations as “fabulous” in the connotation that we both understood it.

satc 1

Since the drive home was so long I decided to download an audiobook, and settled on Brene Brown’s “Daring Greatly.” I now realize that 3 hours straight of intense self examination while trying to drive is perhaps not the best way to spend a journey – but I was somewhat transfixed, and even though I’m sure I zoned out over certain parts, some really stuck with me. One such part was when she was talking about making comparisons in regards to vulnerability and shame. Its obvious, at least when someone is telling you so through your car stereo, that we all compare ourselves to others, and how dangerous that can be if our self-worth is hinged to coming out on top. However, there was a second layer of comparison I never fully considered before – comparison to our former selves. Nostalgia.

I do it all the time, and it was amplified 1000 fold this weekend. Nostalgia can be dangerous on many levels, especially because we tend to subconsciously romanticize it. No times in our lives were perfect, but we tend to always think the grass is greener. “Remember when…” can be a tricky game to play with ourselves. And the inner dialogue that goes along with it can be positively brutal, even if we’re recalling what we see as happier times. I look back on my college days as mainly one big happy blur surrounded by hundreds of friends and millions of memories, when in fact I was probably just majorly manic since in retrospect my BPD was just then fully surfacing during those years. I made tons of bad decisions – but I’m convinced I was happier and care free, which leads to the inevitable “What is wrong with me that I don’t feel like that anymore/laugh like that/go on adventures/have friendships like that” – and the beginning of that, the “what’s wrong with me” is cultivating shame, not happy nostalgic memories. Its creating pain, all from comparing myself now to an overly dramatized and romanticized past life. Even the parts that were great and fun and happy all ended in some sort of spectacular mess anyways.

I never finished college because I was too busy running around “loving life” and slowly dissolving into a major untreated illness. NOT HEALTHY.

I went to DC to work in politics but all I ever did was waitress, and even though I love everything about the city and my time there was amazing, I eventually had to  leave abruptly due to developing a nasty cocaine habit. NOT HEALTHY.

My late 20s were spent running around with an abusive partner with no mental health care and ultimately ended up homeless halfway across the country after losing all my belongings. NOT HEALTHY.

In comparison – now isn’t that bad. But even by saying that I’m still making a comparison, aren’t I? This is going to be a tough pattern to break because it lies deep.

So hopefully I can spend the rest of my evening lazily watching Sex & the City without the “what happened?” or “what’s wrong?” and just try to see my life for what it is. Stop in the pursuit of happiness and just be happy.  Maybe even learn to be fabulous in my own way – once I get that ever elusive self worth and esteem built up. But holy hell, am I trying hard to get there.

satc5


Sweet Temptation

No, it’s not about the cinnamon rolls that are calling to me from the kitchen. I’m talking about what Dr. Awesomesauce said the other day about cutting down on one of my meds.

As uncomfortable as I was with the idea two days ago, I am soooo tempted to start now instead of in a few weeks and cut the dose in half, rather than by a quarter. Not just because it’s a pain in the ass to cut small round pills into fourths, but because I want to prove to him, and especially to myself, that I can stay well on less medication. When I talked about this on Friday, I didn’t want to fix what’s not broken, but then I got to thinking that my brain surely won’t miss 2.5 mg of Zyprexa. I’m on only 5 mg as it is. And it’s not like I’m supposed to go completely off of it anytime soon; he wants me only to taper it by 1.25 mg and then we’ll see about the rest in a few months.

I hate it when those little seeds get planted in my head, because they’re apt to take root and start growing before they’re supposed to. Dr. A made it clear that he doesn’t expect me to even attempt the dose reduction for another four to six weeks; yet while manic season is fast approaching and I’m taking a chance by cutting back at all, I’m impatient and I want to start TONIGHT. I’ve been in remission for over two months, and while I want to stay that way, I don’t see how cutting the Zyprexa in half would be disastrous. Besides, even if I were to get a touch hypomanic, it could easily be controlled by going back to the original dose.

And right now, I could use some of that energy. Job-hunting is a drag and I need a smidgen of “oomph” to get through the rounds of applications and interviews. Being a little hypo was quite beneficial when I first applied for the State job—it gave me just enough of a boost that I OWNED that interview. It would also be nice to lose some of my appetite and shed a few pounds; I haven’t put on a lot of weight since I’ve been on the Vitamin Z, but it’s enough that I’d feel better without those pounds.

But then…..there’s that bit about playing with fire that Dr. A mentioned, and I’ve got to admit I’m fearful of getting burned. I’m also pretty sure he knows a lot more about tweaking medications than I do, and that he advised me to start (very) small and go slowly for a good reason. I remember all too well the last time I got too big for my britches and tried cutting my Geodon dose in half, and I don’t want a repeat of that unlovely experience.

So I’ll do my best to resist the temptation to reduce too much, too soon, because I know what I really want and it’s apt to blow up in my face. Maybe it’s a bad sign that I’m even THINKING about doing it…..but I won’t. Not yet. I think.