Daily Archives: November 22, 2014

Feeling a bit better

The Wellbutrin kicks in fast. So does the Gabapentin. I’ve actually been productive for the past few days. Knitting a lot. Check out my knitting/craft blog. Knitted a lot today. Did some writing too, working on a memoir.

In quite a bit of pain. I hurt my good shoulder (left) and I have issues with my right (I fractured my humerus, shattered my shoulder and tore my rotator cuff just before 2012 and I’m waiting on surgery for my rotator cuff. It’s going to suck – 9 months of rehab. Ugh.

I’m feeling lonely. Supposed to go out tonight, but might not because a horse is sick. I was looking forward to it.

I really, really need to do laundry. I’ll take it to my parents tomorrow I suppose. Or just go down the street and pay for it. I have a lot to do. Ugh. I hate laundry.

Got my piportil shot yesterday. Went as per usual. My GP and I were talking about horses, and out of nowhere he asks me “Do you know what pony play is?” and I was like “Shit” to myself and said “Yea, its a fetish” and he said he had heard something about it on TV. I didn’t elaborate.

My moms in the US shopping for Christmas. Hopefully the weather is good. I miss talking to her a few times a day. It’s her birthday today. I got her a stuffed moose, some moose stationary, and knit her 2 hats and a matching scarf to one hat.

I had a massive panic attack last night. I had taken Tylenol 1′s for the pain, and I think the caffeine in it mixed with the Wellbutrin and Ritalin and made me super anxious. My roommate came home after I had chewed 2 clonazepam and taken my night meds to stop the attack. I went to bed early and slept well. Her talking to me calmed the attack down, but it was like, whoa, that came out of nowhere.

I need to go riding, but in all honesty, I’m getting bored with doing the same stuff over and over again. It sounds bad, I love Sully, but I can’t jump 4ft on him, the arena is too small to set up courses, so I’m just jumping 2-3 jumps. I haven’t been able to jump him this week and did flat work, which was pretty boring too. Maybe its just the mood episode? I do still love riding. I just want to do more.

The weather went from freezing and snowing to raining. Yesterday, I got stuck trying to get out of my parking space. It took a lot of rocking and hitting the accelerator to back up. I was in the easiest spot to get out of, too. I parked in the main lot for convenience.

Yea, I’m boring lately. I’ve been working on websites, and my own website. Knitting, which I’m a bit bored with too. I need to get out more. But I have very few friends, and I hate driving everywhere.

I think I’m just lazy.

I’m also losing weight again. Sigh.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder in the Movie ‘Tangled’: Mother Does Not Know Best

Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA:

Wow….This is so validating! Thank you, Invisible Scar, once again for a wonderful, healing post. To my wonderful Bloggie Readers, if you grew up (or think you might have) in a home with a Narcissist, I highly recommend The Invisible Scar blog. For me, it’s been highly validating. One of the common signs that we’ve been abused by a Narcissist is that we doubt our own actual experience of our lives, since the narcissist has their own story, which we are told over and over, ever since we were babies unable to talk. Since their story about us differs totally from our own experience, we learn to doubt our own reality to the point where we end up living in a permanent state of dissociation. And then, in my own life, my mother berates me for being “spaced out” all the time. And it seems that my “memory is going,” too, these days. I’d like my memory of HER to go, if the truth be known.

Originally posted on The Invisible Scar:

Editor’s Note: Upon reading this post, some readers may say, “Oh, ‘Tangled‘ is just a movie!” Indeed, “Tangled” is a movie, but not just one. Stories, whether in books or movies or television programs, teach us about ourselves, about what we value, about what we love, about what we hate. No “real-life Rapunzel” or “real-life Mother Gothel” may have existed, but for the myriad daughters with NPD mothers, the story itself is not too unlike their own stories.

* * *

Quick, name the cruelest Disney villain… Did you name Mother Gothel? As a parental figure with narcissistic personality disorder (NPD), Mother Gothel rates high on the list for her twisted, abusive and relentless treatment of her “adopted” daughter, Rapunzel.

I recently re-watched “Tangled” and took note of the destructive NPD characteristics demonstrated by Mother Gothel. (Spoilers abound from this point on.)

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Being a Parent with a mental illness

Kitt O'Malley:

Excellent post on being a parent with mental illness.

Originally posted on Youth Of A Nation:Bent not Broke:

mentally-parenting

Parenting is a difficult job and a juggling act no matter what. It requires balancing your own needs with those of your child. It involves managing your time, having adequate resources and supporting your child. For parents coping with a mental illness, these issues are amplified. When you’re living with any kind of chronic or severe illness, like mental illness, diabetes or cancer, there are times when your functioning will be compromised by that illness. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t have a healthy family. Here are some pointers to help you overcome common challenges.

Consistency is key for kids, but with the ebbs and flows of mental illness, this also can be compromised. Kids can feel lonely, become confused and blame themselves. The biggest challenge is stigma. Because our society tends to hold negative attitudes and beliefs about mental illness, it can be difficult to acknowledge that you’re struggling and to…

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Filed under: Mental Health

Mental Swirlies

I never actually got a swirly in school (mainly because I avoided the bathrooms) but understanding the concept of what one entails…I’ve come to think of my life as one never ending swirly. You live in fear of it, know it is inevitable on a daily basis, and no sooner than you recover, bam, another one comes your way.
Only instead of teenage bullies the culprit is a mood disorder, keeping you disoriented, intimidated, scared, and frustrated to the nth.

Yesterday I was blah. Not up, not down, not even in between. Living dead girl, going through the motions. Faking smiles and humor when really, I felt nothing. Nothing, seriously. I didn’t want to be home or at the shop. It was one of those days where about the only thing I did want was to be asleep because feeling nothing is worse than feeling an onslaught of emotions.
Least that reminds you that you’re alive. Gotta be to feel pain.
Walking around in a haze and daze…You feel dead.

Today was better. Overslept which threw things off kilter but I rallied and actually felt pretty good today. Bit more focused though I’m still shaky with ringing phones and people coming in and out the door. Business at the shop has picked up, which is good, but at the same time, triggers every anxiety response I have. I’m rolling with it but after trying to maintain the mood all day…By the time I got home, I had serious cramps and was just bitchy to the extreme. That’s what time in the petri dish does for me. Sucks the life out of me and makes me defensive, hostile, and a bit adversarial. Then a few minutes after getting back to my safe space, I forget what it was I was so bent about. Thank you, whacked out brain chemicals and hormones.

I did some serious thinking earlier (because even when surrounded by people and interacting, my mind still swirls like a funnel cloud) and I realized…The reason I am so bent by the lady shrink pushing the personality disorder thing…is because maybe I do have a plethora of disorders. The bottom line is, I am quite content with who I have become and who I am. Maybe my traits are dysfunction or maybe because I grew up the way I did, it’s just an imprint that makes me view things differently than others. Since my moods do not rely on outside triggers, I am still not at all convinced I am borderline. Facets, sure, I have facets from every damn disorder there is. I think most people do. Breathing is a personality disorder these days.
But when I push aside the doctors, counselors, and societal bullshit…
I like who I am now.
Mood stabilizers made sure I stopped throwing things at people’s heads, stopped the extreme manic episodes and extreme crying meltdowns, and I no longer hover between homelessness and thinking I am ten feet tall and bulletproof.
My daughter forced me to grow up and realize the world doesn’t revolve around me.
The bills get paid, we have food, and we get what we need.
So while my issues certainly contribute to my problem with relationships, I dispute, whole heartedly, that it outweighs the bipolar. And whatever disorders I do have, like the love/hate relationship pattern….It’s what my parents had and it is what I was imprinted with from an early age. No matter how much I don’t want to have that in my life, it’s what I know and what I keep recreating.
And even though each relationship fails, I feel like with each failure, I learn where I go wrong and what I can do to change the behaviors I learned. Unfortunately, until in a relationship to put them to practice, they’re just theories.
The fact that I recognize this, admit it, and desire to fix it…
My personality isn’t as dysfunctional as they want me to believe.
And I refuse to take the word of someone who spends an hour a year with me. That’s the total amount of time my shrink sees me over the year. That hardly makes them qualified, especially when they don’t read further back in the file than the doctor before them.

My biggest problem is spending way too much time trying to be what others think I should be or want me to be.
I’m not conformist or conventional and never was and don’t ever want to be.
I have my own beliefs, my own faith, and a method to my own madness.
The mood swings often make it hard to discern…But I am learning. Slowly. And firsthand is the only way to ever truly know anything about anything.

Until the doctors spend some time in my shoes, in my mind, dealing with what I deal with…They can stick to pushing their meds and leave my personality out of it.

I have evolved. I continue to evolve. I continue to fight. I keep trying. And seeing how some people only put a half hearted attempt into it, refusing to help themselves while bitching about not getting better…
I’d say I’m more functional than given credit for.

Even if I did forget to brush my hair today and went out wearing a pair of jeans with one butt cheek torn through and flashing.
I’ve evolved.
I’m still not a morning person.
I can handle being a hot mess, though.

I can use that heat to keep warm this winter.


Still Down

I am still down. I didn’t let it control me though. Though I did sleep a lot. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

I called my shrink and asked her to raise my dosage of Latuda. I didnt hear anything back today so hopefully I will know more by Monday. I think it has been long enough to decide to increase the dosage.

I went outside several times. I went and had lunch and went out shopping at  Target and went out to see the house. I walked around by myself in Target and felt something quite confident. Which doesn’t seem like much to the normal person but as someone with social anxiety it really feels like a huge step.

I really need to get some new glasses seeing better would be awesome.

I watched a bunch of maria bamford videos. I think she is my new role model.


1000 “Followers”

No Accounting for Taste

⇒ ⇒ ⇒

This is hilarious, really.

WordPress says I have 1000 followers now.

Which translates to about 60 people who might actually read my stuff once in a while.

The rest are folks who want me to come vacation in Bali, or help me make money (so kind), or want to improve my writing (excuse me?).  There are the followers who don’t speak English (at least they don’t blog in English), but I guess they might like to look at the pictures.  Then, there are the followers whose blogs use English words in ways the English language never envisioned.  Bless those random generators!  Or the really mysterious followers who don’t have a blog, or a profile, or can’t find their blog or their profile, or simply don’t exist at all.  These must be my Virtual Followers.

There are the real head-scratchers—followers who write only sports reviews or post gangsta photography, the right-wing Republicans and rabid religious, the mechanics and race car drivers (I guess they could be manic…).  I was particularly fond of the East African Gossip blog follower.  There’s nothing like inspiring folks who post misogynistic girl-hate.   And how is it that the fashionistas keep following me?  Do I exude an air of chic cool through my fingertips?  Awesome!

I love that writers and poets, folks with mental illness, folks in and out of my generation have found me.  I love that other artists like my stuff enough to want to see more.  I love that real people still keep finding me and sticking around to chat.  I love that some of them have become my friends.

Still, wouldn’t it be nice if WordPress gave us a button to trim out the followers who aren’t really followers?   But maybe I’m being hasty.  All those folks who want to grow my social media standing might just be my target audience.