Daily Archives: December 31, 2015

Answer Me! A Hypothetical Just For Fun

I’ve posed this hypothetical to a few people and expected to get the same answer every time, but I didn’t:

You’re washing your face in your bathroom and you have your eyes scrunched closed so you can’t see anything, including light. When you open your eyes, everything is unexpectedly completely dark. Your reaction is:

A. Damnit, the power went out!

B. Shit! I’ve gone blind!

I have a theory (actually, like a theory and a half) about which answer means what, but really, this was just a weird question I came up with ‘n I’m kinda curious to see how people respond. Don’t think too hard about it. Tell me in the comments! Followup next post!

-LB

P.S. Have a safe and happy New Year’s Eve! See all you lovelies next year! <3

Tagged: Answer Me!, blind, dark, electricity, hypochondria, hypothetical, light, New Year’s Eve, paranoia, poll, power, question

A Year of Healing

My version of New Year's resolutions is One Word.  I choose one word to direct my coming year.  It's a from-the-gut choice.  I toss and turn it over in my head and heart for days or weeks, working with God to choose what I need for that year.  I've been doing it for a few years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how my year looks in retrospect wrapped in that word.

My word for 2015 was HEAL.  I went into the year not knowing how that would play out.  In most cases, I just tucked that word away in my heart and went about my life.  But once in a while something would happen and I'd notice it.  I'd notice it was an element of healing.  I was healing.

I just went back and re-read my post from the beginning of the year, when I chose this word.  I read through the list.  And I noticed things, areas of healing that had happened, that I hadn't noticed before.  I'm so grateful for that.

But, truly, the biggest change has been my body.

I've got health issues.  Nothing major, just enough to keep me from being and doing what I want.  Enough to force me to see other ways of being.  Others ways to be of value.

I started the year off very unhappy with my body.  With its size and shape.  With its open rebellion against me.  With its struggle to control me, to make me submit to its whims.  Honestly, I was frustrated that I even had to have a body, because I felt it limited me in so many ways.

But things changed.

I don't remember exactly how or when it happened.  It might have started last year.  In fact, I think it did.  Last November I decided I wanted to add some color to my hair.  Not regular color.  Purple.  And early in December, I did.  I got about six inches of the bottom of my hair bleached and dyed bright purple.  Much brighter than I'd anticipated.  And more inches than I'd planned.  (Due to my own miscommunication with my fabulous hairdresser.)  All of a sudden my hair was troll doll purple.  My Little Pony purple.  No longer subtle at all!

I'd spent years hiding in plain sight.  Trying to be subtly present in the room.  Mostly because I was very unhappy with the weight I'd gained and the way I looked.  I felt miserable and it showed.

I loved having bright hair!  It gave me such a lift.  But I wasn't prepared for how others would react to it.  Suddenly, when I walked into a room, there was no question people would be looking at me.  It often made me uncomfortable.  But I have always tried to stand behind my decisions, even if they don't seem to make any sense to anyone else.  I've tried to live by the principle that I shouldn't make any decision, take any action, that I wouldn't be okay if it were exposed to the world.  Stand behind my choices - that's me!

So I decided to embrace it.  I decided to embrace me.  I shared photos of my hair on Facebook.  It was fun seeing how it faded and sharing that, too.  But I hated pictures of my face, so it was tricky to share my hair unless I had someone else take pictures from behind.  I have lots of picture of the back and sides of my hair, with my head leaning so that my hair fell mostly in front of my face.  Because I didn't like my fat face.

Again, I don't know the exact day it happened, but I decided to stop hiding from pictures.  I decided to allow pictures of myself, even some I didn't like, to be seen.  I decided the picture was just a moment.  Even if I didn't like how I looked in that moment, I liked who I was.  And I wanted to remember that moment and have evidence of my presence.

And in the midst of this, there were other changes happening.  I was healing in other ways.  Invisible, inside ways.

In February I heard the words that changed me forever.  In February I found the key that turned off the self-harm switch inside me.  I February I gave up self-harm for good.  Something I knew I was supposed to heal, needed to heal, but didn't want to heal.  I trusted.  I was healed.

This year I came to a healthier relationship with my dad.  I found my footing.  Mostly through taking care of my mom together, he and I have found a new respect for each other.  A new gratitude for each other.  Healing

I've come to a much healthier place with my mom as well.  As she's changing, as her world is changing, I'm finding my footing there as well.  It's been a tough slog.  It's going to get tougher still.  But I understand and accept it better now.  And that helps.  I feel less burdened and more compassionate.  And I feel love toward her.  The kind of love that's been missing for a while.  A healing love.  I'm grateful for that.

But the most noticeable healing I've experienced has been physical.  At the beginning of the year, I was a slug.  I could move and get things done, but everything exhausted me.  Everything was a huge burden.  I'd do what needed to be done and head straight back to bed.  I was so tired and miserable and uncomfortable in my own body.

Again, I don't remember exactly when it happened.  But I know it started before my physical.  As I was approaching my physical, I was evaluating things and had decided I wanted to get off one of the medications I was on.  And, dang it, I wanted to talk to my doctor about losing weight.  My body wanted to move.

Now that I think about it, I think that was how it started.  My body ached.  I lay in my bed aching, and I knew it was because my body wanted to move.  And my brain wanted my body to move.  But I was so exhausted.  Completely depleted.  I had nothing more to push my body with.  Gravity was pulling so hard.

But I wanted to move.

So at my physical, I talked to my doctor.  We made a couple of medication changes.  And I made a plan.  Eat better.  Move.  That was the gist of it.  And that's what I did.  I changed how and what I ate.  And I started walking.

Since then I've walked three 5ks; I ran a little in the last one.  I've injured myself (plantar fasciitis and shin splints), because I pushed too hard too fast.  (Hopefully, I've learned something and will do better now.)  I added bodyweight exercises.  I did some yoga.  I've done some Just Dance.  A little of this, a little of that.  I shared it all on Facebook, to keep myself accountable.  Exercise is now something that's a part of my life.  Part of who I am.  Part of who I want to be.  I want to be a runner!

And, let me just tell you, those are words I never thought I'd say.  I had no intention of running.  I started out walking.  I walked and walked.  Miles and miles.  (Which in and of itself was amazing to me and everyone around me.)  It was in my last 5k, the one where I pushed my body too far and it rebelled.  The one where I ran some.

Hurting.  Crying.  My body ached.  But not because of the injury.  My body ached to run.  I ached to run.  Weird.

I'm still working toward that.  It's a two steps forward, one step back thing.  My body doesn't recover like it used to.  I can't just decide I'm going to go push it for hours and hours and not pay for it like I could in high school.  These days, the cost of pushing is a bit higher.  But not too high.  Not so high that it's not worth it.  And if I pace myself instead of diving off the cliff, which is my inclination, I can do it.  Baby steps.  I'm working on that.

Since May I've lost 33 pounds.  I've gone down a pant size.  I've lost inches here and there.  My face has thinned.  And all of that's great.  But it's not what's most important.

I feel like I've found me.  Like my body and I are working together again.  I've proven I can do this.  I'm not at complete peace about my body all the time, but I'm doing so much better.  I'm so much happier.  I feel more whole.

Like each year in the past, I will carry this word forward with me.  It will remain in my heart.  It will continue to drive me in ways I won't notice until I look back.

And I'm so excited to share my word for 2016!  But that'll be tomorrow.

A Year of Healing

My version of New Year's resolutions is One Word.  I choose one word to direct my coming year.  It's a from-the-gut choice.  I toss and turn it over in my head and heart for days or weeks, working with God to choose what I need for that year.  I've been doing it for a few years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how my year looks in retrospect wrapped in that word.

My word for 2015 was HEAL.  I went into the year not knowing how that would play out.  In most cases, I just tucked that word away in my heart and went about my life.  But once in a while something would happen and I'd notice it.  I'd notice it was an element of healing.  I was healing.

I just went back and re-read my post from the beginning of the year, when I chose this word.  I read through the list.  And I noticed things, areas of healing that had happened, that I hadn't noticed before.  I'm so grateful for that.

But, truly, the biggest change has been my body.

I've got health issues.  Nothing major, just enough to keep me from being and doing what I want.  Enough to force me to see other ways of being.  Others ways to be of value.

I started the year off very unhappy with my body.  With its size and shape.  With its open rebellion against me.  With its struggle to control me, to make me submit to its whims.  Honestly, I was frustrated that I even had to have a body, because I felt it limited me in so many ways.

But things changed.

I don't remember exactly how or when it happened.  It might have started last year.  In fact, I think it did.  Last November I decided I wanted to add some color to my hair.  Not regular color.  Purple.  And early in December, I did.  I got about six inches of the bottom of my hair bleached and dyed bright purple.  Much brighter than I'd anticipated.  And more inches than I'd planned.  (Due to my own miscommunication with my fabulous hairdresser.)  All of a sudden my hair was troll doll purple.  My Little Pony purple.  No longer subtle at all!

I'd spent years hiding in plain sight.  Trying to be subtly present in the room.  Mostly because I was very unhappy with the weight I'd gained and the way I looked.  I felt miserable and it showed.

I loved having bright hair!  It gave me such a lift.  But I wasn't prepared for how others would react to it.  Suddenly, when I walked into a room, there was no question people would be looking at me.  It often made me uncomfortable.  But I have always tried to stand behind my decisions, even if they don't seem to make any sense to anyone else.  I've tried to live by the principle that I shouldn't make any decision, take any action, that I wouldn't be okay if it were exposed to the world.  Stand behind my choices - that's me!

So I decided to embrace it.  I decided to embrace me.  I shared photos of my hair on Facebook.  It was fun seeing how it faded and sharing that, too.  But I hated pictures of my face, so it was tricky to share my hair unless I had someone else take pictures from behind.  I have lots of picture of the back and sides of my hair, with my head leaning so that my hair fell mostly in front of my face.  Because I didn't like my fat face.

Again, I don't know the exact day it happened, but I decided to stop hiding from pictures.  I decided to allow pictures of myself, even some I didn't like, to be seen.  I decided the picture was just a moment.  Even if I didn't like how I looked in that moment, I liked who I was.  And I wanted to remember that moment and have evidence of my presence.

And in the midst of this, there were other changes happening.  I was healing in other ways.  Invisible, inside ways.

In February I heard the words that changed me forever.  In February I found the key that turned off the self-harm switch inside me.  I February I gave up self-harm for good.  Something I knew I was supposed to heal, needed to heal, but didn't want to heal.  I trusted.  I was healed.

This year I came to a healthier relationship with my dad.  I found my footing.  Mostly through taking care of my mom together, he and I have found a new respect for each other.  A new gratitude for each other.  Healing

I've come to a much healthier place with my mom as well.  As she's changing, as her world is changing, I'm finding my footing there as well.  It's been a tough slog.  It's going to get tougher still.  But I understand and accept it better now.  And that helps.  I feel less burdened and more compassionate.  And I feel love toward her.  The kind of love that's been missing for a while.  A healing love.  I'm grateful for that.

But the most noticeable healing I've experienced has been physical.  At the beginning of the year, I was a slug.  I could move and get things done, but everything exhausted me.  Everything was a huge burden.  I'd do what needed to be done and head straight back to bed.  I was so tired and miserable and uncomfortable in my own body.

Again, I don't remember exactly when it happened.  But I know it started before my physical.  As I was approaching my physical, I was evaluating things and had decided I wanted to get off one of the medications I was on.  And, dang it, I wanted to talk to my doctor about losing weight.  My body wanted to move.

Now that I think about it, I think that was how it started.  My body ached.  I lay in my bed aching, and I knew it was because my body wanted to move.  And my brain wanted my body to move.  But I was so exhausted.  Completely depleted.  I had nothing more to push my body with.  Gravity was pulling so hard.

But I wanted to move.

So at my physical, I talked to my doctor.  We made a couple of medication changes.  And I made a plan.  Eat better.  Move.  That was the gist of it.  And that's what I did.  I changed how and what I ate.  And I started walking.

Since then I've walked three 5ks; I ran a little in the last one.  I've injured myself (plantar fasciitis and shin splints), because I pushed too hard too fast.  (Hopefully, I've learned something and will do better now.)  I added bodyweight exercises.  I did some yoga.  I've done some Just Dance.  A little of this, a little of that.  I shared it all on Facebook, to keep myself accountable.  Exercise is now something that's a part of my life.  Part of who I am.  Part of who I want to be.  I want to be a runner!

And, let me just tell you, those are words I never thought I'd say.  I had no intention of running.  I started out walking.  I walked and walked.  Miles and miles.  (Which in and of itself was amazing to me and everyone around me.)  It was in my last 5k, the one where I pushed my body too far and it rebelled.  The one where I ran some.

Hurting.  Crying.  My body ached.  But not because of the injury.  My body ached to run.  I ached to run.  Weird.

I'm still working toward that.  It's a two steps forward, one step back thing.  My body doesn't recover like it used to.  I can't just decide I'm going to go push it for hours and hours and not pay for it like I could in high school.  These days, the cost of pushing is a bit higher.  But not too high.  Not so high that it's not worth it.  And if I pace myself instead of diving off the cliff, which is my inclination, I can do it.  Baby steps.  I'm working on that.

Since May I've lost 33 pounds.  I've gone down a pant size.  I've lost inches here and there.  My face has thinned.  And all of that's great.  But it's not what's most important.

I feel like I've found me.  Like my body and I are working together again.  I've proven I can do this.  I'm not at complete peace about my body all the time, but I'm doing so much better.  I'm so much happier.  I feel more whole.

Like each year in the past, I will carry this word forward with me.  It will remain in my heart.  It will continue to drive me in ways I won't notice until I look back.

And I'm so excited to share my word for 2016!  But that'll be tomorrow.

A Year of Healing

My version of New Year's resolutions is One Word.  I choose one word to direct my coming year.  It's a from-the-gut choice.  I toss and turn it over in my head and heart for days or weeks, working with God to choose what I need for that year.  I've been doing it for a few years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how my year looks in retrospect wrapped in that word.

My word for 2015 was HEAL.  I went into the year not knowing how that would play out.  In most cases, I just tucked that word away in my heart and went about my life.  But once in a while something would happen and I'd notice it.  I'd notice it was an element of healing.  I was healing.

I just went back and re-read my post from the beginning of the year, when I chose this word.  I read through the list.  And I noticed things, areas of healing that had happened, that I hadn't noticed before.  I'm so grateful for that.

But, truly, the biggest change has been my body.

I've got health issues.  Nothing major, just enough to keep me from being and doing what I want.  Enough to force me to see other ways of being.  Others ways to be of value.

I started the year off very unhappy with my body.  With its size and shape.  With its open rebellion against me.  With its struggle to control me, to make me submit to its whims.  Honestly, I was frustrated that I even had to have a body, because I felt it limited me in so many ways.

But things changed.

I don't remember exactly how or when it happened.  It might have started last year.  In fact, I think it did.  Last November I decided I wanted to add some color to my hair.  Not regular color.  Purple.  And early in December, I did.  I got about six inches of the bottom of my hair bleached and dyed bright purple.  Much brighter than I'd anticipated.  And more inches than I'd planned.  (Due to my own miscommunication with my fabulous hairdresser.)  All of a sudden my hair was troll doll purple.  My Little Pony purple.  No longer subtle at all!

I'd spent years hiding in plain sight.  Trying to be subtly present in the room.  Mostly because I was very unhappy with the weight I'd gained and the way I looked.  I felt miserable and it showed.

I loved having bright hair!  It gave me such a lift.  But I wasn't prepared for how others would react to it.  Suddenly, when I walked into a room, there was no question people would be looking at me.  It often made me uncomfortable.  But I have always tried to stand behind my decisions, even if they don't seem to make any sense to anyone else.  I've tried to live by the principle that I shouldn't make any decision, take any action, that I wouldn't be okay if it were exposed to the world.  Stand behind my choices - that's me!

So I decided to embrace it.  I decided to embrace me.  I shared photos of my hair on Facebook.  It was fun seeing how it faded and sharing that, too.  But I hated pictures of my face, so it was tricky to share my hair unless I had someone else take pictures from behind.  I have lots of picture of the back and sides of my hair, with my head leaning so that my hair fell mostly in front of my face.  Because I didn't like my fat face.

Again, I don't know the exact day it happened, but I decided to stop hiding from pictures.  I decided to allow pictures of myself, even some I didn't like, to be seen.  I decided the picture was just a moment.  Even if I didn't like how I looked in that moment, I liked who I was.  And I wanted to remember that moment and have evidence of my presence.

And in the midst of this, there were other changes happening.  I was healing in other ways.  Invisible, inside ways.

In February I heard the words that changed me forever.  In February I found the key that turned off the self-harm switch inside me.  I February I gave up self-harm for good.  Something I knew I was supposed to heal, needed to heal, but didn't want to heal.  I trusted.  I was healed.

This year I came to a healthier relationship with my dad.  I found my footing.  Mostly through taking care of my mom together, he and I have found a new respect for each other.  A new gratitude for each other.  Healing

I've come to a much healthier place with my mom as well.  As she's changing, as her world is changing, I'm finding my footing there as well.  It's been a tough slog.  It's going to get tougher still.  But I understand and accept it better now.  And that helps.  I feel less burdened and more compassionate.  And I feel love toward her.  The kind of love that's been missing for a while.  A healing love.  I'm grateful for that.

But the most noticeable healing I've experienced has been physical.  At the beginning of the year, I was a slug.  I could move and get things done, but everything exhausted me.  Everything was a huge burden.  I'd do what needed to be done and head straight back to bed.  I was so tired and miserable and uncomfortable in my own body.

Again, I don't remember exactly when it happened.  But I know it started before my physical.  As I was approaching my physical, I was evaluating things and had decided I wanted to get off one of the medications I was on.  And, dang it, I wanted to talk to my doctor about losing weight.  My body wanted to move.

Now that I think about it, I think that was how it started.  My body ached.  I lay in my bed aching, and I knew it was because my body wanted to move.  And my brain wanted my body to move.  But I was so exhausted.  Completely depleted.  I had nothing more to push my body with.  Gravity was pulling so hard.

But I wanted to move.

So at my physical, I talked to my doctor.  We made a couple of medication changes.  And I made a plan.  Eat better.  Move.  That was the gist of it.  And that's what I did.  I changed how and what I ate.  And I started walking.

Since then I've walked three 5ks; I ran a little in the last one.  I've injured myself (plantar fasciitis and shin splints), because I pushed too hard too fast.  (Hopefully, I've learned something and will do better now.)  I added bodyweight exercises.  I did some yoga.  I've done some Just Dance.  A little of this, a little of that.  I shared it all on Facebook, to keep myself accountable.  Exercise is now something that's a part of my life.  Part of who I am.  Part of who I want to be.  I want to be a runner!

And, let me just tell you, those are words I never thought I'd say.  I had no intention of running.  I started out walking.  I walked and walked.  Miles and miles.  (Which in and of itself was amazing to me and everyone around me.)  It was in my last 5k, the one where I pushed my body too far and it rebelled.  The one where I ran some.

Hurting.  Crying.  My body ached.  But not because of the injury.  My body ached to run.  I ached to run.  Weird.

I'm still working toward that.  It's a two steps forward, one step back thing.  My body doesn't recover like it used to.  I can't just decide I'm going to go push it for hours and hours and not pay for it like I could in high school.  These days, the cost of pushing is a bit higher.  But not too high.  Not so high that it's not worth it.  And if I pace myself instead of diving off the cliff, which is my inclination, I can do it.  Baby steps.  I'm working on that.

Since May I've lost 33 pounds.  I've gone down a pant size.  I've lost inches here and there.  My face has thinned.  And all of that's great.  But it's not what's most important.

I feel like I've found me.  Like my body and I are working together again.  I've proven I can do this.  I'm not at complete peace about my body all the time, but I'm doing so much better.  I'm so much happier.  I feel more whole.

Like each year in the past, I will carry this word forward with me.  It will remain in my heart.  It will continue to drive me in ways I won't notice until I look back.

And I'm so excited to share my word for 2016!  But that'll be tomorrow.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year from Karachi, Pakistan.

(Can’t seem to upload any pictures except the peacock. I’ll try again soon, having a wonderful time with my family.)

RSCN7098


Public healthcare sector blues

Originally posted on Our Lived Experience:
“This is the worst I’ve seen you in almost a year.” I wasn’t so bad though… The patient ahead of me wore bright yellow overalls stamped ‘remand/detainee’ and clanked past in metal shackles. Therapy was tough today, naturally, because things have been tougher than usual lately. We talked about…

The Dish And Its Dwellers Ruin Everything

So twas after nine last night, I was feeling calm, enjoying the last 20 minutes of San Andreas…when R disrupted and harshed my mellow. First wanting to make sure I hadn’t changed his email password. Then he called back and informed me his account had been frozen due to one of computers logging in “perpetuating viruses.” So…I was accused.

And more than fucking miffed and offended. Because yeah, it has to be the poor chick, couldn’t possibly be that ape like creature who rents the loft in the shop and spends most waking moments surfing porn thus infecting the computer daily.

So rather than finish my movie I went into instant panic mode, shutting my stuff down from the net connection, scanning everything including my wifi network, android phone, tablet,

virus scan, adware scan, malware scan, adw cleaner…I nodded off and woke at 1 a.m. to check the scans because being accused of being a virus magnet upset me so much, especially since he’d already determined his iphone can never get viruses and his laptop at home has barely been used and oh, the desktop at the shop was just scanned three weeks ago…(YEAH, FUCKFACE, I REMOVED THREE VIRUSES AND 127 MALWARE THREATS DUE TO *SOMEONE’S* PORN ADDICTION!)

No sooner than I nodded off again…Spook came to my bed and decided it was time to have a marathon yap chat. Took ninety minutes for her to go back to sleep, so it was more like two and half before I went back down. All the while she hogged most of the bed and I had to play Twister just to avoid crushing all the cats on the bed…

Of all the scans, two adware issues were turned up, and one was on the computer I haven’t even had connected to the net in months, let alone accessed his email. Jebus. Just so damned infuriating how he never pays any mind to my “don’t call after nine” edict cos it’s med time and if I am upset then the meds wear off and I gotta do it all over again…You don’t go setting off panic attacks in someone with panic disorder at fucking bedtime, you douchebag. Oh and he had the audacity to make a snarky comment about “when do you get to send your kid back to school, I need help.”

Six days of peace I had from the dish and its dwellers, I was even starting to feel isolated enough where perhaps spending a bit of time “out there” “with others” didn’t seem so daunting.

And he undoes it in a blink and wonders why I want to take a shovel to his skull.

He can rest assured after this bullshit that I will NEVER use any of my own devices, or my wifi network, to check his mail, order his parts, or do any of his bidding again. FFS, the shop computer had a keystroke logger on it a couple months back. Never occurred to him a hacker could have captured a shitload of info before it was caught and removed which might explain why some dude in Indonesia hacked his Amazon account and email and ordered a bunch of shit on his credit card…

Have I been hacked or even had to change my email password? NOPE. Though I do change my password when the panxiety kicks in. Plus, in spite of not having a fancy degree like him, I don’t use the exact same password for every account. Moron.

I thought today was going to be better cos the sun was out when I first got up. Ha. That lasted about forty minutes before going MIA. I guess my “bright side” is at least for the first time in five days it wasn’t fucking pouring cats, dogs, and squids. Gray and cold is the default now, I suppose. So my mood never really did lift up much and then…

Further splat. I got my Magicjack updated and working on a different computer so I can actually call people now so I called mom…I asked if she’d babysit tonight so I can go to my early morning dr appt tomorrow without kid in tow (she doesn’t like to get up early). Nope. She insists New Year’s Eve so I muttered, “Yeah, I couldn’t possibly want to spend it with my kid.” And she sneered, “I figured you wanted to get drunk.”

Pfft, getting drunk on New Year’s is as cliche as wearing green on St Patrick’s Day.

Suffice it to say, I have my kid tonight but she will be over there tomorrow because obviously it’s what’s more important to my idget mother than them doing a goddamn thing that might be of assistance to me. One more reason to hate the dish and its dwellers.

“But if you needed a sitter why didn’t you tell me?”

Batshit old woman.

I hovered in the mood “fuck it all” gutter for awhile..Then I got up and tackled the rest of the laundry, managing to fold six baskets and get them all put away so that’s one less stressor placed on me. My kid begged me to fix omelettes so we ran out for shredded cheese. The car died eleven times. It was awesome. And by that, I mean bullfuckingshit miserable stupid  ass electronic carb. I dread going out for that reason enough on its own cos one day someone is gonna be yakking on their damn phone and not notice my car has died and just slam right on into me. Sadly I can’t even say, oh, well just buy me a new carb for my birthday, Dad. Because it’s a fucking electronic carb and they are infamous for all doing this same damned thing during cold and wet weather. S0 joy joy fucking joy.

I got my kid fed and bathed, then I tossed my own skanky self into a shower and put on my footed jammies cos I am cold and I am anxiety ridden and frankly…this is all the comfort I am getting at the moment even if I feel like a six year old.

SUPPOSEDLY the disability checks will be deposited tomorrow as the normal day is a weekend. I will sleep and wake even more tonight fretting about that. Then if it is there I have to get out to the DMV and pay them over a hundred bucks for the sticker renewal for the car. Nothing says joy like the damned DMV.

That’s after I drag my kid along with me to the shrink, hope she behaves, and pray to the pegacorn priestesses that he will listen and HEAR me when I say…The Cymblotto is making me a damned nervous wreck and I need Lithium.

For everyone’s talk about how mood stabilizers kill creativity…I got to looking back at my longest writing jags…And ALL of them were while I was on Lithium. Every. Single. One. I guess my brain needs slowed down that much.I can’t think of a better gift for my birthday than for my brain to quiet down and allow me to have my writing back. Now if the child support order goes through, that’s just gravy. But money can’t buy my writing flame and more than all else…I want that back.

Maybe if I were writing I’d have less venom to spew here.

Gonna be a long night and a bitch getting to and staying asleep until I can rip the bandage off and be done with the dish tomorrow. And so help me if R calls again tonight after nine, I am NOT answering it, period.

I’m gonna tell him his stupid iphone gave my tracfone elitist snob cooties so we may only ever speak in person now.

Thanks to Diane for this…In memory of Lemmy, with admiration…

facebook_1451448160226