Daily Archives: February 7, 2016

Protected: Pills Like Candy: Chapter 9

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

I’m depressed

I’m depressed. I hate saying the words so much that they taste foul in my mouth. They stick behind my tongue and teeth because they just don’t want to come out. But it’s the truth. I’m really fucking depressed. I came to the realization in a Walmart parking lot when I had the thought that I […]

Superblahbowl Sunday

Oh, joy. It’s that special Sunday where American sports fans become rabid lunatics over a game involving a ball being passed about and a bunch of running around a field. I am told that it’s a game of geometry and thought and takes real skill and I will cede to knowing fuck all about it (no matter how many times I tried to assimilate to please sports fan man folk). I still think getting this hopped up over a game is asinine, sue me. I don’t even know the teams playing nor care. The ONLY good thing about this day will be the commercials. Which I will check out at a later date cos again, I don’t give a flying leaping ballet twisting river dancing fuck.

If you think about it, for many of us…every Sunday is superblahbowl. It is generally my vegetate and recover day and still it manages to go on and on forever, without note, without even a blip of significance. (Religious people are well within their rights to disagree, I can respect that.) But for me, I’ve always found Sundays extremely blah. I guess it’s just the vibe of the whole day. Religion influenced even in this day and age. Churchy. Can’t buy alcohol til after a certain time. Stuff opens later and closes early. Just…discombobulating. Which, yes, is my perpetual state of being, but still.

Yesterday…Yeah, I did nothing but stay in bed. Nothing. I even found it too difficult to eat so I nursed my Lithium nausea all day, noshing Lindt chocolate. Eventually I nuked two corn dogs even though what I really wanted was a quarterpounder meal from Mickey D’s. It’s just very difficult to venture outside when your entire body aches and feels like some Dyson vacuum ghoul has swept in and sucked out your entire essence. Viva being a woman. Every fucking month. I took melatonin  and slept. I woke up, took more melatonin and slept.

My back hurt so bad I couldn’t get comfortable. The cats decided to have kitty death match and attack each other off and on all night. I just put a movie on the laptop cos I couldn’t be arsed to turn on the desktop and search my vast library for a playlist to fall asleep to. Then I kept worrying and waking if the laptop was overheating…I do neuroses and I do them well, dammit.

Another reason I wanted to be asleep last night was The Dark Thoughts arrived. Ya know, every worst case scenario involving all the shit in my life right now. The Donor. My kid hating me so much. My own lack of joy in life no matter how hard I try. At which point the “this is futile, wouldn’t it be nice to just not….exist anymore…”

Yep. Time to sleep. The stupid rancid hormones have combined with my stupid bipolar brain to bring about the darkest nastiest thoughts that are not productive.

I was irked to have wakened pretty much every hour on the hour, even without my kid home. Pissed off to have to get up and pee so many times all the while my spine felt like it was gonna snap and the ovary oompa fucking loompas river danced on my innards. I wanted comfort. I did not get it. So when morning came, instead of feeling pressured to leap up and tackle all the housework…I lolled. Until almost ten a.m. Fuck it.

I want my kid back. I feel all wibbley wobbley without her here. Scared that something could have happened. The fuckers don’t even call me to let me know they made it back from this out of state truck show. I haven’t called them cos my dad gets pissy and then my kid doesn’t want to talk to me and I get emotional…GRRRRR.

I did not see my weekend going this way, at all. How something as simple as a monthly occurrence could knock me on my ass is just frustrating. I feel weak and wussified. Yet it is what it is. I’m ready to go back to sleep after an hour awake as it is. Damn that Dyson ghoul vacuuming out my will to live.

I was gonna post a couple of cutesy pics but wordpress is being a dickbag so never mind.

Happy Superblahbowl. Hope your team wins.

I’m team pegacorn, of course, and they are wayyy too cool to show up so they won’t win…But they will have earned my respect for being a badass rebellious bunch of hybrids.

 

 

 


Making Space

I am currently reading two books simultaneously.  Usually when this happens I am struggling to get through a challenging book so I take a break with something quick and humorous.  This time, however, both books are challenging, I’m actively reading both, and they are intertwining in a fascinating way. From A New Earth: Awakening to […]

I May Have Miscounted My Spoons

This week I actually got out of the house, going for lunch and a little shopping with an old friend. (Another friend of mine calls these “pants days” because they obviously require putting on pants, for going out farther than the mailbox.)

After less than three hours I went home, did some work, and promptly collapsed. All told, I think I was either active, sociable, or some combination thereof for at most five hours – most likely more like four. That for me is an exceptional day of fortitude, stamina, spoons, and hypomania.

However, I have gotten myself into a situation that will require much more than that. I am going to a writer’s conference – three days of thrill-packed seminars, lunches and dinners, and other business and social-type events. I’ve done half-day business meetings lately, but nothing so extended, crowded, or spoon-depleting. It will hit a lot of my anxiety triggers – crowds, noise, small talk, social events, and more. I know that by the time we gather for dinner in the evening, I’ll already be extra crispy.

The three days of the conference will not allow for much of any downtime – although I have fantasized about asking someone who’s staying in the hotel if I can borrow a room for an afternoon nap. (The conference is local so I don’t have a room of my own or it wouldn’t be a problem. Less of one, anyway. All I’d have to do would be pick which seminars to skip. But the idea of asking a relative stranger for the use of a room or the idea of a relative stranger letting me use a room is pretty ludicrous.) Fortunately, I have to get the car home by 10:00 so my husband can go to work. That means I can’t stay for the after-hours socializing, even though that’s said to be one of the highlights. But it does mean I get a few more hours in pjs instead of pants.

Back before I had my most recent major meltdown, I was able to attend business conventions and do at least most of the requisite functions. I could and did give little talks at power breakfasts or afternoon cocktail parties – even opened with a joke. I could meet and greet the public at our booth – “howdy and shake,” as my father would have called it. I could have lunch with potential writers. I could almost interact with our sales force.

Those days are long past. So now I ask myself, how can I build up my stamina for the writers conference? Maybe it’s time for me to try to reclaim some of those parts of myself.

It feels like I’m going to be training for a marathon – or maybe the Normandy invasion. I know that in order to get through it, I will have to prepare in advance: writing my Sunday blog posts before the conference starts, assembling my wardrobe, checking out the parking situation, stocking up on business cards, and all the other little details that make me so frantic at the last minute.

Perhaps during the next two months I can keep track of how many pants days I’m able to have and gradually increase them. Perhaps I can arrange more lunches and shoppings. Perhaps I can improve my usual record of doing only one major thing per day. Perhaps I can try to work up to three pants days in a row.

The conference itself is certainly a massive and major incentive. Plus I’ve already paid for it – yet another reason to get myself in shape to take advantage of it.

Right now the conference looks like rather an ordeal, but I hope that by the time it rolls around I’ll be in good enough shape to both enjoy it and benefit from it. At least it’ll be a group of writers, and humor writers at that. They’re known for being at least a little odd. Maybe I’ll fit right in. I’ll be the one napping on a couch in the hotel lobby in fuzzy slippers. And pants.


Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: acting "normal", anxiety, being overwhelmed, business meetings, coping mechanisms, mutual support, my experiences, social skills, Spoon Theory, support systems, writing

Brandon Marshall and the Super Bowl

 

brandon marshall super bowl
Brandon Tyrone Marshall (wide receiver with Jets) won’t be playing with the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl this year, but if he was I would be rooting for him. (not Brandon Marshall, linebacker, who is questionable in today’s game.)

I live near Charlotte, NC so therefore I will be rooting for the Panthers.  However, if Brandon was still playing for the Denver Broncos, I would definitely be rooting for him.

Brandon Marshall went to my alma mater (University of Central Florida).  However, that is not why I would be rooting for him. He has broken many records, and earned honors,awards while playing with four franchises. However, that is not why I would be rooting for him either.

The reason I would be rooting him is for what he has done for the mental health community.  He wore green sneakers  during mental illness awareness week for mental illness in 2013 even though he had to pay over $10,000 in fines. He has been open and honest about his struggles with borderline personality disorder.

He has talked about it on television and the most amazing thing he has done regarding helping others to understand his mental illness is to start his own organization Project Borderline. This organization’s goal are to spread the words about BPD, fight the stigma associated with it, educate people about the illness, advocate, reach out to others struggling with a mental illness and to bridge the gap between patients, clinicians, and the public.

“He intends to change the face and the future of this disorder so that those who have suffered in silence, who spent years of their lives feeling trapped by their own emotions, and who once thought that they had reached a place beyond hope will have the opportunity to build a better life for themselves.”

By having this project and talking honestly about his illness he  has helped others who have  mental illness more than he probably knows. He has shown them that they should not be ashamed.  By doing so, I am sure many people have sought out help.

He is doing so much to help eradicate the stigma and raise awareness about mental illness.

He might not be getting a super bowl ring this year, but he should be earning  a far better reward as far as I am concerned.

In honor of Black History Month I created an infographic showing others black celebrities, including athletes who have mental illnesses and are helping to erase the stigma.  Thanks to Brandon Marshall and these celebrities for making a difference.

 

 

 


Brandon Marshall and the Super Bowl

 

15 marshallBrandon Tyrone Marshall (wide receiver with Jets) won’t be playing with the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl this year, but if he was I would be rooting for him. (not Brandon Marshall, linebacker, who is questionable.)

I live near Charlotte, NC so therefore I will be rooting for the Panthers.  However, if Brandon was still playing for the Denver Broncos, I would definitely be rooting for him.

Brandon Marshall went to my alma mater (University of Central Florida).  However, that is not why I would be rooting for him. He has broken many records, and earned honors,awards while playing with four franchises. However, that is not why I would be rooting for him either.

The reason I would be rooting him is for what he has done for the mental health community.  He wore green sneakers  during mental illness awareness week for mental illness in 2013 even though he had to pay over $10,000 in fines. He has been open and honest about his struggles with borderline personality disorder.

He has talked about it on television and the most amazing thing he has done regarding helping others to understand his mental illness is to start his own organization Project Borderline. This organization’s goal are to spread the words about BPD, fight the stigma associated with it, educate people about the illness, advocate, reach out to others struggling with a mental illness and to bridge the gap between patients, clinicians, and the public.

“He intends to change the face and the future of this disorder so that those who have suffered in silence, who spent years of their lives feeling trapped by their own emotions, and who once thought that they had reached a place beyond hope will have the opportunity to build a better life for themselves.”

By having this project and talking honestly about his illness he  has helped others who have  mental illness more than he probably knows. He has shown them that they should not be ashamed.  By doing so, I am sure many people have sought out help.

He is doing so much to help eradicate the stigma and raise awareness about mental illness.  He might not be getting a super bowl ring this year, but he should be earning  a far better reward as far as I am concerned.

In honor of Black History Month I created an infographic showing others black celebrities, including athletes who have mental illnesses and are helping to erase the stigma.  Thanks to Brandon Marshall and these celebrities for making a difference.

 

 

 


Abandonment

There is a well adjusted, normal child. He is sitting at his desk, coloring in a book.  This child’s mother says “I’m going to the store and I’m in a hurry so this time you can’t come.” He says “Fine” and goes back to coloring.

There is another child. Her mother is also going to the store and says to her “I’m going to the store, this time you can’t come, I’m going to be going to a work party after.” The child gets alarmed, and says “Please can I come?” Mom says no. The child is now upset, and tells her mom that she’ll be really good if her mom takes her. Mom still says no. The child is now agitated and upset and runs over to her mom and begs to be take to the store. Then she wraps herself around her mother’s leg and will not let her mother leave. This is an abandoned child.

How do you heal the abandoned child? How do you heal the hurt, the fear, the terror of abandonment?

Well I did a search on “How to heal abandonment issues?” and here is the link to the search: https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=how%20to%20heal%20abandonment%20issuesand I got many articles, a few look very interesting like two below: 1) https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-many-faces-addiction/201006/understanding-the-pain-abandonment  2) http://www.outerchild.net/book/export/html/5 and

Of course I will be going to my therapist and talking to her about all this as soon as I get back to Louisville.

I will blog about the process. Stay tuned. Same Bat Channel, same Bat time.

IMG_1084And Zumba helps inordinately


A Million and One Thoughts

I’m having trouble writing again. Even though there is plenty of material to draw from, I can’t seem to pull it all together into something that makes sense to someone besides me. (Oh hell, who am I kidding—it doesn’t make any sense to me either.) My thoughts are innumerable, but the process is like having a football-stadium-full of people try to get out via a single narrow door at the  same time: some eventually squeeze through, but slowly and painfully.

My therapist, Kathy, suggests I let myself off the hook, that it’s OK to let things be the way they are for now because my Muse will—eventually—take a dump on my head and the floodgates will open. She’s right; I should, but it’s frustrating to have so much going on in my mind and be unable to offload at least some of it in my writing. I have two articles that I need to write (for pay!) and I can’t grab hold of enough substance to get them done. Gahhh!

Meanwhile, I’m not sleeping well—it usually takes me till 1 or 2 AM to fall asleep, and sometimes my thoughts race so fast that all I do is doze on and off throughout the night. I think some of it has to do with my obsession about making sure Will is still breathing. He is nowhere close to dying at this point, but who knows when that will change? It’s like waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Ironically, these past couple of weeks have been his best since we got home from our trip, with minimal nausea and vomiting, and that usually only happens early in the morning.

What I’ve got to keep in mind is something Kathy said about worrying over the future: it does nothing but ruin the present. Anticipatory grieving is normal, but this is time Will and I can’t get back. This lying in bed, ruminating until the wee hours, and waking up in panic mode are for the birds. I remember all too well doing the same things back in 2014, and we all know how well THAT worked for me. I have the hospital records to prove it.

OK, so there are a few thoughts that made it through that metaphorical door I was talking about. But there are a million and one more, swirling round and round, wanting to be expressed all at once. It’s a hell of a time to be depressed and between mental health prescribers; I could use a little boost in my Klonopin dose or an uptick in one of my mood stabilizers. But I also know that what I’m going through is a part of life’s journey, and you can’t always medicate that away.