Daily Archives: August 11, 2013


I’ve been having forum thoughts lately. Whether it be that I find one highly recommended by the Bipolaratti, or set up one myself for the network are both options on the table. I always feel most at home online when I have a forum to roost upon, and while I find my fellow bloggers to be a fantastic and supportive community, I still sort of want a place to call ‘home’.

Having said that, I’m not sure I’m up to forums either. I used to be active in the Wheel of Time fandom, but I learned that trying to make that community a safe place for people was just not worth the harassment, threats (to include death threats. I wish I was making that up.) and other such issues. A part of me will always sort of hope it sorts out, but I’ve resigned myself to accepting I will probably never feel safe there. It’s sort of soured me on trying to settle in on other forums, though there’s also the fact that I’ve yet to find anything else that appeals in my interest range — there’s a couple of nice Sims forums, and a great US-UK forum, but I never felt at home in either area.

There’s also the issue of control. I tend to find myself rather quickly elevated to administrative roles because I like helping out a lot — after all, if I’m going to be somewhere, I want to show my love by helping make it a safe and enjoyable environment. And as implied, being able to help out and intercede against drama and danger enables me to fix some control on an environment so that I can feel safe and happy there. It’s not about having The Power™®, or bossing people around — it’s trying to focus my own security needs into something useful for a community as a whole.

But of course, that stuff is hella stressful. It’s one reason I’ve not searched super-hard for potential new forum-based communities. It wasn’t so bad when I was already in horrible physical and mental non-stop fight-or-flight shape, but now I can feel that sort of chemical adrenaline rush a lot more sharply. Do I really want to risk inflicting that on myself again? I know — I’m sure some folk are probably wondering why I can’t just kick back and let other people do things. Trust me, I’ve tried. *laughs* I always end up helping out somehow.

So, do any of you guys have a mental health forum you frequent, like, and consider a sane place to be? Or should I think about setting up one on the network? I’m not totally adverse to running a set of forums, and I’ve had a few people suggest it would be a great addition, and in that, it sways me slightly more towards offering it as a contribution to my fellow Bipolaratti (as I call you guys, hee hee).

I hope that everyone has been having a good weekend.



The post Mulling appeared first on The Scarlet B.

Just What the Doctor Ordered (NOT!)

So I was doing my Friday-before-the-Sabbath errands, and I happened upon a hardware store that looked like it just might have the small desk lamp I wanted for my new tiny Jerusalem apartment.  Oddly, hardware stores here do not carry lighting fixtures.  You have to go to a lighting fixture store in one of the industrial districts for that, which entails buses and such, and I have not quite got over my jet lag enough to want to go adventuring.  But this store looked promising, so I turned from my trajectory to go in and check.

And that’s when it happened.  I’m not sure exactly what happened.  I think I might have caught my left toe, the one that drops because of some old neurologic injury, on the highish step one has to step onto to enter the store.  However it occurred, I woke up with people dragging me to my feet.  I saw someone throw the sandal that had ended up on the sidewalk into the store (thank you), and I was placed in a chair and given a glass of cold water.  I noticed blood dripping down my right arm, and upon inspection saw that somehow a piece of skin had been torn all the way from my wrist to my elbow, and was hanging in the breeze.  I tore it off, to the hardware store’s owners’ great dismay.

I asked to wash the wound, and was shown to a sink that looked like it was usually used for washing grease of implements.  I washed the blood off, and asked for a paper towel in which to wrap my wounded forearm.  I sat back down in the chair, feeling a bit dizzy, and listened to the proprietors speculating in Hebrew about how I had tripped on the step because I was wearing sun glasses and a big floppy hat (which everyone wears in the blazing sun here).

All I could think of was getting to a pharmacy for dressing materials before everything closed down for the Sabbath.  I collected my previous purchases, which had scattered all over the place, thanked the proprietors for their help, and fought my way through the surging multitudes of last-minute shoppers at the shuk to the Russian pharmacy that was, thankfully, still open.

I had to specify exactly what bandage materials I wanted, since after I showed the pharmacist my wound he looked rather ill.  Taking my stuff, I headed home to wash and dress my avulsion.  As I was walking home I noticed that my lower front teeth were sore.  I wondered if they were loose.  Then I noticed the bruise on my shin.  Classic KO punch (for those of you not familiar with boxing, a direct hit to the chin is a good way to knock someone out).

But: I went down before I got the KO punch.  What precipitated the fall?  The drop-foot?  Or perhaps….the thing that made me fall a few years ago, in the middle of the night coming back from the bathroom, that resulted in a concussion that caused all kinds of mayhem in my already compromised brain for years?

Anyway.  Three days later I’m still feeling headachy, nauseous, and grumpy.  The first day I fell asleep immediately upon returning home (after dressing my wound) and slept through till the next day, with one break to take Noga out to potty and to feed her.  She wouldn’t eat, but curled up next to me on the bed.  Yesterday I slept most of the day and went to bed at nine and woke up at ten today.  The wound is getting better every day.  I’m getting better every day.  I decided not to go to the doctor because last time I went to the doctor for a mild head injury it turned out to be a big balagan (pain in the ass, in Hebrew) and they didn’t do anything anyway.  So I figure if I turn out to have a subdural hematoma (blood clot on the brain) I’ll do it quietly and without a big fuss.  My friends are checking on me, so if I don’t answer the phone they’ll know something’s up and come looking for me.

Kind of cynical, but that’s how I am.  I guess I’m passively suicidal, always have been.  It’s like, I’m not afraid of death.  If something comes to get me, I’m on that bus.  If not, I’ll just keep on keepin’ on.

The freshest hell…is courtesy of kids

My sorta level mood…Has crashed severely. The part was not a disaster but it was…Disappointing. My kid was being a jerk. The other kids were being demanding picky little jerks.  Only four kids actually made it. THe other three were here for about 20 minutes before their dad came to fetch them and said they had to leave. Not a friendly man. I made 36 cupcakes, had ice cream, I still have 28 cupcakes left, my own kid wouldn’t even eat one. The ice cream too was a fail because they wanted chocolate. The games were a hit, except of course they all wanted the same prizes and I was making an attempt to be diverse so the boy didn’t get a hair clip…

Damiana’s mother and boyfriend stayed which I did not expect, but it wasn’t a problem. Saved me from having to take them to their new home at dark with a busted headlight and no clue where I am going. But outside of kids, I am socially awkward to the nth degree. And aside from talk about the kids, I have nothing to say. The mom was on about how everyone else’s kids are so rude and poorly behaved and well, they can be, but her own two are the worst culprits. They were however on their best behavior which means what they showed me was a treat just for me. They can act better, I just didn’t bring it out in them. I knew that doormat tattoo on my forehead was a mistake.

Now it is done and my kid has zonked and I just feel…Sad. Because I tried so hard and that time and money could have been spent better elsewhere. I mean, toward the end of the party, after they got all the game prizes, they all basically took off to go play elsewhere in the trailer park and left Spook alone at her own bloody party.

Why are people as a whole just such rude inconsiderate assholes?

And why do I feel like someone crushed my soul under the toe of a steel toed boot? I was doing okay…Maybe I am just truly exhausted and I need sleep, reboot the brain.

I just…feel so dejected. Like all that effort was for absolutely nothing. Now I have cupcakes and ice cream and…My own kid wouldn’t even eat a cupcake or give me a hug. I don’t expect a fucking parade, but damn, I tried so hard. To be so unappreciated, and especially to be critiqued by these trailer park kids because I didn’t specifically shop for their individual desires…I was always taught if someone is giving you something free, you either say thank you and accept it or politely say no thank you.

Rudeness is a trigger, I admit it. And my kid was the ringleader of the rude.

I hope a brain reboot does the trick.

I will never do this party thing again. Maybe a low brow sleepover with a friend or two and some popcorn…But I will not pull put all the stops ever again. I am apparently too weak and too shallow to give without at least receiving an ounce of…I don’t even know what I want. Maybe just a “Wow, you’re a cool mom!” as opposed to, “I don’t like this cake, give me chocolate.”

These were kids 7,8,10, years old. They know better. They just…Fuck it, I am being mental.

I was due for a major mood crash, it was bound to happen, was a long stressful week full of activity which I don’t process well. Just another spoke in the mood cycle.

I still feel like a dumbass for putting forth the effort for kids who have so little respect or affection for me. Who was I deluding, thinking these kids like me? They just want to play with my kid’;s stuff, eat our food and treat us like dirt.

I was way happier prior to this trailer park socialization thing. I liked minding my own business. No drama, no rumors, no gossip. No bullshit. Now I feel like I’ve got a dozen footprints left on me and they’re just going to come back to do it again.

And in a normal frame of mind, this would piss me off and make me want to jump on a soapbox.

In my current state…I just feel like the world’s biggest fucking loser. And I feel like an even bigger loser for feeling like a loser. God, does anyone understand this convoluted mental mumbo jumbo?  If my kid had just been happy, it would have been worthwhile. But even she was terrible to me. And that just makes me feel so inept, so incompetent, so not worthy of drawing breath…

Party hardly.

I miss being a hermit. I didn’t get hurt and disappointed much back then. Now that I am trying to adapt and acclimate..It’s a daily thing.

And it sucks.