Daily Archives: August 19, 2013

I’m The Face of Mental Illness

I love it when the smallest things take on a life of their own. That’s exactly what happened when Laura, of Mrs. Bipolarity, did an excellent post a few weeks ago titled Stigma Sucks Sunday: A Recap. The post was her response to the medias recent barrage of negative portrayals of those of us with mental illness.

Upon reading Laura’s post Graham, of The Bipolar Place, did a short vlog to show that he is The Face of Mental Illness and asked others to do the same…and that is how a movement began.

If you live with a mental illness, or have a loved one who does, we are asking you to join us to show the REAL faces of mental illness. For more information just pop on over to Mrs. Bipolarity’s blog post, The (Real) Faces of Mental Illness, and get all the information you’ll need. Thank you to our three pioneers, Graham of The Bipolar Place, Laura of Mrs. Bipolarity, and also Laura of Bipolar for Life.

I’m very excited to be a part of this and hope it excites you to come aboard.

And So, Sewing

Finally, *finally*, my husband and I sat down and finished sewing up things for Lilbit’s inaugural purse. He volunteered to man the sewing machine, ’cause he’s ninja fast compared to me. And so he got the lining squared up, sewn, and then realized that we’d have to hand-sew it into the purse ’cause of how close to the edge things were/how small it is/etc. I knocked that out this morning — it might not be the prettiest, but it’s job done.

IMG_2121     IMG_2123IMG_2124

I think the front sewing came out nice, but the back side has a crooked-ass line of ‘I should have done the long part on the inside’. Thankfully, it’s black on black, so it’s not dire. And it’s not like this is for sale — it’s for a three and a half year old to bash around. I could make it out of a cut-up duffel bag and she’d still probably destroy it in short order. But hey, at least it finished up pretty, and hopefully she’ll appreciate it more than carrying handfuls of things back and forth — she’s taken to always having two pairs of glasses, a set of keys, and a small stuffed cow on her at most times, ha ha.

The finished product:


Cardigan the second (third) is coming along beautifully. It also helps that I know how to purl correctly now, ha ha. The twisted stitches of the first attempt looked nice, but it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to work with. At least having the fronts done takes some of the strain off. I was fretting about them quite a bit, ’cause the first one came out longer than it was supposed to. I hit a polite f-this moment, and decided that if the length of both the front pieces matched, then that was good enough. My BFFFFF chuckled at this, and declared me to be a real knitter for it:


I’ll be happy when I finish it and move on to the next pattern, but I’m glad I chose to re-do it for Lilbit. For one, it means that I’ve gotten good practice in on purling correctly. For two, there was an increase method I needed practice on (knitting into the back of a stitch), and after finding a passable left-handed video, the method fell into place. I’ll say one thing for knitting — whether you’re doing it right or wrong makes itself very apparent quickly (for the most part).

So then, what else is on my plate? Well, I’ve been doing 750words.com for the last couple of months, and decided to go for the NaNoWriMo badge this month. I’ve been writing 1,500 words a day without too much problem, only to realize today I should have done in excess of 1,620 a day. Whups. So I’ve got about 5,000-6,000 words to make up to get myself safely caught up. I’m making a stab at that today by ruminating over my growing up years. It’s bemusing how many blank spots there are — I guess my brain is just trying to preserve me, heh. But it’s good, it’s therapeutic to try and draw things out and look at them, and that’s the main point of doing the 750 daily to me. It’s my dump space, and it serves a good purpose in my life.

I also need to sit down and think about knitting or crocheting a purse for my best friend Alicia. She requested one a few months ago, and I’ve not gotten around to thinking it out. I’m also torn as to whether knit or crochet is going to make for a better product. I also need to invest in more black wool, ’cause I think I’m fresh out (and in my head, black is going to be the best colour for it). We’ll see what happens after I continue to wring words out into my 750, ’cause that’s my big project for the day.

I hope everyone is well.


The post And So, Sewing appeared first on The Scarlet B.

More On Vitamins and Minerals for Mental Health

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Greetings from the mood gutter

It became clear within the first hour of consciousness that today was not going to be a euphoria inducing day like yesterday. My kid was a complaining twit, my brain was clouded with Trazadone fog because in spite of exhaustion getting to sleep naturally wasn’t happening last night…

It has been a drag ass down day. Minimally functional. Did dishes. Started some wash. Made a meatloaf. Otherwise, I haven’t done fuck all today but focus on spelling games just to ward off scumbag brain’s nasty little contributions to my mental traffic jam.

The two girls returned and made my day more miserable. How can there be no problems until they are thrown into the mix? Because they are troublemakers. Mouthy, disrespectful, demanding, ungrateful, impolite…

Then it came, expected, but not in this fashion: rumor mill has started churning. I, apparently, have fleas and bedbugs. This from someone who has never been in my home and is, oh, 5 years old, and he and his mother dislike me. So, in other words, an expert.

The troublemaking girls have been banned from my house by their mother and were begging me to go talk to their mom and tell her it’s not true. And I refused and said someone who’s willing to believe rumor rather than come talk to me directly isn’t going to be swayed. I don’t want or need the drama.

I got this image of a mob of angry parents at my door and the panic attacks kicked in and ran rampantly.

My indignation and anger were immense.

But I am in this weird space where I feel disconnected from my mind. I am,for all purposes, fairly numb. Like Novacaine for my psyche. I think it’s the lithium kicking in, but in all fairness, after two days, it’s not likely. But three days ago this same thing would have sent me into a crying meltdown and now it’[s just like…meh.

I have had this allergy to all things outdoors since I was 8 years old. Every summer any time outdoors would become a misery because if one person got one flea bite in the grass, I got ten and they turned into enormous red lumps which then itched until I dug my nails in and well, made them a rather grtesque mess. I remember one year when I was 12, I was asked to leave the public pool because they thought I had scabies.

I honestly thought at my age I would be dealing with more mature more intelligent people. But a 5 year old boy said it, it must be true, even without any evidence other than my ankles being bitten up. My kid barely has a bug bite on her. So if we had fleas inside, she would be bitten to hell. If we had bedbug bites, they would have been discovered already during check ups, ffs.

I have never understood people who start rumors. I had fully anticipated the age old “She wears all black, she’s a devil worshipper!”

I must admit, I never saw this one coming. And certainly not from a child. Every other kid likes me except this one boy. Because I called him on his behavior, and his mommy backed him up and put me on the shit list. So of course their opinion of me is without bias and fully based in truth.

I am about sick of ignorance and idiocy. Even as I write this, I know I am upset, and it is doing the ocd hamster wheel thing in my head, distracting me, depressing me, making me anxious…But it’s almost like being Novacained, you feel pressure and tugs and you know what’s going on and how it should feel…You just can’t quite feel it to the extent that it’s happening to you.

I must admit, I kind of like this disconnected state.

I must admit, I am relieved those two girls can’t come over anymore.

BUT my big concern is how it will affect my kid. People obviously subscribe whole heartedly to gossip and rumor so how long before no kids are allowed to play with my kid and they start spreading the rumors and shunning her, all over complete stupidity?

It makes me feel like, wow, I need to die soon, give this kid a chance at a decent life because I just tarnish and fuck up everything I touch.

But I didn’t do anything here. Why should we be punished for the idiocy of others?

It sucks. Yesterday was sooo good.

Today has just been a bucket of suck.

And tonight isn’t looking any better because I just want to curl up in a ball on the bed, chainsmoke, and stare blankly at scary tv shows.

But wait, I can’t because my fucking dvd player is broken.

And I need to clean again.

And I have uber laundry to fold and put away.


I don’t give a rat’s ass about myself, I used to defend myself. Now I am just past it. What’s the point? You can’t educate people too stupid to get the story directly rather than jump on the rumor bandwagon.

However if this breaks my kid’s heart, I am going on a rampage.

This also has me terrified that based on a rumor, the landlord will evict me or one of the asshole parents will tell DCF.

NONE of this bullshit happened until we started interacting with others. Now the train has run off the tracks.

I don’t want to cripple my kid socially, but I am over the socialization thing. It has netted us nothing good. When even your fellow trailer parkians consider you beneath them, there’s no point trying to recover from it. Let them talk. Fuck ‘em and feed ‘em to the fish.

But goddamn them for kicking off the panic attacks, my heart is skipping beats and pounding uncontrollably and cold sweat is breaking out from every pore. My paranoia is in hyperdrive. My mood is crashed. My anxiety is off the charts.

I feel it, but I don’t feel it. Does that make any sense?

Stupid side effects, stupid withdrawal, stupid people, stupid everything.

Why can’t I ever just stay in the same mood for a couple of days?Why is it something different every single damn day, every single damn hour?

Fuck you, cyclothymia.