Daily Archives: April 21, 2014

You’ve Got This

Due to the success of the “It Gets Better” project, which focuses on improving the lives of gay, lesbian bisexual and transgender youth (LGBT), Healthline has begun the “You’ve Got This” campaign which focuses on young people who have been newly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. “The It Gets Better” project was created to show young […]

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Oh Joy! Division – She’s Lost Control

Confusion in her eyes that sayAnnotates it all
She's lost control

And she's clinging to the nearest passer by
She's lost control

And she gave away the secrets of her past
And said I've lost control again
And a voice that told her when and where to act
She said I've lost control again

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said
I've lost control again
And how I'll never know just why or understand
She said I've lost control again
And she screamed out kicking on her side and said
I've lost control again
And seized up on the floor, I thought she'd die
She said I've lost control

She's lost control again
She's lost control
She's lost control again
She's lost control

Well I had to 'phone her friend to state my case
And say she's lost control again
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes
And said I've lost control again
But she expressed herself in many different ways
Until she lost control again
And walked upon the edge of no escape
And laughed I've lost control

Oh JOY! Division...

Another day, which today means another day of horrible daylight, possible nausea, and anxiety. The anxiety is BIG on the list because I've got to try and do the treadmill, shower, dress/makeup, and get to see the new shrink, and no, I don't drive. It's already stressing me out, and I've already started in on the seroquel. I don't care if I end up a fucking zombie by the time I get there. I can lean on the walls to get down the street, if I have to. I really fucking don't care. I found another way online last night to search for more shrinks in the area that probably take Medicare.

I finished my 2nd cup of coffee, which is my limit today. I didn't go out to Starschmucks this morning because I had to fuck with the printer and computer for about an hour to get some forms printed. It's been fucked ever since the spouse decided to change a password somewhere, or do something stupid without telling me first. FUCK, it was irritating, but I brought my coffee, and the curious cat was there to watch and distract me. I had a bunch of forms to print and fill out for this new shrink. History and all that. Saves time telling part of your shit story all over again, so I usually go for that when shopping for a shrink.

Now I'm drinking water that has all kinds of toxins in it per the EPA. Sometimes I get a whiff of chlorine, but not always. Today it tastes like.... something... a little metallic.

Well, I've decided that I am actually starting to feel this depressed thing from "Reverse SAD". I was noticing a difference toward the end of last month, when things started to turn. I really fucking freaked one day when the sun hit me directly through the glass doors one day. I keep my sunglasses handy and near, as well as the aspirin. 

I think I felt like crying yesterday. Actually, I did, but I can't remember what that was all about. I felt ok when I got up, but sick later on. The anxiety took care of the nausea eventually, and was scheduled to go to the grocery store at 6, according to the spouse. The last fucking thing I wanted to do. It ruined my morning after he asked about going - instant anxiety. I was trying to shoot for dark, but I knew he wouldn't wait that long. I had to make a stop at the drugstore as well. Re-fill of the crazy med, generic seroquel that mostly keeps the muzzle and leash on the beast. Mostly.

This bipolar depression is some nasty, evil, extreme shit. We're talking flashes of suicidal situations, irritability, feeling absolutely no energy, and my body aching all over. I've even been feeling like I've been hanging by a thread at times today. I thought about BP chat rooms, but I just don't know what to say. Same old shit...

I need a shower and to wash my hair, but I can't manage to force myself to do that. I don't know if I can do it before my new shrink appointment. I seriously doubt it. I'm already dreading skulking down the street, trying to hide from all people and light, wearing sunglasses, and a hoodie. I don't know if I can make it. But I have no choice because I can't afford to be paying for missed damn appointments. I can't fucking flake out. FUCK.

Turns out we have to go shopping today after the spouse gets back from work. I hope I'm not completely emotionally exhausted and all that shit that happens when you go to the shrink. I hope my eyes aren't big puffs with red slits, and my skin all weirded out. Shit, I shouldn't care, 'cause I'll be wearing sunglasses, right? Right. 

Truth be told, I'm fucking terrified of going outside, having to find this shrink's address, going in and talking with her. I hope she doesn't think she's going to try to fuck with my diagnoses. No no no no no... I'll have to inform her on not trying that, because she doesn't know me like my meds shrink does. And he's, well, kind of a big wig in teaching and research here, and might even  tell me to get the fuck out of her office if he knew her. You never know. 

Coming Out Acon

Hello, my name is Raeyn (well okay, it’s not REALLY, ha ha), and I am the adult child of a narcissist.

I’ve been trying to find the right words to encapsulate this concept for long years now, you see. I’ve known for a very long time that my relationship with my parents was problematic and abusive, but I didn’t have the framework to express it. And then, going around Wikipedia, I found two relevant articles:

Narcissistic Parent:


I realized fairly young that my mother only seemed to treat me as if I existed as an extension of herself. I found this problematic, especially coupled with the fact I was told at age four (yes, four, the same age as my baby girl) that I had to be a grown-up to help raise my (then) two siblings (later three). So not only did I end up having to fill in as the parental unit from a young age, I also was expected to be the emotional support for hell, both parents. So ‘technically’, I’ve been an adult for 28 years. But you know, I’m not supposed to be my own person. Yeah, doesn’t make sense to me either.

Now, I’d initially thought about coming on here with a laundry list of all the crap I’d been put through, to make some big denunciation… but I changed my mind. For one, why do I want to give her a list of things for her to claim I’d made up to hurt her? You know, like I’ve apparently made up my diagnosed bipolar; I’ve been reliably told she is claiming (or at the very least, implying) this. I don’t know why I’m surprised — this is the same woman who would loudly tell people I made up my sexuality, who told me to quit making stuff up when I begged in high school to get checked for ADHD because I was doing so poorly. Who, well… as said, it’s easy to get listing. Suffices to say, I am 32 and in poor health because it was established early on that I was ‘making up’ anything and everything about my health. I feel that here, in my health space, I should state that much though. Y’all know I’m busting my butt to turn that around though, and I hope that 2015 or 2016 will see things on a much better keel. :D

I had chosen back in February to go no contact with my mother/parents. I won’t get into the specific chain of events (once again, no fuel for the fire), but I finally hit a point where I couldn’t take it anymore and started blocking her everywhere. I hadn’t even heard the phrase ‘no contact’ then — I just knew I had finally (rather belatedly) gotten long past the point where I should tolerate having my exceedingly clearly defined borders violated. I wasn’t even mad, and I’m still not mad — I just had to accept that no matter what I did, I was going to be treated like I was wrong, and that I deserved better. I do deserve better, and asked myself the simplest of questions — would I let anyone else treat me like this? The answer was an emphatic no. I would not, and had not for a very long time. So why should blood excuse it? Simple answer — it doesn’t.

Since then, I talked to friends who had undergone similar decisions, as well as combing the internet for those right words to frame the situation for me. I figure that the name of my blog alone gives a pretty big clue to my desire to label and compartmentalize things, hee hee. And of course, finding useful blogs and resources to double-check that my instincts on things were on the ball. For anyone else who thinks this sort of stuff sounds familiar, here’s some good resources:



As for no contact, it’s what it says on the tin — you don’t talk to them ever again. End of. You don’t respond to their emails or calls, you don’t acknowledge mail that comes, and that’s that. Yes, it’s a nuclear option, but the fact of the matter is that we set our own damned boundaries. If someone, parent or otherwise, cannot respect them, then they should not be in your life (exception: small children. They’re still learning, obviously). If going no contact is something you have considered, here’s a couple of good reads:



and unfortunately:


Both of those blogs are pretty darn solid on the whole, and are great resources. I’ve already taken care of contacting family members that I wish to preserve relationships with, so they knew that I had gone no contact and why. I’ve also let friends know that I have gone no contact, and asked them to respect their access to me, and my privacy. So far, it’s been an overwhelmingly positive response, because my friends know me to be a competent, confident person who knows and respects herself. And I do — in spite of the massive amounts of damage growing up in this situation has done to me, going no contact was so ridiculously freeing because I could start picking apart some of it.

And sure, I’ve got a lot of work yet to do, but I can see that I am pretty darn awesome and worthwhile. That I am not a malicious person, that in spite of constant gaslighting and minimizing, I am sure of myself and my actions. I accept that I cannot have a relationship with my mother or her husband, and I am at peace with it. And with this letting go into this space, I am free. I am free. I am free. I am free to live my life for myself and my family. I am freed of the weight of my past, and can finally make the most of the fresh start life gave me… seven years ago. Ah well, better late than never, am I right?

Mind, I still am going to be a bit quiet about some of my life stuff for the time being. I refuse to be budged from my established public space, but I continue to make use of my private word spaces on the daily to fill in any gaps that I cannot express here at this time. So no, I’m not denying myself any writing need, hee hee. I can say that the depressive spell has passed though, and my sleep has been a bit better and less pained! I’ve had a pretty high level of functionality in the past week, which I’m not counting on lasting, but I’ve certainly been enjoying. My family is well, and my life can only be classed as awesome and fulfilling. This is definitely an amazing year for us all.


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Insurance and an Admittance

So…I have insurance again. 🙂

Which takes a huge weight off my shoulders. I’m not having to panic anymore. I can go to the doctor and dentist now without worry.

I also got my father to apologize for not calling me to inform me about my loosing my insurance. I have no clue if he meant his apology or not…I suspect not. He more than likely just said it to appease me. But, at least I got him to say the words. For the first time ever, he said “I’m sorry” for something he did to me. Even if he did not mean a word of it, I am going to take what I can get. I cannot expect much else from him, so I’ll be happy with what I got. Him admitting anything to me was a huge shock.

Granted, he told me that I was lying to him about a lot of things before he gave me the apology. So I’m not too sure how seriously I can take any of this. He tried to convince me that I was lying about the fact that he told me I had no insurance. He knows that’s a lie, and I told him so. I’m sure he’s angry with me. He was very displeased with everything that I had to say when I called him about the insurance.

Still, I’m covered again. So there’s nothing else to worry about at the moment. It was all taken care of. I won’t worry about it, since I got an apology (sincere or not, I don’t give a damn), which is what I was owed. And beyond that…I don’t give a shit. I’ll just keep on dealing with everything as it comes. From now on, I’m going to just handle my insurance and keep an eye on it myself. I obviously cannot hope to count on my dad to keep me insured and informed, so I’ll have to stay on top of things as if it were my own insurance that I was paying for.

So I got good news. Which makes me happy. The admission solely that I know my dad may not (most likely did not) mean his apology, and it doesn’t upset me to know that. I kind of expected it. I’m able to accept it and just move on. That’s a step towards…well, as close to normal as I can get in relationships with my father.

Pep Talk

This has been a great long weekend for me, with lots of good food, fun, and family, along with some wisdom from my favorite psychiatrist and a beautiful Easter Mass to feed my soul. The weather has been good for the most part, and watching my grandsons frolic on the front lawn is always a treat.

But tomorrow, it’s back to reality and I’m going out ‘in the field’ to see how much—or how little—I can improve my job performance. I’m trying to gear up by reminding myself of what Dr. Awesomesauce said about the anxiety surrounding work (“get rid of it”) and what I need to do (eat the proverbial elephant one bite at a time). This is make-or-break time, but if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t have to break me.

Now, if I can just remember these things tomorrow during the first few frantic hours of survey….

It doesn’t really help that I have periods of great self-confidence (“I got this!”) interspersed with episodes of equally great self-doubt (“I’ll never get it”). However, I’m in a place emotionally where it no longer matters quite as much, so the pep talk is more to keep the nervousness at bay than to rally the troops, so to speak.  What do I really have to be nervous about, anyway? I’m already halfway out the door as it is, and I certainly can’t do any WORSE than I have on previous surveys. No, I don’t want to be unemployed again, but then neither do I want to do this. What have I got to lose?

It’s amazing what a little chat with the good doctor and some perspective can do. I don’t know if “coming out” to my training instructors and supervisors will help or harm me, but at this point it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference because I’ve already let go of a lot of the emotions surrounding work. I came, I interviewed (twice!), I got the job; the fact that I’m no good at it doesn’t mean I’m no good at anything.

I only wish I could quit, rather than wait—and continue to struggle—until they let me go. It would be so much more dignified to leave under my own terms, and it looks better on the resume. Then again, there’s not much I can do about having held three different jobs in a year, and I know that looks bad too.

But I can’t worry about any of that now. Tomorrow, I’m going to put my big-girl chonis on and go do what I can do. That’s all anyone can expect of me, and all I can expect of myself.

To be continued….