Dr. Maya Angelou – Love Liberates: http://youtu.be/cbecKv2xR14
Dr. Maya Angelou – Love Liberates: http://youtu.be/cbecKv2xR14
Originally posted on betweenfearandlove:
Truth is something that can appear to be quite elusive these days. It’s very easy to find half-truths or outright lies, misconceptions, misunderstandings; they are all sitting at our fingertips. So when I find truths that speak to me, that resonate within me in a way that I know in my core this is truth, I try to pay attention.
Maya Angelou was someone I had heard of in high school. We may have read a poem or two, if so I honestly don’t remember. It wasn’t until college that I took more of an interest in her, and in reality it’s probably because I saw her on Oprah. I have a tendency to cringe when speech is seemingly deliberate. When I can tell someone has thoroughly thought through what they are saying and they say it in a very matter of fact manner. I don’t know why…
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I have been avoiding the Internet for days (and TV news and commentary as well) because I just can’t handle it right now. Actions, reactions, reactions to the reactions, et endless cetera. I’m depressed enough without all that.
There are plenty of thoughts I have on the Isla Vista shootings, and the media coverage of it, and mental health, and gun regulations. I’m sure most of them have already been said, and probably better than I could, and everything about the subject makes me angry, confused, outraged, despairing, hopeless, helpless, and majorly depressed.
Then there’s everything I’ve read lately about bodily autonomy and male privilege and the “war on women” (why does everything have to be a war?) and politics and climate change and all of those make me angry, confused, outraged, despairing, hopeless, helpless, and majorly depressed too.
But it is TBT, so here is a picture of Maggie, a cat who saw the glowing design on Dan’s forehead that reads “Sucker.” He instantly scooped her up and brought her home. She was thereafter totally devoted to him. He could arouse her to a fever pitch of writhing and seduction with only the use of his voice. I mean, if they had been the same species, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Maybe next week I’ll have pulled myself together a bit and can write about something. For now, I’ll just say the best things that have happened to me today are a head-bonk, a nose-touch, and two nose-licks from Dushenka (Little Soul) with the Crazy Eyes.
A Truly Crazy Crazy Cat Lady
I had my parent teacher conference yesterday. Bex went with. It was the fucking Twilight Zone. Spook sat there, calm and polite, quiet, not interrupting every five seconds. No fits. Totally different kid. And her teachers attest to as much, unable to believe she has punched me and hurt the cats. Which is proof she only acts out for me. The teacher says she may feel she is not getting enough attention from me and I need to rectify that. I am with her every hour of every day. I try to interact with her. Maybe my anxiety and impatience prevent me from being super mom who sacrifices her sanity to entertain her kid 24-7. I am sorry for that but it is what it is. I TRY. I guess I am failing. There is nothing like other people to make you feel like an utter waste of space who can’t do anything right.
Yeah, it’s my inferiority complex but oddly, it is only fed by others. On my own, I am fine with who I am. When others point out all my shortcomings, and I know how hard I am trying only to fail, it metastasizes into this all encompassing “why the fuck bother” mentality. It even leads to “maybe she’d be better off with someone else raising her, someone without mental issues to hinder them from being an entertainment director who worships at her feet. Because that’s kind of how it feels, like I am supposed to change who I am, including cure my own mental illness, to be what she needs me to be. Maybe I am just a victim of my own upbringing. My parents didn’t lavish me with attention or activities or even praise. (Which I do try to praise her often because I know what it;s like to never hear about anything but what you do wrong.) I spend more time with my kid than they did with me, one on one. I TRY. Which is why I get so bent. It’s not easy juggling mental illness and single parenthood and I may not be special because others do it every day but damn. A little slack would be nice.
I often think I’d get more credit if I ran a fucking meth lab and let her roam the neighborhood at all hours with a chainsaw to play with.
Wasn’t it Eleanor Roosevelt who said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission?” She was full of shit. None of us start out insecure. Life gives us reasons to be insecure. Judgements. Criticisms. Highlighting your flaws while ignoring your good qualities. Over years and years, it takes a toll. Not once did I ever say, “Oh, cool, all these idiots are right, I totally give them permission to make me feel shitty about myself.” Passive brainwashing is what it is. Plus a mother who tells you self confidence is the same as conceit doesn’t fuckin’ help.
Yesterday, aside from my inferiority complex rearing its ugly head, was a good day. BEx and I just hung out at home. She cooked. (Yummy pork chops.) I wrote. A lot. I am learning to adapt to writing in spurts where I can steal a moment for a paragraph here and there. It’s not optimal but it’s what I have to work with and I am clinging to it for dear life.
Today…I am low. Not like abysmal, but my kid threw a chair at the patio table when I told her no, I would not buy her a toy at the store. I don’t know why she acts that way for me. I guess I am too grouchy. I wouldn’t be if she were like every other kid I ever dealt with. There’s rebellion and defiance but enough groundings and swats on the butt and losing favorite things…It sinks in. Not with Spook. She’s not pushing boundaries. She’s trying to break me. Some days, it seems like she will succeed before my own fucked up brain finds a way to do me in.
Other days (usually when manic or in a good, strong mood) I will think, you have got a battle on your hands, little girl, because that stubborn streak of yours comes from me and I have had years and years to perfect it…Delusions of grandeur, no doubt.
I keep being told she is a normal kid. Yet no one wants to say I am a normal parent, putting forth effort even in the face of abject failure. I stick around (when her other parent bailed) and I try and I try…But so much defiance wears me down. The teacher says she talks about me constantly, draws pictures of me and her (and apparently if the picture shows us smiling then the kid loves the parent) and yet…I feel like she hates me to the point of wanting me dead. Maybe my own neuroses but…To try so hard and get this treatment in return is a soul sucking drain on limited resources.
Still, I try. Because I love her with everything I am, even with my stupid fucked up bipolar brain that never behaves for me either. I need a vacation.
Unfortunately, you can’t pop your skull open and take a break from your own mind.
Right now, in this moment, I feel dread and uncertainty comes over me. I walked into my ex-job to sign my resignation forms and when I left I felt….blah.
It could be because I have been smoking and drinking. I have been using marijuana. I have not been taking my medication. I have really been fucking up all the good that I’ve gained… and for what? NOTHING.
This always happens to me. I get on track, I hate being on the track, I leave the track. I’m depressed about my being on track.
UGH UGH UGH!
What is wrong with me? This isn’t mental illness. This is a curse.
Statistically Speaking Regarding Life Expectancy We’ve heard this before, but here it is again – those who live with mental illness have a lower life expectancy than the national average. A previous report I cited back in March stated that the life expectancy of a person with bipolar disorder is 9 years less than the […]
The post Life Expectancy Shorter For Mental Illness Than Cigarette Smokers appeared first on Depression and Bipolar Disorder:.
I can’t believe it. I, who never run out of things to say, really don’t have much to write about. I didn’t get the job I interviewed for, I’m not doing anything exciting, and I’m not battling bipolar symptoms. I have an appointment with Dr. Awesomesauce this Friday, but that’s two days away…..so what do I talk about on a cloudy, cool spring day when absolutely nothing is going on in my life?
Oh, yeah…..the fact that I entered a blogathon. Thirty posts in thirty days. It’s sponsored by the same organization that helped launch bpnurse last June, and all I can think of right now is “What the hell did I do THAT for?!” I can usually take off a couple of days each week, but starting Sunday I’m going to have to step up my game to stay in the contest. So either I’m going to have to get a heck of a lot more creative, or some drama is going to have to happen…..and God knows I don’t want the latter.
Besides, there’s going to be enough drama in getting my sister Louise’s stuff moved out of my house and into her apartment at the assisted living facility. It’s been just over a year since she fell and fractured her hip in two places, and it’s taken almost five months (since she moved to her current community) to coordinate the transfer of her furniture and other possessions with the available manpower (which turns out to be my daughter and son-in-law). Now if we can just get Louise to refrain from “directing” them and let them do their job, it should go pretty quickly.
Somewhat surprisingly (to me anyway), I have mixed feelings when I walk through the near-empty rooms where her things have been kept all this time. I’m glad she’ll finally have all her stuff—living out of a suitcase for a year has been supremely frustrating for her—and it means we’ll have less stuff to move when WE get ready to downsize. On the other hand, it symbolizes an end to the way things were for a long, long time, and in a way it’s kind of sad because her absence from our home is now so, well…..permanent.
To be truthful, this is actually a good thing because we get along much better living in different towns, to say nothing of different dwellings. The last year that Louise lived with Will and me—and the months when she was in the nursing home and then the other assisted living—were NOT good times for any of us. But I often find myself missing the everyday chats, the camaraderie, the deeply philosophical discussions…..and the sight of her furniture stacked up in the garage waiting for the moving truck raises a bit of a lump in my throat.
OK, well, that’s pretty decent work for someone with scrivener’s constipation, AKA writer’s block. Let’s just hope I can come up with a few more ideas in the next couple of days so I’ll have stuff to write about during the blogathon. Just hold the drama, please! :-)
Sorry for being silent this month.
It’s just been very hectic. Lots of stuff has happened to me.
On the upside – I got a new job. I start 2 June. I’m very excited to have my new job. The only bad part of my job is that I’ll be driving 1.5+ hours each way per day for at least the next month. After June, hopefully I get a schedule where I can cut my commute time to 1 hour each way. Still, I’m very happy, and I’m looking forward to it.
There has been some major drama that has gone down in my family. Nothing to do with me for once. (Also a good thing–as usually I’m always in the middle of the drama) But I’m tangentially related to it, so it was really stressful to deal with. I’m just now getting out of that bit, and still trying to figure out how to deal with realizations about family members that I’d rather not have.
I should, once I’m back at work, have a better time-table to post more often. I just wanted to let y’all know that I’m not abandoning anything. I’ve just been having a lot of trouble in my personal life, and new developments to deal with. So I ended up taking a mini-hiatus of sorts for this last month.