Daily Archives: July 13, 2014

The Whole Social Media Thing

To begin with, I can’t see sh*t.  That is because I got new glasses about a month ago, with the usual promise that “I will get used to them.”  Having worn glasses for 53 years, I do have some experience with that phenomenon.  These are wrong, and I’ve been round and round with the eye people about them, so until I get that straightened out (probably by forfeiting the $385 they cost me and going elsewhere), I have about a centimeter of lens in my left eye that I can actually see out of.  So if I make typos (horrors!) here, please forgive Little Miss Picky because she is mostly blind at the moment.

Social media: WordPress.  Facebook.  Twitter.  Google Hangouts.  Google Plus.  Or is it Google+?  I don’t care.  For some reason it infuriates me.  Perhaps it’s the feeling of chaos that overcomes me when I know for sure that I have no control whatsoever regarding what little groups, or big, or medium groups I get included in.  I’ve tried posting on Google+ that I don’t want to be included in it.  Of course that generated discussion, good-byes, and affirmations that people would respect my wishes.

Not.  I keep getting family photos, adorable pictures of the new baby sister, etc., all on Google+.  I don’t respond to any of it, so the way I know it was heaved in my general direction via Google+ is when I get an irate, or disappointed, or whatever negative emotional reaction, in my actual email inbox.

Other people try to send me stuff (or register their displeasure at my non-response to Google+) via Facebook.  I look at Facebook, oh, maybe once every two or three months, except when there is a war and then everyone in my country uses it to communicate so I am on several times a day.

Quiet returns, I’m no longer there.

Oh right, Skype.  F*ck Skype.  They send me all kinds of communications in I think Icelandish, by the look of it.  I don’t understand that language.  I do use Skype once or twice a year, but I sure as hell do not leave it open so that it can start ringing and disturb my train of thought.  Anyone who knows me well enough to Skype me knows my email address.  We can make an appointment.

Twitter.  Yeah, I’m sure it’s really useful, especially in times of war and natural disaster.  It’s just that, people, I am on the autistic spectrum and I just don’t care about most things.  I care about my family, my dog, my son especially, my ethnic group, the scary situation with the honeybees, the scary situation with the bats (another very important creature that most people don’t even know about), the bad things that are done to whales by our “Defense Department(s),” and other things I’m quite sure most other people don’t know about and might not care about even if they did know about them.  I do not give one shit or Shinola about my mother’s hellish cat.

So Twitter, unless there is a war or natural disaster that you want to keep up with, is just plain intrusive.  I finally figured out how to turn off audio notifications in my current flavor of Android (who the f*ck cares whether it’s “Ice Cream Soda” or “Strawberry Suppository”?).  They’re just trying to keep up with Apple’s infuriating system of naming their big operating systems after big cats.  Jeeezus K. Reist (thank you R. Crumb), not only do we have to figure out how to stop the effing Apple Store from taking over the whole damn computer, but in addition have to remember what CAT we’re running?  I HATE that.  “Hello, Applecare, there is black smoke coming out from under my keyboard.”  “Oh I’m sorry to hear that, are you running Leopard, Snow Leopard, or Abominable Snowman today?”  “There’s no such OS as Abominable Snowman.”  “Oh yes ma’am, you’re right, I was just fucking with your head.  Now how may I help you today?”  (I discreetly send reverse amplification to their dumb and dumber terminal, causing a chain reaction on their side that blows every circuit in their personal MacBook Pro Titanium, and also gives them a hell of a toothache.

So.  No, Twitter gives me a headache.  Use my email if you want to talk to me, OK?

There’s an email in my right sidebar.  You’re welcome and encouraged to use it!  And of course I fastidiously monitor and respond to comments on my blogs!  That’s where I really feel there is a personal connection.  It’s great for people on the Autistic Spectrum, because you can interact on a personal level without ever having to do air kisses, or hug people you don’t know, or try to avoid people crushing your arthritic hands in their “firm handshake,” or smelling their idea of perfume that makes you gag, or making eye contact for any reason.  Right.  It is a panacea for all of the threatening forms of social intercourse, while opening space for actual exchange of ideas and, yes, emotion, Dr. Spock.

In the meantime, well….there really isn’t any meantime, since you’ve already read all about it above!

Love yas all, peace…..

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my 48th birthday. I know that many, including myself, thought that I wouldn’t make it to this day. It has been a long and hard year marked by deep depression, two hospitalizations, and countless ECT treatments. At this point I still don’t know what I’m living for, other than the fact that I can’t allow myself to hurt the ones that I love by killing myself. I have started a Novena (Catholic Voodoo), I’ve been meditating, and doing yoga daily, and I’ve been tapping. All in the hopes of lifting the depression. I do believe that all of it is helping. I believe that acting in Faith, believing in something, trying to change, gives me hope. I have to have hope that I can do better, that I can be better, that I can function as a human being in this world. The key word there being function.

It’s a beautiful day for a birthday and my oldest sister will be hosting a party for me this afternoon. I’m looking forward to being with my family and having delicious burgers cooked on the grill – my sister makes kickass burgers! I don’t know what she puts in them but they’re damn good :). Maybe heroin. I know this is kind of assholian, but I asked my family for Amazon.com gift cards as presents for my birthday. Where do I get off asking for anything? I know. Asshole. But I’m really watching my pennies since I’m on Disability and I’d really like to buy myself some shit off of Amazon! I hope my diabolical scheme nets me some Amazon coin.

It’s hard to believe that July is pretty much half over. I just want to slowwww this summer down. Summer is my season! I’m alive! Sun, blue sky, minimal clothing….that’s the shit! I think I’ll go sit outside and smoke. One of my last vices. Yeah yeah I know. Fuck me. Oh well it’s my birthday! Taking a day off from beating up on myself. I think I’ll go get a Slurpee. Doesn’t that sound good? Hope your Sunday is outstanding. Peach out, WordPress homies!

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Depressed, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar ECT, I live for sun and heat, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Hope, Humor, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

My Future Mental Health Plans

I'm at a very exciting point in my career. In fact, I already have a career. I've been an educator for seven years and have a Master's in Education. But inspired by my experiences with bipolar disorder, I've decided to go back to graduate school for Social Work. I don't want to be a social worker per se. There are a few careers that do interest me though: a mental health care advocate, a group clinician, or an emergency room crisis worker.

I'm also hoping to turn this whole bipolar thing into a part-time or full-time gig. I'd love to be a bipolar spokesperson. I'm young, energetic, educated, and lucid. I want to be the person the news interviews when they're discussing bipolar disorder.

A college classmate suggested I write a children's book for children of color on mental health. The funny thing is that when I was in high school I thought about writing children's books. The idea of writing for young people still holds some interest for me. But not right now. I need to plan my time wisely. My big goal that I wanna focus my energy on is going back to graduate school in a year. I know it's going to be hard, teaching full-time and going to school part-time. It'll take me four years to finish the degree part-time.

I'm also interested in mental health policy. When I was in the hospital last year, I had a severe skin reaction to one of the medicines they gave me. It burned like a sun burn and peeled like one too. It was on my face. Don't you know I couldn't get a dermatologist to see me? They limit the number of consults you can have on the behavioral health unit. Last year in the hospital I planned on going before Congress to argue that not all cosmetic procedures should be elective, meaning insurance doesn't cover it. If you have a mental illness (even if you don't), physical beauty can seriously hamper your self-esteem. I've now had two skin reactions from psychiatric medications. The cystic acne flare-up made me feel like a freak. I had to have cortisone injections directly into my face to shrink the cysts; the injections were painful.

NAMI's (National Alliance on Mental Illness) has an advocacy page that gives you options of how to become involved politically. When I have more time I'm going to check it out.

I'm so glad that I've found a second passion in mental health (my first passion is education and teaching).

Literature Workshop Summer Camp

For the past three years (this summer will make four), I've taught a 5-day literature workshop summer camp for elementary-aged campers. Grades 2nd to 5th. I teach high school English during the school year, but my master's is actually in elementary education.

I've worked at the following grade levels: Kindergarten, 2nd, 5th, 9th, 11th, and 12th. High school is definitely my favorite. The students can have adult conversations. And I find the curriculum more interesting and stimulating for me.

Although I do miss elementary school sometimes. But not enough to do it full time. You have your students all day and can't even take a bathroom break!

This is where summer camp comes in; it gives me a nice dose of the little ones. I usually teach one or two sessions (5 or 10 days) during the summer. I'll be teaching summer camp soon: July 21 to August 1.

 My camp supplies: pencils, colored pencils, crayons, scissors, notebooks, construction paper, paint, yarn, post-it notes.

A list of all the topics I cover in my camp. I treat it like AP English! I've found that the campers rise to the occasion.

Steppenwolf ~ The Pusher

I wish you could stick posts in between each other…..this one really belongs with another post I wrote about my near death experience with substance abuse/self-medication. It also happens to be from one of my favorite movies of all time: “Easy Rider”   Filed under: Addiction, self-medication Tagged: Addiction, Drug Dealers, Drugs, Recovery, Self-medication

True Colors

My skin is crawling off my bones this morning. It’s one of *those” mental illness days. It could also correlate to a coming thunderstorm, my moods are sensitive to weather. The cats are going insanely hyper which usually indicates a shift in the weather. I love thunderstorms so I don’t know why it would affect my adversely. Who knows.

So…Peppermint schnapps last night. I’m doing my usual, drinking for anxiety relief, and drinking way too often. I feel no pride for it. I went through the harshest depression of my life for 8 months and drank maybe twice. Now summer and the mania return and I am back to overindulging. Every.Fucking. Time. There IS such thing as too much energy and good mood. People can call this pessimism but until you’ve been manic and found yourself going off the rails when it truly isn’t in your character to do so, you don’t have a clue. This is where the professionals and I are at an impasse. I may have a pattern of drinking too much but it correlates with manic episodes and social anxiety and general anxiety. My personality really isn’t one to enjoy inebriation because I need to be lucid and coordinated to type and such. Behavior isn’t personality and no one will ever convince me otherwise when bipolar is involved.

Now my personality, on the other hand, I am having to face some harsh realities about. Last night one of my worst qualities emerged due to alcohol loosened tongue and I hurt someone I care about. It wasn’t consciously intentional. I guess I do this thing where someone hurts me and I bite my tongue as long as I can to avoid confrontation and conflict but eventually I will bring it up as a passing thing. There will be the usual, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way” and I will say, “I know, it just stung” and move on from there.

Except my fragile little psyche DOESN’T move on and let it go. It festers and metastasizes inside of me. On this maybe I am a little borderline. Because while logically I know the person probably didn’t mean to wound me but because they did wound me, I think it’s intentional and if i let it go then that will be passive and submissive and invite them to do it again and again.

I spent my early adolescent years being a welcome mat. Because I was the *weird* girl, I just tended to let people walk on me and hurt me and I bit my tongue because obviously, I was weird and deserved it and should just be honored anyone spoke to me. By the time I outgrew this and just started telling people to fuck off, I’d worked up some serious resentment issues. A friend who also has mental health issues once described it as others being teflon, nothing sticks, whereas we aren’t non stick pans, EVERYTHING sticks to us. It’s an apt description.

As I got older, I got tougher. Now people can call me a bitch and it’s like a compliment. Because I can be an enormous bitch beast. I only get really offended when someone says something that’s not true, like slut or whore. I’m practically a nun most of the time if the mania isn’t bringing out the hypersexuality. I don’t mind being called on what I am guilty of. The donor once called me c*nt and I almost respected him for it because at the time, I was being that c*nty. I wanted a fight so I could feel something and I deserved to be called out.

He also asked, “How long have you been saving all this up for?”

I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now. I don’t want to be a petty vindictive person. But I can be. It’s hard to see and accept your own true colors.

I *do* save things up to be rehashed at a later date, especially if I feel the issue wasn’t really resolved and it was really hurtful.  And if it wasn’t a truth about me, then I get really bitchy.

I’m not a great person and I absolutely suck at all relationships.

Bitter pill to swallow.

But none of us are perfect and we all have personality traits that are ass trash. I suppose the big difference is if you actually feel bad about it and make a conscious effort to make changes or at least rein it in.

I am really sorry and I feel shitty about hurting someone I truly love. Yes, I mean you, Bex. It wasn’t truly intentional but I guess my non Teflon coating reared its ugly head. I made it 7 weeks before showing my true colors.

The saving grace is, I also have other colo(u)rs that are quite pretty. I think gray is in there somewhere, too. ;)

I’m TRYING at this social thing. But honestly, I didn’t have a lot of true friendships at young ages and I never really developed social skills. It’s not an excuse, it’s a painful realization. It’s like trying to do algebra when you didn’t even learn basic math first. Like I can never truly grasp the concept.

I’m making an effort even if I’m failing sometimes.

And now I am done rambling. Mental purge post. Necessary.

On with my Sunday, which includes a lot of doing nothing and mentally flogging myself.


Suckage: A Song (With Apologies To Jerry Garcia)

And now, for something a little different (if not particularly chirpy), here’s a little ditty I composed while sitting at the computer listening to classic rock music.

To the tune Truckin’ by The Grateful Dead:


man my life’s a mess


I’m totally stressed


where the hell do I belong?

But I’m gonna keep hangin’ on…..

Livin’ like I have ain’t always been easy

Sometimes I don’t know if I’m coming or if I’ve gone

In debt up to my ass, creditors just keep on callin’

Don’t they know that I’ll never answer the phone?


man my life’s a mess


I’m totally stressed


where the hell do I belong?

But I’m gonna keep hangin’ on…..

Busted flat, I dunno where I’m goin’

All I know is I have to figure it out soon

I’d like to have more time before I leave here

but I’ll probably still be singin’ the same old tune


man my life’s a mess


I’m totally stressed


where the hell do I belong?

But I’m gonna keep hangin’ on…..