Daily Archives: May 30, 2015

Finding My Extreme Pleasure

Extreme Pleasure


What is that, really? You may think that a clown at the circus is pleasurable. Or being frivolous with plenty of money (that is available) to spend. I am always amazed by those who are very funny people. They seem like life is that bowl of cherries in which I cannot relate. Have you ever met someone who makes you laugh until your belly hurts? How do they do that? I have never had that kind of sense of humor. I have lived so long in the doom and gloom I don’t think I can ever find that sense of joy. I do think extreme pleasure is possible to achieve.

The pleasure when watching my puppies chasing one another and their innocence astounds me. The flowers that bloom brings me so much joy. The mere fact that I can once again nurture something to such beauty. This brings such an achievement back into my life. Watching the action feature of a wicked lightening storm leaves me in awe with natures entertainment. 


I struggle with finding my inner happiness. No, I haven’t been meditating as I should. Nor have I been burning the calories to release the endorphins sense of high. I have read about Buddhist psychology, the Dahlia Lama, Deepak Chopra, and Don Miguel Ruiz, I just haven’t made those lessons apart of my everyday life like breathing. Something always holds me back. The highs and lows of my illness makes this even more challenging to accomplish.


 Inner happiness is my idea of extreme pleasure. The “roll it off my shoulders” thing. “Don’t take things so personally” method. Or the “they can’t hurt you”. Those lies or the created “fantasy” I have perfectly written and directed. I study those in my life who have found their inner happiness. The extreme pleasures to sit quietly by themselves. They appear somewhat self-centered to me. Like they have a secret ingredient and not willing to share. It makes me feel terrible about myself. Like no one enjoys being around me.

 It’s the ability to create the happiness when situations are not so settling. There are no signs of anxiety or panic evident in their behavior. They are much more forgiving than I, more jovial when life throws that curve ball. I missed out on that DNA or environmental setting. The balance cannot be rigged! I think I’m going about finding inner happiness all wrong.

Before my illness developed into full fruition, I felt a great satisfaction when I was nursing for a little more than 30 years. It wasn’t about striving to move up the ladder within my career but, the gratitude I brought to a patient when I subjectively observed that a nice warm blanket will bring she/he some comfort. Or taking the extra time by a patients bedside with their family members and teaching the proper technique of giving insulin. These were the moments that brought me extreme pleasure. Best of all, the pleasure of a paycheck that I may treat myself for a job well done. No longer can I obtain such pleasure by the abrupt end of my career. The panic and anxiety attacks became overwhelmingly evident to others.   

 Finding new pleasures has been a great challenge. Focusing on others has been only my husband through his fight with cancer. Just when I feel I have accomplished my inner peace, something comes along and knocks me out of being peaceful. I know that I must first love myself before I can love others but, that is not as easy as it sounds. Not for me. “Much Ado About Nothing” To be continued when my extreme pleasure is obtained.

June is Sasquatch Respect Awareness Month

    Yes, my friends, it’s that time of year to honor our furry neighbors. Sasquatches endure so many challenges such as being demonized by the media and ostracized by their fellow habitat dwellers.  Even the banana slugs roaming our redwoods disdainfully … Continue reading

Prayer for Healing

My son has been sick WAY TOO MUCH this year. He is sick again, this time only with a cold virus, but resulting in another school absence. This year seems to be a record year for pollen and viruses. Add…

Put On The Spot…UGHHH

I don’t well when put on the spot or caught off guard. This is why I’ve always begged people to call before they stop by. Well, I just got a call a few minutes ago from a guy who only calls once or twice a year when he wants something. Of course, it’s all under the guise of “hanging out” which somehow usually involves him dropping trou and trying to prove chronic pot use doesn’t cause impotence . (Seriously, what on Earth possesses a man to drop his pants without so much as a hint there’s interest?) TMI? Oh, well.

I’ve never  been all that into this guy. I don’t dig potheads, just don’t. I don’t think they should be persecuted like cocaine dealers but I simply don’t relate to people who are stoned out of their gourd every day of the year. I require a modicum of intelligence and lucidity. It ain’t coming from this guy, which was why I lost complete interest. Unfortunately, I don’t have the heart to tell him to fuck off. He’s a friend of my brother in law’s and I have no desire to kick the hornet’s nest. My mother would go ballistic on me if I upset their pro stoner bum lifestyle. (Not my mom or sis, just her husband’s friends, every one of them.)

Instead, I keep going with, “You want to visit? I wouldn’t recommend it, I’m not in a good mental state.” I feel rude and yet…This guy ignores me but a couple of times a year when he wants something. And I’m not gonna go too graphic but he ain’t after my mind. Is he a bad person? No. Just kind of a lazy stoner. He’s 40, still lives with his grandparents, has no license or car, and basically lives to smoke dope and play video games. Not to be judgey, but he got out of this place, joined the military, had a career, made good money…And he flaked out and came back to this hell hole. It irks me because if I could ever get out of here, and support myself and my kid well enough, I’d STAY gone.It is unfathomable to me to give up a career to come back and smoke dope and play video games.

I am judgey. Oh, well. If this person treated me with a modicum of respect rather than random booty calls I might have a different attitude. Instead, even when I was doing okay and willing to hang out, I’d have to say, “Can’t, I have to do this, and pick my kid up and do that…” And he would say, I kid you not, “Oh, yeah, you’re busy doing the mom thing.” Doing the mom thing? Um…Like it’s a short term hobby? Immaturity personified.

Weird thing is, last summer, I ran into him at the smoke shop and we chatted a bit and I was in a decent place, Bex was here, and I told him he should pop by and meet her and we could all hang out. He never did call or come by. Kind of told me what he wanted didn’t involve hanging out and watching movies or listening to music with me and Bex and my kid. So I’ve copped a major attitude. And it’s not like I’m lying, I am NOT in a good place right now. I am coming off Prozac, starting another new med, I’m only two weeks into the Trileptal, my anxiety is pathological. I am in prime screaming mimi territory, to be honest.

Of course, I was caught off guard, put on the spot, and I think I gave too much truthful info which is likely going to bite me on the ass. “I just had a bad reaction to a med and kind of went off the deep end.” Not untrue. But he will tell my sister who will tell my mother and next I know I will be getting a call berating me for not snapping out of my depression because I have a kid and no wonder men can’t stand me and I am unfit mother. My mom’s off the deep end these days and this is exactly the thing she salivates over. Kind of like last July 4th when they had a cookout and I dared to have a Mangorita. OMG. One Mangorita? I am a raging drunk!

I never should have entangled myself, in any minute way, with this stoner guy. It’s all so incestuous, the way he basically lives at mom’s so he and brother in law can spend hours gaming and getting high. I shun him, he tells my sis, she tells mom, and I’ve got a shit storm no matter how you go about it. I’ll either be rude or unfit or whatever tangent momster wants to go off on.

And I am starting to fear that maybe her influence has rubbed off on me and I am too critical of my kid. Though I lean toward impatience due to the anxiety and her defiance less than any evil intent.

GRRRRRRRRRRRR. I don’t like being caught off guard. Never should have answered a call from a number I didn’t recognize. Bloody hell. Now I feel guilty, and for what? Telling the truth about my shitty mental state? Not wanting to be an orifice?  It would be one thing if ya know, like R, he just wanted to hang out, watch Dr Who or whatever. That’s the sort of thing I can handle for the most part, provided I don’t have to leave my bubble. But random booty calls…Ugh. I’m too fucking old for such immature men. And I use the term man loosely, because age is not indicative of maturity in the men here.

Sad thing is, were I in a good mental place, I could have said “Nope, not in the mood to hang out” and not felt a second’s remorse or guilt. But because I am in pathological anxiety whining simp mode…

Even doing the right thing is making me feel shitty.

Everyone keeps asking me why I don’t start “getting back out there” since the Donor’s been gone four years now. Frankly, I’m not in that space. My priorities are maturity, intelligence, and someone who doesn’t view my having a kid as “doing the mommy thing.” Just done with the shallow assholes who’d rather smoke a joint and play World of Warcraft than actually spend time having a conversation with a woman. They’re man children and they seem so prevalent in this town, my hope is dwindling. On the days I let myself have hope, and I’m not entirely sure those aren’t just hormonal spikes telling me I need to get laid because I get this super cranky when I don’t.

Now, watch. Couple weeks on the Cymbalta I will probably be raging gleeful and social. Okay, maybe that’s overstating it, but I’ve had good results with it in the past so I am hopeful…

This consistent inconsistency mental illness brings should be used a method of torture.

On the Subject Of Job Hunting With An Employment Gap You Could Drive A Truck Through

I have decided that I have had it with the Social Security Administration. This denial of benefits and subsequent appeal situation has gone on long enough. This was started in July of 2014, and it is now 2015 and going on June. That is a year that this has been occupying my time and effort […]

The Miracle of Life

Lately I have been depressed as you know because my friend is dying. It’s taken most my energy to just get out of bed most days.  It’s getting a little better as I am trying to accept it. I can’t imagine what it will be like when she actually passes.

Yesterday I was reminded just how much a miracle life is. Really it was something so simple and you may even think it is dumb but it touched my heart. A little baby robin was sitting in this little pile of dirt just outside of our backdoor. We watched it as it kept flexing it’s wings and along came mama with a worm and fed her baby. I’d never seen this in real life. It just gave me an aww moment.

I should be reflecting on how for the most part my life is really good.

Losing your best and only friend should never have to happen though and I’m having a hard time with it. However I’m glad that I can still feel joy over the little things. It means there is hope.

Psychological Sludge

It’s one of *those* days. I’m not feeling much of anything except anxiety. Now that I have fulfilled my debt to R by meeting the dudes to pick up their TV, braved the dish, traffic from hell, pouring rain…I think I may be able to relax. Or at the very least breathe a little. Every movement feels like trudging uphill in sludge. Am I functioning? Yep. Am I feeling a damned bit of it? Nope. Pure auto pilot and pathological anxiety.

I can’t explain this sudden fear and anxiety when out in public. Oh, sure, I have my attitude toward the petri dish of humanity, it stresses me out, I don’t fare well under stress, et al. This is more than simple anxiety, this is almost a pathological fear. That “painted with a target and everyone has a gun” feeling. It just started in March, I’m not sure what triggered it. The doctor, of course, is very dismissive. You’d think when someone’s telling you all these symptoms and your diagnosis is “anxiety induced”, y0u might want to adjust their medication so their anxiety is better managed for the time. Nope. Just dismissal. And it’s fairly common with shrinks, they have great disdain for anxiety disorders, I think. Whereas anxiety medications are viewed as “masking” the condition, the truth is, for some of us, we need that mask just to start at the same point others normally do. Otherwise, our functionality is hindered severely.

And I was severely hindered in today’s traffic. One of the lights on the main drag was blinking, which meant eight ways of each car having to completely stop, then discerning whose turn it was go next from which direction. My kid in the back, yap yap yap, I felt like the walls were closing in on me. And trapped in traffic, door to door basically, it’s a logical feeling. I was so relieved to turn off onto a side street. Of course, my relief was short lived because my mini backseat driver let out a shriek of, “Watch out, Mommy!” For no reason other than a car was in front of us. Thank you, Spook, mommy needs help being more paranoid and nervous.

I had three bags to carry in and it felt like I was facing a marathon. Just the simple act of carrying three bags inside. Pathetic. And the house work? I can’t bring myself to face it.  Psychological sludge. One would think after a relatively slow paced week I’d be coping better and calmer. Ha. My brain has other ideas.

In a display of my evil side…I am feeling a bit of schadenfreude. There are events going on all over town and out of town and it’s pouring and ha ha ha, the dish dwellers and their normal people activities are ruined. I really am a bitch at times. Maybe because I envy their ability to live normal lives. Then again, crowded events aren’t my thing anyway so even if I were functional, it’s doubtful I’d be at those events.


Cripes, it’s like living with Sheldon from Big Bang Theory minus the OCD knock on the door.

Okay. Dish time done. I need to chill. It would probably help to take a half dose Xanax since I haven’t had any since last night. I try to do without as long as I can simply because of all the stigma and addiction bullshit attached to Xanax. And I don’t get it because I’ve seen people just as hooked on Ativan or Klonopin. Leave it to a bunch of fucktards to taint what is a very good medication for some people who need it. I know it helps me, yet the guilt and stigma attached…Sad that I’d be looked on more favorably if I were just a constant drinker.


May Round Up

random pages

Ugh. I’m not sure if I’m happy or not with May.

Considering I was hospitalized fairly recently, I guess I am doing pretty good. I am sleeping well, taking my meds regularly, and getting along with life. But ick…part of me does not feel like I am making it.

So I’m looking at my template and trying to see how  I did for the month. Let’s start off with

EXERCISE: This was not good, as usual. I met with a personal trainer for two sessions. (Out of desperation…) I really liked her, but she is $40 a session. That’s pretty ridiculous. But that’s what I need. Someone to stand over me and make me exercise. However, I can think of better things to do with $40. I exercised  exactly TWICE during May. I want to bump this up to six times during June.

I thought I might take some early morning hikes with my husband. Something on a smooth path. This would also kill my goal of doing something with him that he likes.

GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE: I got out of the house 21 days this month. This is a HUGE improvement over April. I think this is due to the Abilify. It’s pretty impressive for me to get up off the couch, be showered and dressed and go somewhere. This is probably my shining star activity for May.

DRINKING WATER: I start out fine on this and just dwindle off. My Jenny Craig consultant mentioned yesterday I should drink like 72 ounces or some wild amount like that. I am settling for four big glasses a day.I am averaging two right now. IF I quit drinking soda and tea, I can drink all this water.

COOKING: I’ve been cooking or arranging dinner every night. It’s getting hot and we’re having company and going on some trips till June 20th. So cooking will be off and on. It’s going to be every man for himself some nights.

BEST FRIEND: This has been going really well. We have plans to see each other three times (this is tentative) during the summer. We’ve been texting and calling. I think our relationship is fairly healed from my mania. (From my perspective at least.) I think I am taking this off my template. It’s going fine.

READING DEVOTIONAL: Did this 21 days out of 30. I’m going to crank it up to 25 or so and use a harder devotional. I want to read a Bible passage from my devotional every day.

JENNY CRAIG FOOD PLAN: Oh God! I had 5 “perfect” days this month. I need to stop eating other stuff. If I stick with the Jenny food, I am not starving. One big hindrance this month will be the travel and guests. We eat out more of course. I am going to try to: only order water to drink, avoid bread, tortilla chips, etc, and take home half of my food. I can also order from the “light” menu. This won’t be perfect. I like my wine with a meal out.

SHOWERING: A victory here! I’ve been showering every three days with no problem. I think about what I am doing the next morning and make sure I shower and my hair is clean for the morning. This is much better.

CANCELLING: I cancelled a lot again. Six times during the month. Just got up some days and could not do it. But I made up the activity with the friend quickly. I’d like to really stop the cancelling. It gets old.

WEIGHT: I was supposed to lose 4 pounds this month…one per week. I actually wound up gaining a pound. I was so embarrassed about this I thought about lying to you guys, but then I thought that was sort of defeating the purpose and was stupid. This all ties together…if I drink my water, stay on the food plan and exercise I will lose the weight. Duh. I am weighing myself and recording every day.


I went to church twice. That won’t be much better this month with all the travel.

I saw EIGHT friends. Most of this was eating out, so that helps explain that extra pound. But I was proud of myself for getting out.

I went to my bipolar group twice. I am taking a break from this. Really depressing and I want to look forward. Have mixed feelings here.

Went to women’s group three times. This is a good and supportive group. I checked my friend list three times and contacted people as needed.


I saw my pdoc and therapist once. I am still up in the air about my therapist and Medicare, etc. It cracks me up that she is 65 and on Medicare but she does not take it as insurance. Go figure.

I got a massage, got a bone density scan, and saw the dentist.


I’m taking off the best friend contact goal.

I’m adding in doing something alone with each child once a month.

Things are changing mentally for me. I need some excitement and “sparkle” in my life. My husband is very content to go along with life and putter around the house and work part time. He’s happily semi-retired.

I was forced to retire. I’m bored. I need to find something to do that I WANT to do, not just something that fills time. Part of me wants to help others, but part just wants to be hypomanic. I’m only 56 in a few weeks, not dead. I didn’t have a midlife crisis…maybe this is it.

Oops…almost forgot. I have a goal for the blog! I’d like to hit 1000 followers by the end of June. It’s a good round number. I need to get out there in the blogging world and meet people.

love to all-


Disturbing Sleep

I went off the sleeping pills/Melatonin because they overly sedated me and gave me very weird, sometimes frightening, dreams. Well, I am still off of them and prior to Latarda, my dreams had been fairly tame. I figured it would go away after the system rid itself of that toxin. But I started the trileptal and the bizarre dreams are still there. I woke up so many times last night, due to weird dreams. Maybe not as weird as the ones I had as a kid where the mustachioed meat counter guy from the grocery store was chasing me around my aunt’s sewing room with a knife…Still…A  bucket of what the fuck.

First, I dreamt of this enormous douchebag guy I went to school with. The one who tormented from me sixth grade on, telling me I should take drugs so I’d have an excuse to be weird, telling me I should do the world a favor and kill myself, oh, and then that scene in the high school gym when he offered me a dollar for a blow job because I “look like a hooker.” Yeah, pretty much the bane of my teenage existence. The one reason I vowed to never kill myself, I’d never give that prick the satisfaction. So WHY THE FUCK WAS HE IN MY DREAMS? It wasn’t sex dream, it was more like “getting to know your tormentor and realize he’s actually very damaged and decent under it all.” Again, WTF?

Then I had a dream I ran into a girl I went to school with when I was in elementary years. I haven’t seen that girl since I was ten, yet there I was having a dream where I bumped into her. I remembered her only because of her unique name. Thariscia. If dreams are some sort of subconscious thing, what is this telling me? It sure as hell isn’t “I missed an awesome childhood.” I know sometimes a dream is just a dream, means nothing, but to go from barely dreaming and having no memory to such vivid dreams I do remember…And yeah, I even had a pleasant dream the other night about hanging out with a gorgeous guy with eyeliner. It was very brief. The weirdo dreams…are long. I don’t even know.

So…First day of kid being out of school for summer. I was up by seven. Stupid bladder is more demanding than the child. I did not want to get up, my entire body ached and I was still so groggy…Maybe because I was awake until almost two a.m. Even when exhausted, I have trouble falling asleep. My gums hurt already from the teeth gnashing, which while I buy it’s a sign of anxiety, I find it fucking convenient I didn’t have it even on Latarda, it only started after the Trileptal. I am so sick of this doctor and his “there aren’t many side effects” or “there is no withdrawal.” He’s just so damned nice, it’s hard to question him, and yet the pharmacy inserts contradict everything he says. If the pharma company admits these side effects exist, the pharmacist knows, the patients know…It’s just wrong that a doctor would be so dismissive.

Starting to feel a little overwhelmed with the kid yapping and the kittens climbing me. I know inevitably my dad will darken my doorstep with a call or visit at some point. (The man makes me want to kill myself, sometimes. He’s just so gloom and doom and critical. But it’s a mystery how I got those same traits.) Oh, the teeth gnashing is driving me crazy.

Oh, I just remembered another whacko dream I had. I was at Dollar Tree and they were selling dentures on the shelf. WTF, seriously. Maybe because I’m gonna grind my teeth down and need replacements?

I have this strong desire to write yet I am still blocked. I know my stress would be lessened if I could just escape into my world of fiction. Yet…Forcing it doesn’t work. I’m trying to read a Jonathan Kellerman book but my heart and head aren’t quite in it. It’s gonna be a looong summer.

And I just remembered I’m on call today so at some point I am gonna have to put on actual clothes. Fuck. I like jammies. Good morning, pretzel gut says. I swear my innards are braided.

Breathe. Picture the STOP sign. I actually spent a bit of time the other night trying to get to sleep with the STOP sign method. Making up what the letters stand for.

Serenity. Tranquility. Offer. Peace. Stop Thinking Of Problems. I do the same thing with license plate letters.

I am coming off the Prozac, so it’s gonna be a bumpy week. In the event the shrink is right and there’s no withdrawal…It will be the first time ever for me and I will alert the world record books.


Where Am I Going, And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

Originally posted on bpnurse:

I’m just kidding….other than this upcoming surgery thing, life’s treating me pretty well these days. But the question that keeps coming back as I adjust to being on Social Security is this: now that I’ve been freed from the stresses involved with trying to obtain (and keep) gainful employment, what does the rest of my life look like?

I’m only 56, after all. If statistics are to be believed, I should have at least another 25 years ahead of me, and even if not, I’m still far too young to sit around waiting to die. There are things I can and should be doing to contribute to society; I just haven’t figured out yet what they are. To be honest, I really never expected to retire—I’d pretty much assumed I’d be working until I keeled over at the nurses’ station one night as I signed off on some chart. But that was not the way whoever is in charge of these things decided it was to be, and now…

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