So. Tired. Stayed up all night alternating between trying to distract myself with Arrested Development on Netflix and bawling my eyes out. It hurts; it really hurts. I hope things will change in a week or so. I really miss J. Alas, I must be patient.
Been working on my 30-before-30 list. Hope to post this soon.
Plan for the evening:
1. buy wine
2. gym
3. grocery store
4. take my meds
5. eat something
6. watch The Royal Tenenbaums
7. take benadryl
8. hopefully sleep more than 4 hours
Ready, Go. I only have about 1/2 hour left at work....
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A definition
I have a love for J. that is real. It's deep and it's strong. Wanting to end my relationship with him would be for shallow reasons - the same kinds of shallow reasons that have damaged our relationship. Because other people don't like him, because other people think that he is not productive, because other people think that he should marry me. I am different. I am not like other people. I can take care of myself, provide for myself, fill my time with things other than marriage. But I do love J. I do want him to be a part of my life. I want to talk to him, sit with him, make love to him. Doubts are natural in any relationship. Other people's doubts have always been stronger than my own. My plans and dreams have worked out, despite other people's idea of what I should be doing. This should be no different.
I appreciate a strong person, an individual. I am one myself. I am. Even though the last year or more has expressed otherwise. I have achieved much and I am capable of achieving much. I have suddenly remembered this, this that I knew all along, but forgot for a while.
I want J. in my life, and if he doesn't want to be, then I will have no choice but to move on. If he needs time to experience life on his own, then it's going to depend on the picture and the degree of our relationship. I don't know if I want to deal with an un-clean break. If he thinks that he could, I might consider it.
But if time is all he needs, then time is what I have. I have lots of things that I can focus on in the meantime. A new job, a grad school, a published story, actually writing a story that could be published, a lot of books that I haven't read, a lot of hours that I can spend writing, reading, dancing, meeting and fostering friendships. I am not interested in pursuing another person in my life. I am not interested in spending time seeking out, finding, and pursuing men. I am really uninterested. I am not motivated by sex, and while I may be motivated by the excitement of "the chase" with men, the emotional navigation required is just...not worth it. Why have I gone through my boy crazy phase now and dedicated to one person? I've spent so much time and energy on this relationship and probably pushed it much further than it should have gone. Four years? Four years out of eighty isn't much. Four years is a lot to bond over, but the number is not a reason to push things. Back when folks got married at 16 with only a few months of courtship, they only had about 20 years to hang out before they died.
At J.'s commencement, the guy said that we should take advantage of our life expectancy. I plan to do that by being open to J.'s decision. As long as I don't feel used, I am down for this.
I appreciate a strong person, an individual. I am one myself. I am. Even though the last year or more has expressed otherwise. I have achieved much and I am capable of achieving much. I have suddenly remembered this, this that I knew all along, but forgot for a while.
I want J. in my life, and if he doesn't want to be, then I will have no choice but to move on. If he needs time to experience life on his own, then it's going to depend on the picture and the degree of our relationship. I don't know if I want to deal with an un-clean break. If he thinks that he could, I might consider it.
But if time is all he needs, then time is what I have. I have lots of things that I can focus on in the meantime. A new job, a grad school, a published story, actually writing a story that could be published, a lot of books that I haven't read, a lot of hours that I can spend writing, reading, dancing, meeting and fostering friendships. I am not interested in pursuing another person in my life. I am not interested in spending time seeking out, finding, and pursuing men. I am really uninterested. I am not motivated by sex, and while I may be motivated by the excitement of "the chase" with men, the emotional navigation required is just...not worth it. Why have I gone through my boy crazy phase now and dedicated to one person? I've spent so much time and energy on this relationship and probably pushed it much further than it should have gone. Four years? Four years out of eighty isn't much. Four years is a lot to bond over, but the number is not a reason to push things. Back when folks got married at 16 with only a few months of courtship, they only had about 20 years to hang out before they died.
At J.'s commencement, the guy said that we should take advantage of our life expectancy. I plan to do that by being open to J.'s decision. As long as I don't feel used, I am down for this.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Four days of not really talking to J.
has come to an end. It was really driving me crazy not knowing what J. was thinking, so I sent him a very basic email. Something like "I'm not trying to intrude on your space, but I was hoping to find out what's going on in your head."
So he called me several hours later...and I don't know if we're in a better position or not. Here's my stance - I love him. I want to be with him. I know that we could work together, for a long, long time if we're both willing to give a certain amount. We have a lot in common when it comes to "big picture" things and life philosophies. Our relationship has been under a lot of stress in the last year, however.
I graduated from college and entered the work force. I didn't make a big deal out of this. I just did it. I didn't even go to my graduation, I basically went to a job interview and took a job about 2 weeks later. And just onward from there. I didn't really take the time to process it.That was probably a mistake.
Meanwhile, he's really taken an interest in his personal and professional life. He spends a lot of time reading, studying, reading, studying. He has strong passion for his interests and his work, taking things seriously, more so than ever before. He quit his part-time job to take 18 hours of classes and finish school...he has been in school for about 2.5 years straight...no summers off, nothing.
We've both been acting a little bit more like grownups. I've dealt with a lot more stress. While school was definitely stressful for me, I have experienced a deeper kind of stress in the work force. I have always had a strong sense of self, a knowledge of "what kind of person" I was, generally what I wanted (not specifically, but generally), and what I sought in a relationship. After 2-3 years together, a lot of people started asking me when/if me and J. were going to get married. Aside from this being a rude and personal question to ask if you're not my close personal friend, it was also irrelevant to me at the time. I had a great philosophy, which was "if we are enjoying our relationship, then we are going to be in it, there's no reason to change that or call it something different if it's going well."
Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying that. I stopped saying it to myself, I stopped saying it to other people. Instead, I started saying, "we'll probably get married in the next few years." In a year or two, I told myself. Why? I don't know. I really don't. Some combination of living in the South, where if you're not married by 23 you're an old maid and my job, in which I work with 100s of brides on a daily basis and write somewhat in-depth stories about how much they and their husbands are in love and want to tell the world. Literally six people that I knew got engaged and/or married, including my friend. I was her Maid of Honor. This crap takes a toll on you, as a southern woman. Despite my childhood ambition of being a single, professional, free spirit professional woman, I am still southern. Add my lost perspective to the extra stress, the untreated issues of depression, anxiety, bipolar, whatever, and I probably haven't been much fun for a young man to deal with.
He said tonight that he once felt like our relationship was young and carefree, a no-brainer, a natural thing. Now, he says, it didn't feel like that. He said he loved me, but that he didn't have the same feelings. I reminded him that when we met, we were 19. Now, we're 24 going on 25. It's not possible to have a happy-go-lucky relationship all the time forever, especially since we're not college students hanging out getting drunk. But I know what he means about the feeling. I feel like that feeling stuff, that excitement, fun and happiness is mostly my fault. I've seen us both look to other places for that fun and enjoyment. One example - he's gone off with his friends (they're all Eastern European) to hang out at his uncle's farm--did I go? No. I was invited. The main reason I didn't go is so stupid it's embarrassing for me to admit to myself.
I didn't go because his friends, at least the girls, are really skinny. I have always, always wished that I was one of those "tiny" girls -- a pixie-size miniature version of a human. Alas, I grew up in America, where an overabundance of food and an ancestry of people who also enjoyed this food abundance grew taller, bigger boned, and with extra fat packets and passed down their big ole American genes to me. I'm not saying I'm a fat monster, I'm just not that Russian-model sized girl. I couldn't bear the thought of running around in the sweltering heat at a farm, watching their stick legs stick out of their tiny shorts, while I, in my baggy skirt and T-shirt felt like a fatty. This, of course, is ridiculous. First of all, J. thinks I'm hot and loves my shape and size. Second of all, these girls aren't American, so they probably don't have the kind of complex we do about comparing ourselves to other women. Thirdly, if they did think badly of my thighs, then who gives a fuck? But really, the worst part about my psychosis about this matter is the fact that I told J. this. I told him that I would feel bad about my size compared to theirs.
There are some things better left unsaid. Some internal thoughts that ought not to be shared. That was a dysfunctional thought that I should have shared with a) a diary, b) a therapist or c) a close girlfriend who might have a better understanding and told me to shut-up. That's not boyfriend sharing with material. This lack of self-esteem on my part was repeated OVER and OVER again, and J. even told me that hearing that kind of thing was damaging to his view of me. It also crossed over into other areas of my life, telling myself how bad at was at this or that, or how I was a failure in this or that.
Undoubtedly, this was the single most damaging aspect of j.'s feelings for me.
More on what he actually said...coming.
So he called me several hours later...and I don't know if we're in a better position or not. Here's my stance - I love him. I want to be with him. I know that we could work together, for a long, long time if we're both willing to give a certain amount. We have a lot in common when it comes to "big picture" things and life philosophies. Our relationship has been under a lot of stress in the last year, however.
I graduated from college and entered the work force. I didn't make a big deal out of this. I just did it. I didn't even go to my graduation, I basically went to a job interview and took a job about 2 weeks later. And just onward from there. I didn't really take the time to process it.That was probably a mistake.
Meanwhile, he's really taken an interest in his personal and professional life. He spends a lot of time reading, studying, reading, studying. He has strong passion for his interests and his work, taking things seriously, more so than ever before. He quit his part-time job to take 18 hours of classes and finish school...he has been in school for about 2.5 years straight...no summers off, nothing.
We've both been acting a little bit more like grownups. I've dealt with a lot more stress. While school was definitely stressful for me, I have experienced a deeper kind of stress in the work force. I have always had a strong sense of self, a knowledge of "what kind of person" I was, generally what I wanted (not specifically, but generally), and what I sought in a relationship. After 2-3 years together, a lot of people started asking me when/if me and J. were going to get married. Aside from this being a rude and personal question to ask if you're not my close personal friend, it was also irrelevant to me at the time. I had a great philosophy, which was "if we are enjoying our relationship, then we are going to be in it, there's no reason to change that or call it something different if it's going well."
Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying that. I stopped saying it to myself, I stopped saying it to other people. Instead, I started saying, "we'll probably get married in the next few years." In a year or two, I told myself. Why? I don't know. I really don't. Some combination of living in the South, where if you're not married by 23 you're an old maid and my job, in which I work with 100s of brides on a daily basis and write somewhat in-depth stories about how much they and their husbands are in love and want to tell the world. Literally six people that I knew got engaged and/or married, including my friend. I was her Maid of Honor. This crap takes a toll on you, as a southern woman. Despite my childhood ambition of being a single, professional, free spirit professional woman, I am still southern. Add my lost perspective to the extra stress, the untreated issues of depression, anxiety, bipolar, whatever, and I probably haven't been much fun for a young man to deal with.
He said tonight that he once felt like our relationship was young and carefree, a no-brainer, a natural thing. Now, he says, it didn't feel like that. He said he loved me, but that he didn't have the same feelings. I reminded him that when we met, we were 19. Now, we're 24 going on 25. It's not possible to have a happy-go-lucky relationship all the time forever, especially since we're not college students hanging out getting drunk. But I know what he means about the feeling. I feel like that feeling stuff, that excitement, fun and happiness is mostly my fault. I've seen us both look to other places for that fun and enjoyment. One example - he's gone off with his friends (they're all Eastern European) to hang out at his uncle's farm--did I go? No. I was invited. The main reason I didn't go is so stupid it's embarrassing for me to admit to myself.
I didn't go because his friends, at least the girls, are really skinny. I have always, always wished that I was one of those "tiny" girls -- a pixie-size miniature version of a human. Alas, I grew up in America, where an overabundance of food and an ancestry of people who also enjoyed this food abundance grew taller, bigger boned, and with extra fat packets and passed down their big ole American genes to me. I'm not saying I'm a fat monster, I'm just not that Russian-model sized girl. I couldn't bear the thought of running around in the sweltering heat at a farm, watching their stick legs stick out of their tiny shorts, while I, in my baggy skirt and T-shirt felt like a fatty. This, of course, is ridiculous. First of all, J. thinks I'm hot and loves my shape and size. Second of all, these girls aren't American, so they probably don't have the kind of complex we do about comparing ourselves to other women. Thirdly, if they did think badly of my thighs, then who gives a fuck? But really, the worst part about my psychosis about this matter is the fact that I told J. this. I told him that I would feel bad about my size compared to theirs.
There are some things better left unsaid. Some internal thoughts that ought not to be shared. That was a dysfunctional thought that I should have shared with a) a diary, b) a therapist or c) a close girlfriend who might have a better understanding and told me to shut-up. That's not boyfriend sharing with material. This lack of self-esteem on my part was repeated OVER and OVER again, and J. even told me that hearing that kind of thing was damaging to his view of me. It also crossed over into other areas of my life, telling myself how bad at was at this or that, or how I was a failure in this or that.
Undoubtedly, this was the single most damaging aspect of j.'s feelings for me.
More on what he actually said...coming.
A Modest, Drunken Proposal
Several years ago when he was still drinking, after a really intense bender for which he was still extremely drunk, J. was being really mean and inappropriate to me and our friends. I decided to take him and his friend back home, but I asked his friend to sit in the front seat because J. was being really horrible and I wanted him in the back seat.
As he swayed and whined, drunk as a skunk, he suddenly asked me to marry him. I just took it as ridiculous drunken talk, and was kind of sad and offended that he had decided to ask me in that state. I proudly and flippantly said no. But it was super awkward.
The other day when we were arguing and disentangling, he said "I asked you to marry me before." I can only assume that he meant that one time, about 3 years ago, when he had done so while intoxicated. I basically said, "No you didn't" but it made me feel like that one time meant something to him, in some way, and that my rejection of his proposal, however not-serious I thought he was, made him sad. I'd like to ask him about it, to clear the air, to let him know that I loved him when he was a drunk, and I love him now, but that I didn't take him seriously and I didn't think that it was an appropriate or even valid way to ask. To me, it was basically just drunken ramble and I treated it as such. Maybe he was "testing" me to see if I would be with him "in sickness and in health."
As he swayed and whined, drunk as a skunk, he suddenly asked me to marry him. I just took it as ridiculous drunken talk, and was kind of sad and offended that he had decided to ask me in that state. I proudly and flippantly said no. But it was super awkward.
The other day when we were arguing and disentangling, he said "I asked you to marry me before." I can only assume that he meant that one time, about 3 years ago, when he had done so while intoxicated. I basically said, "No you didn't" but it made me feel like that one time meant something to him, in some way, and that my rejection of his proposal, however not-serious I thought he was, made him sad. I'd like to ask him about it, to clear the air, to let him know that I loved him when he was a drunk, and I love him now, but that I didn't take him seriously and I didn't think that it was an appropriate or even valid way to ask. To me, it was basically just drunken ramble and I treated it as such. Maybe he was "testing" me to see if I would be with him "in sickness and in health."
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Found this post from June 1 - triggers galore
Here is a draft I wrote on June 1, but never published for obvious reasons. Kind of explains the kind of interactions I've had with J. that probably caused him to get sick of me:
I'm still going. I kicked J. out. I'm going crazy. I'm a total mess. I don't know what to do. I told him to leave but I really really wanted him to stay. I have no relief, no help, no medical care. I'm too afraid to go to the hospital because I won't be able to work. I have work in 5 hours. I have a lot of anxiety about not getting enough sleep. I don't know what to do, and I have nowhere but this blog to turn. I tried to leave, wanted to kill myself, just wanted the pain to stop. J. had to stop me. Then I told him if he left, I wouldn't harm myself. But I realy just wanted him to stay and us to live happily ever after. But I feel like that's being taken away from me because of my mental illness. I've given up and I need serious medical help but I had to miss my appt. due to Memorial Day.
I know that I am going to alienate anyone who is reading this, but J. has already left me for the evening and I feel like knives are stabbing me in the heart, the pain is so bad.
I'm still going. I kicked J. out. I'm going crazy. I'm a total mess. I don't know what to do. I told him to leave but I really really wanted him to stay. I have no relief, no help, no medical care. I'm too afraid to go to the hospital because I won't be able to work. I have work in 5 hours. I have a lot of anxiety about not getting enough sleep. I don't know what to do, and I have nowhere but this blog to turn. I tried to leave, wanted to kill myself, just wanted the pain to stop. J. had to stop me. Then I told him if he left, I wouldn't harm myself. But I realy just wanted him to stay and us to live happily ever after. But I feel like that's being taken away from me because of my mental illness. I've given up and I need serious medical help but I had to miss my appt. due to Memorial Day.
I know that I am going to alienate anyone who is reading this, but J. has already left me for the evening and I feel like knives are stabbing me in the heart, the pain is so bad.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Med Questions - Should I take bipolar medication?
My hesitation and problems with medication partially stem from my past experiences. About 4 years ago, I was on Lexapro for a short period of time. I wasn't in therapy, I was living at home (a mental health minefield) and I didn't see any results. My psychiatrist upped my dosage a few times, but didn't want to listen to me talk about the issues. I didn't understand that she wasn't a therapist, just a script writer. No one explained that to me. It was like:
" Hi there, how are you feeling?"
"I'm not feeling any better...my thoughts are pretty nega--"
"Well, let's just do 200mg instead of 100mg then. That should help those thoughts go away."
"But I think if I just could talk abou-"
"Here's your prescription, see you next time."
When I went to my new psychiatrist about 5 weeks ago, we spent much more time talking about the issues and I felt good about it overall. I told him my symptoms, etc. without telling him that my therapist had decided I was bipolar II. When he heard that the whole Lexapro experience, he immediately decided that I was bipolar II because the antidepresant didn't help me. I honestly have a hard time remembering 4 years ago and given the circumstances, I don't know if anything would have made me feel better at that time. It just doesn't seem like something to base a diagnosis on. But with the other symptoms I had, I figured that my annoyance with the Lexapro situation wasn't enough to ignore the diagnosis.
When I went back this last week, there had been a paperwork mix-up and the office forgot I was coming. They tried to tell me that my appt. was a different day, until I showed them the appt. card they had printed for me. Then, the dr. told me they had lost my file for a while and he had to remember who I was for the first few minutes of the appt. I was having the symptoms of mania at that time, and I was pretty irritable. I had 5 appts that day for work (!!), and a few hours of driving time all over town. I think my doctor could really see the irritability at that moment. He suggested that I up the dose on the Lamictal I was taking even though I only had been taking the 100mg dose for 3 days. I didn't really think that was enough time to determine that the 100mg wasn't enough, but my thoughts were too scattered to put this into words. I really wanted him to give me something to calm down.
That sounds like drug-seeking behavior, and I guess technically it is if I really wanted him to give me a Xanax or Loritab or Klonopin or whatever. But I don't want to get high. I like it when I am myself, content or happy or neutral and getting things done. The idea of being a Xanax-ed out couch blob or otherwise mentally vacating is not appealing. However, when I feel like I'm losing control of my mind, my body, and all I want to do is explode, the idea of taking the edge off of that is really appealing. I want to calm down before I do something really drastic and make mistakes--(oh wait, I've already done that.)
I have smoked about 10 cigarettes in my life and didn't enjoy or get a high off of any of them. After a few rare but severe bad experiences with alcohol (think extreme hangovers), I have really cut back on drinking more than 1-2 drinks at once. I've stuck to I'll stick to a glass of wine, a beer, or a single cocktail (vodka-sodas are low cal). I've never, ever taken a pill not prescribed to me. What I really want is to minimize the damage of a manic/agitated/whatever state.
Again, I guess I wasn't as clear on this, and I really didn't want to get blacklisted as some kind of druggie, so I didn't directly ask him for a calming/downer type of thing. I really wish I had, because that was the night that me and my bf got into it and ended up separating or something (I don't really know our status.) Enough about that.
So now I am going to go forward getting this 150mg prescription. Partly because Lamictal is supposed to be a miracle drug with no side affects (if you're not allergic) and partly because most of the personal experiences I've read online (I've read 100s of form posts, articles, etc. from a variety of sources ranging in reliability) say the most common dose is between 200-400. So going up to 150mg for real results doesn't seem outlandish. Also, the Dr. made me a four-week follow up appt instead of 6-week or 8-week or whatever. That makes me think he wants to do extra checking in.
I have to admit, I did call a friend last night and ask if they had any pharmaceuticals. I was really desperate after what I experienced on Thursday night and Friday night (really un-fun manic episodes.) We talked about it, and I decided it wasn't worth the trouble or risk and just tried to relax instead.
Unfortunately, this is all happening at the worst time ever, a huge work deadline. And I haven't even begun on the project for the next deadline in 2 weeks after this. I did apply for another job yesterday. It's a long shot, and I don't know if it's the best idea, but I did it just to get myself going on the job search. I can't maintain this kind of stress level if I want to stop ruining my life.
" Hi there, how are you feeling?"
"I'm not feeling any better...my thoughts are pretty nega--"
"Well, let's just do 200mg instead of 100mg then. That should help those thoughts go away."
"But I think if I just could talk abou-"
"Here's your prescription, see you next time."
When I went to my new psychiatrist about 5 weeks ago, we spent much more time talking about the issues and I felt good about it overall. I told him my symptoms, etc. without telling him that my therapist had decided I was bipolar II. When he heard that the whole Lexapro experience, he immediately decided that I was bipolar II because the antidepresant didn't help me. I honestly have a hard time remembering 4 years ago and given the circumstances, I don't know if anything would have made me feel better at that time. It just doesn't seem like something to base a diagnosis on. But with the other symptoms I had, I figured that my annoyance with the Lexapro situation wasn't enough to ignore the diagnosis.
When I went back this last week, there had been a paperwork mix-up and the office forgot I was coming. They tried to tell me that my appt. was a different day, until I showed them the appt. card they had printed for me. Then, the dr. told me they had lost my file for a while and he had to remember who I was for the first few minutes of the appt. I was having the symptoms of mania at that time, and I was pretty irritable. I had 5 appts that day for work (!!), and a few hours of driving time all over town. I think my doctor could really see the irritability at that moment. He suggested that I up the dose on the Lamictal I was taking even though I only had been taking the 100mg dose for 3 days. I didn't really think that was enough time to determine that the 100mg wasn't enough, but my thoughts were too scattered to put this into words. I really wanted him to give me something to calm down.
That sounds like drug-seeking behavior, and I guess technically it is if I really wanted him to give me a Xanax or Loritab or Klonopin or whatever. But I don't want to get high. I like it when I am myself, content or happy or neutral and getting things done. The idea of being a Xanax-ed out couch blob or otherwise mentally vacating is not appealing. However, when I feel like I'm losing control of my mind, my body, and all I want to do is explode, the idea of taking the edge off of that is really appealing. I want to calm down before I do something really drastic and make mistakes--(oh wait, I've already done that.)
I have smoked about 10 cigarettes in my life and didn't enjoy or get a high off of any of them. After a few rare but severe bad experiences with alcohol (think extreme hangovers), I have really cut back on drinking more than 1-2 drinks at once. I've stuck to I'll stick to a glass of wine, a beer, or a single cocktail (vodka-sodas are low cal). I've never, ever taken a pill not prescribed to me. What I really want is to minimize the damage of a manic/agitated/whatever state.
Again, I guess I wasn't as clear on this, and I really didn't want to get blacklisted as some kind of druggie, so I didn't directly ask him for a calming/downer type of thing. I really wish I had, because that was the night that me and my bf got into it and ended up separating or something (I don't really know our status.) Enough about that.
So now I am going to go forward getting this 150mg prescription. Partly because Lamictal is supposed to be a miracle drug with no side affects (if you're not allergic) and partly because most of the personal experiences I've read online (I've read 100s of form posts, articles, etc. from a variety of sources ranging in reliability) say the most common dose is between 200-400. So going up to 150mg for real results doesn't seem outlandish. Also, the Dr. made me a four-week follow up appt instead of 6-week or 8-week or whatever. That makes me think he wants to do extra checking in.
I have to admit, I did call a friend last night and ask if they had any pharmaceuticals. I was really desperate after what I experienced on Thursday night and Friday night (really un-fun manic episodes.) We talked about it, and I decided it wasn't worth the trouble or risk and just tried to relax instead.
Unfortunately, this is all happening at the worst time ever, a huge work deadline. And I haven't even begun on the project for the next deadline in 2 weeks after this. I did apply for another job yesterday. It's a long shot, and I don't know if it's the best idea, but I did it just to get myself going on the job search. I can't maintain this kind of stress level if I want to stop ruining my life.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
More about the bf - I guess this is my journal now?
So after that last post, you see what kinds of behavior I exhibit when I'm on a rampage. I'm still not entirely comfortable with saying I'm in a manic state. I don't never if it's healthier or better to externalize the behavior - blame it on the disease, basically -- or whether it's better to just say 'I was a bitch, and I can never do that again." I still haven't decided if I actually accept my bipolar II diagnosis.
Thursday night wasn't nearly as bad as the night I described in one way. It was very different. We got into a discussion about marriage or something. His feelings seem to be that he doesn't want to do it for another 6 years (before we turn 30.) He's expressed concern that he won't be able to "travel the world" as he wants to because he's with me. I'm not exactly clear on this, because I've made it entirely clear to him that I want him to do exactly as he wishes as far as traveling or moving. I think that we could handle a long-distance relationship, and I'm willing to do that as long as there's a plan of action for when we will be getting together again.
He also has reservations about me, I think mostly because of my mental health issues. I am kind of feeling now like the bipolar II diagnosis has scared him. He's been to therapy with me twice, has been supportive of the recent steps I've taken to get treatment, but this week when I was acting like a horrid, mean, person, I think he had finally had enough. He doesn't think I'm ready to marry (I never said I was ready at the moment) and doesn't want to be with me if it's a constant cycle of happy-crazymean-depressed and then again. I can't blame him.
On the other hand, I have some reservations about him. He doesn't have a job and doesn't seem to have any intention of seeking a regular source of income any time soon. My constant work stress probably hasn't helped his view of full-time employment. I know that he's JUST finished his undergraduate, but his current plan is to spend the next 6-8 months studying and applying to the one grad school he wants to go to. I don't know if he understand how difficult it will be to get in, and I don't know if he understand that going 6-8 months without any kind of income at all is a little...irresponsible? annoying to me?
Also, he smokes about half a pack a day, sometimes more, and dips chewing tobacco 2-3 times a day. I've made it clear to him from the first few months of our relationship that I wouldn't marry him if he smoked. I thought that I was being fair and clear, but apparently that has just pissed him off from the beginning.
So add those issues to the predictable issues like "what and where will our jobs be? where will we live? when and why should we get married, if we even should?" and we had a very emotional discussion that left me feeling rejected, inadequate, and frankly, used. I am afraid of waking up one day, realizing that I've spent 10 years with someone who has no intention of marrying me, even though I'm not entirely sure why I want to get married or if I 100% do. J.'s argument is "why do we have to decide the rest of our lives right now..." and he's right. But I get psycho and it's also the fear of wasting time...this shouldn't be an issue. Time is not wasted if it's enjoyable. And I guess that's another issue. I'm not fun to be around when I'm wacky. I get mad when J. doesn't help as much as I want him to, and he gets annoyed with me when I'm being super Type A and want to plan and discuss everything in our lives 100 times.
When I woke up on Friday morning, I was still emotional and upset. I felt anger pulsing through me, a rage, I wasn't really sure why. I had exhausted my already exhausted self crying and crying the night before. I was super rude to him as I was getting ready for work...he was in bed, usually he says a few things to me. My answers were short or I just ignored him. I slammed a door a little bit. I felt used and abused. I couldn't focus at work. I instead composed a hugely long email, detailing how we need to "take a step back" and starting "acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instaed of acting like we're about to get married" and how we shouldn't depend on each other for different things. I guess I just felt like things were too seriously intertwined for all the rest of the doubts that we had. I didn't send the email, but it sure didn't help me calm down or focus on my work.
J. tried to send me a text about something random, as we like to do (I ignored it) and then called to check in at work, a sweet thing that he does. I was still on my angry high horse (about 12 hours straight of pure manic rage by now) and I don't know what I said to him, but it wasn't good communication. I think I sort of spat out a few thins in the email, without all the explanations and context. I guess he basically thought I was breaking up with him or going completely off the deep end, because he then sprang into action. I guess he took all his stuff from my house. He didn't want to talk to me, said he needed some space. I thought we might talk later.
I went bananas, running around my house, ripping things apart, shaking my fists. I felt out of control and I wasn't about to get any kind of release. I was able to restrain myself from calling him, and even deleted his number from my phone since he had asked for space (of course I have it memorized.) I just felt horrible. My bodily movements were jerky and I felt like I do when I'm just about to lose my mind. It's like I can feel around the edges of insanity, like I'm almost to the point where I'll starting drooling and yelling nonsensical things. I took a stack of magazines and ripped them apart, making a huge mess.
After a bit, I realized that I had promised my old roommate that I would meet her for dinner. SOMEHOW I pulled myself together, I cleaned the house I had just messed up, I put on clothes and makeup and a smile and although I didn't feel quite right, I went on out as if nothing was wrong. I don't know how I did it, and I still felt shaky. J. called me while I was out - he wanted to let me know that he dropped off my laundry. I later found the key in the mailbox. He didn't want to talk to me. "Not tonight," he said.
Saturday I didn't call, I was trying to give him space. I just did my thing and went to work (yes I know, of course I went to work on a Saturday.) Later he asked if he could come to my work to bring me some of my things - a book he had borrowed and a childhood coin bank I had left over there. I went out to his car, tried not to cry, tried to be mature. I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like a big deal. I tried to say that I wasn't trying to break up with him, tried to ask him what was going on, but he couldn't really form words, either. I of course ended up crying. He uninvited me to his graduation dinner, and I said I still wanted to go to the commencement the next day. He said that would be awkward, but I insisted that I wanted to go, and that I would go by myself instead of going with his family. I told him I had some grad. gifts, and he said he didn't want to take anything else from me. He motioned to his shirt, and his shorts 'all this is from you' he said. He said I wasn't ready to get married, that he would "probably always love me" and that he wanted to be my friend.
I'm realizing now as I relive this that he was basically breaking up with me. I'm not 100% sure what is going on. I didn't contact him at all that night, or Sunday. The only time I've talked to him is on Sunday after his graduation when he texted me "thank you for coming today." His dad just happened to be right outside the door as I was leaving and saw me. I was trying to avoid seeing his family - I don't know what he's telling them. I texted back my congratulations, and that's it.
I feel like it's just a waiting game for a while. I want to resolve things, but I realize that cooling off and space is probably good. Besides, I think that I am still pretty manic or whatever and rule #1 of being manic is not to have any discussions or make any major decisions. It feels like a little too late for that, though.
Thursday night wasn't nearly as bad as the night I described in one way. It was very different. We got into a discussion about marriage or something. His feelings seem to be that he doesn't want to do it for another 6 years (before we turn 30.) He's expressed concern that he won't be able to "travel the world" as he wants to because he's with me. I'm not exactly clear on this, because I've made it entirely clear to him that I want him to do exactly as he wishes as far as traveling or moving. I think that we could handle a long-distance relationship, and I'm willing to do that as long as there's a plan of action for when we will be getting together again.
He also has reservations about me, I think mostly because of my mental health issues. I am kind of feeling now like the bipolar II diagnosis has scared him. He's been to therapy with me twice, has been supportive of the recent steps I've taken to get treatment, but this week when I was acting like a horrid, mean, person, I think he had finally had enough. He doesn't think I'm ready to marry (I never said I was ready at the moment) and doesn't want to be with me if it's a constant cycle of happy-crazymean-depressed and then again. I can't blame him.
On the other hand, I have some reservations about him. He doesn't have a job and doesn't seem to have any intention of seeking a regular source of income any time soon. My constant work stress probably hasn't helped his view of full-time employment. I know that he's JUST finished his undergraduate, but his current plan is to spend the next 6-8 months studying and applying to the one grad school he wants to go to. I don't know if he understand how difficult it will be to get in, and I don't know if he understand that going 6-8 months without any kind of income at all is a little...irresponsible? annoying to me?
Also, he smokes about half a pack a day, sometimes more, and dips chewing tobacco 2-3 times a day. I've made it clear to him from the first few months of our relationship that I wouldn't marry him if he smoked. I thought that I was being fair and clear, but apparently that has just pissed him off from the beginning.
So add those issues to the predictable issues like "what and where will our jobs be? where will we live? when and why should we get married, if we even should?" and we had a very emotional discussion that left me feeling rejected, inadequate, and frankly, used. I am afraid of waking up one day, realizing that I've spent 10 years with someone who has no intention of marrying me, even though I'm not entirely sure why I want to get married or if I 100% do. J.'s argument is "why do we have to decide the rest of our lives right now..." and he's right. But I get psycho and it's also the fear of wasting time...this shouldn't be an issue. Time is not wasted if it's enjoyable. And I guess that's another issue. I'm not fun to be around when I'm wacky. I get mad when J. doesn't help as much as I want him to, and he gets annoyed with me when I'm being super Type A and want to plan and discuss everything in our lives 100 times.
When I woke up on Friday morning, I was still emotional and upset. I felt anger pulsing through me, a rage, I wasn't really sure why. I had exhausted my already exhausted self crying and crying the night before. I was super rude to him as I was getting ready for work...he was in bed, usually he says a few things to me. My answers were short or I just ignored him. I slammed a door a little bit. I felt used and abused. I couldn't focus at work. I instead composed a hugely long email, detailing how we need to "take a step back" and starting "acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instaed of acting like we're about to get married" and how we shouldn't depend on each other for different things. I guess I just felt like things were too seriously intertwined for all the rest of the doubts that we had. I didn't send the email, but it sure didn't help me calm down or focus on my work.
J. tried to send me a text about something random, as we like to do (I ignored it) and then called to check in at work, a sweet thing that he does. I was still on my angry high horse (about 12 hours straight of pure manic rage by now) and I don't know what I said to him, but it wasn't good communication. I think I sort of spat out a few thins in the email, without all the explanations and context. I guess he basically thought I was breaking up with him or going completely off the deep end, because he then sprang into action. I guess he took all his stuff from my house. He didn't want to talk to me, said he needed some space. I thought we might talk later.
I went bananas, running around my house, ripping things apart, shaking my fists. I felt out of control and I wasn't about to get any kind of release. I was able to restrain myself from calling him, and even deleted his number from my phone since he had asked for space (of course I have it memorized.) I just felt horrible. My bodily movements were jerky and I felt like I do when I'm just about to lose my mind. It's like I can feel around the edges of insanity, like I'm almost to the point where I'll starting drooling and yelling nonsensical things. I took a stack of magazines and ripped them apart, making a huge mess.
After a bit, I realized that I had promised my old roommate that I would meet her for dinner. SOMEHOW I pulled myself together, I cleaned the house I had just messed up, I put on clothes and makeup and a smile and although I didn't feel quite right, I went on out as if nothing was wrong. I don't know how I did it, and I still felt shaky. J. called me while I was out - he wanted to let me know that he dropped off my laundry. I later found the key in the mailbox. He didn't want to talk to me. "Not tonight," he said.
Saturday I didn't call, I was trying to give him space. I just did my thing and went to work (yes I know, of course I went to work on a Saturday.) Later he asked if he could come to my work to bring me some of my things - a book he had borrowed and a childhood coin bank I had left over there. I went out to his car, tried not to cry, tried to be mature. I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like a big deal. I tried to say that I wasn't trying to break up with him, tried to ask him what was going on, but he couldn't really form words, either. I of course ended up crying. He uninvited me to his graduation dinner, and I said I still wanted to go to the commencement the next day. He said that would be awkward, but I insisted that I wanted to go, and that I would go by myself instead of going with his family. I told him I had some grad. gifts, and he said he didn't want to take anything else from me. He motioned to his shirt, and his shorts 'all this is from you' he said. He said I wasn't ready to get married, that he would "probably always love me" and that he wanted to be my friend.
I'm realizing now as I relive this that he was basically breaking up with me. I'm not 100% sure what is going on. I didn't contact him at all that night, or Sunday. The only time I've talked to him is on Sunday after his graduation when he texted me "thank you for coming today." His dad just happened to be right outside the door as I was leaving and saw me. I was trying to avoid seeing his family - I don't know what he's telling them. I texted back my congratulations, and that's it.
I feel like it's just a waiting game for a while. I want to resolve things, but I realize that cooling off and space is probably good. Besides, I think that I am still pretty manic or whatever and rule #1 of being manic is not to have any discussions or make any major decisions. It feels like a little too late for that, though.
Open Reply
`This is kind of an open - reply to a great blogger buddy who left an incredible comment on my last post. And then it goes into rambling. I always hesitate to post things on here because I feel like it's bad if I only post 1x a month. "I should blog everyday, writing is good for me," I tell myself - it's the same kind of all-or-nothing thinking that gets me into trouble in other aspects of my life. It's just too much pressure - I end up not doing anything instead of just doing a little bit.
I probably should just take it one day at a time, like they do in AA. If I feel like writing/blogging for one post, that should be enough. I have no obligation to myself or anyone to ever write another blog post. It can be a one-time thing, if that's what I want or need. I have to give myself permission to be irregular, to write when I can, and don't worry when I don't. Common sense? Not for me.
Emily - Thank you so much for sharing your story. Advice certainly helps, especially when given with the kindness you expressed. It hurts me to think that I was on the "giving" end of the types of abusive/mean behaviors that your ex put you through. I admire your strength and loyalty in trying to help him, but it sounds like you made the right choice in disentangling. It's terrible that you had to experience his suicide attempt along with him. That sort of thing leaves bad images for everyone involved.
In answer to your question about a holistic approach to treatment - that is exactly what I need to do. I do my best, but I'm only about 50% of the way there with diet, exercise, and sleep habits. The only semi-positive bipolar information/blog/story I have found is here. There's a really interesting post about coping with symptoms through basic habits and scheduling here. If I wanted to be positive about those suggestions, I could say that "With several months' time I may be able to create a semblance of that kind of lifestyle." If I wanted to be negative about the suggestions I would say that "Making a lifestyle like the regimented daily schedule of a baby is not realistic for working adults who don't live in isolation."
In the meantime, I really appreciate your thoughts. I don't really pray either, but I think that sharing with someone that you're thinking about them is important.
I probably should just take it one day at a time, like they do in AA. If I feel like writing/blogging for one post, that should be enough. I have no obligation to myself or anyone to ever write another blog post. It can be a one-time thing, if that's what I want or need. I have to give myself permission to be irregular, to write when I can, and don't worry when I don't. Common sense? Not for me.
Emily - Thank you so much for sharing your story. Advice certainly helps, especially when given with the kindness you expressed. It hurts me to think that I was on the "giving" end of the types of abusive/mean behaviors that your ex put you through. I admire your strength and loyalty in trying to help him, but it sounds like you made the right choice in disentangling. It's terrible that you had to experience his suicide attempt along with him. That sort of thing leaves bad images for everyone involved.
In answer to your question about a holistic approach to treatment - that is exactly what I need to do. I do my best, but I'm only about 50% of the way there with diet, exercise, and sleep habits. The only semi-positive bipolar information/blog/story I have found is here. There's a really interesting post about coping with symptoms through basic habits and scheduling here. If I wanted to be positive about those suggestions, I could say that "With several months' time I may be able to create a semblance of that kind of lifestyle." If I wanted to be negative about the suggestions I would say that "Making a lifestyle like the regimented daily schedule of a baby is not realistic for working adults who don't live in isolation."
In the meantime, I really appreciate your thoughts. I don't really pray either, but I think that sharing with someone that you're thinking about them is important.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Surprise! Warning - major triggering post
Two doctors have told me that I have bipolar. In the five weeks since then I've been on medication, and everything is pretty much exactly the same level of horribleness and ups and downs. Had a good week, had a crappy week, had an absolutely horrendous week. My husband-like boyfriend and I are 'taking a break' AKA breaking up and my job is going to shit. He doesn't want me to come to his college graduation dinner or even his graduation (been looking forward to it for 4 years of our relationship). I'm devastated. He says he loves me and wants to be friends. Fuck that. I believe he's rejecting me because I'm bipolar and he is sick of dealing with how horribly I'm treating him. I don't deserve anyone, and I will never be with anyone ever again. I will certainly never tell anyone. It was a mistake telling the few people that I have told.
I have been trying to look up "bipolar success stories." Guess what? There are none. There's only stories of 5, 10, 15 years of different combinations of medications up to 30 or 35 different meds, years of ups and downs, nearly every person has lost their job, lost their marriage and/or their kids, been hospitalized multiple times.
I have found a few stories of people who are in their 50s, and have "finally" found a good combination of meds and have a somewhat stable life with bipolar. Guess what again? If it takes a person that long to get to a point where they can begin to "tolerate" their existence, then IT'S NOT WORTH IT. Kind of sounds like anyone wiht I've already alienated most of the people who have been closest to me, including the most important person in my life. What will another 25 years to do to the things i have accomplished.
I am thinking about rejecting my diagnosis. It has already caused me so much damage, I'll never be able to have a great job or a great lover or a great life if I accept that I'm inherently fucked up. I'm going to think about it until Monday, when I have therapy with my doctor. If I still feel the same way, I'm going to cancel my appt. and go about my life as it was before. Yeah, it was tough, but at least there was hope then that I could get better instead of now, when I basically have a life sentence.
I have been trying to look up "bipolar success stories." Guess what? There are none. There's only stories of 5, 10, 15 years of different combinations of medications up to 30 or 35 different meds, years of ups and downs, nearly every person has lost their job, lost their marriage and/or their kids, been hospitalized multiple times.
I have found a few stories of people who are in their 50s, and have "finally" found a good combination of meds and have a somewhat stable life with bipolar. Guess what again? If it takes a person that long to get to a point where they can begin to "tolerate" their existence, then IT'S NOT WORTH IT. Kind of sounds like anyone wiht I've already alienated most of the people who have been closest to me, including the most important person in my life. What will another 25 years to do to the things i have accomplished.
I am thinking about rejecting my diagnosis. It has already caused me so much damage, I'll never be able to have a great job or a great lover or a great life if I accept that I'm inherently fucked up. I'm going to think about it until Monday, when I have therapy with my doctor. If I still feel the same way, I'm going to cancel my appt. and go about my life as it was before. Yeah, it was tough, but at least there was hope then that I could get better instead of now, when I basically have a life sentence.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
new developments on the homefront
Sooo. I have a diagnosis. And I think that probably it's correct. Bipolar II.
Now I have my little bag of psych meds and my pdoc and my therapist. Haven't started the pills yet. I have a wedding to go to tomorrow and want to wait until after.
I feel like it's been a terrible summer - very stressful. I was crying all last night about our friend who died. It was so unnecessary. It didn't have to happen. I have to do something about it. I'm pretty sure I'm a little hypomanic about now. Am I dumping this on this blog suddenly? maybe. I've never been a good blogger.
But for the first time, I have a therapist who is clear and concise. She asks questions; she's direct. I feel like I have a long way to go. I'm trying to avoid another breakdown. Holding for 7 days between appts gives me the tools to take a deep, hang on until next time. The pdoc actually talked to me. I had a lot of anxiety that I would be mistreated there, but he listened to me. And he mentioned bipolar II without me mentioning it. Which really gives more credibility to the diagnosis. So if my meds don't give me a deadly rash, it's supposed to make me feel much better.
Now I have my little bag of psych meds and my pdoc and my therapist. Haven't started the pills yet. I have a wedding to go to tomorrow and want to wait until after.
I feel like it's been a terrible summer - very stressful. I was crying all last night about our friend who died. It was so unnecessary. It didn't have to happen. I have to do something about it. I'm pretty sure I'm a little hypomanic about now. Am I dumping this on this blog suddenly? maybe. I've never been a good blogger.
But for the first time, I have a therapist who is clear and concise. She asks questions; she's direct. I feel like I have a long way to go. I'm trying to avoid another breakdown. Holding for 7 days between appts gives me the tools to take a deep, hang on until next time. The pdoc actually talked to me. I had a lot of anxiety that I would be mistreated there, but he listened to me. And he mentioned bipolar II without me mentioning it. Which really gives more credibility to the diagnosis. So if my meds don't give me a deadly rash, it's supposed to make me feel much better.
Monday, July 4, 2011
My life
is way too hectic. The inevitable unexpected things take up the quiet spaces between activities.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Today is today
...and it's passing slowly. J. has gone on a day trip with friends to occupy his mind and his time.
When he returns, I will have to share recently released news about our friend "Justin" who was killed. His father has been charged with voluntary manslaughter - an odd charge. Police affidavits reveal that while Justin was violent and attacking his father, the father continued to shoot him after he was down. The article makes a point of describing our friend Justin lying in the family's front flower bed as his father continued to shoot him. It's not fun to read - but everyone wants to know. Maybe if we know every detail then it will begin to make sense, we think.
The articles also describes Justin's repeated violence against his family. I have seen the look in his eyes - a determined, bone-chilling look that threatened and scared me. The look of a sick person, one that faded into a quiet, odd, but good person on good days. I never knew him when he was Mr. High School, dating the prettiest girl, outgoing and brilliant. The diseases of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia came on swiftly and strongly. I can see how his father would be legitimately scared for his life, and the life of Justin's sister who was in the home as well. I can even see how the only way to stop him might have been to shoot him. But it seems to have gone too far - who knows, only his sister was there as a dependable eye witness. I will never be able to judge.
I gave up prayer a long time ago, but in the last 3 days, I have listened to J.'s prayers with reverence and echoes in my own mind.
I must know - was Justin getting the help he needed? Where did the system break down? How can the mentally ill be expected to be proactive in their own treatment? What can we do?
RIP, Friend.
 |
| I need something bright |
The articles also describes Justin's repeated violence against his family. I have seen the look in his eyes - a determined, bone-chilling look that threatened and scared me. The look of a sick person, one that faded into a quiet, odd, but good person on good days. I never knew him when he was Mr. High School, dating the prettiest girl, outgoing and brilliant. The diseases of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia came on swiftly and strongly. I can see how his father would be legitimately scared for his life, and the life of Justin's sister who was in the home as well. I can even see how the only way to stop him might have been to shoot him. But it seems to have gone too far - who knows, only his sister was there as a dependable eye witness. I will never be able to judge.
I gave up prayer a long time ago, but in the last 3 days, I have listened to J.'s prayers with reverence and echoes in my own mind.
I must know - was Justin getting the help he needed? Where did the system break down? How can the mentally ill be expected to be proactive in their own treatment? What can we do?
RIP, Friend.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
young men
The night I met my love, my J., a few other people were there, including his best friend from high school. I'll call him Justin.
After a night of eating and drinking at the local watering hole, J. was halted in his attempt to leave because he couldn't find his keys. I - already somewhat smitten - volunteered to help scavenge the restaurant, the parking lot, the street. Finally, Justin returned and extracted the keys from his pocket. He had a scheming grin. A scheme, a wingman's attempt at letting his buddy spend more time with a girl he'd just met. Me.
I got to know Justin's ex-fiance - she was there, too, during this time of my life. The two seemed...volatile. Compared to mine and J.'s budding romance (sweet and simple) theirs was a tornado. Their engagement, which had come and gone before I met them, was a perfect example of my favorite cautionary Shakespeare bit:
"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.
Which, as they kiss, consume."
There had been broken glass doors, maybe some bruises on his ex, nothing I knew for sure. Eventually we only saw them separately and then, less often. Justin would show up at my house from time to time, looking for J. Same scheming grin. Then less grin and more scheming. There were rumors of fights, of trouble at parties we missed because we were off getting sober and falling in love...he brought a large rock to my house once and held it between his hands like he might squeeze blood from it. J. would have no more - it didn't feel right - he couldn't just show up at my house and leave menacing rocks on my porch anymore.
Later, we tried again to reach out to Justin. He was sick, he had clear mental health concerns. I was worried about him. He sat on my couch once, utterly silent. He seemed furious and yet insisted nothing was wrong. I felt helpless. Suddenly, he threw his can of chewing tobacco clear across the room as hard as he could. It was the oddest thing. Once, J. made an off-color joke and Justin threw his beer bottle at J.'s head - narrowly missing. We called his parents. I didn't know them, but I plead with them to help him. They knew, they said. There was nothing they could do, they said. A year ago, we learned how Justin fought another young man with a knife, unprovoked, until he could be restrained and carted away by his horrified parents. We hear how he's got a good job, working with his father.
We see Justin from time to time, out and about. Sometimes he does show up at my house. Usually J. calls him first. Two weeks ago, J. and Justin and Justin's father went downtown just to walk around. He doesn't want to let his old best friend go if he can help it, even if the friendship had faded away with his health. J. filmed the excursion, focusing on his friend and his friend's father - both tall and thin, superbly good-looking young men.
This morning, Justin's father shot him several times in the front yard of their home, killing him. The newspaper picked up the story before any of the friends, so many of our friends found out from a harassing news reporter. Sensational, yes. Sickening, yes. I won't be surprised if it's picked up nationally. It's too good to be true for the struggling newspaper. "Beautiful blonde upper middle class family shoots each other in yard."
Last night, J. commented that unspeakably horrible things happen all the time. We cannot predict the future, we can't count on our resolutions and our plans to hold up through the swiftly striking tragedies of life. He was referring to drinking. Hopefully this will not drive him to drink again. Last night, we were talking about the difficulties that people have in getting mental health treatment. I dreamed of an A.A. - like place for people with anxiety, depression. A safe place where people like me could call, could find a list of therapists, doctors, resources. A place to simply speak to others and to know that you weren't the only one to google "need a psychiatrist in __city___".
Now it seems more urgent than ever to me that supposedly "normal" people who are really suffering need mental health care. Maybe this tragedy could have been prevented, but probably not. While the newspaper reporters continue to speculate on homicide v. self-defense - no one knows at this point - we are just mourning, pacing, sitting, looking at the menacing rock still sitting on my porch, like a talisman of warning. Time for me is standing still, I feel close but not so close to the situation. J. is still in shock, I think. He has has too many friends die. The lives of young men seem so dangerous.
After a night of eating and drinking at the local watering hole, J. was halted in his attempt to leave because he couldn't find his keys. I - already somewhat smitten - volunteered to help scavenge the restaurant, the parking lot, the street. Finally, Justin returned and extracted the keys from his pocket. He had a scheming grin. A scheme, a wingman's attempt at letting his buddy spend more time with a girl he'd just met. Me.
I got to know Justin's ex-fiance - she was there, too, during this time of my life. The two seemed...volatile. Compared to mine and J.'s budding romance (sweet and simple) theirs was a tornado. Their engagement, which had come and gone before I met them, was a perfect example of my favorite cautionary Shakespeare bit:
"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.
Which, as they kiss, consume."
There had been broken glass doors, maybe some bruises on his ex, nothing I knew for sure. Eventually we only saw them separately and then, less often. Justin would show up at my house from time to time, looking for J. Same scheming grin. Then less grin and more scheming. There were rumors of fights, of trouble at parties we missed because we were off getting sober and falling in love...he brought a large rock to my house once and held it between his hands like he might squeeze blood from it. J. would have no more - it didn't feel right - he couldn't just show up at my house and leave menacing rocks on my porch anymore.
Later, we tried again to reach out to Justin. He was sick, he had clear mental health concerns. I was worried about him. He sat on my couch once, utterly silent. He seemed furious and yet insisted nothing was wrong. I felt helpless. Suddenly, he threw his can of chewing tobacco clear across the room as hard as he could. It was the oddest thing. Once, J. made an off-color joke and Justin threw his beer bottle at J.'s head - narrowly missing. We called his parents. I didn't know them, but I plead with them to help him. They knew, they said. There was nothing they could do, they said. A year ago, we learned how Justin fought another young man with a knife, unprovoked, until he could be restrained and carted away by his horrified parents. We hear how he's got a good job, working with his father.
We see Justin from time to time, out and about. Sometimes he does show up at my house. Usually J. calls him first. Two weeks ago, J. and Justin and Justin's father went downtown just to walk around. He doesn't want to let his old best friend go if he can help it, even if the friendship had faded away with his health. J. filmed the excursion, focusing on his friend and his friend's father - both tall and thin, superbly good-looking young men.
This morning, Justin's father shot him several times in the front yard of their home, killing him. The newspaper picked up the story before any of the friends, so many of our friends found out from a harassing news reporter. Sensational, yes. Sickening, yes. I won't be surprised if it's picked up nationally. It's too good to be true for the struggling newspaper. "Beautiful blonde upper middle class family shoots each other in yard."
Last night, J. commented that unspeakably horrible things happen all the time. We cannot predict the future, we can't count on our resolutions and our plans to hold up through the swiftly striking tragedies of life. He was referring to drinking. Hopefully this will not drive him to drink again. Last night, we were talking about the difficulties that people have in getting mental health treatment. I dreamed of an A.A. - like place for people with anxiety, depression. A safe place where people like me could call, could find a list of therapists, doctors, resources. A place to simply speak to others and to know that you weren't the only one to google "need a psychiatrist in __city___".
Now it seems more urgent than ever to me that supposedly "normal" people who are really suffering need mental health care. Maybe this tragedy could have been prevented, but probably not. While the newspaper reporters continue to speculate on homicide v. self-defense - no one knows at this point - we are just mourning, pacing, sitting, looking at the menacing rock still sitting on my porch, like a talisman of warning. Time for me is standing still, I feel close but not so close to the situation. J. is still in shock, I think. He has has too many friends die. The lives of young men seem so dangerous.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The other side
The other side of the somewhat-happy post and somewhat-happy weekend is, of course, the downside. I have had some very severe moods - especially on Saturday morning a few days ago. I was very excitable, worried, anxious, agitated. I couldn't stop running around cleaning things. It was very unpleasant because I felt angry and confused, not motivated or accomplished. Although it did feel good to get a ton of cleaning done, I felt sick while I was doing it.
I was really rude to J. I felt out of control of my actions, my hands were shaking and my eyes were twitching. The whole previous week I had felt like a sack of potatoes. To "suddenly" feel like there were angry ants in my pants was less than fun. As the day progressed, I mellowed out a bit. Sunday and Monday were a bit more relaxed.
Today, however, has not been a good day. I got to work and immediately things started going wrong. Small mistakes in our most recent publication. I can't let them go. It kills me to know that preventable mistakes were made. I left work to pick up my birth control prescription at the Planned Parenthood - always a horrible experience. While there, I saw them turn away a girl who had just found out she was pregnant (I thought that was the point of PP?). Then, I got borderline sexually- harassed by the security guard, who followed me to my car, grinning sheepishly before remarking "Behave yourself." Directly after that, I tried to avoid hitting a homeless man who was walking next to my car, when he abruptly changed directions and stepped in front of my car. I hit the brakes, because I am trying to be a considerate person. I didn't even want to take a chance that I might would hit him. Then, he started yelling and cursing at me.
So I yelled and cursed back. I told a homeless man "Fuck You". Not that he could hear me, but he could see me. I am a horrible, horrible person. There I was, sitting in my new-ish beautiful Camry, in my work dress and high heels, on my way to my job that I am lucky to have, and I can do nothing with peace or gratitude except flip off and yell at a man who is most likely battling a mental illness. I've been anxious and distant all day. I feel horrible. I came home and cleaned for hours and hours. Of course, it's such a mess that it looks like I haven't done anything.
But seriously. I was just getting ready to share my thoughts with J. (we had been ignoring each other the whole night) and try to make up and communicate. Then his friend comes and starts banging on the door. Don't get me wrong, I want to be an open home. I want to help people in need (his friend is trying to overcome addiction and alcoholism and needed J's guidance). But it was just bad timing. I made a rude remark to J. I don't really get along with his friend, although I care about him - I just don't know what to say to him. And we were just sitting there in awkward silence. And then they left - I'm really angry and upset. I want to leave and fly to Bermuda and be waitress and sit on the beach and read on my days off. Really. That is what I want to do. I think I could do that for years and years and never miss this. It seems as though I'll never get to settle down, so I might as well find a way to do it for myself.
Also, it's wonderful that I'm probably bipolar. It's just great - it means that any children I would potentially have with J. (if they weren't 6-legged victims of lithium poisoning from the meds I'll have to get on) will be bipolar or schizo or alocholics cause both of our families have horrible mental health genes. Just when I start getting comfortable with the idea of settling down with a house, a husband, a dog, a family, a dishwasher, a patio, I feel like it's getting stripped away from me. Thank goodness I'm no Christian anymore, or I would have a few choice words for that sarcastic lord above.
Hopefully another happy post soon. I started this blog to be fully honest and to document my real feelings and experiences, the good and the bad. And that's what I'm going to keep doing. Not every blog can be a perfectly photographed documentation of cupcakes and hand-bound books, you know.
I was really rude to J. I felt out of control of my actions, my hands were shaking and my eyes were twitching. The whole previous week I had felt like a sack of potatoes. To "suddenly" feel like there were angry ants in my pants was less than fun. As the day progressed, I mellowed out a bit. Sunday and Monday were a bit more relaxed.
Today, however, has not been a good day. I got to work and immediately things started going wrong. Small mistakes in our most recent publication. I can't let them go. It kills me to know that preventable mistakes were made. I left work to pick up my birth control prescription at the Planned Parenthood - always a horrible experience. While there, I saw them turn away a girl who had just found out she was pregnant (I thought that was the point of PP?). Then, I got borderline sexually- harassed by the security guard, who followed me to my car, grinning sheepishly before remarking "Behave yourself." Directly after that, I tried to avoid hitting a homeless man who was walking next to my car, when he abruptly changed directions and stepped in front of my car. I hit the brakes, because I am trying to be a considerate person. I didn't even want to take a chance that I might would hit him. Then, he started yelling and cursing at me.
So I yelled and cursed back. I told a homeless man "Fuck You". Not that he could hear me, but he could see me. I am a horrible, horrible person. There I was, sitting in my new-ish beautiful Camry, in my work dress and high heels, on my way to my job that I am lucky to have, and I can do nothing with peace or gratitude except flip off and yell at a man who is most likely battling a mental illness. I've been anxious and distant all day. I feel horrible. I came home and cleaned for hours and hours. Of course, it's such a mess that it looks like I haven't done anything.
But seriously. I was just getting ready to share my thoughts with J. (we had been ignoring each other the whole night) and try to make up and communicate. Then his friend comes and starts banging on the door. Don't get me wrong, I want to be an open home. I want to help people in need (his friend is trying to overcome addiction and alcoholism and needed J's guidance). But it was just bad timing. I made a rude remark to J. I don't really get along with his friend, although I care about him - I just don't know what to say to him. And we were just sitting there in awkward silence. And then they left - I'm really angry and upset. I want to leave and fly to Bermuda and be waitress and sit on the beach and read on my days off. Really. That is what I want to do. I think I could do that for years and years and never miss this. It seems as though I'll never get to settle down, so I might as well find a way to do it for myself.
Also, it's wonderful that I'm probably bipolar. It's just great - it means that any children I would potentially have with J. (if they weren't 6-legged victims of lithium poisoning from the meds I'll have to get on) will be bipolar or schizo or alocholics cause both of our families have horrible mental health genes. Just when I start getting comfortable with the idea of settling down with a house, a husband, a dog, a family, a dishwasher, a patio, I feel like it's getting stripped away from me. Thank goodness I'm no Christian anymore, or I would have a few choice words for that sarcastic lord above.
Hopefully another happy post soon. I started this blog to be fully honest and to document my real feelings and experiences, the good and the bad. And that's what I'm going to keep doing. Not every blog can be a perfectly photographed documentation of cupcakes and hand-bound books, you know.
Monday, May 30, 2011
A bit unplugged
That's how I felt this week. Unplugged meaning, I didn't check my voice mail or my email (other than necessary work stuff). I went on a 2-day business trip with a coworker and my boss...it was a strange and tiring experience, and we did not have internet access in our hotel. I have also been mostly unplugged from my blog and my facebook...but here I am, at the waning end of a 3-day weekend and I'm trying to catch up.
I love taking pictures with my iphone. Like everyone else in the world, of course. I wanted to share a few I've taken recently.
I love taking pictures with my iphone. Like everyone else in the world, of course. I wanted to share a few I've taken recently.
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| I don't live in Joplin, Missouri but my area did experience some nasty weather for a few weeks. My street was blocked by this major tree issue here. |
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| Again, like everyone else on the planet, I love taking pictures of my food. Especially colorful food. And then, the photo reminds me of the experience I had. |
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| I made this smaller because it's not that special. But it's my Post-It Note garden at my work office. It kind of looks like my brain, colorful but disorganized. And poorly lit. |
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| Forget $800 popcorn and Skittles. My friends and I sneak in grocery-store baked goods and beer into the movies in our enormous purses. Bridesmaids was an excellent flick, if not vulgar. |
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| These are my babies. Better late than never. Basil, Mint, Bell Pepper, Jalapeño Pepper, Yellow Summer Squash, Rosemary and Tomato. I'm missing cilantro and parsley. |
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| Yesterday a friend introduced me to Pho. It was big, it was healthy, it was vegetablely and tofu-y and I didn't really know how to eat it. It was so satisfying and hydrating in a way that made me feel like it would make me feel better if I was sick. |
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| After I ate for about 20 minutes, my bowl still seemed full. |
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Clutter Issues : Rant of the Day
1) Everyone in the world has a bigger closet than I have EVER had, anywhere I have ever lived. I have never actually seen a closet as big as the "small" closets in magazines/blogs.
2) I can't afford $35 linen-covered shoeboxes for all my shoes. Even though they are beautiful. And open from the front so you don't have to unstack them.
3) That canvas hanging-shelf thing that hangs perfectly even in the magazine photos, hangs crooked and all my stuff falls out the front of the shelves.
4) Even if I did have a big closet, and an unlimited credit card for Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and a wall of built-ins in my walk-in closet, I would probably still have junk piled up to the heavens and spilling out into the room.
This is just the way it is, and I've been trying to change forever (literally, since I was 5 or 6), but it often seems impossible. I'm certain this has something to do with my depression and anxiety, and judging by my mother's MUCH MUCH worse clutter problems at her home, this is something deeply ingrained from a young age.
I've dabbled in the FlyLady way. I think her methods and sweet encouragement could really help me, since it's geared toward perfectionists. I just can't ever get started. It's like I'm defeated before I begin.
Any of you have problems with clutter? or messy homes/offices? What did you do to ease the pain and turn your house/closet/life from this - to -this :
photo sourced from here.
Also, see what I mean about the stupidly big closet? And anyone else notice that getting rid of the kids really helped a lot with organization? AND if you have room for a freaking chandelier, a chest-of-drawers, an ottoman, and are able to stand in your "closet" IT'S NOT A CLOSET, IT'S A ROOM.
This has been M's Rant of the Day. Thank you for tuning in.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I'm glad you fellows liked the somewhat - positive post.
Let's do it again.
Success Stories:
- I ALMOST got my to-do list at work done today.
- I decided to take the time to stop at my favorite coffee shop for a coffee and bagel and to read and blog instead of forcing myself to go straight to the grocery store/errand after work.
Gratitudes/Happy Things:
- They are playing Sufjan Stevens at the coffee shop; I haven' heard the album in a while and it reminds me of my old friend in a happy way. I just caught myself singing This aloud. Woops.
- It's a really, really nice afternoon instead of being stormy or cold or rainy as it has been.
- I have nothing on my schedule for this weekend except a little afternoon party on Sunday.
Challenges/Cheerleading: (or, concerns and possible hopeful solutions?)
-I haven't been sleeping well the last 2 nights because of anxiety, but tonight is another opportunity to get back into a better routine.
-My house still looks like a BOMB exploded. Really. I'm not exaggerating this time. I would like to take a few minutes each day for the rest of the week to get it cleaned up by the weekend.
Success Stories:
- I ALMOST got my to-do list at work done today.
- I decided to take the time to stop at my favorite coffee shop for a coffee and bagel and to read and blog instead of forcing myself to go straight to the grocery store/errand after work.
Gratitudes/Happy Things:
- They are playing Sufjan Stevens at the coffee shop; I haven' heard the album in a while and it reminds me of my old friend in a happy way. I just caught myself singing This aloud. Woops.
- It's a really, really nice afternoon instead of being stormy or cold or rainy as it has been.
- I have nothing on my schedule for this weekend except a little afternoon party on Sunday.
Challenges/Cheerleading: (or, concerns and possible hopeful solutions?)
-I haven't been sleeping well the last 2 nights because of anxiety, but tonight is another opportunity to get back into a better routine.
-My house still looks like a BOMB exploded. Really. I'm not exaggerating this time. I would like to take a few minutes each day for the rest of the week to get it cleaned up by the weekend.
I found a link to this at Poppytalk. It reminds me of the sign I made for above my dorm-room bed during my difficult freshman year of college, which said "__ is a great place to be and you like it."
I was trying for the positive reinforcement. It took a few more yrs to sort of settle in.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Life Update In the Form of Positives.
I don't know who originated this "positives' thing...but I have been reading it for a while over at Miss Sarah's Lunatic Express (I added the Miss Sarah part). I've seen it around in a couple of other places, like the Sanguine Saturday at Dialectic Dichotomy. The big wedding of my friend is over. I saw a new therapist today. I have a new job, albeit at the same office for the same company. I hope I'm turning over a new leaf. I think a good way to talk about it without having a loooong drawn out bit of prose is with these:
Success Stories
- I overcame phone call anxiety got a new therapist and saw her today.
- My friend's wedding went off without any major issues and was beautiful and fun.
- I was able to re-negotiate to take the editorial position at my work and now I don't have to sell advertising anymore.
Gratitude/Happy Things
- My boyfriend was wonderfully supportive, sociable, kind and overly helpful the entire wedding weekend, including nursing me during my post-wedding hangover yesterday.
- I had some in-depth conversations with a longtime girl-friend (also bridesmaid), we expressed our mutual affection and are going to spend more time together.
- This song by The Avett Brothers. It's happy and sweet.
Challenges
- Work is still very busy and over-scheduled and I still feel overwhelmed by it.
Challenges
- Work is still very busy and over-scheduled and I still feel overwhelmed by it.
- My house is a wreck and I'm having trouble focusing on cleaning it.
- My therapy is very expensive and I will have to set a real budget because my insurance won't pay.
Wish my back patio looked like this. One day?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Why Is it so hard?
I can't believe that it was over 10 ten days ago that I wrote that last post. It feels like it was yesterday. And yet, feels like years.
I came here to vent a little bit, just to get one thing off my chest. I saw that I had some new people commenting. That made me feel good. Thank you for your support! I hope that I can one day be more present in this blog space, and have a chance to offer my own support to you all, as I've tried to do in the past. And maybe write some happy things again one day.
Back to my vent: Why is it so hard to get help?
After I made that last post on april 20, I went to the doctor for a severe sinus infection because I suddenly had a fever. Then, I had a breakdown in front of the nursing student who was taking my temperature. I told her, "Yes, I'm having a severe sinus infection and I NEED to get better. But I have to tell you: I need to see a therapist or a psychiatrist, or both. Can you, or anyone that you know, refer me to someone? I've called about 20 places with no answers."
That was nearly 2 weeks ago. I finally got in touch with the referred doctor's office today. Problems with the insurance because it's out of state or something and there's a delay. I told her...forget it. I'll just pay for it. I'll take another job, do whatever I have to do. Then, I find out that the psychiatrist is going out of the country. The other one is going out of town. Seriously. I have never had an easy time getting a doctor's appt. Do doctors even work? They're never available when I need them and never have been.
So I won't be able to do a mediation evaluation until June. I know that I need medication at this point. It's beyond my control. I need therapy AND meds. Luckily, I was persistent and she made me an appt. for next week with the counselor until the Pdoc comes back into town. I just need something, anything, to hold on to. Therapy will work for now. I'm trying to avoid the expense, embarrassment, and potential employment consequences of hospitalization. I'm not in any immediate danger of harming myself, but this isn't getting any better.
I JUST WANT SOME HELP. THAT'S ALL I WANT. WHY IS IT SO HARD?
I came here to vent a little bit, just to get one thing off my chest. I saw that I had some new people commenting. That made me feel good. Thank you for your support! I hope that I can one day be more present in this blog space, and have a chance to offer my own support to you all, as I've tried to do in the past. And maybe write some happy things again one day.
Back to my vent: Why is it so hard to get help?
After I made that last post on april 20, I went to the doctor for a severe sinus infection because I suddenly had a fever. Then, I had a breakdown in front of the nursing student who was taking my temperature. I told her, "Yes, I'm having a severe sinus infection and I NEED to get better. But I have to tell you: I need to see a therapist or a psychiatrist, or both. Can you, or anyone that you know, refer me to someone? I've called about 20 places with no answers."
That was nearly 2 weeks ago. I finally got in touch with the referred doctor's office today. Problems with the insurance because it's out of state or something and there's a delay. I told her...forget it. I'll just pay for it. I'll take another job, do whatever I have to do. Then, I find out that the psychiatrist is going out of the country. The other one is going out of town. Seriously. I have never had an easy time getting a doctor's appt. Do doctors even work? They're never available when I need them and never have been.
So I won't be able to do a mediation evaluation until June. I know that I need medication at this point. It's beyond my control. I need therapy AND meds. Luckily, I was persistent and she made me an appt. for next week with the counselor until the Pdoc comes back into town. I just need something, anything, to hold on to. Therapy will work for now. I'm trying to avoid the expense, embarrassment, and potential employment consequences of hospitalization. I'm not in any immediate danger of harming myself, but this isn't getting any better.
I JUST WANT SOME HELP. THAT'S ALL I WANT. WHY IS IT SO HARD?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Descending Into Chaos
I can't keep it together anymore. Think I just had my first panic attack. Order of business number one is to find a therapist. Just sayin'.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Not Doing So Well
These days have been rough. I've been really, really depressed. Two weeks ago, my brother came to visit and I was having a lot of anxiety about it because he binge drinks and I was afraid something bad was going to happen to him.
So I dealt with it by drinking way more than I have in a long time and was very sick for 2 days afterwards. I have completely terrible hangovers, and I usually vomit repeatedly for about 6-8 hours before I can keep even water down. Then, my house was wrecked because he is very messy and I had no energy to clean it for about 4 days of recover afterwards. Having a messy house causes me a lot of anxiety, but I've never been able to keep my house or room clean...not in my whole life. My mom is the same way, and it was a daily argument. Obviously I have issues with cleaning and clutter.
Then, there was a rare opening in my office for an editorial position. For me. To be our editorial director. To be the editor of 3 magazines. It's a tough job, and while arguably tougher than my current job (if that's possible) it might be actually easier for me. It would be, sort of, a dream come true. Then, my bosses, the pathetic pigs that they are, knowing how badly I want the position, offered me 13,000 a year less than what the current girl was getting paid, which is about 5,000 less than I make now. I counter-offered. All I asked for were my sales commissions that I have been working for for the last 6 months. They said, sure, fine, we'll work out the details on Monday.
Which brings me to one week ago, when I traveled a few hours away for my friend's engagement party. Which was fun. I tried to be more careful with my drinking, but they were all med students and lots of single guys who thought it was fun that I didn't bring my boyfriend (he was out of town) and kept bringing me "sangria". Well, I thought that sangria is mostly wine, fruit, and usually a little spike of liquor. So I can probably have a few of those, right? Right. Unless the sangria is actually "Apple 99" with some lime in it...99 proof apple everclear basically. Which means that I spend another Sunday on the bathroom floor. I literally took one sip of water in the kitchen, and 10 seconds later had to run back to the bathroom to throw it up. The med students gave me some prescription anti-nausea pill, which I also promptly vomited up. I'm just now recovering from that.
Then my bosses screwed me. When I went back to work on Monday, they told me that they couldn't give me my hard-earned sales commissions, couldn't raise the base salary, it would be a pay cut, they didn't believe in the value of editorial, "too bad" they literally said. They basically told a few other people that they could take advantage of me because they knew I wanted the job so much. Well, I didn't take their bluff. I may be young, I may be a woman BUT I AM NOT STUPID. I told them no, I told them I'll keep my current job. They were shocked, and the magazine may shut down now if they can't find anyone else. Too bad. Those guys are disgusting, greedy pigs (one of them called me "greedy" for asking for a living wage).
So I gave up my dreams to make a stand, in a way. That night, that magazine's salesperson's son had to go have emergency brain surgery. Which was horrifying and sad. And also means that now, there are 1.5 salespeople who are supposed to sell 100,000+ worth of advertising in the next few weeks all by ourselves. I'm so stressed about it I can hardly stand it. So who cares? It's not my business, it's just a job, it's not a big problem. But the crux of the matter is this...
I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I need therapy or pills, but I also don't believe that any of those things will really work. My last therapist basically stopped responding to me with no explanation. I can't call any therapists to find a new one because their hours are all during business hours. How convenient it must be to have a mental illness that confines itself to business hours, and to also be unemployed. UM, HELLO? DON'T PEOPLE WITH JOBS NEED MENTAL HEALTH TREATMENT TOO? Why do all of these places only schedule appointments between 9-3? It's the biggest racket I've ever heard of anyways.
Yesterday, I came home from work after trying to relieve stress through exercise, which only made it worse, and got in bed about 5:30 and refused to move for 3 hours. I screamed a little, and cried a little, but refused to get up until my boyfriend gave me some weed, which makes me feel like shit, but at least made me stop wanting to die. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to my friend's stupid wedding shower, but I'm fat, my skin is broken out, I don't have anything ready, and quite frankly, could stay in bed all weekend crying and not even care.
I'm sorry for such a horrible and long post, but I guess I just needed to get it out there anyways. If you actually stuck with me, I commend you. I don't really expect anyone to read this, that's OK. I guess it's just for me.
So I dealt with it by drinking way more than I have in a long time and was very sick for 2 days afterwards. I have completely terrible hangovers, and I usually vomit repeatedly for about 6-8 hours before I can keep even water down. Then, my house was wrecked because he is very messy and I had no energy to clean it for about 4 days of recover afterwards. Having a messy house causes me a lot of anxiety, but I've never been able to keep my house or room clean...not in my whole life. My mom is the same way, and it was a daily argument. Obviously I have issues with cleaning and clutter.
Then, there was a rare opening in my office for an editorial position. For me. To be our editorial director. To be the editor of 3 magazines. It's a tough job, and while arguably tougher than my current job (if that's possible) it might be actually easier for me. It would be, sort of, a dream come true. Then, my bosses, the pathetic pigs that they are, knowing how badly I want the position, offered me 13,000 a year less than what the current girl was getting paid, which is about 5,000 less than I make now. I counter-offered. All I asked for were my sales commissions that I have been working for for the last 6 months. They said, sure, fine, we'll work out the details on Monday.
Which brings me to one week ago, when I traveled a few hours away for my friend's engagement party. Which was fun. I tried to be more careful with my drinking, but they were all med students and lots of single guys who thought it was fun that I didn't bring my boyfriend (he was out of town) and kept bringing me "sangria". Well, I thought that sangria is mostly wine, fruit, and usually a little spike of liquor. So I can probably have a few of those, right? Right. Unless the sangria is actually "Apple 99" with some lime in it...99 proof apple everclear basically. Which means that I spend another Sunday on the bathroom floor. I literally took one sip of water in the kitchen, and 10 seconds later had to run back to the bathroom to throw it up. The med students gave me some prescription anti-nausea pill, which I also promptly vomited up. I'm just now recovering from that.
Then my bosses screwed me. When I went back to work on Monday, they told me that they couldn't give me my hard-earned sales commissions, couldn't raise the base salary, it would be a pay cut, they didn't believe in the value of editorial, "too bad" they literally said. They basically told a few other people that they could take advantage of me because they knew I wanted the job so much. Well, I didn't take their bluff. I may be young, I may be a woman BUT I AM NOT STUPID. I told them no, I told them I'll keep my current job. They were shocked, and the magazine may shut down now if they can't find anyone else. Too bad. Those guys are disgusting, greedy pigs (one of them called me "greedy" for asking for a living wage).
So I gave up my dreams to make a stand, in a way. That night, that magazine's salesperson's son had to go have emergency brain surgery. Which was horrifying and sad. And also means that now, there are 1.5 salespeople who are supposed to sell 100,000+ worth of advertising in the next few weeks all by ourselves. I'm so stressed about it I can hardly stand it. So who cares? It's not my business, it's just a job, it's not a big problem. But the crux of the matter is this...
I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I need therapy or pills, but I also don't believe that any of those things will really work. My last therapist basically stopped responding to me with no explanation. I can't call any therapists to find a new one because their hours are all during business hours. How convenient it must be to have a mental illness that confines itself to business hours, and to also be unemployed. UM, HELLO? DON'T PEOPLE WITH JOBS NEED MENTAL HEALTH TREATMENT TOO? Why do all of these places only schedule appointments between 9-3? It's the biggest racket I've ever heard of anyways.
Yesterday, I came home from work after trying to relieve stress through exercise, which only made it worse, and got in bed about 5:30 and refused to move for 3 hours. I screamed a little, and cried a little, but refused to get up until my boyfriend gave me some weed, which makes me feel like shit, but at least made me stop wanting to die. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to my friend's stupid wedding shower, but I'm fat, my skin is broken out, I don't have anything ready, and quite frankly, could stay in bed all weekend crying and not even care.
I'm sorry for such a horrible and long post, but I guess I just needed to get it out there anyways. If you actually stuck with me, I commend you. I don't really expect anyone to read this, that's OK. I guess it's just for me.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
My Day Job
My day job, and really my life at times, seems to revolve around weddings.
I actively contribute to the Wedding Industrial Complex. It's literally my job, because I sell advertising to wedding vendors. I'm morally opposed to it, and even a little morally opposed to marriage in some contexts. The trade-off is that I get by-lines in the stories I write about weddings, and I get to be in charge of a section in the newspaper and a lil' yearly magazine. It's amazing experience for me. Weddings disgust me and enthrall me at the same time. Their existence turns my head around. Mostly, weddings just bother me. This morning I found some great blogs written by cool women that make me feel very un-alone in my dilemma:
http://apracticalwedding.com/
http://hitchdied.wordpress.com/
http://2000dollarwedding.com/
I actively contribute to the Wedding Industrial Complex. It's literally my job, because I sell advertising to wedding vendors. I'm morally opposed to it, and even a little morally opposed to marriage in some contexts. The trade-off is that I get by-lines in the stories I write about weddings, and I get to be in charge of a section in the newspaper and a lil' yearly magazine. It's amazing experience for me. Weddings disgust me and enthrall me at the same time. Their existence turns my head around. Mostly, weddings just bother me. This morning I found some great blogs written by cool women that make me feel very un-alone in my dilemma:
http://apracticalwedding.com/
http://hitchdied.wordpress.com/
http://2000dollarwedding.com/
Monday, March 14, 2011
Laying It All Out There
Things have been pretty down. Last week when I was feeling up, that little sigh in the back of my head whispered, "you know what happens next..." and I knew, like I knew from the moment a few years back that I was going to battle depression for the rest of my life.
I started doing something when I was an adolescent: I started to forget. My home was far from peaceful, and while I was only physically abused one time (that I recall), nearly every day was a knock-down-drag-out yelling match between at least 2 of the 4 family members. I would swear to myself that I was going to be silent, that when I got in the car from school I would not speak except for the minimum. I would promise myself that no matter what my younger brother did to annoy me, I would not make a peep, lest cause a torrential downpour of angry from my wrathful mother. She would slam cabinets (her favorite) and stomp through the house, making the rest of us miserable. Finally, she would start to yell and yell and scream and cry. We would have words; her and my dad would yell at one another about something. It was nearly every day.
So this is what I did : I started forgetting what happened. I would often end up engaged in the argument, feebly attempting to defend myself or whoever was being verbally attacked, and end up being in the middle of the fight. Things would get so out of control...the point would get lost...obviously the real point was something far beyond what we were actually talking about...longtime resentments or vendettas between my parents...something or other. The argument would get so nasty, would never be resolved, and would end in all parties retreated to their corners of the house, the women in tears, the men feigning disinterest and setting their jaws. During these moments, I felt grief, unbearable sadness, and helplessness. I remember being very young and trying to reason with myself, trying to understand what the fights were really about. I grew out of that and instead, let the pain wash over me for a short time, stifle it, and move on. I had great friends, better friends than a person could ask for, and as I got older, I would call them and talk about...something else. It wasn't exactly like I was compartmentalizing, but I just would...forget. I didn't want to dwell on the episode.
I may have been able to revisit the argument days later, tempers cooled and parents receptive to finally hearing me or my brother or the other spouse's side. Except not. Tempers seemed to never cool, because another blow up from Mom was on the way. Within 2 or 3 days, there was another horrible night to endure feeling trapped in a place that wasn't my home, that I didn't feel truly safe or loved, even if I was. Not to mention that my parents NEVER were receptive to other sides of the story. With no resolution, and constant conflict, it was hard to keep up with the detail of the fights, only that there was a dark spot in my memory from Thursday night...or whenever it was.
Now the conflicts are usually just with myself,raging and weeping at whatever inner pain or my outer circumstances. Often there are arguments with my boyfriend, except that we always come to resolutions. Still wish we didn't argue so much. I'm so terrified of becoming my parents, I'd literally rather die than be like them. Maybe that sounds melodramatic, but it's true.
I started doing something when I was an adolescent: I started to forget. My home was far from peaceful, and while I was only physically abused one time (that I recall), nearly every day was a knock-down-drag-out yelling match between at least 2 of the 4 family members. I would swear to myself that I was going to be silent, that when I got in the car from school I would not speak except for the minimum. I would promise myself that no matter what my younger brother did to annoy me, I would not make a peep, lest cause a torrential downpour of angry from my wrathful mother. She would slam cabinets (her favorite) and stomp through the house, making the rest of us miserable. Finally, she would start to yell and yell and scream and cry. We would have words; her and my dad would yell at one another about something. It was nearly every day.
So this is what I did : I started forgetting what happened. I would often end up engaged in the argument, feebly attempting to defend myself or whoever was being verbally attacked, and end up being in the middle of the fight. Things would get so out of control...the point would get lost...obviously the real point was something far beyond what we were actually talking about...longtime resentments or vendettas between my parents...something or other. The argument would get so nasty, would never be resolved, and would end in all parties retreated to their corners of the house, the women in tears, the men feigning disinterest and setting their jaws. During these moments, I felt grief, unbearable sadness, and helplessness. I remember being very young and trying to reason with myself, trying to understand what the fights were really about. I grew out of that and instead, let the pain wash over me for a short time, stifle it, and move on. I had great friends, better friends than a person could ask for, and as I got older, I would call them and talk about...something else. It wasn't exactly like I was compartmentalizing, but I just would...forget. I didn't want to dwell on the episode.
I may have been able to revisit the argument days later, tempers cooled and parents receptive to finally hearing me or my brother or the other spouse's side. Except not. Tempers seemed to never cool, because another blow up from Mom was on the way. Within 2 or 3 days, there was another horrible night to endure feeling trapped in a place that wasn't my home, that I didn't feel truly safe or loved, even if I was. Not to mention that my parents NEVER were receptive to other sides of the story. With no resolution, and constant conflict, it was hard to keep up with the detail of the fights, only that there was a dark spot in my memory from Thursday night...or whenever it was.
Now the conflicts are usually just with myself,raging and weeping at whatever inner pain or my outer circumstances. Often there are arguments with my boyfriend, except that we always come to resolutions. Still wish we didn't argue so much. I'm so terrified of becoming my parents, I'd literally rather die than be like them. Maybe that sounds melodramatic, but it's true.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Can I take it back?
What I said yesterday about getting caught up on sleep? I think that was more wishful thinking. I've been so tired and unable to focus at work the past two days.
I took 2 over-the-counter sleeping pills ( basically just benadryl) a bit ago. Maybe I will have a better quality of sleep tonight and not feel like a zombie tomorrow. I haven't been eating superbly healthy either. These things make a difference, or else I'm just obsessing.
Hmm...
Reading over some of my blog subscriptions today, and it seems like a lot of folks are having less than stellar time right now. Kinda wish we could all get together and play Taboo or something...
I took 2 over-the-counter sleeping pills ( basically just benadryl) a bit ago. Maybe I will have a better quality of sleep tonight and not feel like a zombie tomorrow. I haven't been eating superbly healthy either. These things make a difference, or else I'm just obsessing.
Hmm...
Reading over some of my blog subscriptions today, and it seems like a lot of folks are having less than stellar time right now. Kinda wish we could all get together and play Taboo or something...
Monday, March 7, 2011
today my boss said blogging was passé
This plastic duck was in the office today. Not sure why...
I've been feeling good this last week. It's a welcome change from how I've felt this year so far. The production deadline for our major biannual publication overlapped with our bimonthly pub, which was right on the heels of my wedding magazine project that came out in December. It was insane, and things feel a smidge more relaxed now that those things are finished. I was working heavily on production (graphic design, scheduling photoshoots, copy editing) and my saleshuman duties took a back seat during this time.
I found out on Friday that there would be some changes around the office. We have a satellite office with 3 workers, 2 of which are going to be consolidated into our office and the other worker has been laid off. I don't really know any of these people, but one is going to take my place as the designer second-in-command so that I can focus 100% on sales. GREAT. (That was sarcasm by the way). If I wanted to just make money, and be an ad sales exec, I would have finished college in 2.5 years, went straight to get an MBA, and moved to New York or somewhere and hopefully be having power lunches and crushing testicles (pardon the hard language) by now. As it was, I decided to go for my dreams for some silly reason and study art and writing. I took the sales position because I saw it as a necessary evil for me to get to write and design 30% of the time.
Now that that's being taken away from me, as well as the brand-new awesome Mac computer we just got at work, I feel even more motivated to start making my sales quota and finish out the year and MOVE ON.
If I was feeling like I was 2 weeks ago, I probably would have been unable to handle these changes. I would have had a breakdown, maybe even while at work. Luckily, there have been a few sunny days, I've been able to catch up on sleep, and it's an "up" time in the "up and down" schedule of my moods. So, I'm taking these changes as a personal and professional challenge, will suck it up and put on my "saleslady" hat (er..push up bra and power high heels) and sell some damn ads so I can say I did it. In the meantime, I plan on saving up the extra money and TRYING to apply for grad schools.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
evening plans and Hipstamatic
My earring bulletin board thingie. I caved and got the Hipstamatic deal for iPhone.
Planning on going out tonight. I love to dance, but I rarely get an opportunity to do so other than in my kitchen while doing the dishes or something. There's not a ton of decent "clubs" where I am, but there are a handful. This evening, plans include going out to the new gay club with my best buddy R. He recently broke up with his boyfriend of over a year, so I don't think he's ready to "look" for someone, but gay clubs are fun, and this one is new and we want to check it out. Dancing is accepted and accessible, and drag shows can be entertaining. I can most likely avoid being groped repeatedly or having to be judged and not let in the club because I'm not showing enough skin.
More Hipstamatic:
My TV area needs major redecorating help.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Just a Bit out of it this evening...
My workdays are 95% fast-paced, detail-oriented, and include a wide variety of tasks. It can be pretty high-stress. I had a deadline today, like I do every Thursday, which is when the wedding and engagement section that I work on is due. This week's story is the wedding of the year. It's kind of cool that I got to go, got to interview the couple, and will have so many people locally who are interested in reading what I have to say about it. It is ridiculous that someone would spend $150,000+ on a wedding, but I guess there are worse things to spend one's money on, if one has enough to burn like that.
All of the hullabaloo has my brain a little fried.
Switching gears, I have 3 new books that have come in the mail this week. I've been casually interested in studying spirituality, particularly Eastern spirituality and religion, for a long time. I just don't know what resources I should use. I bought "A History of God" and "The Great Transformation", both by Karen Armstrong. Those are more general interest I think. Then I bought "Yoga: A Discipline of Freedom" , which is supposed to be one of the best modern translations of ancient yogic text. I figure it's a realistic attempt at finding information at the source.
Will try to keep all posted on these seekings and readings, although I can't promise when I'll have the time and brain power to do so. Probably will take a couple of weeks...
All of the hullabaloo has my brain a little fried.
Switching gears, I have 3 new books that have come in the mail this week. I've been casually interested in studying spirituality, particularly Eastern spirituality and religion, for a long time. I just don't know what resources I should use. I bought "A History of God" and "The Great Transformation", both by Karen Armstrong. Those are more general interest I think. Then I bought "Yoga: A Discipline of Freedom" , which is supposed to be one of the best modern translations of ancient yogic text. I figure it's a realistic attempt at finding information at the source.
Will try to keep all posted on these seekings and readings, although I can't promise when I'll have the time and brain power to do so. Probably will take a couple of weeks...
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Thank you
So much to the new and old blog friends who've read and commented, even if there's only a lovely little handful if you ;)
I've been looking forward to reading blogs and blogging the past few days, and having something meaningful to look forward to always helps. If there's anything I have learned
About depression, it's that prevention of mood swings is the best way to stop yourself from getting Really down in the dumps. Speaking of prevention
My therapist has been kind of weird and unavailable. He's a pretty unconventional doctor, which is probably why we work Well together, but I'm not sure why he's being flaky. I just need to call.
Speaking of prevention again, it's been a busy and productive day and it's already past my bed time. Must prevent sleeping at inappropriate times tomorrow. Zzz...
I've been looking forward to reading blogs and blogging the past few days, and having something meaningful to look forward to always helps. If there's anything I have learned
About depression, it's that prevention of mood swings is the best way to stop yourself from getting Really down in the dumps. Speaking of prevention
My therapist has been kind of weird and unavailable. He's a pretty unconventional doctor, which is probably why we work Well together, but I'm not sure why he's being flaky. I just need to call.
Speaking of prevention again, it's been a busy and productive day and it's already past my bed time. Must prevent sleeping at inappropriate times tomorrow. Zzz...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
very, very bad luck
I mentioned that I just bought an iphone about 3 days ago, signed a brand-new 2-year contract.
Today I get an email from my corporate office saying that the company is going to be providing us with iphones & plans for free.
REALLY?! Is this happening?!
I am already going to have to pay about $400 in termination fees (didn't realize it was $200 per line) on my old T-Mobile phone plan, plus the upstart cost of my new plan with AT&T. I have been really, really excited about this iphone, and it's already making my life easier. Something good, right? Something positive?
Now I found out that the company is going to stop giving us stipends unless we basically sell them our phone number. I just changed the number I've had for nearly 8 years so I could have an iphone, and now I'm going to have to give it up AGAIN so my company will pay for it...or, I'm going to have to basically have 2 phones and pay fully for one of them and not use the other, because the plan is REQUIRED.
I can't believe this. Thousands of dollars, wasted. I have been so happy about this new phone, and proud of me and J's phone situation straightened out after months of annoyance. So, of course, something ridiculous and completely out of the blue happens immediately afterwards. I feel like these things ALWAYS happen to me. Like there's always something that kills my joy. I know it's just a phone, and people are dying and suffering with "real" problems in the world...but this was a small victory in my life that has been squashed by...the universe.
Today I get an email from my corporate office saying that the company is going to be providing us with iphones & plans for free.
REALLY?! Is this happening?!
I am already going to have to pay about $400 in termination fees (didn't realize it was $200 per line) on my old T-Mobile phone plan, plus the upstart cost of my new plan with AT&T. I have been really, really excited about this iphone, and it's already making my life easier. Something good, right? Something positive?
Now I found out that the company is going to stop giving us stipends unless we basically sell them our phone number. I just changed the number I've had for nearly 8 years so I could have an iphone, and now I'm going to have to give it up AGAIN so my company will pay for it...or, I'm going to have to basically have 2 phones and pay fully for one of them and not use the other, because the plan is REQUIRED.
I can't believe this. Thousands of dollars, wasted. I have been so happy about this new phone, and proud of me and J's phone situation straightened out after months of annoyance. So, of course, something ridiculous and completely out of the blue happens immediately afterwards. I feel like these things ALWAYS happen to me. Like there's always something that kills my joy. I know it's just a phone, and people are dying and suffering with "real" problems in the world...but this was a small victory in my life that has been squashed by...the universe.
Monday, February 28, 2011
book review : Substitute Me
I had no idea what to expect with Substitute Me. The cover image is non-descriptive at least, and plus it was one of those books sent to our publishing office in hopes we'll review in our women's magazine. The editor of that magazine gave it to me. It seemed like some form of chick-lit, an easy read, and so I, desperate to read anything, read it in a weekend...a few weeks ago.
This book is a first novel from Lori L. Tharps. It's about an almost-30 black woman, Zora, whose high-achieving parents and family are at odds with her chosen profession at a nanny. Zora seems to have a faith and a patience in herself that her family doesn't have, but that a part of herself is always questioning.
She takes a position as a nanny for a well-to-do white family. Which brings us to our first conflict: race. The mother of this family, Kate, is portrayed mostly as a highly driven, independent woman with major professional aspirations. She works until 9 or 10 pm nightly during most of the book. She is the one asking : "substitute me" in the life of her newborn son. Enter conflict 2: the Mommy Wars. Is Kate a bad mom for hiring a substitute mom? Should she celebrate her ability to pay someone to care for her son so she can have the best of both worlds?
OK. The following contains spoilers.
This question is still lingering at the end of the book, and I'm fine with novels leaving questions unanswered (kind of their point). But mostly it's because the reader gets distracted by sex.
I mentioned that I read this novel in a weekend, and it's because it was intriguing, suspenseful even, well-written, and full of a sense of dread that you had to keep reading to know what horrible thing was going to happen to these dysfunctional folks. At first, when the hot, exotic nanny appears on the scene, you think affair. Then, the father in the story has no interest in her. Her race makes him nervous, because he has white guilt. Whew, no affair you think. Then the mom starts working until 9 and 10pm, to finish some project that she really really cares about, but seems stupid in the grand scheme of her life. She's obsessed with being an over-acheiever at work and gaining approval from her boss. Her and hubby grow distant. Oh no, it's infidelity time, you think. Wrong. Zora is busy dating a decent guy for the first time in her life, and starting to pursue her lifelong dream of being a chef. And then she starts to cook for the family. And hubby starts sitting down to eat with her. And the next thing you know, they're having sex on the kitchen floor. And it's really just downhill from there.
Just because a character is lamenting that whatever is happening in their life is "cliche" doesn't make it OK to be a cliche. In the end, ideas about motherhood and race get shoved to the side in a commentary about love. And it seems that the true driving force behind love is...availability. It was a pretty bad let down for me, narrative-wise. But I know I'm just picky when it comes to cliches. In the end, I'm glad I read it, because it made me think. I just wish I didn't hate of all the characters by the end, despite their personal growth.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
I joined the club
and yesterday J. (the boyfriend) and I got iphones. We bit the bullet and I've already been able to use mine's features like crazy--the voice memos, calendar, unlimited texting--which means I've been texting my younger brother for hours on his Blackberry. We don't get to talk much.
It's hard to say what I think or know about my brother, because :
a) Much of my information comes from what my parents tell me, and I know that their perspective is just about as screwy as it can get. Occasionally, they are right, though, so it's hard to determine when to take what they're saying seriously.
b) If my brother is anything like me in the way he interacts with his family, then most of what he says is covering up the truth about himself. For example, my parents don't know that I drink alcohol, that J. stays over every night, that I see a therapist, or that I have completely rejected Christianity. I am 24 years old, so those are some pretty big things to hide from your family. If I can hide my true self with relative ease, then that makes me suspect that my brother can hide things from me.
He is coming up to visit in a few weeks. Actually, he's coming for a concert that's happening nearby and has asked to stay with me, and for a ride to and from the concert. This is so he can drink...I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's underage, he's taking medication for anxiety and depression, and I have never seen him when he's drinking so I don't know what he's like. He goes to death metal/mosh pit/scary concerts all the time and it seems like a pretty violent and volatile way to spend an evening.
So I asked him if he drinks regularly, and he says he can finish a 12-pack easily...this is worrisome. I don't like the idea of sending my underage brother to a death metal concert after having a dozen beers. Especially in the part of town where he's going. It's not an unsafe part; it's the opposite: a touristy area with tons of cops there for security. He's a huge guy, and that's not exactly a lethal amount, but I worry that he could be arrested if he even looks drunk.
If I don't want him to drink at my house, he said he's getting a hotel and a taxi, so he's going to do it anyways. Might as well try to spend time with him/save him so much money. J. even said he would go with him to the concert.
I realize I sound like such a fuddy duddy. And then, I just used the term "fuddy duddy", which surely makes it worse. Finally, I must add to my librarian persona by saying that I hate metal music--it literally scares me.
It's hard to say what I think or know about my brother, because :
a) Much of my information comes from what my parents tell me, and I know that their perspective is just about as screwy as it can get. Occasionally, they are right, though, so it's hard to determine when to take what they're saying seriously.
b) If my brother is anything like me in the way he interacts with his family, then most of what he says is covering up the truth about himself. For example, my parents don't know that I drink alcohol, that J. stays over every night, that I see a therapist, or that I have completely rejected Christianity. I am 24 years old, so those are some pretty big things to hide from your family. If I can hide my true self with relative ease, then that makes me suspect that my brother can hide things from me.
He is coming up to visit in a few weeks. Actually, he's coming for a concert that's happening nearby and has asked to stay with me, and for a ride to and from the concert. This is so he can drink...I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's underage, he's taking medication for anxiety and depression, and I have never seen him when he's drinking so I don't know what he's like. He goes to death metal/mosh pit/scary concerts all the time and it seems like a pretty violent and volatile way to spend an evening.
So I asked him if he drinks regularly, and he says he can finish a 12-pack easily...this is worrisome. I don't like the idea of sending my underage brother to a death metal concert after having a dozen beers. Especially in the part of town where he's going. It's not an unsafe part; it's the opposite: a touristy area with tons of cops there for security. He's a huge guy, and that's not exactly a lethal amount, but I worry that he could be arrested if he even looks drunk.
If I don't want him to drink at my house, he said he's getting a hotel and a taxi, so he's going to do it anyways. Might as well try to spend time with him/save him so much money. J. even said he would go with him to the concert.
I realize I sound like such a fuddy duddy. And then, I just used the term "fuddy duddy", which surely makes it worse. Finally, I must add to my librarian persona by saying that I hate metal music--it literally scares me.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Yes, I Know It's a Commercial
But it's a lovely commercial, isn't it? I can really relate to the narrative of this song. I have to admit that I sometimes feel this way about my relationship. Is the narrator self-assured or is self-centered?
I feel stereotypical
but essentially, I deleted my old blog and have decided to start a new one. I know that there is an electronic paper trail online that is beyond my skills to delete, but I want to at least attempt to have some anonymity if I'm going to write about what I wish to write about.
I increasingly find myself with a desire to write about my struggle with depression and anxiety, and to also read other blogs that have similar subject matter. I really enjoyed some of blogs that I found during my weak attempt at blogging previously, and I've found those again to follow.
Here's to hoping I can find some voice, even if it's an anonymous voice bouncing off the empty walls of the Internet!
I increasingly find myself with a desire to write about my struggle with depression and anxiety, and to also read other blogs that have similar subject matter. I really enjoyed some of blogs that I found during my weak attempt at blogging previously, and I've found those again to follow.
Here's to hoping I can find some voice, even if it's an anonymous voice bouncing off the empty walls of the Internet!
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