I’m not dead despite the long absence of writing. I think the last several months have been very transitional for me and will alter my universe forever. For one thing, I have lived alone now for many months for the first time ever. I had a boyfriend who stayed a lot for a couple of weeks but aside from that I have been on my own.
It’s a very different lifestyle, this being on one’s own. I must recommend a book by Judy Ford titled “Single” http://www.amazon.com/Single-Satisfied-Fulfilled-Independent-ebook/dp/B0047O2KAI/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1335873132&sr=1-1
The tips she gives and the reassurance that it’s not only OK but also perhaps for many preferred to be alone have drastically changed me for the better. Never again will I wallow in the feeling that “I’ll never find someone” nor will do I believe that we are all meant to even do so. Some of us are meant to wander and experience things alone for a while. I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love [finally] and there’s a part where the author describes why she was celibate in her time in Italy. WOW, it struck a loud chord inside me. I wonder if I could find that and paste it…
Ok, that will have to work. Anyway, it’s a magnificently written section on how she’s had a boyfriend or a man virtually every moment since adolescence, boundaries, and the aftermath. I totally related. The last year, and especially the last few 8 or 9 months, have changed my perspective on a man and mostly on me. I no longer relate my life to the man in it. I know that as much as I didn’t want to be one of those girls, that in the past, I have been. And perhaps, now I am overly concerned with NOT relating my life to a man because of the past 20 years. That’s a lot of time to rack up some history, some bad habits, and issues. Not the man’s problem but unfortunately I think a good guy has suffered recently because of that accumulation. For that, I am deeply sorry but the fact is I have to do this alone now. And, in my humble opinion, so should he. I can spot co-dependency a mile away thanks to books and my own life. Two co-dependents don’t make a right.
So, alas, I am incredibly happy forging through the time looking inside me and pleasing myself above others. Well, above a romantic interest more accurately. As if on cue, my job is becoming more demanding these days and I love to spend my spare time indulging in solitary confinement with a book or something on the DVR. And suddenly, waking early enough to blog once again.
Oh yes, something on the inside definitely feels better.
Oprah is always talking about finding one’s authentic self. I am always thinking that’s what I am doing…finding my authentic self. Learning lessons and finding happiness. Most days, I am ok with where I am. I have a long journey but I think I’m doing ok.
Then there are days like today. Doubt refuses to leave me alone;she is screaming where only I can hear, “it isn’t you, it’s the meds.” See, the dr said two things: one is that I need to increase my med and the second is that the med is affecting my thyroid. So, the weight gain and my huge struggle with it—the cash I spent, the days I look at myself and feel disgusted, and all the mental anguish and uplifting I cycle through—is thyroid related. It isn’t even my authentic self. So I look back the last 3 months and I’m like you got to be kidding me.
And then I wonder how much of what I think, feel, and act upon is really me & how much of it can be attributed to lithium? It would be nice to say “”well obviously there is a wonderful balance between who I am and the meds that keep me there”, put a bow on that, and lets wrap it up for my own Christmas gift. It isn’t that easy though. Because now I need more meds. So I have to wonder if I have been acting like “myself” or was it the meds?
Maybe to everyone else it doesn’t matter but to me it does. I have to know who is in there and what her greatness is and how to get it out before the bell rings and the school of life is over. I think perhaps because I wonder how much the meds do affect me (and my creativity) I waste a lot of time that could be better spent. I should say that it does NOT matter as long as I am happy with who I am. But when things get REAL—I’m talking deep—like fighting with people, being lazy, wanting to just go home from work and sleep, gaining 20 lbs and not being able to shake the disgust it makes me feel, ending relationships, and losing my temper too quick I have legitimate excuses now.
Example, I’m letting myself off the hook some on this weight thing. I still gotta watch it very carefully but lets face it Mother Nature is a machine we can’t figure out. If I have a thyroid problem, I have a thyroid problem and no amount of self-coaching and calorie counting is going to solve the problem. Still gotta do right, but come on I can’t do it alone. Modern medicine is going to have to intervene. And that is on hold for another 6 weeks give or take while we see if the increase dose does anything to thyroid levels. What I hate is that just because these levels are borderline for the general population they are obviously lower for me AND I exhibit other symptoms so let’s just get on with it and start some meds. Please! So I can get into the skinny jeans again!!!! For the record, that is my authentic self wanting to be prettier.
And people with mental health questions, we really dive into spirituality. I mean, our questions are a little more complex aren’t they? No offense to the mentally healthy but when you believe in God you have to search out a why. And then there’s the whole subject of a WHO, who am I and can some connection deep within me help answer that? If there is some separation between our body, our mind, our soul…well damnit, mentally ill people desperately crave an answer to which part of us is in need of help. Is it the same part of us that gets to connect to God? Is that part always healthy and right and we just have to deal with this obstacle as our given path to enlightenment? Ugh. It gets too deep and too ugly if you let yourself go down far.
I always just remind myself of one thing—I am precisely where I am supposed to be and learning what I am supposed to learn. Definitely have some problems and they affect me but perhaps that’s nothing more than part of the lesson plan. And I got to ease up on myself cause when I look around I see people with all kinds of issues. They may not be bi-polar but man they got their own stuff. And some of it they don’t deal with half as good as I do with my load of crap. And that’s the truth.
Having now reassured myself of being crazy and fat and happy with the result, I’m going to read a book in a bubble bath. Peace.
Surprisingly, this blog isn’t to complain despite the title. A self-proclaimed fan of the blog asked me to write again soon. I thought, “I know, I know I need to. I always want to write and just don’t have the time anymore.”
Just now, I was laying here trying to nap after a long day and listening to Joyce Meyer’s “Look Great, Feel Great” on audiobook when I heard something that made me perk my ears up—just like Chloe does. She started talking about spiritual roadblocks. Now I know one of my biggest spiritual problems is stress and worry and anxiety. One reason Joyce Meyer is my preferred evangelist is because of her constant reminders of Jesus’ last words being about peace. Most importantly, him leaving us his peace. I read: supernatural peace. So here I am listening to her and acknowledging my resistance to quit thinking on how much work I have to do in my satchel that I bring home with me every night, how I cannot lose a pound—err, gained 6—even with my best intentions to eat healthy or diet, and how no matter what I end up in some financial bind that keeps me worrying.
I thought, oh crap, this reminds me I need to log in and check my account balance. And suddenly it hit me and I paused the audiobook—there I go doing exactly what keeps me in a whirlwind of ZERO peace. Jumping to look my problems. And it would do no good logging in. It’s either in there or it isn’t and I haven’t spent anything unnecessary. Well, $95 for my laser treatment is unnecessary and had I had the brains to think about it I would have cancelled the appointment. But no, I just rush to shave before I run at 50 miles per hour out the front door, race in my Altima to the appointment, close my eyes and endure the pain, get up to rush back to the office and then bam. DUH, they want money for this. NOT a planned for expense. I had everything balanced out and with a tiny bit of room to send a check to a friend who needs it and still get a tank of gas until next payday. And now no free lasers. LOL I am so blonde on the inside.
So I decided that since there was really nothing I could do about that—I’ll eat a $100 in fees I bet—and putting anything in my mouth right now will only remind me of how awful I look to myself in a mirror I should do something that clears my mind and brings me inner peace. Blogging. I used to blog on the daily. I would LOVE getting up at 6-6:30, warm cup of coffee, cigarettes (damn I miss those!), and then I’d blog until 7 at which point I would get ready for work and jet. Now, since I require pills to sleep, I am far too tired to get up at 6. But I miss my mornings.
Here’s a good one. I decided last week that God wanted me to spend my time in the morning reading a little of my Bible and getting back to my old morning routine. I decided to stop taking the sleeping pills and just trust God to calm me down and help me rest. The first two nights were pure hell of no sleep—those nights where you literally see every hour on the clock. And well, my faith petered pretty quickly because after the weekend I just hopped back into the old habit of sleeping pill before bed and here we are a week later and I’m praying again for God to help me sleep peacefully and wake to see the sun come up. I have a few ideas. Tonight for example I am wiped out. I walked 20 minutes around this big retention pond we have at work with fountains and palms all around it. Worked up a nice sweat and came home and just wanted to strip off the now soaked clothes and hop into my bed and lay on my cool sheets and take a nap and dream. As previously stated in the beginning, didn’t work. So, I am thinking that I will take 2 of my Xanax at bedtime and that will totally relax me. Then, if I only take 1/4 of my sleeping pill (I’ve been down to half now for a while) I won’t be dead for so long and I hope that is a successful combination.
Wow, I experiment with my dosages a lot. I feel like Amy Winehouse just putting that sentence out there. I take a lot of pills. If you know me and you know this web address (or you just happened to find it and me) then you should know this already. I DON’T take anything that isn’t prescribed to me. In fact, the Xanax I rarely take and certainly not even a fraction of the amount prescribed. It isn’t something I want to take everyday. I take everything else as prescribed. Doc & I discussed the sleeping pill thing and he’s told me over time I will need less and less. I have gone from 150mg at night to 50mg. Then I like to try vitamins and supplements like cinnamon, Bs, C, some gross sounding weight loss supplement with apple vinegar as the main ingredient, acai…you get the picture.
I just recovered this blog after an Apryl vs Windows Update episode so I will take that as a sign to hit publish and go.
I think I just lost a blog that was long enough to be a chapter in a book 
I am enjoying my body finally feeling like getting up on time this week. I hate being late everywhere I go, and yet I always am. I used to be the early bird. Where did that girl go?? Oh, wait, I think I remember. She got a little more responsibility thrown at her, a bit more worry, a lot more debt, her thoughts race now so fast she can’t seem to hold on to one for more than a second and she’s always trying to laugh about something and that generally means being a goon rather than staring at the clock. Also, I don’t let that clock haunt me anymore. So what if its midnight. God made midnight for people to enjoy if that is what they need just like he did 6:30am. If I can’t sleep-which is now cured by trazodone mostly-oh well. I will find something to do and just when I decide to get out of bed and not waste the time….snore! 
I’m lightening my load lately. I can’t juggle much more right now and I have to focus on me. I do not want to seem selfish and sometimes I wonder if the things I say or do hurt people and I’m oblivious to it. My time is split right now to capacity between helping me and loving my friends. And that’s absolutely ok by me. Good morning. Time to clean my butt and go to work!
I cannot pinpoint the exact day, time, or event that led me to shutting people and their talk and their ideas out, but I can definitely tell you I am far more discerning these days. Possibly narrowminded. I judge people. Not by their looks, by their actions. And I have justified to myself by the saying, “when someone shows you who they are, believe them.” Because when I didn’t believe what people showed me, I ended up getting taken on the same ride over & over. I’d like to think I never go off of first impressions. They are basically your mind relating what you see to something else you have seen in the past. Well, I’ve matured enough to know that the recognition or resemblance of a thought, a former love, another place, etc are tricks the mind plays. The man or woman or child standing there is not the same as someone else. So, I like to say I give everyone the same fair chance. And I’m socially awkward when sober so that complicates it a bit. I look like I’m not openminded and I’m treated that way a lot. Truth is, that’s just my face. I do not go around with a smile on my face. I have 1000 thoughts inside racing to jump out or be on top of the other 999 so I guess that’s why I appear unhappy. Truly, I’m just concentrating on something or worse, trying to concentrate on something. Otherwise the thought or idea will float away and rarely do they return. [EX: just now I thought “wtf was I going to write down on the grocery list that I knew I would forget”]
But it concerns me that I am closing things out at a quicker pace and with not enough pondering on a matter. It isn’t like I think I have the answers—Seriously, how can a girl with a huge pimple on her nose and who walks like a baby calf because she overdid it working out a few days ago have the answers?! LOL. No it really isn’t that. My thoughts do seem to get away from me if I do not make a conscious effort to keep them slow and methodical. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me? “Slow” and “Methodical” was the girl who never had to study hard because I learned quick, concentrated with ease, and remembered things easily. That was the girl who was depressed and had to find medication to save her life. And now that girl is so far away from the adult who battles ADD brought on by bi-polar disorder and the side effects of the meds to treat it.
I’m always down on myself about something: my ADD, my weight, my other health problems, bi-polarism with tendencies to be depressive, my zits at age 30, my eczema on my legs so I can’t show them any more, my horrible habit of running words together [SLOW DOWN BRAIN BEFORE I KILL YOU!], my ability to be late for everything, and the list goes on and on and on.
But that’s silly. I am who I am. I am all of the above but I’m also a good friend, a peacemaker (except that hoe Vanessa who keeps messing with my glitter-friend. for her, I need to pray), an encourager to my friends and family to go after the things they love because I know they can do it, an employee who will take a call at 2am, a person who longs for adventure, who believes in art and all its glory, a person who will give until I have nothing left for myself, and a person who will love you in my own awkward way. So maybe I’m not closing down on anyone else…maybe I am being very narrowminded where I am considered.
I have fallen into the trap of thinking my mental health meds stifle my creativity. So I asked myself what really has changed? The biggest change is that my thoughts have slowed down. For the most part, I try to keep up with myself and succeed. 
My thoughts are clearer and not filled with doubt. It’s hard to explain the feeling of knowing you are NOT thinking clearly but not being able to produce thoughts that are less tragic to your being. I guess envisioning being able to see and touch what you need with only your fingertips and not being able to grab it is the only metaphor I can think of. So, having put my hands on more sane thoughts, have I really lost any creativity or have I just left Wonderland? And honestly, would I ever trade a slowed down version of me over the one I cannot keep up with and feel out of balance? Easy answer, no I would not trade sanity for creative jail.
I have compensated by taking my work up a notch. Well, I am trying to do that. A few days this week I felt like I was floaty and like I was sitting there with no clue what to do. I don’t even know what that was about other than my sleep pattern has been messed up & so are my meal times. I guess since those are um highly important to functioning that could be why.
But enough beating myself up over not feeling artistic. Frankly, I am overwhelmed with other avenues right now and I guess that’s likely the main reason I feel drained and not open to creative flow. Even this blog—my writing which has ALWAYS come to me clear and overflowing—is hard to do this morning. Seriously, it’s taken me about an hour to get this much done. Ok, I have to stop beating myself up and thinking about what it is that is impeding me.
Last night I was with my two besties and we were talking about glitter. When I fell asleep, I had glitter in all my dreams. Glitter makes everything so much better. My friendship with Brandy & Robyn is layered a hundred times with glitter. Being together and knowing they are there if I need to cry, if I need to laugh, if I need to dance, if I need to be still, if I need to hear, if I need to be heard….lawd, it’s so wonderful. And I find the ways we came together to be magical, like glitter. I think about our 3 paths and how at the most perfect time we intersected in a way that created a type of love I haven’t really known since Kim died. I really think that her death affected me far, far more than I have ever known or admitted to myself. It killed me knowing our friendship, the person who knew me when I didn’t know myself, the only person who shared some of my childhood secrets and pains, was gone. All those memories and that connection to someone else was broken. The only other person who knows as much about me is Ashley. Between those two people, any amount of my past—of my soul, of how I got here—that could be known would be known. It felt like God ripped part of me away when she was gone. And I have not reached out for a friend like that since. My roommate Fran knows tons and she’s been through lots of adult struggles with me and I with her. But it isn’t always the raw, unfiltered sharing type thing. I withhold my opinions and don’t always speak my truth to her. Finally, with Robyn and Brandy I feel we can share exactly what there is below the surface and not fear any backlash or hard feelings. My boos will tell me when I am not heading in the direction I want to go because they know where I want to be and where I’ve been. I can tell them my opinion and they know we can all disagree and it not hurt the ability of us to continue to open our hearts. Seriously, it’s Steel Magnolias.
I am unequipped to deal with this pain. Apparently the reconciliation I was hanging my life upon should have been recorded or documented. I thought when we said working on our issues, it would be those that broke us apart hence the desire to try to make our love for each other sustain. I was very, very wrong. It was just supposed to be friendship. What issues did we have that made us not friends? Do friends work on their issues??
So the first break-up brought me to the edge of sanity. I knew without doubt the second would be more than I could handle. Yay, I was right. It’s like that play where the lottery winner gets stoned to death. The second time around I snapped. Fully & completely. I see now why people get off the hook for killing in a crime of passion. Passion and love are evil forebodings when it involves a person; as opposed to passion and love for say, art.
Let me get to the point and be honest—I don’t know how to breathe without pain seeping into my every cell. I cry at night and I beg God to hear my plea not to wake up. This is how you know there is no God, my deepest prayer goes unanswered. (sarcasm)
I’m NOT going to do anything rash to hurt myself. Couldn’t do it to my dog and my Mom anyway. I’m too cowardly. However, back to the beginning, I feel like I need locked away. I feel like all sanity left the building with Elvis. You cannot tell me he wasn’t “the one” and that there are more fish in the sea. You can’t tell me that and it be comforting. Its not because I disagree and anything else you will say will slip right past me. I know life goes on, but you couldn’t convince me with a crystal ball that my life will be as happy without him as it was with him. You’ll never get that through to me.
Good news is I walked out of the shrinks’s office with some POWERFUL drugs. Now if these don’t work, I’m committing myself. For life.
I had a dream I was late for work and that today was Monday already. I woke up and said, this is BS. I went back to sleep and had a wonderful dream about finding my dream house for sale at $69k. I distinctly remember the house. Wow. Maybe someday, right?
Today is my 11,793rd day alive. It’s beautiful outside and deep inside me I want to be outside enjoying it. But less deep part of me is screaming today we must rest. I find that my moods tend to be triggered by stress. And Mon-Fri is all I can take and then some. Refer to Friday’s meltdown at my desk for further information. I know I can go outside and rest but you know what? That comes with cleaning up, then there’s what do I wear?, where did I put the damn sunscreen?, where am I going?, what do I need to take with me?….you see how my brain works? Whereas here in my house I have my dog and my books to keep me busy. Since the house needs about a billion things done there’s always something staring me in the face to pick up or clean up. I have unfinished collages that need to get finalized.
After yesterday’s hopeful start, I reached a low point last night. I was crying and driving home to change clothes so I could join friends at a cast party for Keith’s show. I have no idea why the feelings of great despair and hopelessness wash over me, but they do. They crescendo and then hit me full on. I tried everything I had to just keep it together. It is SO exhausting to feel one way and beg yourself to see that everything you feel is wrong. I cry, I plead to myself, I chant good things inside my head, and finally I just scream to god to help. That usually works by the way. Anyway, I got home and I had to make myself change clothes, refresh my makeup, and walk out that door. I’m glad I did. That’s why I’m so tired right now—there was great effort made to see the sun come up but alas we did not succeed LOL. I had a good time with a lot of friends.
Now, I’m no doctor but I know my own body. Seems the bi-polar meds only succeed to worsen the depression. So, despite the lack of credentials, I am going to stop the latest drug for a few days and see if I think anymore straight. I can tell you one thing, I need a sabbatical and unfortunately my career of choice doesn’t offer such. But I know this—if the shifts and sudden lurches into dark, dark places doesn’t stop I will end up locked away in padded cell. It’s funny, the crazy part isn’t the thoughts I know are wrong, it’s the knowing they’re wrong is the problem. Keeping the crazy train on the tracks is where you can lose it, not riding out whatever you want. Sure, if I had no idea or fight against what I know my brain is saying to me, I’d be crazy. But there is literally a war for sanity going on inside me and it is exhausting.
So, I think I’ll nap or read. 
Let me tell you about being bi-polar…it’s bi-winning. LMAO that was Charlie Sheen’s explanation. Actually, now that I jester I see his point. This was about to be a long, drawn out boo-hoo of a blog about me going up, going down and basically being on a roller coaster that I don’t control. BUT, now I see what he means. I can look at it with my dismal attitude or…I can look at every mood as a winner. I’m winning no matter what my mood is trying to say otherwise. And, let’s be real, probably this has been going on for years. My sister-in-law always said so (politely & with love) but I was denying that diagnosis completely. So really this isn’t a “new” thing; it’s a thing with a new name. Everything I am feeling is because I’m labeling myself and attaching stigmas to it. [Wow, blogging is ultra healthy!]
Here, it’s perfect. If you want to know exactly how I feel and what life has been like walking around in this most imperfect body google the lyrics to Radiohead’s “The Bends.”
What’s incredibly striking to me is that I feel so disconnected from everyone on this planet. That’s very much unlike me. And, at the same time, there is an intense need to curl up to someone and just cry for days and days. Oddly enough, I’m very selective who sees me cry. Keith said he saw me cry twice in our years together. Yesterday, at my desk in front of little baby Jesus and everyone, I was sobbing. People are all freaking out—the strong one is broke!—asking what’s wrong. And here’s the part I like, I would just start laughing and saying “I don’t know.” I don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong. But it makes me feel like I need a straight jacket and padded cell. My boss would probably accommodate as necessary so long as I can keep working.
It isn’t ALL dismal like that. See, and that’s the whole point I guess, it feels like life is over and then you wake up the next day and realize it’s a new beginning and I can only take it one day at a time. And, of course, I make as many jokes as possible. That is how I cope. Like just busting out laughing while tears are going all over my new Vaio. It’s funny to me that I can’t even tell you what’s wrong. Crazy is funny. I tend to think of my life as a movie and that seen would have been hilarious. Juice up the dramatics of the tears and enter Adam Sandler. Funny.
I think I’m most upset over already taking the wrong approach to the “work on it” thing with Keith. I have been so desperate to hear those words that when they came I want to latch onto him like an oasis in my desert of a life! Suck the life right out of him, more accurately. I KNOW intellectually that is soooooooooooooooooooo not the way to go about things!!! Man runs! Who can’t see that’s exactly what happens here? But the emotions inside me are like taking over my damn brain. So, I got told to please back the hell off. Well, I can say that if I were him, I’d have done the same thing. I need a nice, sane balance. LOL if only that were so easy.
But from my standpoint, it makes a tad bit of sense. I will openly admit to everyone my life without him has almost killed me. When he was here and we were living our little lives despite the pain at the end, it was pretty fucking blissful. And, enter the depression, it’s very understandable I would cling to the days when problems were small and usually nonexistent. I just want to go back there and pick up where we were and keep writing our story. I’m having a most horrible time accepting that. Accepting that the only method of survival I’ve used is completely unavailable in reality is a bit of a blow. I think THAT right there is where the sudden dip stems. The picturesque, heaven-on-earth days are completely unavailable right now breaks me up inside.
But you know what, I am an optimist despite all the chemicals in my brain unsure of that or not. It has just hit me that the story is NOT over. It may not move as quickly as I want it to, but it continues. And what if the next chapter is better than what I’ve read already? It could easily be so. If patience is a virtue, than what we knew all along is evidently true—I’m clearly a woman of no virtue 
Don’t be taking me home to mama! LOL. See, I joke.
Maybe if I just relax and be content with the right now I might be happy don’t ya know.