Today I Forgot Who I Was

There is nothing scarier than not knowing who you are, where you are, or how you got there. Thats what happened to me today.

I have Bipolar Disorder. Its been about a decade since I have attempted medication. Pharmaceuticals have not worked for me. In the past, medications have made me homicidal, suicidal, or psychotic. I would rather feel crazy than feel like that. I would rather deal with mania, than want to die.

This time, I went in for an appointment for migraine prevention. Something wasn't right. I felt hollow. I felt empty. I felt like a shell. Couldn't think straight. It was only Day 1 of medication. I thought that the effects would wear off. That it would get better.

Explained this to my therapist.* She could tell something wasn't right, and pointed it out a bit. I felt so not like myself. I didn't even care about anything. After my appointment, I decided to go outside and wait for Wifey. She was driving me around because I didn't feel safe to drive.** I walked out, and decided it was time for a cigarette.*** I walked to the end of the parking lot, because I'm not an asshole, and I'm not about to smoke infront of a doctor's office... and in my opinion, those who do are jerks.

I kept on walking. I didn't know where I was going, but I was determined to get to where ever it was. I went down the road, and kept on gong.

I came to a busy road. It was a bit scary. I was worried about getting hit by cars. I started to panic. I didn't know where I was going but I did know that I had to cross this very heavily trafficked road. I ended up crossing safely, thank my lucky stars. I crossed another road. And then the next thing I know Wifey picked me up in the van. She told me to get in. I didn't know what was going on. I thought to myself... "Well, I guess this is where I was walking to."

I don't really remember much after that, but I don't think I am ready to play the "Medication Roulette" game ever again. I'll stick to self-medicating with cannabis****, thanks anyways.



* My therapist is quite awesome. Honestly, I have only had one other therapist that is comparable, and my current therapist is still the best. Wifey thinks she's awesome. Hubbs sings her praises... because honestly -- If I didn't get help, I'm sure Hubbs would be gone by now.

** If you know ANYTHING about me -- you'll know that I don't get carted around. I do just about ALL of the driving. To say that I didn't feel safe while driving is serious business. I mean, when I go out with others -- I'm the DD. When I am out in the snow -- nobody is driving but me. I am a bit of a control freak when it comes to driving. But I am also a pretty awesome passenger... on the rare occasion that I am a passenger.

*** Yes, I am aware smoking is bad. I'm working on it. See also, here.

**** I will eventually write a post about how cannabis works for me, and how I use it.

Everything Makes Sense at the Moment, and That's Okay.

Do you know that feeling when you feel like everything makes sense? I sure do. Its nice. Its that feeling when you feel like you are right where you are supposed to be.

I'm talking in a literal sense. I'm in my own personal space of the house, and its awesome. Do you have a runaway space? My run away space happens to be at my desk. And for once my desk is back where it honestly belongs.

In the living room, we have this nice big bay window that you can see the front yard from. Its nice, and right there, to the left of it is where my desk is.

Its my own personal 4' x 8' space of the house. I have my desk, and my chair, and my aloe plant, all right there in the front of the living room. I love this space in the house.

I feel more creative in this spot. I don't know why I feel that way, but its okay.

All of the kids are asleep, before and I'm okay with that.

Here is to easy nights, happy thoughts, and a nice writing session before bed.

It Doesn't Matter What Gender You Are, Glitter IS AMAZING!

Short-Stack rocking the glitter.

My Gram is amazing. She knows me very well. And for those who know me, the best go-to gift for the holidays is cosmetics.

I have a closeted cosmetics addiction. I love eye shadow, eyeliner, lipsticks of a million different varieties. But the one thing that I love more than glittery eye shadow that gets all over my shirt, its nail polish.

I’m a nail biter, you wouldn't think that I would have a love for nail polish. Oh, but I do. So for those of you who will most likely not read this – I love nail polish. For the love of glitter, and all that is shiny… I fucking love nail polish.

It was a no-brainer for my 84 year old Grandmother to pick out a pre-packaged “Color Workshop” holiday nail polish set. She knew that I would love it. And oh… I really really do! My face lit right up when I saw the box. I was all of the stoked.

It was a bit of a bummer for me, with all of the fiasco of yesterday… (See also, yesterday’s post)… all I wanted to do was go through my new nail polish set from my Gram. That’s it. But, life happens – and that is okay.

So FINALLY! After all of the 2 weeks of waiting, I finally got to check out my nail polish. The girls were all of the jealous, and I was completely okay with that. They were being butts anyways – not doing their homework, being general grouches. It was frustrating… but there is nothing more satisfying than seeing elementary school girls losing their minds over glitter polish, but can’t partake because they refused to do their homework over an hour previous.

When I came out with the box, Short-Stack followed me to watch the unveiling of new polish. He was almost as excited as I was when I opened the box, to reveal 12 new bottles of polish – some glittery, some solid, some pearlescent.

I also have a big makeup bag that Wifey gave me that holds all of the nail polish I already have. I am going to need a bigger bag soon. I need to take note of this. Anyways; I brought out the entire collection of nail polish. Short-Stack was ecstatic! I have seen him get excited about polish before, but this time took the cake.

I pulled out each little bottle one by one and lined them up like I do. Its sort of like the periodic table of elements for nail polish. Reds go here. Glittery goes here. Short-Stack figured out my system, and started helping out.

I’m just going to say something crazy here, just for a moment. If ANY of my kids end up NOT being a TOTAL AND COMPLETE SLOB, its going to be Short-Stack. Moving on…

So I took an inventory of all of the polish that I had, and Short-Stack picks some polish.

"Dees one," he says.
I looked at him, he smiled back at me, and I asked him, "Do you want me to paint your nails?"
"Yee... dees one... o-paan," he says back to me. So I painted my son's nails, and he was absolutely thrilled.

After we were done, he showed off to Brainy and Artsy. They were all the jealous.

Fuck Counter: 1

"I only care about you, because I love her... and I'm not sorry."

I have so much to say, but I can't say it. To sum up: I only care about you, because I love her, you stupid narcissist I can't write right now, but maybe at some point I will come back to this. If I don't, it may just be for the best. But eeehh.... raaar... whatever, might as well get it over with.

How dare you treat her in the way you do! She does nothing but love and care for you. You have put her through hell. You treat her like shit. You put her down every possible moment. You don't take care of yourself. You threaten your life, her life and mine. You say horrible things about her father. You say horrible things about my children. You do all of these things. And you think everyone is out to get you.

You think that all she wants is your house and your money when you are dead and gone. How can you say that? All she wants is for you to get better. That's all she wants. She wants to have a real mother. Someone to call up, just to say, "Hi, how are you? How's your day been?" Not someone who chooses to put her only child down on a constant basis. You don't even see what you do to her. You can't even comprehend what is going on because you refuse to take your medication. You refuse to take care of yourself. You just want to slowly suffer, because as you say, "I won't go to heaven if I kill myself."

I may not be Catholic, but I was raised by one. What you are doing is essentially killing yourself slowly. That doesn't get you into heaven. Praying daily, and asking God for money, that won't get you into heaven either. Don't preach to me your religion when you don't even understand what you have to do to get into heaven.

"I'm a good person, I deserve to get into heaven." No, you're not.

I have watched you torment your daughter. I have heard of unspeakable things. I only care about you, because I love your daughter, and she loves you. And I will do anything and everything I can to help you, but you seriously need to help yourself.

I'm not sorry.
I'm not sorry for supporting your daughter, and driving 30 miles north just to take you to a hospital... because you were delusional and couldn't breathe.
I'm not sorry for standing by her and defending her when you chose to rip her down emotionally, yet again.
I'm not sorry for calling 9-1-1 to get an ambulance to come help you, because you refused to come with us to a hospital, and then subsequently threatened to take your own life.
I'm not sorry that the paramedics came in to your overly-immaculate house with their shoes on, and walked on your carpet.
I'm not sorry that the police came, because you refused to go with the paramedics, and... well... you did say that you'd "kill any other asshole that walked on your 'brand new' carpet with dirty shoes"... and you did say that to the paramedics, and your carpets are only as new as the house is. It was built in 1993, the carpets are not new.
I'm not sorry that the police broke down your bedroom door, and I am probably going to have to fix it.

We asked you nicely to come with us, we begged you to come with us. You refused. You were delusional. You are TRYING TO DIE!

I'm not sorry for anything. However, it is so unfortunate that you don't want to get better. That you are just so miserable, that you feel the only way out is to slowly die, because you are "at the mercy of God's will." That is the saddest thing I have ever heard. You can't see how much she cares about you, you can't see the hell that you put her through. You don't even know her. You choose not to. And that is the saddest part about this whole ordeal. You choose this, over actually living. This is not living. This is not a life. You are choosing to do this. Why? What does this even proove? You have pushed away your entire family. All you have left is your daughter... and... me.

She will never have to do this alone. And that I will never apologize for. 

Stop drinking. Get help. Please.

Love,
Your Pseudo-Daughter-in-Law

Fuck Counter: 0

Looks Like Its Time For That “New Year, New Me” Bullshit: How to Make and Keep New Years Resolutions, with this Simple Diagram!!

Happy New Year, and welcome to 2015. I’ll be your guide this evening. Buckle up, boys and girls, it’s about to get awesome!

So, every year people make these beautifully cliché things called resolutions. I don’t make those. And when I did I could never actually keep on it anyway.

A few years ago I resolved to never make a New Year’s Resolution. I can’t keep them. I honestly can’t.

“I’m going to lose weight this year!” Nope. Not happening. “I’m going to quit smoking this year!” Hahaha… Yeah. Ok there buddy. Good luck with that one. “I’m going to fall in love and get married and have lots of babies.” Seriously, how delusional are you?

I don’t do the resolution thing. I haven’t made a New Year’s Resolution in 4 years. I guess you could say that I resolved to never make a New Year’s Resolution ever again; a resolution I could actually keep. Fantastic.

What I have been doing for the past four years is essentially this:

It’s fairly simple. You get rid of up to 3 things you don’t want to do anymore, like “having so-called-friends that just don’t care about you” or “don’t swear as often.” And then you put them in the “get rid of” column.

Then, what you do is pick up to 3 things that you have learned from the previous year, put those into the “keep” column, and really put them into action. For example; “keep up the good work on not speeding as much” or, “you’re doing awesome with cooking healthy and well-balanced meals. High-five!” would work out really nicely in the “keep” column.

Lastly, we come to the “add” column. This is just as self-explanatory as the previous sections, but I’m feeling rather good about myself and this “New Year, New You” bullshit, so I am going to explain how this works. This is where you add things. You can add things like, “create a schedule you can actually work around,” “plant a victory garden in the spring”, or “actually check the mail every day.” Stuff like that.

It’s a pretty simple solution to avoid the hassle of making a New Year’s Resolution that you’re not really going to follow through with anyway. “I’m gonna lose all my weight!” says almost every woman on this planet in unison. “89%* of all of you aren’t going to, so stop it, and actually do something about it, instead of talking about how you want to do it.** “I’m totally quitting smoking this year!” says every other smoker in the United States. Does it happen? No. Some of them make it, most of them won’t though.

So, what am doing this year?

I am currently putting together a packet that will outline what my plans are for every one of these items, and I will update this entry when I complete it.

Goodbye 2014, and all of your bullshit. Hello 2015, may it be better than the last and the best so far!

Fuck Counter: 0***

Wait, there's more:
*  That 89% is a completely made up number. Do not take it seriously.
** I’m fat too. I feel your pain. Believe me. But, I also have a thyroid problem, and I also want to lose weight… so setting realistic goals for yourself would probably be a great start, and talk to your doctor too, because that’s important. I know nothing.
*** Looks like my profanity is getting better. However, “shit,” and all variations of, was used 5 times.