Warning: Expect foul language. I often blog when sleep deprived, and even when I'm not sleep deprived I cuss.
Warning the second: TMI often occurs. Read at your own risk. Feel free to laugh at my expense (I know I do!).
Warning the third: I suppose I should just put a general Trigger Warning here. I talk about mental illness (Anxiety, panic disorder, depression, social shit), abuse (rarely), and my fucked up relationship with food. And...other things. Actually, just consider this a general warning: If you might be triggered by things, you probably should read no further.

Monday, August 27, 2012

It gets better?

Periodically I start watching "It gets better" videos, because they are both uplifting and sad. Um, if you're not aware, the "It Gets Better" thing was started by Dan Savage (which is one of the reasons I respect the man, even if I'm not his biggest fan) in response to a rash of teen suicides by gay teens and teens who were perceived to be gay. It's powerful. People from all over the world, gay, straight, what-have-you, make these videos. They tell kids "Hold on. It gets better. Have hope and please stay alive." It's a powerful movement because it's not "just" celebrities. It's normal people. People from different countries, walks-of-life, ethnicities, orientations, and all different permutations of gender. All these strangers saying "Please stay on this planet." I've never been suicidal, but when I'm feeling depressed it helps me to know that there's a lot in the human race that is very worthwhile.
Then I get all depressed, because I would love to make a video but I don't know that I can. What am I going to say? "It gets better! I mean, you may end up closeted to your parents for the rest of your life, or they may ask you not to tell anyone, but it gets better!" I'm not exactly a shining example of how it gets better in that respect. I mean, heck, I was asexual in high school. I usually say "pretty much asexual", but the fact of the matter was that in my behaviour, reactions, and (lack of) attractions I *was* asexual. So what can I tell these kids about high school? I mean, high school sucked for me and I was bullied. But I was bullied because I was a nerd (the only people who realized I was a geek were geeks) and a reader. I wasn't a social person and I didn't date. I got called "gay" a lot, because my friends were girls and I wasn't logically that meant I was gay...because it's weird for a girl to be friends with other girls? :/ Anyways.
I feel for these kids, I do. So very much. But what can I say to them? "Yeah, I got called gay a lot in high school and I was bullied for being a nerd. Oh! And my conservative Christian father basically told me that he thought a butch lesbian was going to convert me to the dark side and abuse me. But it gets better! Y'know, except for marrying the first guy you ever kiss and developing an unhealthy and abusive relationship...then finding out you like girls...among other things." I mean, the liking girls thing wasn't bad, it was just a shock and has made the intervening years EVEN MORE awkward. Because now I'm confused by signals sent by ALL THE GENDERS. ;)
I still want to reach out to them. But what can I say? "Everybody says it gets better, and I don't know if they're right or not. But don't you owe it to yourself to find out?"

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Oh good fucking grief

fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
Of course *this* would be the post to follow the "woohoo, we're fucking awesome!" post I just fucking wrote. Of course. Good fucking grief.
So I'm not working currently because YAY CRAZY. I'm able to go to school because of medication and an excellent disability services center (as well as supremely fortunate teacher choices). I applied for social security disability because I need to have money. I actually wanted to apply for the shorter term ssi but had a pension I couldn't touch at the time that put me over the resources limit. The pension finally cashed out, I went to apply for ssi. Thanks to fibro flares and summer weather, I am not entirely with it. Long story short I was told I had to reapply for ssd in order to apply for ssi. I had my phone interview today and apparently I'm now doing the court appeal for ssd. Which I don't think is what I was supposed to do.
Here's the thing (and I hate this about myself), while I am turning into a fairly confident person there are still some situations where...and this embarassing...I turn into a complete helpless female. I get so scattered and overwhelmed that I apparently inspire protective reactions and am immediately "managed" for my own good. Now, I will say that I have gotten MUCH better over the years, but with my crazy it's inevitable that I fall into that mode. It's embarrassing (BUT NOT SHAMEFUL).
The guy on the phone was even calling me kiddo and reassuring me. Which was sweet. But just made me feel like an IDIOT when I emerged from my "holyshitcrapfuckIdon'tknowwhattodo" fog. I hate feeling like this. The same thing always happens (and is part of why I'm not currently able to work :/ ), I start doing something or talking about something and my brain goes "clickclickcrap" and I start getting this little panic-y feeling. My brain keeps clicking and I get lost in what I'm saying or doing, I usually start rambling. At this point I could say *anything*, there's almost a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Don't ask me anything that will hurt your feelings at this point, because my filter is non-existent. Even if you ask me a question, there's no guarantee that I'm going to really understand it and I may start rambling about something completely unrelated. It's a fog of panic (yay panic disorder!) that just reinforces itself. My friends just let me ramble and I'll usually pull myself out of it enough to stop talking (hours later). Some of my friends can even hold conversations with me in this mode (oddly enough I can usually remember what they've said even if I don't *entirely* remember what I've said).
So now, thanks to "clickclickcrap" I am apparently going to have a court date. Woo fucking hoo. Just what I fucking needed. *headdesk* Yay me.
FOR THE RECORD, I am not ashamed of this I'm just embarrassed and frustrated. Someday maybe it won't happen, but I don't really believe that. I'm just hoping that someday I'll be able to direct it well enough that I won't have people rescuing me for my own good. *sigh*.
The thing is, in the back of my mind I sometimes wonder if they're right that I need rescuing for my own good. I know that I have this aversion to being on any kind of government aid (thanks daddy!), and I know this aversion is just causing me to shoot myself in the foot. But I can't help it. My dad would always go on these little rants about the useless people on welfare and disability. HE would always know some exceptions to the rule, but it was clear that anyone who was on government aid was useless and lazy. He had to go on seasonal unemployment at one point and acknowledged that maybe God was trying to tell him something...but it didn't stop him from going on the same as ever.
I know I need money to live. I also know that if I do end up on any sort of government aid I'm going to need a payee because I...just do.
My mom just came in and now I've got HER all confused because we are apparently having two entirely different conversations when we talk. Yay! My crazy is contagious! *cheesy grin* *sarcastic double thumbs up*.
I'm just going to stop talking now. Well, for now ;).

Pondering a Pet Peeve

I wish people would stop acting like having a mental illness and/or not being neurotypical were something to be ashamed of. They're not. If there's not shame in having red hair, blonde hair, black hair, then why on EARTH should there be any shame in a brain the works differently? After all, what is normal? As I recently said in a (rather pointed) comment on a friend's photo (not to them, and not related to my current topic) "Normality is a myth created by boring people." I stand by that statement too. Anyone who uses the pedestal of "normal" to look down on weirdos is inevitably a boring person...or a liar. A closeted freak if you will. Someone who claims the word "normal" for themselves when mainstream society says they are anything but...THEM I like ;).
There is no shame in having a mental illness. I understand feeling embarrassment when someone witnesses a panic attack. I totally understand that. But that is different than shame. Shall we visit for a moment? Let's. It'll be a learning adventure! *cheesy smile*
1.the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another
2.susceptibility to this feeling:
3.disgrace; ignominy
4.a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret
How is a chemical imbalance in the brain, or a brain that is just wired differently, dishonourable, improper, ridiculous, etc.? Why should it be a disgrace? It's just who we are. Again, feeling embarrassment ( make uncomfortably self-conscious) that someone has witnessed a private moment is completely reasonable. Feeling shame for something that so directly influences the person you are/are becoming/ will become on the other hand is stupid and self-destructive.
Emily Dickinson said it best:
Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye -
Much Sense - the starkest Madness -
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail -
Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain -
Who cares why Society and the so-called Majority are uncomfortable with us? We're better than that. We are amazing fucking creatures. Unicorns filled with magic and glitter and dreams beyond the normals' wildest dreamings. I think we make them uncomfortable because they're secretly afraid that we know more than them, see more than they see, and can understand things that they don't. 
I have no idea why my formatting went all funky. That was weird. But who cares. Onward!
We, the crazy, the maladjusted, the weirdos, the freaks, we are the minds filled with wonder. As I have heard so many say, the arts would flounder without mental illness. Medicated or not, in therapy, counseling, or what have you, we see things in ways the rest of the world envies. Van Gogh, Cobain, Wilde, Dickinson, O'Connor, all of them were freaks like us. History is littered with our brethren (and sistren ;) ). Were some of us killed unjustly? Hell yes. Still happens today in some parts of the world. But so many of the great and beautiful marks on history were made by folks like us. And, yes, accepting and embracing that means we have to acknowledge that not all of the impact of our crazy forebearers was good. But the normals of their time have faded into the shadows of history. Normals can't make history because they're too afraid. 
Yes, a lot of us are often scared of change. That's perfectly acceptable. But the fact is that we are still in a different category altogether from those trying to maintain society's status quo. The status is not quo. We know it and so do they. We remind them of it, and they resent that. 
I wish I could write you a song, fuck that shit, I wish I could write all of us a motherfucking SYMPHONY, resounding with our awesomeness. It would make some normals quake in their boots, and some open their eyes for the first time. Alas, I've neither the inherent genius nor the attention span. So you'll have to settle for what I've said so far.
There is NO shame in being different, it is a thing of PRIDE. Deal with it, because I won't stop saying it.

Sunday, August 19, 2012


I hate August. I hate Hate HATE August. It hates me back. The humidity kills my fibro, as well as leaving me prostrate and fatigued. I find myself praying and begging for a weather turn. Someday I will be careful what I wish for. Because when that abrupt change happens (with it's corresponding change in barometric pressure) I'm incapacitated for at least a day afterwards. The only thing meaner to my body than the humidity is pressure changes. Which means I am REALLY living in the wrong part of the world. Which means I am REALLY yearning for Arizona, its consistent weather, low humidity, and drinking buddies.
As I prepare for the coming school year, Arizona, university and the move have me excited. They are frighteningly and exhilaratingly close. Three quarters. That's it. The next time I talk to the advising department I'll be starting the application and transfer process. I'm praying that there won't be any roadblocks, but even if there are I'll still be moving to Arizona. I'll just have to keep trying to get in once I'm down there. I hope my faculty advisor is right about me being an attractive candidate for the linguistics program. It's only THREE quarters away and I have so much to do to prepare!
But when my fibro flares my brain doesn't look at it that way. It's TEN MONTHS away. AT LEAST. I'm going to have to suffer through this shit for another TEN MONTHS. Why can't I teleport??
I'm really tired right now. People looking at me from the outside would roll their eyes and call me lazy (something I'm used to at this point). But the constant pain is exhausting. I'll settle into a status quo, where my pain levels will level out and I'll be in a constant state of ache and fatigue. Those are the good times, because I can cope. The great times are when I barely hurt. The bad times are when the pain spikes for whatever reason and I find myself crying, or dry heaving, or rocking back and forth, all because of pain. Then I have sharp,debilitating pain and complete exhaustion.
I can still find hope in that though. "WHY" you may ask (with a WTF look on your theoretical face). At those moments when I'm in tears I can truly believe that my worsening symptoms of mental illness are directly related to my physical problems. I can believe, at that point, that if I can move to Arizona and get the physical under control...maybe my mental issues won't be so bad.
As the kids say "Aja! Fighting!"

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The joys of chronic pain

I am experiencing intense pain right now. It's not new. I'm used to it. It leaves me in tears, but it's not an unfamiliar feeling. I can tell how helpless my mother feels when I come out of the room in tears because I hurt so bad and there's nothing I can do about it. I mean, marijuana can help, but I have no idea how to get it. And then taking it would be a problem. My mom is even (theoretically) okay with it if it would mean I wasn't hurting. But it's a moot point because I have no way of getting my hands on it.
I laughed earlier. My mom said I needed to see a doctor. I could hear the helpless frustration in her voice as she saw her daughter in tears and crippled with pain as her sons try to work the knots out of their sister's neck (didn't work but helped a little). I laughed because doctors don't do shit. I have very little respect for the medical profession. Because they wouldn't even prescribe me anti-inflammatories to help with the pain. They just told me to exercise and work through it, because all I need to do is lose weight. I had a doctor (before the fibro diagnosis) tell me that I was in this crippling pain because, wait for it... MY UNDERWEAR WAS TOO TIGHT. Yup. Chronic pain? You're just a fatass and need to wear bigger granny panties.
I don't know why I'm blogging. I just...I get so tired of being alone in my pain. Even when I have other fibro sufferers to commiserate matter what no one can sit in your pain with you. Your always alone, and if someone tries to come to your aid they just feel helpless. Sympathy and empathy are wonderful things, and it's nice to know people care, but... Pain is a lonely, solitary place and I am heartily sick of it.
As always, hope will get me through.
But it still sucks.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

A Victory Post

I went to a small concert. BY MYSELF. I don't check that off my "I want" list, because I want to be able to do more, be more. But that does not negate the feeling of victory I have right now. Was I all jumping into conversations, sitting in the front row? No. I was, in fact, in the very back. But the fact remains that I drove there (BY MYSELF), went in (BY MYSELF), and enjoyed a concert (BY MYSELF). I'm not sure exactly how many people were there, I'm not good at estimating stuff like that. It was held at a church and the sanctuary was...maybe three quarters of the way full? It was a decent size sanctuary (not super church, but bigger than small ;) ).
I think I need to change the nature of my "want" list. I think I need to add checkmarks to things on the list until I can cross them off because there's no more room for checkmarks. That will be a victorious thing. I will never cross everything off that list, because I fully expect the list to grow. That's how it should be. The things I want for myself should increase as I explore the world and find my place(s) in it. I want my list to be miles long with a check mark next to almost every item.

Monday, August 6, 2012


A lot of people I know are doing this Hope 2012 blog relay. It's kind of awesome and inspiring and maybe just a little tear-inducing (in a good way). I kept thinking...
Sorry, just got distracted creating a sparkly, boozy bug in GIMP. What was I saying? Oh yes.
I kept thinking that I ought to do a hope post too. Initially I couldn't think of what to write, then I felt like crap and didn't *WANT* to write. But I kept thinking about it. And thinking. And thinking.
Here's the thing, for me...hope is life. If you're alive and continuing to live then you are the embodiment of hope. I mean, what else is there but hope? Hope is what keeps us going through the crapshoot that is life. Without hope we have no reason to continue, to strive, to thrive, to conquer our fears and move on. Hope (and maybe a broken condom or two) are why children are born. It's why we plant trees, gardens, and flags. Hope is what we cling to when everything and everyone in our life fails us. Because if we don't have hope...what reason is there to continue?
Hope is why I'm getting an education. Hope is why I'm moving to another state. Hope is why I am pushing my own boundaries. Hope is why I read and write. Hope is why I communicate. Hope is everything. At the core of my being, the root of every action, the impetus behind every thought is...Hope.

a body transplant would still be nice

On the general principle of I AM BROKEN. I'm much better tonight. I hurt, but not like I was last night. I feel like I have an ear cramp. Which is pretty self-explanatory.
I spent all day in a darkened room, dozing on and off. I feel tired and my eyes are all scratchy, but I can't sleep. Because, y'know, my body HATES me. I also kind of have to pee, but I'm afraid that if I move from my current optimum position the pain will start again (based on past experience). I should add a TMI warning to this blog.
ANYWAYS. I really wish my powered usb hub was working, because then I could watch "Head" for the gazillionth time. I love that movie. If I had a region-free/multi-region/whatever-the-hell-you-call-it dvd player I would totally own this movie. It's so awesome. I may have to buy it anyways...Computers are region-free, right?
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this movie before, but if I haven't here it is in a nutshell: The plot revolves around a plucky girl reporter and a severed head. It's a comedy thriller (comedy noir?). Highly recommend, if you can find it. One clue if you're not in East Asia "Yaarrrrrrrrrrrrr me matey".
Edited to add:
Once again being a Lawsbian pays off! O, the blogs you'll read!

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Body transplant please

I'm in so much pain right now I think I might cry. Or throw up.
I hate this so much. I am so tired of always having SOMETHING wrong with me. I'm tired of not having medical insurance. I'm tired of killing my liver with naproxin and not even having it take all the pain away. I'm just so tired.
My head aches and I don't know if it's my sinuses or the wisdom teeth that are rotting in my head and desperately need to be removed. If that weren't enough my neck is choosing to knot itself up into one giant cramp. I keep trying to stretch it out with only pop pop pops resulting and no cessation of pain.
No more might. I am crying. I don't even know why I'm blogging this. I can't do anything else for myself I suppose.
I'm so so so tired of this. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Some things

Thing the first-
So I'm a Lawsbian, that is to say a fan of the most fabulous Bloggess. The most fantastic thing about being a Lawsbian is all the other Lawsbians. It's a community of misfits brought together by our differences and commonalities. Most other groups I'm a member of are "misfit" groups as well, but they don't fully espouse the principles of "acceptance" the way Lawsbians do. In other groups I'm a member of, acceptance comes with qualifiers. This has not been the case in my experiences with my fellow Lawsbians. "You like the Bloggess? Friend! You're broken? Me too! You're feeling crappy? Love! Support! Hugs!" It's quite fantabulously wonderful.
Thing the second-
I'm sort of starting the Principia Discordia for the first time. I am again reminded of (and amused by) the fact that in high school everyone thought I was a pothead and I couldn't understand WHY.
Thing the third-
On a less fabulous note the keyword search "problems in lavender marriages" brought someone to my blog. I can't help but be curious as to why they were searching that. My first reaction was "Oh, honey, don't do it!" (even though I obviously cannot contact the person). My second reaction was "I should blog about this". My third reaction was distraction as I searched for (unrelated) twine. 
Thing the last-
My body fucking hates me. No, seriously, it fucking HATES me. I don't know what its deal is, but it's decided that every night it needs to do something to my neck and if I don't get heat on it pronto ain't no pain medication gonna do SHIT. I didn't have the heat thingummy the other night (my mom needed it for her frozen shoulder) and spent the next day miserable. Fuck. Seriously. It kinda makes me wish I had my medical marijuana friend nearby (she also has fibro and would share with me when the pain  got too much). I can't stand the stuff, but it does work. fu-huh-huh-UCK.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Relationship Savant

I'm kind of like an idiot savant when it comes to relationships. Kind of. I am very dense about some things, though after many years I'm starting to get where after being hit upside the head with it I can recognize when someone is attracted to me (but not very often). However...once I am in whatever kind of relationship (friend, family, lover, framily) with a person I will get to know them very well. I don't know if it's because of the chemical imbalance in my brain or because of my unsettled childhood, but once I get to know someone...I understand them in some fundamental way. Based on their reactions, it's not "normal" (but in a good way). I think that I want to be understood so badly (particularly by myself) that I extend it to those I care about. I prove I care by doing the best I can to understand you.
Of course...this does not prevent me from being treated shittily (or behaving shittily myself (I *am* human after all)) and it probably contributes to my past doormat history. I think it also helped end my marriage. My ex would do something shitty/stupid/hurtful/whathaveyou and go "You don't understand!" at which point I would break down the exact thought processes and the actions that followed. I was almost always right. This was particularly irksome to him when he would make some selfish decision that benefited him and left me with the short end and I would break down exactly why it was a dick thing to do. I'd be right too.
I'm not sure if I'm cut out for romantic relationships. I can have very deep and meaningful relationships with people without getting caught up in the sex. Sex is nice, but not essential. Masturbation is quite sufficient. (TMI?). I've mentioned it time and again but I think this is why polyamory appeals to me. In poly I can have that emotional connection and not feel I'm cheating my partner out of sex. But....I dunno, I still feel like romantic relationships are more trouble than they're worth. I have "my" people and a future to work towards. I have friends to do things with. I don't feel particularly lonely. I feel less lonely now than I did when I was married.
In my dreams I sometimes end up dating someone...but y'know, even in my dreams I can't quite make it make sense to me. Heck, half the time I end up setting the dream person up with a dream friend and end up best man/maid of honor!
I'm just pondering these things lately and reading a lot of romance novels because of it ;). It's led me to the conclusion that if (and it's a big if) I do get seriously involved with someone in the future...I don't want to be the one doing all the understanding. Even if this mythical person doesn't completely understand me...I want them to be willing to TRY. Not for themselves, not for selfish motivations, but because they care about ME.