My relationship with food is kinda fucked. That would be the technical term of course. But it's true. I've a really screwy relationship with food that is all wrapped in my self-image, insecurity, childhood, and a whole lot of other things. As a child I would hide food in my room. Even as an adult I would feel the need to hide what I was eating. I would sneak food even though it was perfectly okay for me to be eating what I was eating.
I'd been making strides, I really had! I'd gotten to the point where I was basically eating three meals a day. I even ate in public! In the student center. Sometimes. And by sometimes I mean rarely, but STILL. Progress had been made. I was eating, then I was starting to eat healthier, and...things were looking up. I felt so hopeful.
Flash forward to the present...
It's the partially the financial stress, but part of it is seeing so few obese people on campus. I'm surrounded by people a decade younger than me and half my size. I have not had any of the past bad experiences happen to me yet, but I've also not given them an opportunity to happen.
Yesterday I would have gone the whole day (on a long day I'm awake between 3.30 and 4 and leave by 5 AM, not to get home til around 9 PM) having eaten nothing but a small piece of chicken, a peppermint and an energy drink (I do not include water intake because caloric value). I ended up being hungry, which shouldn't be surprising but was. I can usually submerge those feelings quite successfully. I had no money to spare, because honestly the caffeine necessary to ensure that I don't die a fiery death on the freeway was more important. What's a girl to do? Start bitching fruitlessly on the internet of course! I didn't think there was anything to be done and...I'm a whiner at times. I really am.
An amusing conversation developed on Twitter which ended up becoming about mechs. Hilarity was had by all. Hardy har. One friend suggested mooching food off someone, but even if someone had been eating that would have been impossible. I can only mooch off of people I've shared food with in the past. Another suggested I mug someone for food, which was appealing simply for the entertainment value.
Meanwhile, on Facebook, I was messaging with one of my "internet girlfriends" and bitching there. Little did I know that she was being proactive. Shortly she messaged me, informing me that not eating for 12 hours was unacceptable and that she was going to buy me dinner via online ordering. Dinner was delicious and she was duly declared the best "internet girlfriend". But...
It made me realize that I've been pulling stunts like that for a month. Do I eat that little all the time? NO. Have I been starving my body of nutrients because of anxiety over finances and insecurity around strangers? YES. Even when I'm at home I'm guilty of this, because I am uncomfortable with the fact that my friends are feeding and housing me for free when they have so little money to spare.
So in a nutshell what's going on? I have fantastic friends and my brain is fucked.
Showing posts with label rambly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rambly. Show all posts
Friday, September 27, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
On stress and the lack of booze
I so wish I had money to buy booze. I so wish that I wasn't such a responsible adult that if someone were to GIVE me money for booze I would set it aside for gasoline and other such necessary sundries. SIGH.
I'm stressed. So stressed. I have no job. I had an interview for Amazon for a job that I was under the impression was flexibly scheduled. Which it rather is...as soon as you get through the month of training on a 7 AM to 4 PM schedule. I would not have wasted so much time if I'd know. Le sigh.
So now I look for a job. And look. And look. And apply. And look. I have received no replies, which is both frightening and disheartening. Which gets my crazysauce all up in a tizzy telling me "WHO THE FUCK WOULD HIRE YOU. YOU ARE EXHAUSTED. EVEN IF YOU GET A JOB YOU'LL LOSE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FUCKING ENERGY." Day in, day out, with the mental screaming. No many how many times I tell it to shut the fuck up. This is why I need booze.
You see, I'm a happy drunk. It makes me feel better. It helps with physical pain too (OH that's the other thing, the area in which I am living HATES MY SINUSES. Don't worry, fibro's still doing pretty good). It's just...a relief. Which is part of the reason I don't drink much because I've already put such a load on my liver with the painkillers that I don't want to kill it with booze. Because it would be quite easy to become a functioning alcoholic. I also refrain because I don't have the money to be a functioning alcoholic. Sigh.
But I wish I had a bottle of something deliciously alcoholic. You know, the kind of stuff that has you drunk before you even start tasting the booze. I wish I had that bottle all to myself. I would huddle in my room and get drunk and giggle and possibly flirt on the internet. Or maybe just giggle on the internet. I would feel better for a time, and more importantly it would be a release valve for the pressure I feel myself under.
Alas. I have not the money nor the irresponsibility to booze it up.
Alas
Alas
Alack
Oh woe is me.
SIGH.
I'd say AJA AJA FIGHTING, but I'd rather have the booze *pout*.
I'm stressed. So stressed. I have no job. I had an interview for Amazon for a job that I was under the impression was flexibly scheduled. Which it rather is...as soon as you get through the month of training on a 7 AM to 4 PM schedule. I would not have wasted so much time if I'd know. Le sigh.
So now I look for a job. And look. And look. And apply. And look. I have received no replies, which is both frightening and disheartening. Which gets my crazysauce all up in a tizzy telling me "WHO THE FUCK WOULD HIRE YOU. YOU ARE EXHAUSTED. EVEN IF YOU GET A JOB YOU'LL LOSE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FUCKING ENERGY." Day in, day out, with the mental screaming. No many how many times I tell it to shut the fuck up. This is why I need booze.
You see, I'm a happy drunk. It makes me feel better. It helps with physical pain too (OH that's the other thing, the area in which I am living HATES MY SINUSES. Don't worry, fibro's still doing pretty good). It's just...a relief. Which is part of the reason I don't drink much because I've already put such a load on my liver with the painkillers that I don't want to kill it with booze. Because it would be quite easy to become a functioning alcoholic. I also refrain because I don't have the money to be a functioning alcoholic. Sigh.
But I wish I had a bottle of something deliciously alcoholic. You know, the kind of stuff that has you drunk before you even start tasting the booze. I wish I had that bottle all to myself. I would huddle in my room and get drunk and giggle and possibly flirt on the internet. Or maybe just giggle on the internet. I would feel better for a time, and more importantly it would be a release valve for the pressure I feel myself under.
Alas. I have not the money nor the irresponsibility to booze it up.
Alas
Alas
Alack
Oh woe is me.
SIGH.
I'd say AJA AJA FIGHTING, but I'd rather have the booze *pout*.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Resisting the urge to maim
Tom is lucky to be alive.
You know how some people become first time parents and there's like this amazing flowering of personal growth because having a child has pulled them outside of their own minds and you're just like "WOW, you're actually a worthwhile human being! Who knew?!?" Okay, now think of the opposite of that.
He's fucking lucky to be alive. It's a wonder his body wasn't found in a ditch on the way here (here being Kentucky).
I am sympathetic, because some of his behaviour has to do with the shitty relationship he was in before. She was a piece of work...in the bad way. She fucked him up, over, and under. She was also a skunt. BUT...if my brainmath is correct, it's been over two years now. His new wife (the wonderful Wendy who has her own problems from a previous relationship but is a LOT more aware of that) is NOTHING like the old one. Serious upgrade. His family agrees. I would submit that continuing to react to her like she was his ex is a fucking insult.
IN ANY CASE. While some of his reactions are because of the former and I can understand that...there's a line. And he keeps crossing it.
He also is failing at parenting because he can't stop panicking. Here he is with a teething baby in his arms, a crying teething baby, and what is his reaction? YELL. When his wife (who has two much older children and thus experience) asks him to stop yelling? He continues yelling that he's sorry, he's not mad, he just doesn't know what to do. At which point she tells him AGAIN to stop yelling. Somehow he can't seem to clue in that a baby doesn't understand that he's not yelling because he's mad, a baby just knows that she's in pain and now her daddy is being LOUD AND YELLY. He also can't understand why his defensive behaviour and inability to take constructive criticism might piss wifey off. Tempers fray. Muchly. and now we segue.
I was asked to tag along so I could help Tom bring home malted shakes for everyone. Fine. His adorkable niece ends up tagging along. Great. He goes around supposedly making a list of what malts people want so he's all organized (theoretically). Reasonable. He keeps repeatedly asking me if I'm going and when I say "sure" snaps at me to get ready to go...repeat this step over a period of twenty minutes to half an hour. Eyetwitch. Niece and I have been goofing off and harassing each other all day, he asks us to cut it out in the car, as this is a reasonable request we comply. We get to the store and get in line. He has forgotten the list in the car. Niece and I step aside and goof off (she was bopping my nose and trying to keep me from bopping hers). He comes back in and orders. Great. We continue goofing off. He bites our fucking heads off. At this point I am thinking "okay, that's legit, I can understand how the immaturity would get annoying. I will accept this even though his tone is completely out of line." He screws up his order. People get in line behind us. He screws up his order again. And again. And again. We (niece and I) try to help keep him calm and figuring out the order. This is not a rewarding experience. After umpteen order changes (I felt so bad for the guys working and the people in line behind him) we finally end up with an 8 malt order. 5 chocolate, 2 cherry, and a cookie dough. If you couldn't guess I KEPT HEARING THIS FUCKING ORDER. While talking to us he keeps screwing up what's in his order. So when the guy says "Here's cookie dough and 2 chocolate" and tom responds with a comment that sound an awful lot like he thinks that's all the chocolate he's getting I let loose with a flippant and dramatic "BUT WAIT, there's more!" He starts going off on me, and as it seems like it has to do with the order takers I think it's reasonable. So I politely say that I'm sorry, that's not what I intended I just meant that there were more chocolate malts coming. HE FLIPS THE FUCK OUT AND ORDERS ME TO GO STAND OUTSIDE AND WAIT BY HIS CAR. He's six fucking years older than me. I won't let my own MOTHER talk to me in that tone, and she went through three days of labour for me! This does not fucking fly. I don't know if my eye was twitching, but I must have had a murderous gleam in my eye as I stared him down. I think I said something like "Oh, WE can TAKE this outside." He starts apologizing and trying to blame his alcoholic consumption of the night before, or the fact that his wife is cranky (because he wouldn't stop fucking yelling around their teething and vomiting 6 month old baby), or that they didn't get enough sleep OR OR OR. All that's going through my head is how many times he has lashed out at me over the past month and apologized for it. People don't realize it, but I have a pretty potent temper. I made the decision to leave before I lost my shit in public. As I turn and go towards the door he says "No, you don't have to wait outside." I informed him that I thought it would be a good idea and leave to go pace behind the car. I think it made him uncomfortable because he ended up bringing his keys out to the car. When he and Niece come out with the order he apologizes, stating it's nothing personal. "It never is," I reply. I also ratted him out to his wife (and feel no guilt about that) and he apologized again.
I should add that the man does have PTSD. Which is why I have endured a LOT more bullshit from him than I would normally consider acceptable. A LOT. Because the asshole thinks it's okay to dish out teasing and shit on me, but if I reciprocate (or, heaven forbid, aid his WIFE in teasing or shenanigans) he flips the fuck out. I keep telling him "Don't dish it if you can't take it" and he keeps insisting he can.
Bullshit.
You can just IMAGINE how much I'm looking forward to the trip back :/
You know how some people become first time parents and there's like this amazing flowering of personal growth because having a child has pulled them outside of their own minds and you're just like "WOW, you're actually a worthwhile human being! Who knew?!?" Okay, now think of the opposite of that.
He's fucking lucky to be alive. It's a wonder his body wasn't found in a ditch on the way here (here being Kentucky).
I am sympathetic, because some of his behaviour has to do with the shitty relationship he was in before. She was a piece of work...in the bad way. She fucked him up, over, and under. She was also a skunt. BUT...if my brainmath is correct, it's been over two years now. His new wife (the wonderful Wendy who has her own problems from a previous relationship but is a LOT more aware of that) is NOTHING like the old one. Serious upgrade. His family agrees. I would submit that continuing to react to her like she was his ex is a fucking insult.
IN ANY CASE. While some of his reactions are because of the former and I can understand that...there's a line. And he keeps crossing it.
He also is failing at parenting because he can't stop panicking. Here he is with a teething baby in his arms, a crying teething baby, and what is his reaction? YELL. When his wife (who has two much older children and thus experience) asks him to stop yelling? He continues yelling that he's sorry, he's not mad, he just doesn't know what to do. At which point she tells him AGAIN to stop yelling. Somehow he can't seem to clue in that a baby doesn't understand that he's not yelling because he's mad, a baby just knows that she's in pain and now her daddy is being LOUD AND YELLY. He also can't understand why his defensive behaviour and inability to take constructive criticism might piss wifey off. Tempers fray. Muchly. and now we segue.
I was asked to tag along so I could help Tom bring home malted shakes for everyone. Fine. His adorkable niece ends up tagging along. Great. He goes around supposedly making a list of what malts people want so he's all organized (theoretically). Reasonable. He keeps repeatedly asking me if I'm going and when I say "sure" snaps at me to get ready to go...repeat this step over a period of twenty minutes to half an hour. Eyetwitch. Niece and I have been goofing off and harassing each other all day, he asks us to cut it out in the car, as this is a reasonable request we comply. We get to the store and get in line. He has forgotten the list in the car. Niece and I step aside and goof off (she was bopping my nose and trying to keep me from bopping hers). He comes back in and orders. Great. We continue goofing off. He bites our fucking heads off. At this point I am thinking "okay, that's legit, I can understand how the immaturity would get annoying. I will accept this even though his tone is completely out of line." He screws up his order. People get in line behind us. He screws up his order again. And again. And again. We (niece and I) try to help keep him calm and figuring out the order. This is not a rewarding experience. After umpteen order changes (I felt so bad for the guys working and the people in line behind him) we finally end up with an 8 malt order. 5 chocolate, 2 cherry, and a cookie dough. If you couldn't guess I KEPT HEARING THIS FUCKING ORDER. While talking to us he keeps screwing up what's in his order. So when the guy says "Here's cookie dough and 2 chocolate" and tom responds with a comment that sound an awful lot like he thinks that's all the chocolate he's getting I let loose with a flippant and dramatic "BUT WAIT, there's more!" He starts going off on me, and as it seems like it has to do with the order takers I think it's reasonable. So I politely say that I'm sorry, that's not what I intended I just meant that there were more chocolate malts coming. HE FLIPS THE FUCK OUT AND ORDERS ME TO GO STAND OUTSIDE AND WAIT BY HIS CAR. He's six fucking years older than me. I won't let my own MOTHER talk to me in that tone, and she went through three days of labour for me! This does not fucking fly. I don't know if my eye was twitching, but I must have had a murderous gleam in my eye as I stared him down. I think I said something like "Oh, WE can TAKE this outside." He starts apologizing and trying to blame his alcoholic consumption of the night before, or the fact that his wife is cranky (because he wouldn't stop fucking yelling around their teething and vomiting 6 month old baby), or that they didn't get enough sleep OR OR OR. All that's going through my head is how many times he has lashed out at me over the past month and apologized for it. People don't realize it, but I have a pretty potent temper. I made the decision to leave before I lost my shit in public. As I turn and go towards the door he says "No, you don't have to wait outside." I informed him that I thought it would be a good idea and leave to go pace behind the car. I think it made him uncomfortable because he ended up bringing his keys out to the car. When he and Niece come out with the order he apologizes, stating it's nothing personal. "It never is," I reply. I also ratted him out to his wife (and feel no guilt about that) and he apologized again.
I should add that the man does have PTSD. Which is why I have endured a LOT more bullshit from him than I would normally consider acceptable. A LOT. Because the asshole thinks it's okay to dish out teasing and shit on me, but if I reciprocate (or, heaven forbid, aid his WIFE in teasing or shenanigans) he flips the fuck out. I keep telling him "Don't dish it if you can't take it" and he keeps insisting he can.
Bullshit.
You can just IMAGINE how much I'm looking forward to the trip back :/
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Comfort zones are overrated
I'm in Kentucky right now. My Tom and Wendy, their five month old (teething) daughter, Wendy's 12 year old daughter, their smaller dog, and myself drove from SW Arizona to NE Kentucky in 2 days. We are not sane. It was a tough drive and there were actually a fair number of triggers thrown around for ALL of us, but we survived. It was a close shave for Tom (so many places to hide the body on a trip like this), but he still survived.
I thought the trip would trigger my crazy more. I mean, I've always been bad with change, and with plans falling through, or schedules going kaput, but...I was okay. We ended up getting to our first night's stopping point about 4 or 5 hours later than we intended, I didn't get to see my friend in Austin, TX, the food plan was NOT followed, which meant that the budget was NOT followed...and I survived pretty damn well. I managed not to panic too much, and I think I've managed the new people okay. Under the circumstances it's hard not to pull the kicked puppy act "likemelikemelikemepleaselikeme" but I think I'm doing...okay. Not perfect by any stretch, but okay.
I will freely admit that I am concerned for our trip back, because Tom is bad with money and he won't have my extra that got us the last little way gaswise. But...we'll figure things out. Somehow.
Less clear is what the HELL I'm going to do if the other half of my financial aid doesn't come through. I love Tom and Wendy, but living with them long term is not an option. Well, okay, it's an option, but it's not one I'm comfortable with. The deal was that I'd stay with them on holidays and breaks, not long term. Also, if I lived with them long term I'd have to sleep somewhere else a couple times a month because of lease things.
But...I'm still cool. I'm still good. I took a flying leap of faith outside my comfort zone and I'm pretty happy with it. I've been severely limiting my social interaction in AZ, but that's just acclimation. And common sense. I'm having a blast with Tom's family and they respect my space.
I am kind of tired right now, so even though there's more that I could write about I don't think I'm going to. Suffice to say that change is scary and my comfort zones have been supremely stretched...and I couldn't be happier.
I thought the trip would trigger my crazy more. I mean, I've always been bad with change, and with plans falling through, or schedules going kaput, but...I was okay. We ended up getting to our first night's stopping point about 4 or 5 hours later than we intended, I didn't get to see my friend in Austin, TX, the food plan was NOT followed, which meant that the budget was NOT followed...and I survived pretty damn well. I managed not to panic too much, and I think I've managed the new people okay. Under the circumstances it's hard not to pull the kicked puppy act "likemelikemelikemepleaselikeme" but I think I'm doing...okay. Not perfect by any stretch, but okay.
I will freely admit that I am concerned for our trip back, because Tom is bad with money and he won't have my extra that got us the last little way gaswise. But...we'll figure things out. Somehow.
Less clear is what the HELL I'm going to do if the other half of my financial aid doesn't come through. I love Tom and Wendy, but living with them long term is not an option. Well, okay, it's an option, but it's not one I'm comfortable with. The deal was that I'd stay with them on holidays and breaks, not long term. Also, if I lived with them long term I'd have to sleep somewhere else a couple times a month because of lease things.
But...I'm still cool. I'm still good. I took a flying leap of faith outside my comfort zone and I'm pretty happy with it. I've been severely limiting my social interaction in AZ, but that's just acclimation. And common sense. I'm having a blast with Tom's family and they respect my space.
I am kind of tired right now, so even though there's more that I could write about I don't think I'm going to. Suffice to say that change is scary and my comfort zones have been supremely stretched...and I couldn't be happier.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
In Arizona
And so far so good. My pain levels are down, but still there. What was "HOLY SHIT AMAZING" was me NOT being crippled for days after tromping up and down the hills of Bisbee during Pride weekend. So I think that definitely says AZ is good for me.
I'm still finding my footing here in other respects. I am staying with friends who are awesome and both understand and respect my issues and decisions.
There were a lot of "and"s in that sentence.
I'm feeling a bit awkward though, because they're being really generous with their space and food and stuff and I...feel uncomfortable that I don't have a job to contribute. Which is why, broke as I am, I am paying for pizza for me and Tom tonight. Even though pizza inevitably disagrees with me. I feel uncomfortable with letting go of cash for a frivolous reason, but I feel more uncomfortable with being a leech, and...*flails* Overall, the situation right now is REALLY good for me, but I can't help the crazysauce in my head whispering doubts, uncertainties, possible future disasters, and insecurities. I also can't help the extreme anxiety over money. I've gotten to the point where I have a smidge over half of the financial aid I need for university. I have very little wiggle room when it comes to money. Like... VERY little. There's shit all I can do about any of that, so I feel adrift at the same time that I feel I have made serious positive changes in my life.
So, basically, I am in a really really good place right now, but my CRAZY thinks everything is a disaster waiting to explode. Which is frustrating as fuck. What's also frustrating is the fact that my crazy is coming up with somewhat plausible scenarios for disaster. It's like...it's like, when it's teh zombie shit my brain is hitting me with, it can be crippling but overall it's so over the top and ridiculous that it's easier to deal with. Whereas anything "real world"ish my brain comes up with...my crazy just latches onto to it and it's incredibly hard to get it to let go.
Not to say I'm not "aja!aja! fighting!" for all I'm worth, it's just...a pain in the ass.
I'm still finding my footing here in other respects. I am staying with friends who are awesome and both understand and respect my issues and decisions.
There were a lot of "and"s in that sentence.
I'm feeling a bit awkward though, because they're being really generous with their space and food and stuff and I...feel uncomfortable that I don't have a job to contribute. Which is why, broke as I am, I am paying for pizza for me and Tom tonight. Even though pizza inevitably disagrees with me. I feel uncomfortable with letting go of cash for a frivolous reason, but I feel more uncomfortable with being a leech, and...*flails* Overall, the situation right now is REALLY good for me, but I can't help the crazysauce in my head whispering doubts, uncertainties, possible future disasters, and insecurities. I also can't help the extreme anxiety over money. I've gotten to the point where I have a smidge over half of the financial aid I need for university. I have very little wiggle room when it comes to money. Like... VERY little. There's shit all I can do about any of that, so I feel adrift at the same time that I feel I have made serious positive changes in my life.
So, basically, I am in a really really good place right now, but my CRAZY thinks everything is a disaster waiting to explode. Which is frustrating as fuck. What's also frustrating is the fact that my crazy is coming up with somewhat plausible scenarios for disaster. It's like...it's like, when it's teh zombie shit my brain is hitting me with, it can be crippling but overall it's so over the top and ridiculous that it's easier to deal with. Whereas anything "real world"ish my brain comes up with...my crazy just latches onto to it and it's incredibly hard to get it to let go.
Not to say I'm not "aja!aja! fighting!" for all I'm worth, it's just...a pain in the ass.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Well meaning friends and not-so-surprising revelations
A sweet and well-meaning friend who knows of my past took the time not too long ago to inform me that Washington State has removed the spousal exemption from rape in third degree. Another friend (who doesn't know) shared a pertinent article. I'm just...
I appreciate that my well-meaning friend was wanting to share progress in something that has very directly affected me. I do. But at the same time...Just because I've shared something like that with you doesn't mean I want to talk about it. I probably *should* talk about it, but I really really really don't want to. I'm exhausted, I have so much to do currently. I canNOT deal with the emotional fallout of dealing with this shit. I really can't. I know I have to. I do understand that. But I don't want to.
It's been great lately. Physically I've been kind of crap, and my brain has fluctuated the levels of crazysauce periodically, but I have not ended up in crazytown for awhile. I've been really happy. But... I don't know. I think I'm getting some not-so-subtle hints from God that I really need to deal with this shit. Yes, I said from God. I sometimes flippantly say the universe is trying to tell me something, but this is different. I'm being nudged quite strongly. And I know he's right.
Side note: I do not believe God has a gender, I've just been culturally conditioned to use the male pronoun. I acknowledge this. Moving on.
There are some really wonderful people in my life who I could be pursuing "something" with if I weren't so petrified. Because I finally realized that I am. Petrified that is. I'm scared of intimacy. I'm scared that I'll be okay with it up to a certain point then panic and call a screeching halt to it. Based on past experience (yes, with my ex, yes,I realize the fucked upedness of it), I expect that the response will be far from pleasant. Recriminations, guilt, names, and...I don't know. I know that wonderful people won't do that, but my judgement has been bad before. I've trusted the wrong people and had boundaries breached that were never open for negotiation.
I can be kind of casual with my breasts. A grope isn't a big deal to me, as long as I know the person and permission has been granted. A grope is different than fondling though. Groping my breast is also far different than trying to slide one's hands up my inner thigh to FORBIDDEN TERRITORY when I am in such a sleep-deprived state that I am basically intoxicated. Yes, this is a specific instance and yes it was someone I thought knew me and respected my boundaries. No, I have never confronted this person. Yes, I cut them out of my life.
I have someone in my life that I would love to trust more. I'd love to loosen my boundaries somewhat. Not necessarily to the point of intercourse, but I would like to have a slightly higher level of intimacy with them. But I can't. Because I am scared that either I am wrong in my judgement of them, or that I will panic and fuck up a solid friendship. I don't think this person even knows that I feel this way, because apparently I'm actually pretty good at hiding this particular type of thing. I think it's because my boundaries are so different than other people's. In any case, I've been kind of grateful for my busyness lately, because it's allowed me a legitimate excuse to avoid the subject.
I'm kind of ashamed of my cowardice, but I know if someone else came to me in this same situation I wouldn't judge them a coward. I'd tell them they were rightfully cautious and help them talk it through. But I feel like a coward. And I don't want to talk things through and figure things out because I'm going to be leaving soon.
I have plans to get counseling whilst at university, so long as I can get student insurance figured out. But that doesn't help me now. And my emotions are all up in a heaval now. And I hate that a friend's kindly wish to inform me of the spousal rape stuff is what cued this in my brain. Because I don't want to associate wonderful with bad. And it confuses the issue. And...
I just want someone to cuddle and hold me and let me ramble and rant and maybe cry. I just want to heal.
I appreciate that my well-meaning friend was wanting to share progress in something that has very directly affected me. I do. But at the same time...Just because I've shared something like that with you doesn't mean I want to talk about it. I probably *should* talk about it, but I really really really don't want to. I'm exhausted, I have so much to do currently. I canNOT deal with the emotional fallout of dealing with this shit. I really can't. I know I have to. I do understand that. But I don't want to.
It's been great lately. Physically I've been kind of crap, and my brain has fluctuated the levels of crazysauce periodically, but I have not ended up in crazytown for awhile. I've been really happy. But... I don't know. I think I'm getting some not-so-subtle hints from God that I really need to deal with this shit. Yes, I said from God. I sometimes flippantly say the universe is trying to tell me something, but this is different. I'm being nudged quite strongly. And I know he's right.
Side note: I do not believe God has a gender, I've just been culturally conditioned to use the male pronoun. I acknowledge this. Moving on.
There are some really wonderful people in my life who I could be pursuing "something" with if I weren't so petrified. Because I finally realized that I am. Petrified that is. I'm scared of intimacy. I'm scared that I'll be okay with it up to a certain point then panic and call a screeching halt to it. Based on past experience (yes, with my ex, yes,I realize the fucked upedness of it), I expect that the response will be far from pleasant. Recriminations, guilt, names, and...I don't know. I know that wonderful people won't do that, but my judgement has been bad before. I've trusted the wrong people and had boundaries breached that were never open for negotiation.
I can be kind of casual with my breasts. A grope isn't a big deal to me, as long as I know the person and permission has been granted. A grope is different than fondling though. Groping my breast is also far different than trying to slide one's hands up my inner thigh to FORBIDDEN TERRITORY when I am in such a sleep-deprived state that I am basically intoxicated. Yes, this is a specific instance and yes it was someone I thought knew me and respected my boundaries. No, I have never confronted this person. Yes, I cut them out of my life.
I have someone in my life that I would love to trust more. I'd love to loosen my boundaries somewhat. Not necessarily to the point of intercourse, but I would like to have a slightly higher level of intimacy with them. But I can't. Because I am scared that either I am wrong in my judgement of them, or that I will panic and fuck up a solid friendship. I don't think this person even knows that I feel this way, because apparently I'm actually pretty good at hiding this particular type of thing. I think it's because my boundaries are so different than other people's. In any case, I've been kind of grateful for my busyness lately, because it's allowed me a legitimate excuse to avoid the subject.
I'm kind of ashamed of my cowardice, but I know if someone else came to me in this same situation I wouldn't judge them a coward. I'd tell them they were rightfully cautious and help them talk it through. But I feel like a coward. And I don't want to talk things through and figure things out because I'm going to be leaving soon.
I have plans to get counseling whilst at university, so long as I can get student insurance figured out. But that doesn't help me now. And my emotions are all up in a heaval now. And I hate that a friend's kindly wish to inform me of the spousal rape stuff is what cued this in my brain. Because I don't want to associate wonderful with bad. And it confuses the issue. And...
I just want someone to cuddle and hold me and let me ramble and rant and maybe cry. I just want to heal.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Security Blankets
I'm supposed to be finishing up an English paper and a take home test for Pre-Calc, but that's just not happening right now. Soooo...I figured I should get something out of my head that's been percolating and marinating for a few days now.
Is my obesity a security blanket? I'm not sure what quite cued this in my head, but...Is it? I was thinking the other day, and while I'm really hoping to get healthier when I get down to AZ...I'm not sure I'm all that enthused about losing weight. On the other hand, no matter how much I try to downplay it the fact is that being overweight makes me feel hideous. So I guess the question is...do I *WANT* to be hideous? Is that one of the reasons I haven't lost the weight?
But when I look at it from another angle I wonder something else ENTIRELY. Yes, being fat makes me feel hideous...but it wasn't until I tipped over into the "obese" category (from the merely "overweight" one) that I started getting hit on. I wasn't treated as sexually desirable until I got fat, or, at least, not blatantly so. Perhaps there were those who thought I was attractive when I was skinny, but they never said anything. So am I fat because of vanity?
I don't quite understand this weird ambivalence about weight loss in my head. Because it's like a teeter-totter "Feel ugly, want to lose weight. Don't want to lose weight, it makes me nervous. Lose weight, people think I'm a loser. Don't lose weight,...for what reason?" I just don't understand myself.
I wondered if I gained some of the weight because of the rape. Was I gaining weight to try and make the husband I was still "in love" with back off? I just don't know. I really really don't know.
There's a third hand too, and that third hand has a lot to do with my temper. Am I staying fat to spite the people who have a problem with my weight? Am I staying fat to punish my mother for all of her well-intentioned and hurtful advice and comments over the years? Am I just digging my heels in because GODDAMNIT I shouldn't have to change to make you happy? Do I want those bitches who make snarky comments about me and my eating habits (snarky and inaccurate) to have to have my fat ass inflicted on their poor skinny-ass psyches? I don't fucking know.
It's times like these where I really feel the need for health insurance and a mental health professional. I mean, I do a LOT for myself. But I don't know if I can psychoanalyze myself out of this one. I want to be healthy, I want to be fit. I'm tired of being tired, and I thinking losing weight would help that. I don't know if I'm keeping the weight on out of stubbornness, fear, or vanity. I don't think I can get as healthy as I want if I can't figure this out. Which is frustrating. SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING.
Is my obesity a security blanket? I'm not sure what quite cued this in my head, but...Is it? I was thinking the other day, and while I'm really hoping to get healthier when I get down to AZ...I'm not sure I'm all that enthused about losing weight. On the other hand, no matter how much I try to downplay it the fact is that being overweight makes me feel hideous. So I guess the question is...do I *WANT* to be hideous? Is that one of the reasons I haven't lost the weight?
But when I look at it from another angle I wonder something else ENTIRELY. Yes, being fat makes me feel hideous...but it wasn't until I tipped over into the "obese" category (from the merely "overweight" one) that I started getting hit on. I wasn't treated as sexually desirable until I got fat, or, at least, not blatantly so. Perhaps there were those who thought I was attractive when I was skinny, but they never said anything. So am I fat because of vanity?
I don't quite understand this weird ambivalence about weight loss in my head. Because it's like a teeter-totter "Feel ugly, want to lose weight. Don't want to lose weight, it makes me nervous. Lose weight, people think I'm a loser. Don't lose weight,...for what reason?" I just don't understand myself.
I wondered if I gained some of the weight because of the rape. Was I gaining weight to try and make the husband I was still "in love" with back off? I just don't know. I really really don't know.
There's a third hand too, and that third hand has a lot to do with my temper. Am I staying fat to spite the people who have a problem with my weight? Am I staying fat to punish my mother for all of her well-intentioned and hurtful advice and comments over the years? Am I just digging my heels in because GODDAMNIT I shouldn't have to change to make you happy? Do I want those bitches who make snarky comments about me and my eating habits (snarky and inaccurate) to have to have my fat ass inflicted on their poor skinny-ass psyches? I don't fucking know.
It's times like these where I really feel the need for health insurance and a mental health professional. I mean, I do a LOT for myself. But I don't know if I can psychoanalyze myself out of this one. I want to be healthy, I want to be fit. I'm tired of being tired, and I thinking losing weight would help that. I don't know if I'm keeping the weight on out of stubbornness, fear, or vanity. I don't think I can get as healthy as I want if I can't figure this out. Which is frustrating. SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Realisation
I have apparently developed a serious discomfort with heterosexual males that I don't know well. It seems that any guy I met before the mysterious point at which that happened is totally okay. But any after and I'm skittish and uncomfortable. So far as why this has happened, I don't know. It's a chicken and egg argument. Have I become more uncomfortable with the heterosexual male because I'm hanging out mostly with girls or non-heterosexual males or am I hanging out with girls and non-heterosexual males because heterosexual males are making me uncomfortable? Soon I will hopefully be able to test and see if it's ALL heterosexual males or just YOUNG heterosexual males.
It's been an odd realisation, as this is not something I've had the greatest problem with in the past. I mean, I've often been an "one of the guys" girl. Some of the best friends I have had were heterosexual males. I'm the one who always calls bullshit when people say that a woman can't be friends with a heterosexual male. THEY'RE PEOPLE JUST LIKE US.
God...I have no idea where that last bit came from. Forgive me.
It was REALLY strange to realize that. I just keep coming up with these realisations and I'm honestly too stressed to deal with them. My mind is turtling lately because of stress, I DO NOT NEED ADDED SELF-REALIZATIONS.
I have to wonder if this discomfort is temporary. I mean, if it is temporary and recent (as in, the reason I didn't realize it before was because it didn't exist) I can think of what caused it. And when removed from that cause I could hope for it to disappear. Because I need it to disappear if I want to be able to play Shadowrun again. I can't just AVOID straight guys, particularly not in the kinda insular gaming community. I enjoy being part of the community when I'm in a position to do so. I enjoy hanging out with straight guys. I don't want to lose that because of stupid brain-chemistry stuff.
There are two reasons I can think of that I'm feeling like this. One is that recently I have been put into the middle of some heterosexual "feelings" drama(s). If that's the reason, then I'm thinking this is a temporary thing brought on by the stress of dealing with it. A temporary thing that will go away. The other reason...is going to require a lot more work.
The other reason is another realization I had not too long ago. One that I sort of already knew, but hadn't really pondered the consequences of dealing with. I mean...I knew about it, but hadn't really thought through how it was going to effect me. So, big reveal coupled with trigger warning. If you've ever been sexually assaulted or abused in any way READ NO FURTHER if you can't handle the topic.
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A couple of months after my marriage my now ex-husband celebrated his 21st birthday by getting drunker than I have EVER seen him. To the very best of my knowledge he has no clear memory of that evening. He sexually assaulted me. I said no. A bunch. He had sex with me. At no point did I give consent. After he started, I clenched my fists and tried to dissociate myself from what was happening to me. I had never thought something like that COULD happen to me. A year or two later when we finally talked about it (I had told him something happened, but never the details) he got very angry with my having ever dared say he forced me. Because apparently I could have stopped him. He was always bigger and stronger than me, which we both knew was why I was attracted to him, but somehow I could have physically stopped him. I stayed married to him for seven years. I let him convince me that it wasn't REAL rape. I can even understand why he did it, I mean...what man wants to think of himself as a rapist? Particularly when it concerns a woman he loves. But in his ignorant youth he did us both a great GREAT disservice. One that he no longer has to deal with. But I do.
The fact is that I cannot know if my unique sex drive is a simple matter of brain chemistry or one of emotional scarring. Another fact is that a romantic relationship is almost ALWAYS going to be one about sex. Which brings me to the fact the third: I cannot in good conscience have a romantic relationship until I deal with this shit. And fact the fourth: While I LOVE women and find them beautiful and attractive, I cannot A) know that I'm not going to have the same issues with sex and B) do women in general the disservice of dating them because I can't emotionally handle dating a man. That would be a bullshit thing to do, so I'm not doing it.
This has been a really bad time for these kinds of realizations. I'm applying to university. I KEEP getting sick and am falling behind in my homework. I have love drama happening all around me. I have the stress of living with a family that has an issue with an integral part of who I am. I'm glad that I came to these realizations, I just wish that the timing had been better. I also really wish I had a cuddle buddy handy, because I could use the comfort of being held by someone who loves me enough to cuddle without the expectation of sex. I could really use that right now.
It's been an odd realisation, as this is not something I've had the greatest problem with in the past. I mean, I've often been an "one of the guys" girl. Some of the best friends I have had were heterosexual males. I'm the one who always calls bullshit when people say that a woman can't be friends with a heterosexual male. THEY'RE PEOPLE JUST LIKE US.
God...I have no idea where that last bit came from. Forgive me.
It was REALLY strange to realize that. I just keep coming up with these realisations and I'm honestly too stressed to deal with them. My mind is turtling lately because of stress, I DO NOT NEED ADDED SELF-REALIZATIONS.
I have to wonder if this discomfort is temporary. I mean, if it is temporary and recent (as in, the reason I didn't realize it before was because it didn't exist) I can think of what caused it. And when removed from that cause I could hope for it to disappear. Because I need it to disappear if I want to be able to play Shadowrun again. I can't just AVOID straight guys, particularly not in the kinda insular gaming community. I enjoy being part of the community when I'm in a position to do so. I enjoy hanging out with straight guys. I don't want to lose that because of stupid brain-chemistry stuff.
There are two reasons I can think of that I'm feeling like this. One is that recently I have been put into the middle of some heterosexual "feelings" drama(s). If that's the reason, then I'm thinking this is a temporary thing brought on by the stress of dealing with it. A temporary thing that will go away. The other reason...is going to require a lot more work.
The other reason is another realization I had not too long ago. One that I sort of already knew, but hadn't really pondered the consequences of dealing with. I mean...I knew about it, but hadn't really thought through how it was going to effect me. So, big reveal coupled with trigger warning. If you've ever been sexually assaulted or abused in any way READ NO FURTHER if you can't handle the topic.
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A couple of months after my marriage my now ex-husband celebrated his 21st birthday by getting drunker than I have EVER seen him. To the very best of my knowledge he has no clear memory of that evening. He sexually assaulted me. I said no. A bunch. He had sex with me. At no point did I give consent. After he started, I clenched my fists and tried to dissociate myself from what was happening to me. I had never thought something like that COULD happen to me. A year or two later when we finally talked about it (I had told him something happened, but never the details) he got very angry with my having ever dared say he forced me. Because apparently I could have stopped him. He was always bigger and stronger than me, which we both knew was why I was attracted to him, but somehow I could have physically stopped him. I stayed married to him for seven years. I let him convince me that it wasn't REAL rape. I can even understand why he did it, I mean...what man wants to think of himself as a rapist? Particularly when it concerns a woman he loves. But in his ignorant youth he did us both a great GREAT disservice. One that he no longer has to deal with. But I do.
The fact is that I cannot know if my unique sex drive is a simple matter of brain chemistry or one of emotional scarring. Another fact is that a romantic relationship is almost ALWAYS going to be one about sex. Which brings me to the fact the third: I cannot in good conscience have a romantic relationship until I deal with this shit. And fact the fourth: While I LOVE women and find them beautiful and attractive, I cannot A) know that I'm not going to have the same issues with sex and B) do women in general the disservice of dating them because I can't emotionally handle dating a man. That would be a bullshit thing to do, so I'm not doing it.
This has been a really bad time for these kinds of realizations. I'm applying to university. I KEEP getting sick and am falling behind in my homework. I have love drama happening all around me. I have the stress of living with a family that has an issue with an integral part of who I am. I'm glad that I came to these realizations, I just wish that the timing had been better. I also really wish I had a cuddle buddy handy, because I could use the comfort of being held by someone who loves me enough to cuddle without the expectation of sex. I could really use that right now.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Oh winter
I have to wake up early to turn on the hot water heater. i'm up by five every morning. It's 10. 30 and I'm not really any place NEAR sleepy. I'm lying in bed propped up by pillows as my back says "throb throb throb". It subsides just long enough for me to think, hey, that's not so...oh, wait there it goes again.
This quarter is better, because, even though I'm still having mopey days, I pretty much only have to deal with the fibro. I'm not up and rabidly cheerful, but I'm far from depressed. I'm able to go out the door with waaaay less fear than last quarter. I'm really tired tho, because the fibro is not subsiding. And my mouth hurts because of the dental surgery I need and can't afford. And my lower body hurts because I have to keep walking on it even tho it hurts. And my back hurts because it's an asshole.
I started to vlog about the fibro stuff, but it was just too goddamn depressing. Who wants to get online just to say "Guess what? Life still sucks!"
Well, it doesn't suck that bad. Could be a lot worse. There's a lot going right. But my physical well-being is not one of the things going right. It's one of the things going crap.
I think I can still keep my grades up. I just need to make sure I don't over extend myself.
Oh.
Almost forgot.
Since my mental state is better I'm trying to cut out (or at least down on) the energy drinks. If I'm going to save up to go to Arizona I need to shave off extra expenditure wherever I can. And since it's looking like I won't need to self-medicate with excessive amounts of caffeine... Looks like it's me and oolong to get me through the day. *sigh* I really wish coffee didn't bother my digestive tract the way it does.
Trying to be better about taking food with me. As in better food. That might actually have some nutritional value. I'm trying to keep small servings that fit into my bag easily, because this quarter going to my car between classes just is not that easy. Maybe I'll learn to make bento boxes.
Vaguely worried about wearing out my welcome with friends, but I think that's more that I'm just uncomfortable in general about asking people for help. Hopefully this doesn't back fire.
I'm going to try and get to sleep now. My anxiety and depression is a lot better, but getting the crap out of my brain and onto digital paper always does me a world of good. Crossing my fingers for sweet, restful dreams.
This quarter is better, because, even though I'm still having mopey days, I pretty much only have to deal with the fibro. I'm not up and rabidly cheerful, but I'm far from depressed. I'm able to go out the door with waaaay less fear than last quarter. I'm really tired tho, because the fibro is not subsiding. And my mouth hurts because of the dental surgery I need and can't afford. And my lower body hurts because I have to keep walking on it even tho it hurts. And my back hurts because it's an asshole.
I started to vlog about the fibro stuff, but it was just too goddamn depressing. Who wants to get online just to say "Guess what? Life still sucks!"
Well, it doesn't suck that bad. Could be a lot worse. There's a lot going right. But my physical well-being is not one of the things going right. It's one of the things going crap.
I think I can still keep my grades up. I just need to make sure I don't over extend myself.
Oh.
Almost forgot.
Since my mental state is better I'm trying to cut out (or at least down on) the energy drinks. If I'm going to save up to go to Arizona I need to shave off extra expenditure wherever I can. And since it's looking like I won't need to self-medicate with excessive amounts of caffeine... Looks like it's me and oolong to get me through the day. *sigh* I really wish coffee didn't bother my digestive tract the way it does.
Trying to be better about taking food with me. As in better food. That might actually have some nutritional value. I'm trying to keep small servings that fit into my bag easily, because this quarter going to my car between classes just is not that easy. Maybe I'll learn to make bento boxes.
Vaguely worried about wearing out my welcome with friends, but I think that's more that I'm just uncomfortable in general about asking people for help. Hopefully this doesn't back fire.
I'm going to try and get to sleep now. My anxiety and depression is a lot better, but getting the crap out of my brain and onto digital paper always does me a world of good. Crossing my fingers for sweet, restful dreams.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Beginnings
Tomorrow is the start of the new quarter. More math, more Korean, and (if I'm lucky) the communications class I have been *LONGING* to take. No sarcasm there, I have seriously been longing to take it and have, in fact, been begging people to register so that it doesn't get cancelled.
I'd intended to study Korean during the break. That did not happen. At all. Instead I soaked in the comfortable waters of escapism. I've attempted to read nothing but brain candy. Well, really, my brain demanded it and who was I to deny its pleas? That sentence looks off for some reason.
Oh well.
So I'm anxious for the new quarter. I'm anxious for my university application (when I make it). I'm anxious about gas money. I'm anxious about financial aid for university. I'm anxious about my schedule for conversation group and so on. I'm anxious about dealing with my family...
In spite of all the things I am anxious for I'm content. Probably because my brain is in a figurative sugar coma from all the brain candy it has been consuming. My brain is also trying to get me to write a romance novel. I blame the brain candy.
It's not that I've never had that urge before when in brain candy mode; every time I'm in brain candy mode my brain says "Duuuuuuuuuude, we should totally write a romance novel! It'll be fuuuuuuuuuun!!" So, okay, maybe the brain candy is less candy and more pot...or something...I don't know enough about drugs to know that. So we'll stick with "candy". But, yeah, my brain usually *does* do that when in brain candy mode, but this time is different. As in kept me up at night different. I've managed to put my brain off by writing out character descriptions. Then edited them. Then wrote a new one...but the fact remains that writing romance is probably beyond me. I mean...sex scenes? o.O
I don't know why I'm blogging. I fell asleep around seven or eight and woke up at two am. So there's that. I ramblerambleramble on.
I also plot. But blogging about plotting is best left for coherent times.
I want macaroni and cheese.
Damnit.
I'd intended to study Korean during the break. That did not happen. At all. Instead I soaked in the comfortable waters of escapism. I've attempted to read nothing but brain candy. Well, really, my brain demanded it and who was I to deny its pleas? That sentence looks off for some reason.
Oh well.
So I'm anxious for the new quarter. I'm anxious for my university application (when I make it). I'm anxious about gas money. I'm anxious about financial aid for university. I'm anxious about my schedule for conversation group and so on. I'm anxious about dealing with my family...
In spite of all the things I am anxious for I'm content. Probably because my brain is in a figurative sugar coma from all the brain candy it has been consuming. My brain is also trying to get me to write a romance novel. I blame the brain candy.
It's not that I've never had that urge before when in brain candy mode; every time I'm in brain candy mode my brain says "Duuuuuuuuuude, we should totally write a romance novel! It'll be fuuuuuuuuuun!!" So, okay, maybe the brain candy is less candy and more pot...or something...I don't know enough about drugs to know that. So we'll stick with "candy". But, yeah, my brain usually *does* do that when in brain candy mode, but this time is different. As in kept me up at night different. I've managed to put my brain off by writing out character descriptions. Then edited them. Then wrote a new one...but the fact remains that writing romance is probably beyond me. I mean...sex scenes? o.O
I don't know why I'm blogging. I fell asleep around seven or eight and woke up at two am. So there's that. I ramblerambleramble on.
I also plot. But blogging about plotting is best left for coherent times.
I want macaroni and cheese.
Damnit.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Escapism
In some ways I'm doing okay. I'm not in the MAJOR slump I was in, and I'm feeling a little more...self-aware? I don't know the right word. At this point in my life I'm pretty aware of the way my mind works and so on, but I get caught up in it sometimes. And I'm not right now. Caught up in it I mean.
ANYWAYS.
Life is less than ideal right now. Everybody at home is cranky and unconsciously encouraging me to look forward to missing them. Hardcore. I'm entirely worn out. My body is saying "fuck you" and fucking with me. I'm bummed out because I can't do the waaay early uni application I was planning on. I'm bummed out because I don't have money (okay, that's pretty consistent, but the after Christmas sales are bumming me out even more. I mean, the complete BBC (70s and 80s) Jane Austen 63% off and the Firth mini-series for 8 dollars? *sob*). I'm exhausted. My brain is digging in its heels and doesn't want me preparing for next quarter. I don't feel ready for next quarter at all. I just want to curl up in a ball and escape.
I'm reading a SHIT ton of romance right now. Well, really, I'm just reading a shit ton. More than usual (a lot of people might be surprised to learn I can read MORE than usual). I'm just...
I can remember when I was younger and indulging in my favourite addiction (BOOKS in case it isn't clear) and someone (I can't remember who) got all huffy with me. "You're only reading to escape from reality!" I looked at them like they were stupid and said "Well, YEAH." The only reason I can function in this world is because I can block it out and escape to another. The real world is fucking HARD. It hurts you, abuses you, and spits you out. Then you're supposed to be hunky dory and able to do everything you could before it fucked with you.
That's not the way it works.
People need recovery time, and I can't comprehend why that's so hard to understand. If you break a leg, you need time to recover and let it heal (contrary to what my ex seemed to think, but that's a whole 'nother story). Life breaks us all the time. And we need time to heal from that. And sometimes we can't and we have to learn to function without a figurative limb. Or sometimes we can heal, but we're always a little stiff. Sometimes arthritis sets in. This analogy is getting away from me.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about at this point. I want to connect with people and I want to be left alone. I want to learn so MANY things, and I just want to curl up in my bed and read brain candy. I'm dreaming and working towards a goal I don't truly believe is achievable.
Rarely do I wish to be normal (so boring), but at times like these normal seems SO much easier.
ANYWAYS.
Life is less than ideal right now. Everybody at home is cranky and unconsciously encouraging me to look forward to missing them. Hardcore. I'm entirely worn out. My body is saying "fuck you" and fucking with me. I'm bummed out because I can't do the waaay early uni application I was planning on. I'm bummed out because I don't have money (okay, that's pretty consistent, but the after Christmas sales are bumming me out even more. I mean, the complete BBC (70s and 80s) Jane Austen 63% off and the Firth mini-series for 8 dollars? *sob*). I'm exhausted. My brain is digging in its heels and doesn't want me preparing for next quarter. I don't feel ready for next quarter at all. I just want to curl up in a ball and escape.
I'm reading a SHIT ton of romance right now. Well, really, I'm just reading a shit ton. More than usual (a lot of people might be surprised to learn I can read MORE than usual). I'm just...
I can remember when I was younger and indulging in my favourite addiction (BOOKS in case it isn't clear) and someone (I can't remember who) got all huffy with me. "You're only reading to escape from reality!" I looked at them like they were stupid and said "Well, YEAH." The only reason I can function in this world is because I can block it out and escape to another. The real world is fucking HARD. It hurts you, abuses you, and spits you out. Then you're supposed to be hunky dory and able to do everything you could before it fucked with you.
That's not the way it works.
People need recovery time, and I can't comprehend why that's so hard to understand. If you break a leg, you need time to recover and let it heal (contrary to what my ex seemed to think, but that's a whole 'nother story). Life breaks us all the time. And we need time to heal from that. And sometimes we can't and we have to learn to function without a figurative limb. Or sometimes we can heal, but we're always a little stiff. Sometimes arthritis sets in. This analogy is getting away from me.
I don't even know what I'm rambling about at this point. I want to connect with people and I want to be left alone. I want to learn so MANY things, and I just want to curl up in my bed and read brain candy. I'm dreaming and working towards a goal I don't truly believe is achievable.
Rarely do I wish to be normal (so boring), but at times like these normal seems SO much easier.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Bootstrapping
I don't mean the linguistic term. I mean the act of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps (which is where the linguistic term comes from, I believe). It's what I do. It's what I have to do if I'm going to accomplish anything in my life. I've had people call me bipolar before, and I can see where they get that. But I'm not. I'm just doing everything in my power to keep from sinking into the doldrums. The doldrums where eating is a chore, where personal hygiene is iffy at best, where it seems impossible to see the light of day. It's so much WORK to try and stay out of them, but I do. Try, I mean. I have to try. My other option is just...giving up. I'll be honest, it isn't much of an option.
I was raised to believe that success was the only option. I've since come to realize that I can't really succeed without happiness, which has changed my focus a bit. Even with that change of focus though, I absolutely feel the NEED to succeed. I just...I don't know how to explain how deep-rooted those feelings are. As often as they lead me down the depression path, that determination has also pulled me out of the pit more than once.
I MUST succeed. I NEED to succeed. I WILL succeed.
Now that I'm on my own and completely focused on school and what I want from life' I AM succeeding too. Maybe not as completely as I would like, and maybe I'm working WAY harder than I feel I should need to, but I am succeeding. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have to keep finding things that make me giggle and revel in them.
Life is so goddamn depressing though. I know I have family who voted against gay marriage in this election. Not "I think", it really is "I know". That hurts. It hurts that I have to sit there with my mouth zipped as much as possible while I see them...hurting me. They aren't hateful, not what I would consider homophobes, but their absolute conviction that being gay is as bad as murder is...depressing as fuck. Maybe they don't think of it that way, but that's really what they communicate.
I hadn't realized how much I'd grown away from my childhood beliefs, but I keep being confronted with it as I see my brothers (one of them 20) still toeing the party line. This absolute belief that evolution is a LIE, not erroneous, not a mistake, nothing like that, but a LIE...It hurts my brain. Having my brothers spout the "It's only a THEORY and they're teaching it in schools like it's FACT" thing...yeah.
Every so often I hope that I'll be able to come out to my family (though that would be a very COMPLICATED conversation), and I always come to the conclusion that I can either have a relationship with my family or I can be honest. I feel like I have to decide which is more important to me and it tears me up inside.
I have to get ready for school now. I just want to sit here, curl up in a little ball, and...I don't know. Something. But I have to get ready. I have to get to school because I don't miss days. So far I've managed to keep things under control well enough that I haven't had to stay home sick because of crazy. God I hope I can keep this up.
I was raised to believe that success was the only option. I've since come to realize that I can't really succeed without happiness, which has changed my focus a bit. Even with that change of focus though, I absolutely feel the NEED to succeed. I just...I don't know how to explain how deep-rooted those feelings are. As often as they lead me down the depression path, that determination has also pulled me out of the pit more than once.
I MUST succeed. I NEED to succeed. I WILL succeed.
Now that I'm on my own and completely focused on school and what I want from life' I AM succeeding too. Maybe not as completely as I would like, and maybe I'm working WAY harder than I feel I should need to, but I am succeeding. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have to keep finding things that make me giggle and revel in them.
Life is so goddamn depressing though. I know I have family who voted against gay marriage in this election. Not "I think", it really is "I know". That hurts. It hurts that I have to sit there with my mouth zipped as much as possible while I see them...hurting me. They aren't hateful, not what I would consider homophobes, but their absolute conviction that being gay is as bad as murder is...depressing as fuck. Maybe they don't think of it that way, but that's really what they communicate.
I hadn't realized how much I'd grown away from my childhood beliefs, but I keep being confronted with it as I see my brothers (one of them 20) still toeing the party line. This absolute belief that evolution is a LIE, not erroneous, not a mistake, nothing like that, but a LIE...It hurts my brain. Having my brothers spout the "It's only a THEORY and they're teaching it in schools like it's FACT" thing...yeah.
Every so often I hope that I'll be able to come out to my family (though that would be a very COMPLICATED conversation), and I always come to the conclusion that I can either have a relationship with my family or I can be honest. I feel like I have to decide which is more important to me and it tears me up inside.
I have to get ready for school now. I just want to sit here, curl up in a little ball, and...I don't know. Something. But I have to get ready. I have to get to school because I don't miss days. So far I've managed to keep things under control well enough that I haven't had to stay home sick because of crazy. God I hope I can keep this up.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
So much
I had a fantastic weekend. I probably (definitely) overdid it, but it was more than worth it. I got a respectable chunk of homework done and am a little ahead in some of my homework. I danced, I socialized, I snuggled friends I haven't seen in too long, and just generally grinned my face off. I also ended up pondering things. I am quite tired and trying to stay awake so as to get a few more things done.
One of the things I've been pondering is social interaction. Ever since I can remember I've been kind of awkward at it. I used to piss people off by, uh, being a little too honest. I made a girl in my Girl Scout troop very unhappy when she made an offhand comment about our "friendship" and I said "But we're not friends." Why? Because we weren't. She didn't even like me all that much, our moms worked together and were friends so we were in Girl Scouts together. That's when I learned you're supposed to lie to people. BUT, you can't get caught at it.
My dad had me read How To Win Friends And Influence People at a fairly young age. I couldn't tell you how young, because I've got a memory like a broken sieve. It really taught me a lot about getting along in "normal" society. I'm planning on replacing my copy soon.
I used to do the social chameleon thing, whatever someone wanted me to be I'd try (and fail) to be. I gave up because I wasn't very good at it. But I still sometimes catch myself doing chameleon-y stuff in social settings. I think it's because I still take my cues from other people. I have some friends I admire and try to emulate. Sometimes in social situations i have to REALLY watch myself, because I'll mimic their reactions. Not because I'm trying to mock them, or want to be them, it's just...sometimes I just don't know the "proper" reaction, so my instinct is to copy someone I know to be more adept than myself.
What's really funny to me is that people seem to think I'm this...I dunno...charming social adept. I like people, I really do. I love meeting new people. I love talking to them. I love the interaction. But sometimes it's too much for me, and that's why I have finely honed auto-responses for when my brain is going bye-bye. Maybe that's why I have the reputation I do. I don't know. People seem to like me, at least surface level. It's once they start to get to know me better that I weird them out and they take off. Or they stick around because I'm fun, and when I start to have one flare-up or another and cease to be "fun"....they bail.
I'm going to bed soon, hopefully this post will get enough stuff out of my brain to sleep.
One of the things I've been pondering is social interaction. Ever since I can remember I've been kind of awkward at it. I used to piss people off by, uh, being a little too honest. I made a girl in my Girl Scout troop very unhappy when she made an offhand comment about our "friendship" and I said "But we're not friends." Why? Because we weren't. She didn't even like me all that much, our moms worked together and were friends so we were in Girl Scouts together. That's when I learned you're supposed to lie to people. BUT, you can't get caught at it.
My dad had me read How To Win Friends And Influence People at a fairly young age. I couldn't tell you how young, because I've got a memory like a broken sieve. It really taught me a lot about getting along in "normal" society. I'm planning on replacing my copy soon.
I used to do the social chameleon thing, whatever someone wanted me to be I'd try (and fail) to be. I gave up because I wasn't very good at it. But I still sometimes catch myself doing chameleon-y stuff in social settings. I think it's because I still take my cues from other people. I have some friends I admire and try to emulate. Sometimes in social situations i have to REALLY watch myself, because I'll mimic their reactions. Not because I'm trying to mock them, or want to be them, it's just...sometimes I just don't know the "proper" reaction, so my instinct is to copy someone I know to be more adept than myself.
What's really funny to me is that people seem to think I'm this...I dunno...charming social adept. I like people, I really do. I love meeting new people. I love talking to them. I love the interaction. But sometimes it's too much for me, and that's why I have finely honed auto-responses for when my brain is going bye-bye. Maybe that's why I have the reputation I do. I don't know. People seem to like me, at least surface level. It's once they start to get to know me better that I weird them out and they take off. Or they stick around because I'm fun, and when I start to have one flare-up or another and cease to be "fun"....they bail.
I'm going to bed soon, hopefully this post will get enough stuff out of my brain to sleep.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Oh Fibro
I've actually been vlogging elsewhere about my fibro, but honestly, I'm too tired right now to sit down and do a video. I will at some point in the next week, but right now...not so much. :/ My fibro is flaring. I've been in a lot of physical pain, I'm constantly exhausted, and I'm moving through a fog. My brain needs a new starter, it's just clickclickclickclick with no ignition. I've fallen behind in my schoolwork a bit. It's not an insurmountable bit, but it's still a bit. I stay at school late because I can keep myself awake there. The minute I get home my body is just like "Okay, bedtime!" with no respect for what I need to get done. Sometimes my body has been sending me to bed without dinner. No matter how much or little sleep I get this week, I'm always tired. I'm draggin' draggin' draggin'. I think longingly of the potential of Arizona. I know I'll still have problems, my health is in the pits and it's going to take time to improve it, but... I just anticipate not having to kill my liver with anti-inflammatories on a daily basis.
I'm going dancing with my friends at the Y. The aerobics room is free in the morning, so we can dance in front of a huge mirror as we make fools of ourselves trying to learn dance steps. I may only last ten minutes, but that time with friends is invaluable. I may last only 5 minutes, but I don't care, I'm still going.
I have a birthday party to go to tonight, and I'm probably going to have to caffeinate just to get there. I don't know if caffeine helps my pain levels (I mean, it usually seems to, but that could be my mood it's affecting, you know?), but I've never really known it to hurt (unless I have a headache, sometimes it can then).
I'm just trying to chant "Aja! Aja! Fighting!" and "You can do eet!" to get through this flare. I mean, when the flare is done I'll still be in pain, but it will be MANAGEABLE pain. Pain I'm used to, pain i can cope with. My brain is so muzzy right now that while it was shouting at me/itself "Something's following you and is going to KILL YOU!!", my (and my brain's) response was "Really? That's nice."
I'm going dancing with my friends at the Y. The aerobics room is free in the morning, so we can dance in front of a huge mirror as we make fools of ourselves trying to learn dance steps. I may only last ten minutes, but that time with friends is invaluable. I may last only 5 minutes, but I don't care, I'm still going.
I have a birthday party to go to tonight, and I'm probably going to have to caffeinate just to get there. I don't know if caffeine helps my pain levels (I mean, it usually seems to, but that could be my mood it's affecting, you know?), but I've never really known it to hurt (unless I have a headache, sometimes it can then).
I'm just trying to chant "Aja! Aja! Fighting!" and "You can do eet!" to get through this flare. I mean, when the flare is done I'll still be in pain, but it will be MANAGEABLE pain. Pain I'm used to, pain i can cope with. My brain is so muzzy right now that while it was shouting at me/itself "Something's following you and is going to KILL YOU!!", my (and my brain's) response was "Really? That's nice."
Friday, September 14, 2012
Cooking
I've been on the receiving end of teasing about my cooking for awhile. My ex used to get kind of malicious about it, going on about my ineptitude. After all the years of that, even my mother had forgotten that I actually do know how to cook. In fact, I made my first solo dish when I was six years old (lentil soup and I was incredibly proud of myself). Needing a recipe does not make you a bad cook. It may mean that you'll never be a chef, but that's never been on my list of "if only"s so whatever.
My mom still teases me about my lack of enthusiasm for cooking. She calls me lazy. It actually does bother me a little. The thing is, I do like cooking. I like cooking when I can try to make new dishes and not have to worry about what other people want. These occasions are few and far between. An added impediment is that if I don't make something when I want to, I just forget about it. So it never gets made. I freely admit that I have the attention span of a gnat. I'm working on it, but it is an issue.
Another issue (and one that my mom can't chide me about since she does it even more than I do) is that I sometimes forget that I'm cooking. Multi-tasking is not my friend when it comes to cooking. I need to stay in the kitchen with a book if I'm going to cook or I'll get distracted (have I mentioned my attention span?). I also have a memory like a broken sieve, so there's that too.
My mom also likes to go on about my bad food choices. The thing is...if I have healthy food on hand, generally speaking, it's what I prefer. Frozen blueberres? Omnomnom. Apples, strawberries, grapes, peas (particularly frozen, I know it's weird), baby carrots, hummus (mmmm....red pepper hummus....), yogurt (not that ultra processed stuff, REAL yogurt), all of these are foods that I love. But living in a house with four other people...yeah. Stuff doesn't stick around. I also try to be courteous and not nom everything I love all by myself.
If I lived on my own and money wasn't a factor, my freezers would be full of frozen fruit (and peas nomnomnom) and I would make my own snack boxes. I won't lie, I'd still probably eat some junk. But I grew up on fresh and frozen fruit and home-canned veggies. It's what my taste buds love.
I've just lost my train of thought (predictably) and can't remember where I was going with this. I only started writing it because I went to get something to eat and the only thing that didn't require tons of prep time (HUNGRY NOW) was lunchables and mac and cheese. And frozen blueberries, but my mom gets pissy when I eat them all (which, uh, has happened). So I ate a lunchable, was still hungry, and made some mac and cheese. Which my mom will be all judge-y about "You need to make better food choices!"
So...yeah. Blecch. Too bad I'm not cute enough to have a sugar daddy...well, I suppose the whole "mostly asexual" thing would be an impediment as well.
I suppose I'm off to watch some more Doctor Who (currently on the Tom Baker years :D ) and eat some mac and cheese. I'd watch my kdrama, but my fave streaming site doesn't seem to like me today :/. I won't lie, one of the reasons I'm taking Korean is so I don't have to wait for subtitles ;) (we'll see if I can learn the language well enough!). (wow, is it just me or did I use a LOT of parentheses in this post?)
My mom still teases me about my lack of enthusiasm for cooking. She calls me lazy. It actually does bother me a little. The thing is, I do like cooking. I like cooking when I can try to make new dishes and not have to worry about what other people want. These occasions are few and far between. An added impediment is that if I don't make something when I want to, I just forget about it. So it never gets made. I freely admit that I have the attention span of a gnat. I'm working on it, but it is an issue.
Another issue (and one that my mom can't chide me about since she does it even more than I do) is that I sometimes forget that I'm cooking. Multi-tasking is not my friend when it comes to cooking. I need to stay in the kitchen with a book if I'm going to cook or I'll get distracted (have I mentioned my attention span?). I also have a memory like a broken sieve, so there's that too.
My mom also likes to go on about my bad food choices. The thing is...if I have healthy food on hand, generally speaking, it's what I prefer. Frozen blueberres? Omnomnom. Apples, strawberries, grapes, peas (particularly frozen, I know it's weird), baby carrots, hummus (mmmm....red pepper hummus....), yogurt (not that ultra processed stuff, REAL yogurt), all of these are foods that I love. But living in a house with four other people...yeah. Stuff doesn't stick around. I also try to be courteous and not nom everything I love all by myself.
If I lived on my own and money wasn't a factor, my freezers would be full of frozen fruit (and peas nomnomnom) and I would make my own snack boxes. I won't lie, I'd still probably eat some junk. But I grew up on fresh and frozen fruit and home-canned veggies. It's what my taste buds love.
I've just lost my train of thought (predictably) and can't remember where I was going with this. I only started writing it because I went to get something to eat and the only thing that didn't require tons of prep time (HUNGRY NOW) was lunchables and mac and cheese. And frozen blueberries, but my mom gets pissy when I eat them all (which, uh, has happened). So I ate a lunchable, was still hungry, and made some mac and cheese. Which my mom will be all judge-y about "You need to make better food choices!"
So...yeah. Blecch. Too bad I'm not cute enough to have a sugar daddy...well, I suppose the whole "mostly asexual" thing would be an impediment as well.
I suppose I'm off to watch some more Doctor Who (currently on the Tom Baker years :D ) and eat some mac and cheese. I'd watch my kdrama, but my fave streaming site doesn't seem to like me today :/. I won't lie, one of the reasons I'm taking Korean is so I don't have to wait for subtitles ;) (we'll see if I can learn the language well enough!). (wow, is it just me or did I use a LOT of parentheses in this post?)
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Anxiety Dreams, Yay!
So...yeah, anxiety dreams are annoying as hell. I call them anxiety dreams, but they're not exactly. It's hard to explain. If they were actual dreams, I would just call them bad dreams or nightmares. Anxiety dreams...are different. They're kind of like daydreams, but not. I hate the ones of the type I'm currently have the most, I think.
These anxiety dreams always happen late at night (or in the wee hours), usually after I have tried, unsuccessfully, to get to sleep. I will be lying in the dark and my mind will wander those lovely, dark, depressing, anxiety-inducing paths. I will lie there and my mind will go through every scenario of failure it can think of. I won't actually be asleep, but I will have particularly vivid "daydreams" that detail everything that will go wrong. I will usually become aware of what I'm doing only because my leg will be jiggling so hard it makes noise. Yeah, that whole "restless leg" thing may annoy people, but I appreciate it at moments like these. It clues me in to what's going on. If I clue in I can *maybe* do something about it. Even if that something is just giving up the attempt at sleep. If I give up the attempt at sleep I have a chance to distract myself.
I've been avoiding making the call to the social security office. Partially because I hate talking on the phone to people who unintentionally steamroller me into doing things (I mean, they have no real way of knowing that I have major difficulty disagreeing with them, but the effect is still the same :/ ). Partially because...I've been feeling good. I had this random period of a week where, for the first time in over a year, I felt like "Hey, I can totally work and get a job and support myself and not have to go on government aid!". It felt really good...until I quite abruptly crashed.
It was a different experience, that's for sure. I mean, I tend to be overconfident and overestimate what I can do, but nothing like this. It kind of reminded me of what a friend described the "highs" of being bipolar were like. Only not. It's so hard to explain these things, but I feel compelled to. Like...if I explain them maybe I can make sense of them and conquer them. In any case, it was a new and annoying experience. It wasn't just mental/emotional, I felt really good physically for that week. Which was nice.
So now I'll have to call social security and...BAH. I'll probably have to figure out a time to go in and talk to someone, because talking over the phone isn't working. Which means I'll have to find someone to go with me because, yeah, crazy. This is the difficulty, because my mom is not an option. She doesn't think I can get on disability (even though she's the one who encouraged me to apply). I can't help but think, based on little things my family members have said, that my family honestly thinks that I'm lazy. That if I'd just get off my ass and go to a doctor then he'll give me a magic pill that will make me ALL BETTER. My mom, at least, takes the physical side seriously. Most of the time. But I...I love her, but I don't entirely trust her and her opinion of me. Which makes the idea of her going with me (if she even WOULD (which is a whole 'nother story)) less than optimal.
Thus the anxiety dreams come into play. These little waking nightmares, you'd think they'd have me not getting aid and homeless in the streets or something. I mean, that would make sense, right? Nope. In every one I end up on disability. AND NEED IT. I end up going to Arizona and failing. Or if not fully failing, failing enough that I need a keeper. Why? Because I probably do. Personal hygiene is becoming a problem again. Eating is a problem again (fast and binge, fast and binge, food is disgusting because I'm a fat bitch who doesn't NEED to be eating, fast and binge, the thought of food turns my stomach, etc. etc. ad nauseum). I live in a haze punctuated by periods of physical discomfort as my fibro makes itself known.
At times like these it's hard to believe the hope that drives me. It's hard to believe that I can have a future, or at least one of the futures that I *WANT*. It's impossible to believe that someday I could go a day, DAYS, without pain. I'm so grateful for auto-pilot at moments like these, because it's the only thing that keeps the momentum going. Hell, auto-pilot is the only reason I was able to stay EMPLOYED for as long as I did. It's funny, I was known as the customer service queen. Customers loved me. There were days when I couldn't tell you what I'd done that day. Nobody noticed. Because my auto-pilot is DAMNED good.
I'm starting to ramble. Because it's the wee hours, I'm tired, I don't feel good, and my brain hates me. I'd planned on writing a post about my anxiety dreams about the fibro and related crazytown-ness, but apparently it wasn't to be. I would say "Fighting!", but I'm just too damn tired to fight right now. I'd rather have some cheesecake and watch movies. "Cheesecake, just what your fatass needs," says my oh-so-helpful brain. *sigh*
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I know it from past experience. I know I know it. I just wish it would hurry up and get better NOW.
These anxiety dreams always happen late at night (or in the wee hours), usually after I have tried, unsuccessfully, to get to sleep. I will be lying in the dark and my mind will wander those lovely, dark, depressing, anxiety-inducing paths. I will lie there and my mind will go through every scenario of failure it can think of. I won't actually be asleep, but I will have particularly vivid "daydreams" that detail everything that will go wrong. I will usually become aware of what I'm doing only because my leg will be jiggling so hard it makes noise. Yeah, that whole "restless leg" thing may annoy people, but I appreciate it at moments like these. It clues me in to what's going on. If I clue in I can *maybe* do something about it. Even if that something is just giving up the attempt at sleep. If I give up the attempt at sleep I have a chance to distract myself.
I've been avoiding making the call to the social security office. Partially because I hate talking on the phone to people who unintentionally steamroller me into doing things (I mean, they have no real way of knowing that I have major difficulty disagreeing with them, but the effect is still the same :/ ). Partially because...I've been feeling good. I had this random period of a week where, for the first time in over a year, I felt like "Hey, I can totally work and get a job and support myself and not have to go on government aid!". It felt really good...until I quite abruptly crashed.
It was a different experience, that's for sure. I mean, I tend to be overconfident and overestimate what I can do, but nothing like this. It kind of reminded me of what a friend described the "highs" of being bipolar were like. Only not. It's so hard to explain these things, but I feel compelled to. Like...if I explain them maybe I can make sense of them and conquer them. In any case, it was a new and annoying experience. It wasn't just mental/emotional, I felt really good physically for that week. Which was nice.
So now I'll have to call social security and...BAH. I'll probably have to figure out a time to go in and talk to someone, because talking over the phone isn't working. Which means I'll have to find someone to go with me because, yeah, crazy. This is the difficulty, because my mom is not an option. She doesn't think I can get on disability (even though she's the one who encouraged me to apply). I can't help but think, based on little things my family members have said, that my family honestly thinks that I'm lazy. That if I'd just get off my ass and go to a doctor then he'll give me a magic pill that will make me ALL BETTER. My mom, at least, takes the physical side seriously. Most of the time. But I...I love her, but I don't entirely trust her and her opinion of me. Which makes the idea of her going with me (if she even WOULD (which is a whole 'nother story)) less than optimal.
Thus the anxiety dreams come into play. These little waking nightmares, you'd think they'd have me not getting aid and homeless in the streets or something. I mean, that would make sense, right? Nope. In every one I end up on disability. AND NEED IT. I end up going to Arizona and failing. Or if not fully failing, failing enough that I need a keeper. Why? Because I probably do. Personal hygiene is becoming a problem again. Eating is a problem again (fast and binge, fast and binge, food is disgusting because I'm a fat bitch who doesn't NEED to be eating, fast and binge, the thought of food turns my stomach, etc. etc. ad nauseum). I live in a haze punctuated by periods of physical discomfort as my fibro makes itself known.
At times like these it's hard to believe the hope that drives me. It's hard to believe that I can have a future, or at least one of the futures that I *WANT*. It's impossible to believe that someday I could go a day, DAYS, without pain. I'm so grateful for auto-pilot at moments like these, because it's the only thing that keeps the momentum going. Hell, auto-pilot is the only reason I was able to stay EMPLOYED for as long as I did. It's funny, I was known as the customer service queen. Customers loved me. There were days when I couldn't tell you what I'd done that day. Nobody noticed. Because my auto-pilot is DAMNED good.
I'm starting to ramble. Because it's the wee hours, I'm tired, I don't feel good, and my brain hates me. I'd planned on writing a post about my anxiety dreams about the fibro and related crazytown-ness, but apparently it wasn't to be. I would say "Fighting!", but I'm just too damn tired to fight right now. I'd rather have some cheesecake and watch movies. "Cheesecake, just what your fatass needs," says my oh-so-helpful brain. *sigh*
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I know it from past experience. I know I know it. I just wish it would hurry up and get better NOW.
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 dating...so 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?"
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 dating...so 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
FUCK.
fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
*sigh*
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.
Gah.
So.
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 ;).
fucken fuckity fuck fuck.
*sigh*
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.
Gah.
So.
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 dictionary.com for a moment? Let's. It'll be a learning adventure! *cheesy smile*
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 dictionary.com 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.
Monday, August 6, 2012
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!
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!
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