snarkyperson

[snarkyperson]

ten years ago your past self prayed for your happiness

I am three days from my birthday, and tonight I keep thinking, wouldn’t it be funny if I died before my birthday?  Wouldn’t it be absolutely fucking hilarious?  Wouldn’t it be a fucking relief?  It would.  It would.

I have been using BetterHelp for about two months for therapy.  Partially because with the pandemic, my ass isn’t going anywhere right now, and partly because I have social anxiety and thus my ass isn’t going anywhere. I had a rocky start.  The first therapist just didn’t mesh with me at all.  The second was my first man, and I tried him for five weeks before I gave up.  He used too many metaphors I didn’t understand, pushed a romantic relationship with Vel which I didn’t appreciate, and didn’t really seem to listen to me all that much.  Today I decided to pull the trigger and drop that guy for my third, and what will be my final, try.

It was another man, and my instincts said no but his profile said he specialized in bipolar so I decided it was worth the try.  They always make you write an introductory post about yourself, so I did, stating what I’ve been diagnosed with, what this past year has been like, and my current circumstances.

What did I get?  The most polite version of “lol you are too fucked up and impossible to treat” I’ve ever seen.

He literally told me he couldn’t help me.  He offered to find me a referral for a face-to-face therapist.  He said “this medium” isn’t “suited for people like (me)” with my “long history of diagnoses and complications.”  He was polite but matter-of-fact about it.  And I?  I lost it.

I wrote him a politely scathing response.  I cancelled my subscription.  I cried for an hour.  I made suicidal plans, because hey, even professionals think I can’t be helped so what the fuck chance do I have?  I made a post on Facebook I’ll probably delete tomorrow.  

Amy told me I have to stop being honest on the internet.  She would probably shit herself if she read this right now.  But goddamnit, why can’t I be open about what I’m going through?  Why can’t I reach out for help?  Why do I have to do this alone?

I took five Benadryl.  Hopefully sleep will come soon.  I will probably cry until it does.

[snarkyperson]

i’ve been ghosting along

I am trying something unprecedented: I am trying to be a more positive person.

Anyone who knows me knows I am an eternal pessimist.  One of my favorite sayings is that it’s good to be a pessimist because then I am never disappointed but can be pleasantly surprised.  Only, it doesn’t actually work that way.  I tend to see even good things as fleeting moments that are destined to float away at the first opportunity.  I have talked before about how my happiness is always “tainted” by the thought that depression is right around the corner.  But what would it be like to live in the present moment, and appreciate happiness when it comes without worrying about tomorrow, or the next hour, or whatever?  

My friend Amy talks to me a lot about the law of attraction.  I have never really been on board, but I’ve been reading a lot lately and starting to wonder, is there something to it?  If you spend all your time expecting something terrible to happen, does that make something terrible more likely to happen to you?  Is it like a self fulfilling prophecy?  

One thing I do know is that negativity breeds negativity.  If I spend my time bemoaning everything in my life, I feel worse about everything in my life.  I completely ignore the good things.  And there ARE good things.  Even in my very worse moments, there are good things.  

I’m not saying the whole breakdown of 2019 wouldn’t have happened if I had just smiled my way out of it.  Mental illness is a real thing.  Mental breakdowns are a real thing.  But what I am saying is that even during my breakdown, there was good stuff going on that I didn’t even see at the time.  Like, for example, getting the boys and growing my bond with them and watching them grow up.  Or seeing my support system spring into action, including people that I haven’t even spoken to in years.  Or writing the equivalent of two novels (at least in word count).  Or celebrating my 36th birthday when I was convinced I wouldn’t ever see another birthday.  Or my physical health holding pretty steady even though my mental health was a mess.  Or getting below 300 pounds for the first time in years.  These are all amazing things!  And you know how much I noticed them?  I didn’t, until now when I started listing them.  I mean, I knew some good stuff happened, but it didn’t occur to me just how MUCH good stuff happened.  And that was in the midst of the worst mental breakdown I’ve ever had.  Imagine what will happen when I’m mentally sound!  

So I’m going to work on my attitude.  I’m going to try to look for the good things going on around me and accept, but not dwell on, the bad things.  I’m going to try not to complain so much.  I am going to try to provide support to people instead of only accepting it.  I am going to try to be more positive.  

No time like the present, right?  So what positive is going on right now?

- My period started for the first time in months and I have horrible cramps in addition to my crippling back pain, but instead of whining about this I am trying to think that it will just make me a tougher bitch.

- I donated to a charity stream to help the fires in Australia.  It feels good to do things for other people.

- I sent a card to my mom and she got it today.  I think it made her day.

- Today is the last day of smoking, and instead of worrying about how I’m going to quit, I am trying to instead think of how much better I will feel physically, and how much money I will save.

- Thatcher has not tried to escape for at least a week!

- I am keeping up with some of my goals: showering every day, brushing my teeth twice a day, eating at least one fruit or vegetable a day.  I have other goals I haven’t been doing as well on, but I am also trying to be gentle with myself and realize that I can’t do everything all at once.  Quitting smoking is going to be a big deal and I need to focus on that for the next month.

- Amy is doing an apartment tour tomorrow for an apartment ON HER BLOCK.  Wouldn’t that be amazing?  

Look at all those positive things!  I’m proud of myself already.  Let’s keep it up!

[snarkyperson]

everybody dies alone

Today is one of those overdramatic days where I feel like I can’t possibly take another step forward.  I have stones tied to my feet.  I have the world strapped to my back, and I am stooped almost to the ground.  My head hurts and my heart hurts and my stomach hurts and I just can’t do it.

I just need to weather the storm.  If I’m lucky, tomorrow I will feel better.  If I’m luckier, I will feel better later today.  If I’m not so lucky, it will be another few days.  But it will pass.  The thing about bipolar is that it always passes.  The flip side, however, is that I always feel like I have a wolf at my back.  On days when I feel okay, or even good, I am always looking over my shoulder, waiting for depression to strike again.  I get twitchy, paranoid.  Every passing sad thought becomes the harbinger of a depressive spiral.  I am trying so very hard, however, to see it the other way around.  I want to get twitchy and paranoid about potential contentment.  I want to remember that yes, I am sad today, but tomorrow I might not be.  

It occurred to me earlier today that my novel is a love story dedicated to mental illness.  In a way, it is a love story to myself.  There are too many similarities between Leo and myself to pretend that he is not derived from my own experiences.  And yet the story is gentle towards him.  He is sympathetic.  He is damaged, but worthy of love.  He is a good person despite his mental deficiencies.  

You know how in self help guides about negative self talk, one of the points is always “If your best friend came to you saying this, would you tell them they are an idiot?  Why then would you say it to yourself?”  I feel like that really applies to this novel.  Leo says all these things and Alice (who, arguably, is my “logical,” more caring brain) gently tells him that he is good and deserving of love and good things and it doesn’t matter that he’s crazy.  

Why can I write that, and believe that for him, but not for myself?  Why is Leo more deserving of love than I am?  Maybe because he’s handsome, I don’t know.

And that brings me where I always end up, which is: I don’t deserve love, and I will never find love.  And in this case I mean love of the romantic variety.  I have a lot of platonic love.  I love Vel dearly.  I love Amy and Noah and my mom and a lot of people.  But it’s like there is no room for romance in my life.  My platonic love would not turn romantic.  I don’t meet people to which I could fall romantically in love. And even if I did meet people, I feel unworthy.  I am a terrible girlfriend.  I am excessively jealous, and I run hot and cold, and I am so full of anxiety and sadness that I can barely pull myself together most days.  Additionally, I am fat and asexual.  What a catch.  Who would look at that and go “YES I MUST DATE THAT PERSON IMMEDIATELY!!!”  Shit, if I saw me, I would run the opposite direction ASAP.  And I mean that honestly, thinking of it objectively.  

Now, most days this does not bother me.  I’m not crying myself to sleep every night because no one wants to smooch me.  Most days I am happy with my friends and my cats and I don’t need romance.  But then I’ll read something, or listen to a song, or see a show, and it hits me all at once how much I wish I had some kind of romance in my life.  I am a terrible romantic at heart, which actually I find kind of funny given my personality.  I’m not saying I want grandiose gestures of love.  Even something simple like “hey I heard this song and I thought of you <3” would make me melt into a big old puddle of goo.  I’m easy to please.  

But I guess it’s not in the cards for me.  I’m not getting any younger.  Tick tock.  I guess I will just have to content myself with writing and reading and occasionally watching stuff.  

[snarkyperson]

it feels good to be alive when i’ve been dead for so long

I am trying, so very hard, to celebrate small victories.  It is a series of small steps that make up a big success.  I have to be proud of my small accomplishments because they are part of something bigger and important.  That’s also why I need to be gentle with myself about my failures, because one small failure against many small successes is just that: one small failure.  

So, what were my successes today?

- Went to my psychiatrist appointment.  He is not changing my meds despite my breakdown.  He thinks it is stress from the holidays, which I don’t really understand because the holidays went fine, but okay.  I am going to see him again in six weeks.  We discussed the move to Chicago and he said, and I quote, “I think this is the best idea you’ve had in a long time.”  So there’s that.

- Showered AND brushed my teeth AND got dressed AND did not immediately get into my pajamas when I got home.

- Ate caprese salad (vegetables!) and a pint of blueberries (fruit!)

- Walked for 18 minutes.  Listening to an audiobook is really helping me out with this one.  I listen to one chapter and I’m done, and I am sufficiently engaged by the book to want to do it again to listen to the next chapter.  I am trying to do these walks when it is light outside so I get the added benefit of sun exposure but that will also mean changing my sleep schedule which I am not quite ready to do yet.

Things I have yet to do, but plan on doing:

- Not taking Benadryl tonight.  I am going to try the CBD oil again and hope it was not in fact what made me sick before Christmas.

- Play with the boys.  They were really excited last night because I haven’t been doing well about playing with them.  

- Meditate.  I got a cool app that Simon from Simon and Martina recommended called Waking Up.  It has guided meditations for 50 days.  I did day one last night and jesus it was hard but I am committed to trying.

I am trying to get better about writing here again too, because it does help me in the future to read about what I’ve done in the past.  And if I write about my successes, I can remember my successes when I’m feeling like a failure.  

There is an insidious part of my mind going, “Well shit, it’s been two days.  Whoopdeefuckingdoo.”  But like I said, small victories.

[snarkyperson]

are the stars alive or am i projecting

I don’t really like making resolutions, because I feel like they always set me up for failure.  I am gung-ho for a couple of weeks, then I slip a little, then I decide I can NEVER DO the thing because I slipped up, and I quit.  So this year, I am trying for small lifestyle changes.  

2019 was a year of suffering and surviving.  The goal was to make it to the end.  2020 is about recovery.  I need to take better care of myself and try to repair the damage 2019 left on me.  So here are the little changes I want to make to my lifestyle to get closer to a “normal” version of life.

- Walk at least 10 minutes a day

- Eat at least one fruit or vegetable a day - I know, isn’t this one sad?  But honestly, sometimes a few days go by in which I haven’t had a fruit or vegetable.

- Play with the boys at least once a day

- Meditate

- Quit smoking for real this time

- Brush my teeth at least twice a day - this one is sad too, but it’s a habit I fell out of when I was spending all my time sleeping and feeling sad

- Shower every day

- Spend at least 2 hours out of bed a day - don’t ask, it’s complicated

- Wean off the Benadryl

Well, it looks like a lot when I write it all out.  But I’m not necessarily doing it all at once, either.  And the most important part, the epilogue of the list, is to be gentle with myself.  If I have a day where I don’t manage something, it’s not the end of the world.  Try again the next day.  Eventually it will get easier.

So, the year of recovery.  Let’s get to it.

[snarkyperson]

universe, where do i go from here?

It’s a new year.  A new decade.

I ended 2019 with a bang of a mental breakdown.  I was reading a most excellent book called The Noonday Demon, which I highly recommend for anyone who ISN’T dealing with mental illness.  I think it should be required reading for family and friends of depressed people.  For me, however, it was a disaster.  I was highlighting huge swaths of text because everything felt like I had myself written it, and I didn’t realize that it was becoming a huge trigger until the gun had fired.  

Suddenly everything was collapsing around me.  I have been in a depressive episode for three days now, but today I had the big break.  I was sucked into a pit of despair, but at the same time I was absolutely hysterical.  I was freaking out about the new year and all the pressure involved to make this year better than the last.  I was freaking out about Thatcher running outside.  I was freaking out about how I was freaking out.  The lithium was working, wasn’t it?  Why did it suddenly stop working?  What’s going on?

It got worse and worse.  The suicidal thoughts that were ghosts yesterday became dark, tangible things that sunk their claws into my brain.  I picked up my bottle of Benadryl, put it back down.  Picked it up again.  Put it back down.  Cried, cried, and cried.  I called for help.  I put a message up on Facebook, I posted in the KA discord, and I texted Vel.  I was panicking.  I was sure I was about to do something irreversible.  It felt inevitable, and I was terrified.

I am incredibly lucky, because my support network sprung into action.  I got messages on Facebook.  The discord all swooped in with support.  Vel left work early so I wouldn’t be alone.  Amy called me.  Everyone saved me from myself and my demons, and I am so, so thankful (now).  

Vel and I had dinner.  We played Thief Simulator for a while.  We chatted and laughed and played with the boys.  We watched the ball drop.  I spent the last five minutes of 2019 crying over how shit a year it has been, for Vel and me both, and with 30 seconds to spare I got myself together, determined not to open 2020 in tears.  The ball dropped, and Vel and I were laughing, and I was incredibly thankful that I managed to end 2019 alive.  Not just from this episode, but from all the episodes that have happened this year.  I, 100% honestly, did not think I would make it through the year.  And yet I did.

I couldn’t have done it without the people who love me.  If not for the support I have gotten this year, I would never have made it to 2020.  I am so, so lucky and so, so thankful.  I don’t want to die.  I don’t want to live like this, but I don’t want to die.  

Everyone tells me I am strong.  I don’t feel strong.  I feel like I am constantly leaning on everyone just to make it through the day.  But I guess I wouldn’t still be alive if I didn’t fight for it too, so maybe I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

What do I want out of 2020?  Peace.  That’s all I want.  I want the riot in my mind to quiet down.  I want to be able to work and live and have friends that I don’t need to call in the middle of the night when I’m crying.  

I want to live.  

[snarkyperson]

does the darkness know your name

It’s December 1st, and you know what that means!  Rent is due!  No wait, that’s not it.  The holidays are starting!  Yes, that’s what I meant.

I have a lot of complicated feelings about the holidays.  There are things I love about it.  I love decorations, just love the shit out of them.  I love Christmas trees and snowflakes and especially lights.  My mom is a decorating fiend and I guess she must have passed on some of that to me, although I don’t decorate much.  I just appreciate other people’s decorating.  (I am lazy.)  If Vel is off today, which I can’t remember if he is or not, we’re probably going to do some decorating.

Despite my misgivings about a certain Three Cats, we are going to try to put the Christmas tree up.  I decided we should put it up for a few days, see how much they destroy it, and if the destruction is minimal, decorate it.  But there are other decorations, like the balcony lights and my light-up Bumble and the stockings.  These are all things I want to see and invariably feel like I don’t get to see long enough.

I like mulled wine and good food.  We have a celebration on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  I have been in charge of Christmas Eve, which is a big collection of hors d’oeuvres, for seven years.  This year I can’t do it due to my funds, which really makes me sad because I am moving next year and I won’t be able to do it anymore.  Christmas Day is the big feast and at least I will be able to help with that.

My mom and I make cookies.  So many damn cookies.  But it’s a fun bonding day and I always really enjoy it.  Oof, it just hit me that this will be the last year for that too.  Okay, trying not to get sad, trying not to get sad.

My complicated feelings come from my family.  The holidays are always super maximum stressful for all sorts of reasons.  My sister comes to visit, usually with some significant other trailing behind her, which is awkward and uncomfortable for me.  My niece comes, which makes me delighted, but I always feel like I am failing her somehow because I don’t keep in touch well enough.  My dad drinks too much, and I drink too much, and we sing karaoke which makes me embarrassed and stupid, and inevitably someone picks a fight with someone else and things get tense and vitriolic for a few hours.  

So I guess, as I’m writing this out, I have realized that the lead-up to Christmas is great, but the holiday and week surrounding it are miserable.

I made the decision that I am not going to come home for Christmas after I move.  For one, I don’t like the idea of leaving Vel in a new city during a holiday, even if he probably will be working.  Second, I don’t want to deal with all the inevitable dramatics.  Third, flying during the holidays is absolutely wretched and miserable and I don’t want to do it.  

I told my mom, and she seemed unconcerned but I have a feeling when the time actually comes, she will be pretty upset.  I will probably be upset too, but from where I’m sitting now, it seems like the best course of action.  I will, instead, come home for Halloween, because I adore Halloween and I adore Halloween with my parents and it won’t have the stress and headache of a “bigger” holiday.  I think this sounds like a good plan.

So, buckle up, everyone.  I don’t know how your December usually goes, but I hope it’s a good one.

[snarkyperson]

i think i found hell

There is a Joan Osborne song with the line, “What if the cure is worse than the disease?”  I think about that a lot, particularly on days like today.

I have been taking medication since I was 18, barring a couple of years where I was uninsured.  That much medication means I have had all sorts of side effects.  Prozac made me jittery.  I had a huge, horrible allergic reaction to Wellbutrin that included a nasty rash and painful sores.  Lexapro made me so sleepy that I would fall asleep everywhere, including on the El going home after college (so safe!).  Seroquel made me hungry all the time, so I gained about 75 pounds without, honestly, ever really realizing I was doing it.  That’s just the tip of the iceberg, but no one wants to read twelve paragraphs about my many side effects.

One of the reasons I was very reticent to start taking lithium was that I had heard really bad things about the side effects.  Vel’s doctor friend assured me that lithium was no worse than any other drug, so I tried to put it out of my mind.  Lithium has worked wonders for mood stabilization, don’t get me wrong.  I have had minimal side effects, really.  I am very thirsty all the time but drinking water is good for you so I don’t really count this as a bad thing.

The tremors, though.  The fucking tremors.

Interestingly, the tremors didn’t start until I upped the dose.  I guess previously the dose was too low for it to affect me that way?  Who knows.  But once they hit, they hit with a vengeance.  It’s not every day.  In fact, it’s not most days.  Well, maybe that’s not right.  Maybe it’s a 50/50 split of days.  The really bad ones, though, only happen about once a week.  

My reaction to these tremors is really disproportionate to how angry they make me.  One of the times I notice them most is when I’m eating, because they are worst in my right hand.  Something about holding the fork makes my thumb and forefinger freak out.  Sometimes it’s so bad that I can’t actually eat without squeezing my hand into a tight fist, which hurts if you do it for more than a couple of minutes.  I tried eating while my hand was freaking out and I spilled soup all over myself, like a child.  Then, also like a child, I had a temper tantrum where I shouted and threw my spoon across the room.  Like I said, disproportionate anger.

The bad ones though I think warrant anger, because they affect the things I really want to do.  You would laugh if you knew how long this post is taking me to write because my left hand keeps freaking out and hitting keys twice, or hitting the wrong keys, or whatever.  I really felt like writing today, because it’s nice outside on the balcony, but I am getting so pissed off at my tremors that I won’t.  Then I move to my old standby, video games, but I can’t play those either because I need either the keyboard or the controller and my hand won’t support either of them.  

I made Leo, in the novel, have tremors too.  It was a definite self-insert scene, but here it is anyway (in part).

He clenches his fists and stares at the camera like it has personally offended him.  “I can’t take any pictures,” he grits out.

I don’t understand why that warrants this level of anger, but okay.  “Is… the camera broken?”

“I am broken,” he snarls.  He picks up his coffee cup, spins on his heel, and throws it as hard as he can.  The paper cup hits the ground, the top flies off, and black coffee goes flying across the pavement.  “This was pointless.  I don’t know why I thought—”  He cuts himself off and looks around like he’s looking for something else to throw.

I feel grossly inadequate here.  I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t know how to make him tell me without pissing him off.  Cautious, cautious, I stand up and approach him.  “Leo, what’s going on?  You can talk to me.”  I keep my voice carefully neutral, not pleading like I want to be.  

“You wouldn’t understand,” he hisses.  He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares angrily at the ground.  

“Maybe not.  But I’d like to try, if you’ll let me.”  I very tentatively reach out and touch his shoulder.  He shakes me off.

“I can’t take any pictures,” he says again, like this explains everything.  

“So you mentioned,” I respond.  “But, why?  You said you are broken but… I just don’t understand, Leo.  Help me out here.  What’s going on?”

He really looks like he is about to punch something, and I hope it isn’t me.  Finally he thrusts his hands out towards me, holding them in the air between us.  I look down and finally, I see what he’s so angry about.  His hands are shaking pretty intensely.  

“Oh,” I say, but I know that’s a pretty lame response.  He doesn’t say anything, just folds his arms back up.  “Does this happen often?”

“Often enough,” he spits.  

“Do you have… a condition or something?”

He laughs, a harsh, bitter thing that has no humor in it.  “If you call having to shove pills down your throat every day to function a condition.”

“This is a medication side effect?”

A nod.  

“But it doesn’t happen all the time?”

He shakes his head.

So anyway, when I get these tremors or the uncontrollable hunger or the headaches or what have you, I always have to wonder, is the cure worse than the disease?  Logically, looking over the past year, I can say of course not.  But sometimes I wonder what these pills are doing to my body and what the long-term effects will be.  These medicines are relatively new - I mean lithium has been around since the 60s but if you think about it, that means the people on it are probably in their 50s and 60s and has anyone been studying them long-term?  I don’t know and I can’t look it up because Vel would get mad at me for psyching myself out again.  

I just worry, but that’s nothing new, is it?  

Mood: 5 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

i waited a while for a moment to say i don’t owe you a goddamn thing

I am frustrated.

I have been trying to be better about a lot of things.  I am trying to reach out to people more, not for support but to see how they are doing.  I am trying to patch things up with people that I have been fighting with (family members, specifically).  I am trying to just be a better person in general.  I have a lot to make up for, I know that.  And it’s baby steps to be a good, “normal” person, but I’m trying.

I want to be very specific about that.  I am trying.

To go out of my way to talk to someone I haven’t talked to in a while, due to THEIR actions which very much upset me, only to have them throw my bipolar (unfairly) in my face was a blow.  A big blow.  And now I feel like if he thinks that way, everyone else must too.  

Maybe I should just stop trying, since it seems like every time I reach out to someone, I get hurt more.  At what point do you decide that the other person doesn’t matter as much as you do?  If talking to someone upsets you every single time you talk to them, is it worth talking to them?  Even if it’s someone (who should be) very close to you?  And yet, if I cut communications, I become the bad guy.  I become the selfish one.  I become the one causing the hurt.  And I don’t like doing that either.  I would rather suffer than have people think I’m the bad guy, but I’m not sure I should be like that, either.

I wish my therapist could see me sooner than 12/2.  I have a lot to talk to her about.

A psychiatrist update:  he is not worried about my increased temper.  Instead, he told me to stop worrying about things I can’t control, which is ironic given the subsequent conversations I had and this post.  He is upping the risperdone.  Doubling it, actually.  Please let that help with my crazy anxiety, because it is absolutely exhausting to worry about absolutely everything, all the time.  I have had a headache since I woke up, and now I’m convinced I have brain cancer.  

Yeah.

This song is amazing, and is my new theme song.  You should listen to it.

I’m tired and angry, but somebody should be.

Mood:  3 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

you built immunity to your own poison

I’ve been thinking about this, and I think I am going to delete my Facebook account.  It’s nice to keep up with people and it’s too bad I will be out of the loop on things, but you know what?  It’s not worth my mental anguish.  It’s not worth my mom calling me to tell me that my aunt is “concerned” about my recent posts.  

I never should have started being open about my mental health issues.  It was a huge mistake.  At first it was great because people were supportive, but when they saw that it wasn’t a one-time thing that would go away after 24 hours people started treating me differently, acting like I was combustible, flat out ignoring me altogether, or guilt-tripping me for worrying them/other people.  

Sorry, this is my life.  If it makes you uncomfortable, get the hell out.  I am negative enough without dealing with other people’s, even well-meaning, negativity.

And I said this on Facebook, and I will say this again here:  if you have a problem with something I post, come to me.  Don’t go to my mom, or my dad, or anyone else.  Grow some balls and come to me directly, thanks.

Mood: 2 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

are the stars alive

I wish that I could have an illogical thought, catch that illogical thought, and say, “You’re right, that’s illogical and I am not going to believe it.”  Instead, I catch the illogical thought and say, “Hmm, you have a point, I will believe that because even though it seems illogical I am probably wrong and it is probably true.”  Very frustrating.  I feel like I’m being held hostage by my brain.

Today’s (somewhat) illogical thoughts, in no particular order:

- All I do is talk about myself and my problems and everyone is sick of hearing it, and thus, sick of me in general.  Therefore, I should either a) never talk about myself, ever or b) stop talking to anybody ever again.

- Cancer.  Cancer cancer cancer.  This has been going on for a few days, actually.  First it was liver failure, then lung cancer, then esophagus cancer, now cancer in a cyst on my thigh.  I’m sure Vel is sick of looking up symptoms for me by now (see point 1).  Incidentally, I realized I am a hypochondriac on top of everything else.  Fun.

- This novel is a complete waste of time.  I’m not enjoying it because I’m putting too much pressure on myself to make it amazing and wonderful and publish-worthy.  Writing isn’t fun anymore, and that is 100% my fault.  Instead of being enraptured by the story, like I usually am with my fanfics, I am pounding out a bunch of nonsense that I think will “sell.”  I have completely lost the essence of the book, and I am constantly frustrated by it and myself, and I just want to give up.

- I am a terrible friend because I never have any good advice and I always forget to check up on people (see point 1).

- I will never be able to work again, and I shouldn’t move to Chicago because I will, in fact, have to move in with my parents.

- I am a terrible cat mom because I don’t play with them as much as I should.  Also (and this is the chair’s fault, really) I crushed Thatcher when I got up from the recliner because he was playing underneath it.  He is okay, thankfully, but he wouldn’t let me come within 30 feet of him for a while.

- I don’t take good care of myself, and that is why my body is failing.  Stomach flu, back pain, earache, and now whatever the fuck is going on with my chest/back.  I am going to go to the doctor tomorrow, because my mom guilted me into it, and they are going to tell me I need to have 600 tests to identify what is wrong, and it will cost me thousands of dollars I don’t have because my insurance is garbage.

- Vel and I are going to stop getting along when we get to Chicago, because we will live in a smaller apartment and I will be overwhelmed by all the big changes and therefore will be even more of a wreck than usual, and he won’t be able to stand it.

- I am never going to be able to enjoy video games ever again because I can’t play for 16 hours straight like I used to.

Those are the major points I’ve been hyper-fixating on today, and for the past few days.  I feel guilty even writing it here, in my own space, because maybe one or two people will read them and think I’m annoying and stupid and will hate me (point 1… again).  So let’s just say, my anxiety is pretty goddamn high.  I guess my psychiatrist will up the Risperdone again, but we’ll see.

I did find one thing that helps curb my anxiety.  Kava kava!  Noah used to let me take his at Purple when I was particularly struggling with the anxiety.  I remembered that yesterday and ordered some.  I took one tonight and it’s just… blissful.  All the riot of my thoughts just smoothed over like the calm after a storm.  I’m still worried, and I’m still thinking all those thoughts, but instead of being a huge hurricane it’s just a minor thunderstorm.  I can handle that.

I am worried about tonight, though.  For the past week or so, I have had people around to chat with until I fall asleep around 4:00 am.  Tonight the one friend went to sleep early and Vel is back at work, so I’m all by myself.  All by myself with my thoughts.  That’s never a good thing, is it?  I guess we’ll see what happens.

Mood:  4 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

when you’re down lose your mind

Thanks, tremors, I didn’t want to get anything done today anyway.

I did not however bleed out at my appointment so I guess that’s good.

[snarkyperson]

this is the long forgotten light at the end of the world

You know, the way my luck has been going recently, I fully expect that at my bloodwork appointment in half an hour they will nick an artery and I will spurt blood all over the room or I will get blood poisoning from a rusty needle or something.

My tremors are bad today.  I was holding my phone and it started where I was hitting every button twice because my thumb was shaking, but then I full on dropped the phone because my hand freaked out.  It is difficult to type so I guess I won’t be doing any writing today.  

Yesterday Haby had a coughing fit so bad that he fell out of the cat tree.  Thatcher has been coughing for a while, so I decided to take them both to the vet.  $225 later, the vet’s official opinion is, “Well shit, I don’t know.  Their symptoms make no sense.”  Not exactly the response I was hoping for.  He gave me a list of about 10 things it could be, half of which are very expensive to test for.  Before we go that route, they got some steroids shots and hairball medicine.  While I hope it is something as benign as coughing up hairballs, I will also be a little annoyed if I spent $225 on hairballs.  Well, the things we do for our kids, right?  Or something like that.

I don’t feel depressed and I don’t feel manic but I feel.  Just... too much.  Too much worry over several things including the move to Chicago, the cats, my tremors, and, most laughably, FFXIV.  Too much anger over some shit that happened a couple of days ago.  Too much headache and too much back pain and too much desire to drink a lot.  Too much overwhelming instinct to crawl back in bed and cut myself off from the world for a week or so.

I’m obsessed with Vikings right now.  That amuses me, but what are you gonna do.  

Oh, gosh, how did I forget this important news?  I am on a social media/discord blackout starting last night.  Between crazy racist Trump supporting family and this bipolar support group that is freaking me out every time I read a new post, Facebook is a cancer I need to excise.  I know yesterday was election day so people were particularly... uh... vocal but Twitter has gotten about the same “looking at this makes me want to kill myself or someone else” vibe.  And, most heartbreaking of all, I am having a LOT of problems with the Kitten Academy discord lately.  It’s unfortunate because I have been trying to be active there and make friends and push myself outside my comfort zone but I honestly feel like I am so far away from what “normal” is there that they really don’t like me much, three KA boys or no.  So I’m just not going to look at it for a while.  I don’t know how long this all will last, but I am hoping that instead of getting frustrated and annoyed by 600 people’s opinions on every platform I will just get some peace and quiet.  

Admittedly, it feels a little lonely.  But no one pays attention to anything I say anyway so what’s the point, really?  I mean shit, most of the time I don’t care myself about anything I say.  I don’t know why anyone else would.  

That’s a negative thought but it’s also one I believe so sorry therapist but it’s staying there.

Mood: 5 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

i wouldn’t hesitate to smile while you suffocate

I am fucking enraged.  At everything.  Just absolutely goddamn furious.

Everything is setting me off.  My downstairs neighbor gave me shit about not leaving the apartment (why are you watching my comings and goings???) and then, when I told her we are moving to Chicago, screeched, “YOU’RE TAKING (my roommate) AWAY FROM US???”  Okay, yeah, fuck you too.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to pull yourself together enough to work a full-time job.  You should at least stay here so you can move in with us.”  Thanks for the vote of support! -thumbs-up-

These contractors have been hammering and drilling starting at 7:30 every goddamn morning for like a week.  

I fell asleep at 2:30.  I woke up at 6:00 and my brain went, “Hey!  We’re awake!  Time to get up!” even though I didn’t need to be awake for another 3.5 hours.  Did I go back to sleep?  Nope!  Do I feel tired now?  Nope!  

Hi mania what’s up!

I am a fool and thought maybe I could get some support from this discord I’m in.  They seem supportive enough when other people have issues.  So I posted that I’m heading into a manic episode sadface and the response I got was, essentially, “getting lots of shit done and having lots of energy?  That sounds great sign me up!”  Okay, yes, getting lots of shit done and having lots of energy is great.  Writing a lot is great.  Not sleeping for 42 hours is not great.  Getting pissed at the slightest little fucking thing is not great.  Spending money I don’t have when I don’t have a job is not great.  Additionally, being in a manic episode means a depressive episode is around the corner, yay!  So don’t fucking talk to me about how amazing mania is and how you wish you were bipolar so you could get lots of shit done sometimes.  Fuck you.

Seriously, fuck you.

I’m going to go sit in my car and scream for a while.

[snarkyperson]

i got news for you baby, you’re looking at the man

The curse is broken!! ~confetti~

Yesterday, after my blog post, I wrote more and ended the day at 4400 words.  Today I wrote 2200 words.  And I mean, I’m no Mary Shelley.  But it’s turning out decent.  I have a lot of work left to do, but right now I am determined to focus just on getting the words/ideas down and worrying about editing later.  

Today I wrote Leo and Alice’s first date, and it is awkward and beautiful.  I am really pleased with it.

I have some mental stuff to talk about but it’s late o’clock and my mom is coming at 9:30 tomorrow so I need to get my happy ass to bed.

Mood: 9 out of 10

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“The day we met.  Outside.  You said you were running late but… why did you stop?”

“You were cute.”  He shrugs, as if he has commented on the weather and not sent my stomach into insane, topsy-turvy flips.  I mentally look myself over.  Red hair pulled into a messy bun, check.  Oversized sweater covering a much-this-side-of-too-curvy body, check.  Scuffed knee-high boots, check.  But hey, my earrings are cute little silver cats.  Maybe that’s what he’s focusing on.

After a moment, he adds, “And the swearing was pretty damn funny.”

Now this I can better understand.  I start to laugh, shaking my head.  “Very professional, I know.”

“But, I feel like I should point out that you found me,” he says.

I blush, hating myself for it.  “Yeah, well,” I hedge.  He looks at me, eyebrow raised, waiting.  “I mean, it was Zulah’s idea.  She knew the band.”

His voice is flat but I can tell he’s amused; his eyes are sparkling.  “Your friend just happened to know the band and you just happened to go for no reason?”

“That’s not so far-fetched!”  His smirk is so damn disarming.  I raise my hands as if to ward off a blow.  “Okay, fine.  I was--” Do not say obsessing. “--wondering about you.  Because you stopped to help me, when you were late.  It was nice of you.  That’s all it was.”

“That’s all?”

I start laughing again.  “Oh my god, are you fishing for a compliment right now?  Okay!  Yes!  Look at you, Leo.  I mean, god.  Who wouldn’t be interested?  Is your ego so fragile that I have to say it here in front of Water Lilies?  Do you want me to go outside and use a megaphone?”  I cup my hands around my mouth.  “Everyone, look here!  This is Leo, and he is damn attractive!  Line up and take pictures!”

A woman a couple of paintings down gives me a dirty look and shushes me.  I wilt a little, but he smiles.  A real, pleased smile.  He really does have a fragile ego, doesn’t he?  Sheesh!

“Was that so hard?” he grins.  Grins!  The nerve of this man!

“You’re an asshole,” I laugh.  “An attractive asshole.”

[snarkyperson]

if you swear that there’s no truth and who cares, how come you say it like you’re right

I have a job!  I mean, technically it’s just helping a friend, but I am getting paid for it so I consider it a job.  It has felt so incredibly good to do something productive and useful again.  And I actually feel smart for a change.  I have been doing good work (I think).  My brain is active for something besides writing again.  I am getting shit done ahead of schedule and everything.

Feels good, man.

In book news, I didn’t write for four days.  I was convinced my inspiration had disappeared with my mania like I was afraid of.  Today I sat down with my chromebook and said, “Look, just write one paragraph to prove you can do it.  That’s all, just one paragraph.” I kicked and screamed and deleted it a hundred times but then I got into it and suddenly I wrote 1700 words.  I could have cried with joy.

I have four scenes noted down but not written.  I wasn’t sure whether I should capitalize on my streak today and write one of them, or just be content with what I had already written.  For now I am going to be content.  Later tonight if I’m feeling inspired I will go out and write some more.  Regardless, I am proud of myself.  Good job, me.

Mood: 8 out of 10

[snarkyperson]

please accept it’s over

I don’t think I am going to do the novel for Nanowrimo.  As in, I am not doing Nanowrimo at all.  I am in a pretty fragile mental state and I have a feeling that if I try to do Nanowrimo and for some reason fail to do it, I will give up completely in a giant temper tantrum of “look I can’t even do this I have no skills or talent and I am NEVER WRITING AGAIN” complete with childish door slam afterwards.  

Let’s be real here.  We all know that I have no self esteem and that I have constant mixed feelings about my skill as a writer.  I can easily see something happening (something mental, I get busy, whatever) and not finishing and that throwing me clear over the edge.  I know for a fact that failing at Nanowrimo would be the nail in my writing coffin.  It would be a clear sign that I am not meant to write etc. etc. etc.

It’s just better to not do it.

I’m still going to write.  I hope.  I have not written in three days.  I sat at my laptop today and it was like my brain flatlined.  I couldn’t string a sentence together to save my goddamn life.  Tomorrow is Halloween and I am supposed to go to my parents’ and I also have a side project I have to work on so I might not write tomorrow either.  It is too easy to look at this string of days and say, “SEE?  YOU CAN’T WRITE!  I TOLD YOU!”

Oof.  

Mood:  7 out of 10