#my mental health was scarily bad like. the worst it’s ever been

[siriusfelis]

New year again?

[aethernightmare]

Bojack Horseman was such an important show for my own mental health recovery journey after everything I want through in 2022/2023. It's something I never would have imagined liking, and ironically I'm not a fan of the comedy or art-style whatsoever, but this show was practically therapy for how spot-on and accurate it was to my own life these past few years. So much so, that it was frequently uncomfortable or even painful to get through, but in a good way. Like rubbing alcohol in an infected wound.

I feel like I've been in the shoes of Princess Carolyn, Herb, and Diane especially. I was in a long-term relationship with someone who was a Mr. Peanutbutter while manic and sober, and a Bojack while intoxicated or depressed. Some of the arguments we had towards the end of our association with one another were almost scarily verbatim to what's in this show. And it was validating to see characters like myself enmeshed in such a relationship, their steps of getting untangled from it, finding spouses and careers that treated them with respect, and that they didn't have to be flawless, perfect people to deserve better.

And the show works so much better because Bojack isn't awful all of the time. If anything, many people will (unfortunately) find him super relatable. He has great potential, and does occasionally go out of his way to help others. You feel bad for him because he is a product of his past, having gone through through child abuse and more layers of generational trauma than even he is aware about. But all of this is drowned by his lack of accountability towards himself, or his refusal to accept professional therapy/medication (despite his excessive self-medicating with substance abuse). Making him his own worst enemy, because he always finds a way to undo his own progress, and pin the blame on everything or everyone else around him. Despite the fact that his actions have widespread repressions outside of himself, derailing the lives of the whole cast, or in some cases, even ending them.

If anything, the most relatable thing for me is his relationship with Diane. The two share so many mental health similarities in regards to anxiety and depression, but while Bojack always starts his own fires, Diane is the one stepping up to put both of theirs out. She goes to therapy, she tries multiple jobs, she reaches out to new people, she gets back on anti-depressants, she finds a decent and compatible relationship, she learns from her mistakes, she actively tries to be a force of good in people's lives, and she eventually as a result turns her life around for the better. Whenever life kicks her down, she always tries to get back up.

While Bojack on the other hand always expected someone else to drag him back to shore. Which is why no matter how badly he treated her, or talked down to her, in his biggest binds, he'd always call Diane. Even in his drug-tripped hallucinations, he was still often being 'saved' by a fictional version of her. Because she's always the one to comfort him, bring him back to reality, give him new perspectives, or drive him to rehab. Because she's practically by default, always taking steps to be the bigger person. She isn't a flawless character by any means, far from it. But she is in a way Bojack's opposite, despite having many of the same traumas and mental health struggles.

Even during his presumed last moments of consciousness, he called Diane, and just wanted to be with her as he died. The version he was able to reach was just a figment of his imagination (the real Diane was both asleep and on the other end of the country, and received a horrifying voicemail upon waking up), but I think it's telling that despite how shitty he always treats her, the version in his head is reflective of the kindness she always gave him. Meaning deep down, he knows who she really is, despite the things he has tried to ridicule or blame her for. She's arguably his most important person too, yet not once could he ever fully be there for her in return. Which is why their final talk is both heartbreaking and relieving. Because Diane deserves better, and he needs to learn to be better, without relying on her as his main/only pillar of support. Especially if he's not going to be there for her in return, or if he's going to blame her whenever he's not strong enough to emotionally hold himself up in ways we're all expected to as adults. Diane deserves someone who's there for her as much as she is for them. Platonically and romantically. And likewise, Bojack can't acclimate to genuine independence if he always has access to her as a crutch.

It's why the last episode (the whole of season 6, really) is especially heartbreaking for me. Bojack needs to learn to be a better person, but until he learns to become that himself, with professional therapy, nothing anybody else does for him will matter. It also mirrors my final conversation with the most important person from my life too, in part because this time, I was inspired by the show itself. Because it was able to help me see all of the gaslighting and manipulation that my "Bojack" did to me. And the insecurities behind why he did it. The previous arguments we had were all coincidences in their similarities, but this series helped me shape at least our final talk into the things I wanted to convey. I also know he's not ready to accept help yet, and as a result, just like Diane and Bojack, it may have been the last time we ever talk to one another. But at least in some ways, it helped me find closure.

Because I genuinely do want him to get help, but like all abusers and addicts, he needs to want to get help first. He needs to be ready to commit to it. And as my own therapist as already told me, "If your support was going to be the thing that changes him, repairs the relationship, and gets him to stop drinking/using, it already would have done so by now. So you need to fire yourself from that position, because you're clearly not the right person for the job." And they were right. I'm not. But I needed to learn that, and this show was a major part of helping me do so.

There are days I miss the old "Diane" (my old self). And I'll always miss the good times I had with "Bojack/Peanutbutter" (my ex), but they weren't healthy, and I can be grateful for the times we had, even if they weren't meant to last forever.

So to the creators of Bojack Horesman, thank you.

[purpleskiesandpaperflowers]

Introducing me(us???)?

Ok no that's a terrible freaking title. We are not the jonas brothers.

Who's we? Haha honestly I'm not even sure anymore. This is a hard one to write because I literally don"t tell anyone about my "inner world" which is why I'm keeping my blog anonymous for now .

I guess I'm just a wierd human with a messed up brain that has no reason to be messed up. I'm in the process of figuring it all out .

Long story short "we" is me and my ... I'm not sure what to call them I used to think they were just imaginary freinds , but they have become something so much more real.

I remember being 5 years old and having imaginary freinds like any other child. I cant remember much but I'm pretty sure my home life was perfect. I have an amazing mum and dad and even had two grandparents at the time. I remember happiness and my cat who really wasnt a fan of me , but I adored her regardless , even if she did end up scratching the living hell out of me on many occasions. My main issue at the time was serious separation anxiety, I couldn't handle being away from my parents , it got better towards the end of the school year I think after a lot of spending most of the year screaming until my dad would pick me up. I found it hard making freinds as I was somewhat anti social and liked playing on my own often, but I found a freind in the end. I think we got on so well cause she was different too. Turned out she had Autism, something that I'll probably talk about a lot here. Anyway as I said back then was when I first remember having imaginary freinds , and constantly daydreaming . I used to watch my dad play video games a lot so a lot of my daydreams would be based off the video games . At the time It was perfectly fine. I was just a strange kid who had an over active imagination, zoned out a lot in school , and often enjoyed my own company, but couldn't understand why my peers didnt like the antisocial wierd kid. I remember getting teased as I have a harmless autoimmune skin condition that I developed aged 3 and I felt alienated for it . The serious bullying didnt start until later in primary school though .(I think age 11 or thereabouts, was when shit really hit the fan) Anyway the imaginary freinds were originally just that . Unfortunately things changed when my one freind from school left and moved across the country. I had no freinds so that's where I began to use my imaginary freinds to replace real people. By the time I was 13 I'd almost completely isolated myself , I didnt know how to interact with real people.

I eventually thought I'd got it all under control . I found a group of people that were all a bit wierd. Originally it was cool and I fit in okay.

When I went to sixth form college, stuff started to get weirder though. I'd been struggling throughout secondary school I'd spent a lot of time kind of going back into my alternate reality . Even at freinds parties I used to pretend that I was a different person in my alternate reality doing something with my inner world family. I mentioned it once or twice to someone at CAHMS (The british child mental health services) that I was seeing as I'd struggled a lot with anxiety and self harm , but I never wanted to be fully honest about it . I was embarrassed.

Aged 12 I remember "pretending" to be a character called Casey. At the time I was spending a lot of time pretending I was Kasey and I was making a talk show with my other imaginary freinds . Eventually another character called Paulie took Casey's place .

Paulie's whole existence is kinda embarrassing. They're a typical queer cringe OC That you know a 14 year old neurodivergent weirdo would make up. I kind of originally used them as a way to explore my special interests. And to understand things about the world . In many ways Paulie was kind of a reflection of myself and you know everything was fine . Paulie is a 5ft7 young non binary person . Born male but definitely presents more feminine. Some of the other details about them came from me incorporating things I'd learned from various medical documentaries and things I'd researched on the internet. (One of my special interests always was science , particularly biology, when I was young I wanted to be either a doctor or a vet or something like that. I dont know why I find it so fascinating. It's kind of my party trick - boring people with the details of a random medical condition that they absolutely did not ask for.) I'll go into full details at some point . I find it kind of embarrassing to talk about it all.

Anyway It used to be great we used to pretend to do makeup on our youtube channel that of course did not exist .(the deeper I get into this the more I want to delete my life) it became to the point where I was doing daily "vlogs" in the inner world as Paul , again just something I day dreamed about. It was getting beyond the limits of normal daydreaming.

At some point I came across a video about "Maladaptive daydreaming " for once in my life I didnt feel quite so alone. I couldn't believe that I wasnt the only one who did this! Ever since then I've toyed with the idea of opening up about it , maybe through some sort of blog or youtube video etc. However, I wasn't ready until now. I'm still not ready to be completely open with my freinds and family (the one person who even knows 1/3 of this stuff is my mum) which is why I'll remain anonymous for now .

In the last 2 years things have gotten increasingly more strange and confusing. When I was in sixth form college (british equivalent of high school) Paulie started to be kind of phased out of my daydreams. Then Eric showed up.

Again , it was just daydreaming that had gone a bit too far at this point, however I soon realised that my personality appeared to have changed to become much more like Eric. I stopped wearing makeup so often. I began to feel dysphoric about my body , I began to wish I was Eric.

From then it's just been confusing. It's never just been Paul , Casey or Eric . At first i thought I'd just made an imaginary family. I've been saying that I have literally no idea why because my family are great. But I wonder if it was because I lost my nan and then metaphorically lost my dad.

My dads not dead , hes alive (just about I mean he smokes like a chimney so it's probably only a matter of time) Our relationship is so wierd. I try to be grateful for him purely because hes not a completely bad person. He gave me a great childhood and has never laid a finger on me. But when I was about 13 , I lost him. He became self absorbed in his own past.

Around about that time one of my dads ex freinds died. Since then dads been remembering things from his past and is convinced that this ex freind emotionally abused him and traumatised him for life.

Hes told me the stories so many times because hes so caught up in it that I should probably remember more of what he told me but honestly I think after the third time I just gave up with talking to him. Dad never cares about what you're talking about . He only cares about himself.

I'll spare you the details for now. Maybe I'll make a post about it. I suppose that's his shit not mine though . I dont deny that his ex freind wasnt exactly nice to him and cheated him out of a relationship. But I just feel like he should maybe you know go to therapy rather than sitting at home , freeloading from my mum , mumbling to himself all day about things that happened in the past.

Its very selfish of me because I know even though dads not exactly had the worst life, and he is a little bit of a narcissist who thinks that hes had the worst life possible , I know hes hurting. But I used to have a dad , now hes just not there. We used to do stuff , and I used to adore him, However hes just not my dad anymore. Theres glimmers of him there . But hes so entangled with the past , (and also a bit delusional) that I cant have a normal father daughter relationship with him anymore.

I guess maybe the combo of that , the strain its put on my parents marriage (they're still together but they argue more now) and the fact that I'm a sensitive little snowflake who really cant deal with anything unpleasant, is the reason I created my imaginary family. I don't know if I want to put it down to that though. I feel like that makes me sound like my dad , blaming my problems on what feels like insignificant past events.

Anyway. I kind of hate the fact that I have another family on the inner world. Because even though my dads a bit of an asshat , hes my dad and as a multitude of people have told me " at least you have a dad , at least your parents are still together" and I adore my mum. Like shes as close to a perfect mum as you get in this world. Of course she has off days and it's not always sunshine and rainbows , but shes amazing. She loves me , she supports me through everything and she does so much for me. No matter how many times I screw up she just sighs and helps me move on. Mind you. I havent got anyone quite like her in the inner world.

Since I've been more honest with myself (and the boys) about the fact that I am in fact daydreaming and its not real , the boys have begun to accept my mum as their own almost. Obviously they have real mums, but I know they love her to pieces.

Anyway, so this big imaginary family. Has become more than that. A lot of the dudes are still just imaginary freinds but with a few of the boys , whom I've introduced you to two out of the three, have become scarily real. Eric is the main one. The last couple of years it's progressed to the point where sometimes , I'm not sure if I am me or if I am Eric , or if Eric is me. Sometimes I feel like I'm thinking in his voice. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see him. And sometimes he looks in the mirror and sees me. I think as Paul was so feminine. It didn't show so much. We could just pretend we were me on the outside. But when Eric is in my headspace, I hate my feminine body, I've bought a binder and my wardrobe is becoming less feminine. Because I just dont feel like the same person. I'm honestly so confused I really dont know what is going on or why it's happening.

In some ways the inner world is still just me navigating the world and my way of making sense of things. But it's also kind of like , parts of my personality, as little people that live in my brain , but not quite , I cannot begin to explain it .

And then of course, just when I'm trying to figure out the Eric saga and who the hell I even am anymore, Vlad pops up.

I'll always have a soft spot for Vlad. Hes Paul's older brother and has been in the inner world for quite some time , but has been more I suppose, in my headspace as I call it in the last six months or so. Hes the only one that I've managed to do a successful drawing of thus far although I'll try and do some of the other dudes at some point. Only issue is Vlad would much rather we doodle bugs than the other boys. Vlad has been my way of exploring the whole prospect of having Autism , I'm not diagnosed yet as the waiting lists are frankly ridiculous (yay for the tories?) but I've based vlads character around the traits that I have, and he helps me not be so ashamed of being neurodivergent. He also kind of helps me deal with my Emetophobia (the fear of vomiting) and my issues I have around food - which I honestly thought weren't that bad until I got told that the issues I've been having with my stomach and swallowing for the last year , are completely down to my anxiety. And it was at that point that I realised I may have been a teensy bit more traumatised by my phobia of vomiting than I originally believed. In fact vlads backstory is based off of my whole fear of being sick and what started it off (that time the norovirus kicked my ass, big time) .

Uhh so theres a bit about us . I'm not ready to fully open up yet . I want to eventually tell you more about the inner world but baby steps hey. I plan on trying to post more but , I'm useless so I wouldn't count on it.

[wanderbitesbybobbie]

2020, Please Slow Down. I Can't Keep Up.

I’ve been sick for three days because the past 72 hours had been rough. I was in a whirlwind of emotions the moment November 11 came into the picture. Today, I spent the whole day in bed, I’ve been trying to catch some quality rest. But, to those of you who knows about my disorder, you know I always have a hard time sleeping. My sleep schedule is just terrible. My stomach has been upset, I don’t know if it’s the food I ate, or because I am just too overwhelmed. I find it very challenging to keep pace with everything. I just had to shut my eyes and shut everything down for a while.

November 11 started like normal. That morning, I was on a phone call with a client and I was overly excited for closing a huge deal. As I tapped on the “End Call” button, one of my closest friends delivered a dreadful message. “Lee passed away.” I stared at my phone for a few seconds, blinked, and read the message again. Am I still asleep? Am I having a bad dream or what? I was stunned, in shock, in major disbelief. Quick flashbacks came to me and I started crying. What? This can’t be happening. I was just chatting with Lee about Ms. Universe a few weeks ago. We were just chatting about a certain stage play we both watched on YouTube. He was my seat mate in high school for the longest time and the first ever person who brought me and introduced me to Rockwell Mall. He was one of the few people I became close with as a high school transferee. I flew out of the country a few years after college, but despite the fact that we didn’t see each other much, we still remained friends and kept in touch until his last days. He was the type of person who would call and ask how I was when I was abroad. He sang me songs every time I felt down way back our high school days. We shared the same circle of friends. We laughed and worried about the same things… about pets, about animals, about theater arts, about traveling, about beauty pageants. Just a few months back, he posted his illness on Facebook and I told him to have faith. It was not alarming at that time, seeing his outlook and the way he composes himself. He was cheerful, positive, and full of life. Lee’s death was a huge blow for me and it was just hard to digest. My heart is still breaking. He played a big part of my youth, and those bubbly and fun memories will always remain.

November 11 wasn’t done. It was raining the whole day as if the skies were crying for Lee’s sudden demise. I drove to pick up Mom from the office and got stuck on the road for three hours. I watched through my wind shield as the wind blew off some ads on the billboards. The strong wind turned umbrellas upside down. It was frightening. It was draining. The moment we got home, I was too tired to cook and so I ordered whatever was convenient. The winds became stronger, and I knew that an enormous typhoon was about to hit Manila at that time. I prepared emergency lamps. I was at home when it happened. The winds started howling scarily and I was hearing glass windows shattering nearby. The lights flickered on and off until it finally blacked out. Everyone was anxious as NDRRMC (National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council) put Manila in an Emergency Alert Situation. Weather updates were somehow delayed and so I relied on an international weather bulletin. I was worried sick for my relatives down south, they haven’t even recovered from the previous typhoons yet. But then again, Typhoon Ulysses came underestimated. It caused havoc and great damage to thousands of people not just in Manila. The whole Luzon is weeping, crying for rescue as of this writing.

This was only one day. One of the longest days of 2020. This year, I can never say “Best Birthday ever!” or “Best Summer so far!” because the whole world spent most of those months in quarantine. 2020 is full of wrath and anger and danger as it started with bush fires in Australia, killing almost half the population of wildlife. 2020 came with the Amazon burning, with buildings blazing and collapsing in the Middle East, with great floods in Jakarta, with strong earth quakes and typhoons in the Pacific. Most of all with the horrid Covid pandemic that took a lot of innocent lives, that made our nurses and doctors cry of exhaustion, that made the great division between the rich and those in poverty, that made people from all over the world suffer in anxiety. The list of entries just doesn’t end. Every month, 2020 has another appalling entry.

As much as I would like to shed some positivity given our current situation, nothing seems to come clear to me. As I write this blog entry, my countrymen in Cagayan Region are drowning in floods caused by the Typhoon Ulysses and the overflowing of Magat Dam. Marikina and Rizal are drenched in mud. Some of my relatives in the Bicol Region have lost their homes from Typhoon Rolly. The bridges collapsed. Roads are not passable. Rescue is just so near, yet so far. It seems to me that as the days pass, we all recommence to brace ourselves. We don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel coming any time soon. We prepare. We succumb unwillingly to what else 2020 has left in store for us.

But then again, this is the sad reality. No matter how hard I try to make it sound less dramatic, it is what it is. I am the voice to many who find it difficult to take in every piece of what’s happening. It is overwhelming. Anxiety levels have gone up beyond normal. Fear of the future and of what’s gonna happen next is in the minds of many of us. The uncertainty that comes with the succession of dispiriting events linger amongst us. Many are jobless, thousands have lost their livelihoods, people are dying of hunger, frustration, exhaustion, and the worst part… is losing whatever you’ve worked hard for, whether it’s a career or a business or losing your loved ones as if life is a mere hair strand.

I am lucky, because even if I have a mental incapability of absorbing everything all at once, I have the resources to help me cope with it. I have medications to keep me calm, I have a psychiatrist monitoring my mental health, I have numerous outlets. I worry more not for myself, but for the people who do not have these resources. I would like to reach out to that minority, the people who suffer in silence, because of a society that dictates that Mental Health is something you’re supposed to suppress and get over with.

WAKE ME UP WHEN 2020 ENDS

I was excited to celebrate the New Year. I was excited for 2021. I’m just so done with 2020, that I wish to skip November and December and go straight to 2021. I WAS JUST SO THRILLED, but then again I have a Mental Disorder. My hopes would always be partnered with doubt. My anxiety asked me back, “What makes you think it gets better in 2021?” For a while, I held on to that thought. I was uneasy, I was upset, but the occurrences happening around us now are things and events that we have no control of. These are things that go beyond our power. What we can manage though is how we react to our circumstances. YOU CAN’T ALWAYS CONTROL WHAT GOES ON OUTSIDE, BUT YOU CAN ALWAYS CONTROL WHAT GOES ON INSIDE. Something at the back of my mind tells me that it gets better. THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. 2020 IS JUST A LONG TUNNEL. I took my schedule diary and begun writing my plans. This is it. Life doesn’t stop here. The world will keep on revolving and evolving. I figured, if I keep on dwelling about what has happened and what is currently happening, it will eat me up alive. Eventually, I’ll end up weak with depressive thoughts and severe anxious distress. Now, I am focusing more of what I can do in the future. What can I do to make living more meaningful? How can I extend my help to the people in need? How can I be a part of that change that I’ve always wanted to achieve? I have decided to choose which energy to feed. The positive or the negative.

LIFE was never a problem to be solved anyway. Through the loss of a friend, the fear of the future, the uncertainty that comes with everything, I have learned so many lessons in more ways than one. 2020 may not be the best, but it was a whole year full of life lessons. It was like a movie, a series of unfortunate events, we just can’t wait to see how it’s gonna end. Maybe it was meant to teach us something. Maybe, this is God’s way of showing us His handbook about living life. Faith is what keeps us strong. According to Murphy’s Law, “whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.” Whatever that’s going to happen will happen, whether we worry or not. The choice is ours.

Lastly, we are not alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE! These may be the darkest days of our lives. I know it’s terrifying, but sometimes the unfortunate things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the most wonderful things that will ever happen to us. Keep up the faith and keep on praying! We may not understand everything now, but everything is planned according to God’s will. The Lord is watching.

Be contented with what we have now, cherish the people we spend our lives with. Because our lives are only borrowed, it was never ours to keep.

To you reading this… I AM WITH YOU THROUGH PRAYERS.

NOTHING IS PERMANENT IN THIS WICKED WORLD-NOT EVEN OUR TROUBLES

-Charlie Chaplin

When things happen that I can’t control, I feel powerless. I long to follow God’s plan, but how can I when all I see is vastness surrounding me? There’s no paved road pointing the way and no one there to offer a helpful word of advice. (Genesis 21:14).

Emptiness can be scary. It reveals our insecurities, telling us we are alone and validating our fears. But with God, emptiness doesn’t equal loneliness. During those times when we don’t have a clue which direction to go, we can let the stillness push away all distractions so we sense God’s presence more than ever. He will calm our anxious thoughts and give us the direction we seek. “Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you a voice will say, ‘This is the way you should go,’ whether to the right or to the left,” (Isaiah 30:21).

When hardships come, it’s easy for me to slip back into my familiar pattern of what-ifs. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if God doesn’t answer my prayer?” My need to know the outcome takes over. I come face to face with the unknown, and I panic. I forget that God’s promises never change.

We will have struggles, and sometimes we have to stay there a while. So when we feel stuck, we can trust that God “will never leave us or forsake us.” (Deuteronomy 31:6)

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – (Jeremiah 29:11)

In Memory of Lee Tuazon, a son, a brother, a good friend, and a ray of sunshine to many.

      2020, Please Slow Down. I Can’t Keep Up. was originally published on WanderBitesByBobbie

[weekendwarriorblog]

30 Minute Experiment: The Scarlet Letter #30ME

No, I haven’t decided to turn this 30 minute daily experiment into a book report or review even though I borrowed today’s topic to a well known Hawthorne novel that I’m not sure I actually read even though we all generally know the basic concept: "The Scarlet Letter” in the title was the “A” that women had to wear when they committed adultery, a concept that’s been borrowed in so many different types of fiction over the years, as well as in historical contexts. Before we get too deep into today’s topic, I will say that this comes out of stuff that’s going on in the world today so this will be a rare COVID-inspired ramble/rant...

I think one of the biggest problems with the world right now is that there is so much confusion and disinformation even with the fact that New York is lucky enough to have a governor and a mayor who are fairly open with information and facts with what is going on right now... and when it might end if ever. 

One of the problems I’ve been having lately is that I have a lot of close personal friends who are realists, sure, but they’re also deeply pessimistic, and anyone who read my #30ME about concerts knows how irate I got with all the negativity that was surrounding me, something that absolutely is not helpful with my own mental well-being. (Heck, I have quit jobs over this desire to stay sane and not constantly be upset, stressed or anxious, which is very hard living in NYC at the BEST Of times!)

While I don’t want to get too political, I’m just so confused about the latest narrative which is now all about testing... testing for covid, immunity tests, tracing cases, isolating those who have it. I don’t know about you but this is sounding scarily like a situation that might lead to some of the worst possible situations. Yes, even worse than death, Governor Cuomo.

Part of my issues with the current push for testing is that it is likely to create a situation where those who have tested to have immunity to COVID might start getting special treatment... or everyone will have to carry around some sort of COVID ID with their status so that they can go out in public and not be stopped or questioned as a possible asymptomatic spreader of this disease. 

I hope it doesn’t come to that but sadly, there are a lot of scared and paranoid people out there who will only feel comfortable going to movies or concerts or the grocery store if they know that everyone there has been screened and passes rigorous tests to prove that they aren’t those asymptomatic COVID spreaders we keep hearing about. I mean, it’s not enough that everyone wears masks and gloves, which I’ve generally been doing anyway, but the politicians and news have now gotten everyone so on edge that I worry this testing might lead to really bad policies like the ones instituted by Hitler to make sure that all Jews would be easily identifiable for everyone who had become fearful and distrusting of them due to Hilter’s rants. (Yes, maybe there’s some irony that I’m writing this the day after Holocaust Remembrance Day but as I stated before -- probably in my review of Jojo Rabbit, I’m hyper-sensitive to these things having had both parents manage to evade and escape the worst of the Holocaust.)

I will try my best not to go on another rant about our President (despite my pal David suggesting today’s topic be “evil”-- don’t worry, we’ll get there) because this is about more than his policies to stave off immigration to make sure no outsiders steal American’s jobs.... at a time when there are no jobs to be had by anyone. No, I won’t go there, cause i really want to talk about testing and how it will be done and managed.

Right now, our Governor says that testing will be random but it also says that there will be isolating and tracing measure that could really compromise many people’s privacies and rights. It’s not like I have anything to hide. If you were to trace everyone I’ve been in contact the last month, you’ll find that it was maybe a few delivery guys for less than 10 seconds and maybe the clerk at the only deli in my neighborhood. 

But let’s say that someone who gets one of these random tests and it turns out that they have COVID but are asymptomatic. They’ll immediately be put under the microscope of being isolated and having their lives infiltrated into... and that’s maybe just for wanting to go into a store or once they open, movie theater/concert, etc. Will it get to the point where those who prove to be immune to COVID have to carry a card saying so or having some sort of badge they need to wear? What will this mean for those who aren’t tested and don’t have these IDS/badges? Will this mean it will be even harder for us not to get jobs even though I already have so many strikes against me?

I only ask these questions -- and maybe you’re starting to see the connections to The Scarlet Letter, although in this case it’s in reverse -- because I just don’t see any scenario where I might get tested either for COVID or for the community. I mean, I’m not a health worker and I don’t work at any retirement home or assisted living (the people who really need to be kept healthy) and I see no reason i might be going to the hospital, so why or when might I get tested? I’m not one of those people who is particularly curious about whether I’ve contracted COVID or not. I feel fine and I’ve been relatively fine since this whole thing started in February, and that’s with six weeks of almost complete and total isolation!

The mayor has said that there will be more testing at NYCHA buildings which is essentially low income housing of which there is a ton in my neighborhood. Things haven’t gotten so bad financially that I’ve had to move into one of those buildings (plus they’re really hard to get into as there is a lottery system) but that  pretty much rules me out of the testing for lower income NYC restaurants. Nope, I’m in this weird place where I have no particular interest in being tested and certainly not after six weeks to learn “Oh, you have asymptomatic COVID and now need to be isolated for two more weeks.” I would literally kill someone right now if I was told that after six weeks of following all the rules, I now need to be isolated for even longer. And that’s what’s really happening, so maybe I’m a little more sympathetic to those who are getting mad and (stupidly) congregating to protest the politicians since they’ve been put in such bad shape financially.

I’m not sure how much of my own financial hardships I can blame on COVID but it certainly hasn’t gotten any easier to find a job now and if jobs start asking questions about COVID (have you had it? Have you been deemed immune?) that just seems like one more hurdle that’s going to be put in my way. 

The whole thing really just sucks and not knowing how testing will work and how it will be used to eventually reopen businesses --remember that I live in a neighborhood where EVERYTHING is closed including the cheaper pizza place, laundromats, and most market/restaurants-- but more importantly to me, how this will be used to reopen movie theaters and the movie business. 

Sure, there will be people who will never feel comfortable going to the movie theater but you know what? Just like with concerts, a lot of these more pessimistic friends are the same ones who rarely go to movie theaters anyway.  But I just don’t understand how this testing will affect me in anyway. I just know how not being able to go outside and going back to my job hunt and not being around people is starting to hurt me, mentally and emotionally, and it’s not good.

Unfortunately, I just don’t think I’m gonna get the answers I’m looking for because everyone sees my particular interests to be minor compared to keeping people alive but even without being tested, I know that I’m probably one of the lowest risk people in terms of spreading the virus. I don’t necessarily enjoy big crowds (even at concerts and movies) but I’m also not so driven by my social needs that I’m at risk at spreading a virus that I don’t have and may never have had.

I guess I just want more answers that might directly affect me because as much as I appreciate what health care workers, doctors and nurses are doing, it’s not like I can suddenly shift my entire focus into medicine at my late age to get a job in that field where people are needed (and less now than maybe a month ago). 

I’m trying hard to be positive that we’re not heading towards some dystopian society where we all have to wear our COVID status on a badge like a Scarlet Letter, but I also can’t see how this can be avoided if we want people to stop being afraid to going out in public (as much for themselves as loved ones).

Hopefully this will be my last COVID-inspired ramble for a while because honestly, I hate having to write about it, but every week or so I’m just gonna need to rant a bit because I’m just really confused about everything going on around me.

And with that, my time’s up....

[savannahsbpdadventures]

Well, how do I start this?

I’m Savannah McCarthy, and I have issues. 

Most notably, borderline personality disorder. Among other, less diagnosable things.

Once a whiz kid in childhood, I’ve since grown up to become a complete disappointment. I attended a special high school that allowed me to finish my first two years of college completely free by the end of senior year. This was after being homeschooled for ten years, mind you.

As if that whole experience at that school didn’t already fuck me up, I was propelled into a small state university in the fall of 2016, and ever since then, I haven’t had a successful semester there. I dropped all my classes my first semester after I realized the field of marketing wasn’t for me (and my sudden hospitalization, can’t forget that). More complications regarding my BPD arose this spring, forcing me to drop out of the whole university indefinitely.

This was pretty bad, since I moved into a dormitory this semester in hopes of making lifelong friendships. Almost a week ago, I hightailed it out of there and moved in with my maternal grandmother, who will be referred to simply as Nana for the rest of this blog series.

Nana is… Well… Something, alright. Born in 1933 and dumb as a sack of potatoes, she married my grandfather and then gave birth to the three witches from Hocus Pocus, each just as messed up in the head as Gary Busey.

Didi and Cici are the two oldest sisters, and they are both seriously terrible people. They almost make Nini, my mother, look like a normal person.

Back in my mother’s childhood, Nana was incredibly abusive to her. There were cruel and unusual punishments abound, and since no one cared if you beat the shit out of your kids back in the 60′s and 70′s, she was never caught.

This must have screwed with my mother so bad, that I guess Nana passed on the ceremonial torch of child abuse to her, and I was treated almost the exact same way for a few years of my life.

Someone’s gotta be really weak to have to use a child as a punching bag to take out their anger on. Not that she did that, exactly, but it wasn’t a cakewalk, what happened to me.

The worst part is, since I was homeschooled for most of my life, and I wasn’t even around my peers during that time, no one ever found out while it was still happening, and no one prosecuted her.

That’s not to say no one found out, and she didn’t eventually face some (minor) consequences for what she did. I had written a poem about the experiences in eight grade and submitted it to my virtual school teacher for an assignment, and she called the police on my mom.

CPS showed up at my house, and unfortunately, I was too scared to give the officers the proof they needed to throw her ass in jail. Not that they would have, anyways, since they can’t do that for something that had happened five years prior.

Man, did I go off on a tangent. Well, my original point was that, Nana was and still is a terrible person, but ever since her dementia set in, severe memory loss and her fear of her own mortality has probably caused her to be nicer.

She randomly called up my mother one day and asked her if I would like to stay with her for, in her words, as long as I’d like. Once my mother found out about my academic misadventures, she raised this opportunity to me as a potential solution to me not having any place to go after leaving the dorm. I reluctantly said yes, since almost anything is better than living with my mother.

And so here I am today. I’ve been living with Nana for five days, and it’s been surprisingly tolerable. When she said that I could stay with her for as long as I’d like, I don’t think she meant that I would actually be living here. Thankfully her memory is so far gone, that I’m sure she’s forgotten how long I was staying with her.

Seriously, it’s like clockwork with that woman. She’ll ask me if I’m currently in a university. I’ll tell her no. She’ll ask me if I have a job. I’ll tell her no. Scarily enough, she’ll ask me how old I am. I’ll say I’m eighteen (because that’s the truth). She’ll ask me what I’m doing if I’m not working. Every fucking time, I tell her I’m trying to work on my mental health, and she is obviously confused, but doesn’t ask anymore questions. I’ve done my research on the history of mental illness, and in the earlier half of the 20th Century, healthcare for those types of issues was almost nonexistent. Now, most of my research has gone towards ancient treatments for mental illness, but American Horror Story: Asylum can’t be so wrong, can it?

But aside from that, life hasn’t been so bad. I still see my mother and siblings a lot, and we still do fun things like go to concerts and stuff. I feel like that’s only because Nana never does anything, ad can’t even leave the condo if she wanted to, since she would probably crash her car five seconds after pulling out of her parking spot. But whatever it is, I’ll take it. Ever since I’ve left the university, not one of my friends has contacted me asking to hang out. I know it’s only been a week, but it still really hurts. 

This blog is basically going to chronicle my life living with my grandmother and dealing with mental illness. See y’all soon! Bye!