A lot has happened in the past several weeks, but I haven't had the time, the energy, or the inclination to post about it yet. I'm sure I will soon, but right now? Probably not.
However, I logged in to say this here, since I can't say it anywhere else.
Last night, I had a dream. (Details are a little fuzzy at this point, so all I've got left are general impressions.) I dreamed that she agreed to meet me and talk. Then, after we talked, she pulled me close to her and told me that she forgave me, that she wasn't angry at me and didn't hate me, and that she understood. I was so happy...at least until I woke up.
I know it's not much, but it's a little something to cling to during this incredibly lonely time of year for me.
I hope that she and Kitty have wonderful Christmases, no matter where they go or what they do. Him, too, I guess, though he doesn't exactly deserve it. I hope they are happier than they've ever been in their lives, and I hope that they continue to grow happier and happier and happier every day.
My own happiness, I really don't give a shit about. Theirs? I'd give mine up for theirs in heartbeat.
Merry Christmas, my loves. Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Moar Kitteh?
So Kitty came over unexpectedly today to take me out for a late birthday dinner. We went to a new(ish) Chinese place in town that also serves sushi. I may or may not have ended up with 24 pieces of freaking sushi for lunch....*Whistles innocently*
That was some pretty awesome sushi and cheaper than any of the other places in town. The Chinese qualifies as the second-best in town, too. They also have Thai, which I plan on trying next time I go back. I think I've found my new "I want something Asian, but I'm not sure what" place, LOL.
Then, it was over to Dunkin' Donuts for an iced peppermint mocha and a glazed doughnut. It was an awesome dinner.
After that, we went looking at furniture and shiz for her new house. I'm super-excited for her. At least one of us will not be broke-ass white trash forever, LOL. She'd have stayed 'til tomorrow if she'd had her meds with her. (She didn't know she was coming this way when she left the house this morning.) I wish she had been able to stay, but I totally understanding not wanting to go a day without meds. All it takes is two days of missed Wellbutrin doses, and I'm ready to jump off a bridge.
But, yeah, I was just happy to see her. I hope that once she gets moved into her new place, I will get to see more of her. I feel awkward trying to see her much now, given the situation, and I feel bad that she always has to come here to hang out with me. But when she's in her own house, it'll be better.
It hurts, of course, but I can live the rest of my life without the other two. But you will have to pry Kitty from my cold, dead hands. She is the whole world to me and always has been. And if I have to spend the rest of my life showing her that's true, I will. She deserves it after everything she's been through for me.
That was some pretty awesome sushi and cheaper than any of the other places in town. The Chinese qualifies as the second-best in town, too. They also have Thai, which I plan on trying next time I go back. I think I've found my new "I want something Asian, but I'm not sure what" place, LOL.
Then, it was over to Dunkin' Donuts for an iced peppermint mocha and a glazed doughnut. It was an awesome dinner.
After that, we went looking at furniture and shiz for her new house. I'm super-excited for her. At least one of us will not be broke-ass white trash forever, LOL. She'd have stayed 'til tomorrow if she'd had her meds with her. (She didn't know she was coming this way when she left the house this morning.) I wish she had been able to stay, but I totally understanding not wanting to go a day without meds. All it takes is two days of missed Wellbutrin doses, and I'm ready to jump off a bridge.
But, yeah, I was just happy to see her. I hope that once she gets moved into her new place, I will get to see more of her. I feel awkward trying to see her much now, given the situation, and I feel bad that she always has to come here to hang out with me. But when she's in her own house, it'll be better.
It hurts, of course, but I can live the rest of my life without the other two. But you will have to pry Kitty from my cold, dead hands. She is the whole world to me and always has been. And if I have to spend the rest of my life showing her that's true, I will. She deserves it after everything she's been through for me.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Day 30
Last day.
Today, I'm thankful that I'm going to start a new job in January. Same industry, but hopefully something with a steadier paycheck. I'm looking forward to it. :)
Today, I'm thankful that I'm going to start a new job in January. Same industry, but hopefully something with a steadier paycheck. I'm looking forward to it. :)
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Day 29
I'm thankful that, now that all my clients have decided that they can't pay me, I'll have more time to work on my own shit.
I'm trying to look on the bright side here. It's not working out so well.
I'm trying to look on the bright side here. It's not working out so well.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Day 28
Today is my birthday. Today, I am thankful that my mother, however much of a pain in the ass as she can be, came to take me to lunch earlier. Otherwise, I'd have had to spend my birthday all alone. I've never done that before, and I'm glad I haven't started (yet).
This Is My Song, For Real, No Doubt
Well, it's that time of year again.
I'm listening to this song--doing what I've done every November 28th since 2001, when this song came out. Back then, I imagined one day having a huge blowout of a party in which this song featured prominently. But I was a senior in high school then and still believed I would eventually have friends one day. So, yeah, this song is kinda bittersweet since I never got that amazing party I always wanted. :|
If it's your birthday,
Then put your hands up
You wanna get drunk,
Then put your hands up
And if you got some cash,
Put your hands up
And your own job,
Put your hands up
Players wanna play
Ballers wanna ball
Rollers wanna roll
But I'm takin' off
After I dance....
I no longer hold out hope for the party. Nowadays, I just have to be satisfied that I held the demons at bay and made it another year.
Happy Fucking Birthday to me.
I'm listening to this song--doing what I've done every November 28th since 2001, when this song came out. Back then, I imagined one day having a huge blowout of a party in which this song featured prominently. But I was a senior in high school then and still believed I would eventually have friends one day. So, yeah, this song is kinda bittersweet since I never got that amazing party I always wanted. :|
If it's your birthday,
Then put your hands up
You wanna get drunk,
Then put your hands up
And if you got some cash,
Put your hands up
And your own job,
Put your hands up
Players wanna play
Ballers wanna ball
Rollers wanna roll
But I'm takin' off
After I dance....
I no longer hold out hope for the party. Nowadays, I just have to be satisfied that I held the demons at bay and made it another year.
Happy Fucking Birthday to me.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Days 22-27
Day 22: I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is over.
Day 23: I'm thankful that the hospital gave me a 65% discount on my thyroid test because I don't have insurance. I ended up paying $24 and some odd cents for the whole thing.
Day 24: I'm thankful that I now have my truck back and that it's fixed now. My mechanic tuned it up, changed out the spark plugs and wires (which had never been changed--the factory plugs and wires were still on it, and that truck is a 2000 model!), replaced the vacuum hose (which had a hole burned all the way through the damn thing, apparently), and replaced the idle control motor so that he could adjust the idle up. The result is better gas mileage (thank God in Heaven) and a truck that no longer rides like a pulpwood truck and/or goes dead at intersections. *Happy dance*
Day 25: I'm thankful that Cousin Jesus, who is pretty much an asshat in every other possible way, apparently seems to give a shit about his kid. I went to his house with my mama and saw the kid for the first time. He wanted us to pick up some pink and purple Christmas decoration specifically for the little girl, so my mama did that, and then we went up there to decorate. Despite the fact that he is a spoiled rotten douchebag, he apparently loves her and is trying to do the best he can for her, even in the middle of what's turning into a messy-ass divorce. So that's good, I guess.
Day 26: I'm thankful that Dr. Awesome called me today to tell me that my thyroid test came back normal. Not the doctor's office: the doctor herself. And she asked me how my sinus problem was doing (better, but not 100%) and if I'd been keeping up with my pulse rate. I told her that I had been, but that I was going to go to Walmart tomorrow and check it on the blood pressure cuff thing there to make sure it's accurate. Then, she told me if I continued to have issues with it to come back and see her. God, I love this woman.
Day 27: I'm thankful that my friend B. in Huntsville is helping me catch up all the work I've gotten behind on in the past month or two. I should be able to start the month of December completely caught up.
Day 23: I'm thankful that the hospital gave me a 65% discount on my thyroid test because I don't have insurance. I ended up paying $24 and some odd cents for the whole thing.
Day 24: I'm thankful that I now have my truck back and that it's fixed now. My mechanic tuned it up, changed out the spark plugs and wires (which had never been changed--the factory plugs and wires were still on it, and that truck is a 2000 model!), replaced the vacuum hose (which had a hole burned all the way through the damn thing, apparently), and replaced the idle control motor so that he could adjust the idle up. The result is better gas mileage (thank God in Heaven) and a truck that no longer rides like a pulpwood truck and/or goes dead at intersections. *Happy dance*
Day 25: I'm thankful that Cousin Jesus, who is pretty much an asshat in every other possible way, apparently seems to give a shit about his kid. I went to his house with my mama and saw the kid for the first time. He wanted us to pick up some pink and purple Christmas decoration specifically for the little girl, so my mama did that, and then we went up there to decorate. Despite the fact that he is a spoiled rotten douchebag, he apparently loves her and is trying to do the best he can for her, even in the middle of what's turning into a messy-ass divorce. So that's good, I guess.
Day 26: I'm thankful that Dr. Awesome called me today to tell me that my thyroid test came back normal. Not the doctor's office: the doctor herself. And she asked me how my sinus problem was doing (better, but not 100%) and if I'd been keeping up with my pulse rate. I told her that I had been, but that I was going to go to Walmart tomorrow and check it on the blood pressure cuff thing there to make sure it's accurate. Then, she told me if I continued to have issues with it to come back and see her. God, I love this woman.
Day 27: I'm thankful that my friend B. in Huntsville is helping me catch up all the work I've gotten behind on in the past month or two. I should be able to start the month of December completely caught up.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Doctor Awesome
Ok, so I came to my parents' for the holiday yesterday, and I'll be here until Sunday. Since my prescriptions are out of refills, I went to my doctor today to get some new prescriptions. I cannot even put into words how amazing she is. She's so fantastic that I'll drive 2 hours to see her instead of getting my own doctor where I live. I hope she stays in this area forever.
It just so happened that I developed the plague over the last few days, so I had her check that for me, which turned out to be some sort of sinus infection. She gave me antibiotics and Nasonex for that, for free out of her office and a coupon to use to buy Mucinex. (See? Awesome!) Then, I laid out my laundry list for her.
She upped my Lamictal to 200 mg. because I told her that while I'm mostly controlled, I still have breakthrough spells sometimes. So now I'm to take 100 mg. of Lamictal in the morning with my Wellbutrin, and then another 100 mg. of Lamictal at night before bed. Ok, super, this will probably help. She even prescribed them differently this time for me to make the price cheaper. Go, Dr. M!
After that, I told her that sometimes I have a hard time going to sleep, but that I generally stay asleep once I get to sleep. But, of course, any sort of sleep disturbance starts sending me spinning my wheels in one direction or the other. I didn't get a full night's sleep last night or the night before, and I've got that whole hypomanic inner vibration going on inside me. I told her that I normally take Unisom over the counter, but that they knock me out for much too long--as in 14+ hours at a time, which is ridiculous. I told her that I tried cutting the 25 mg. pills in half to make 12.5 mg. pills, but that it didn't help, either. So she said, "No problem, I'll get you a prescription for Ambien." Awesome!
Then, I talked to her about migraines I've started back having again and asked her about a certain med that I used to take for them when I was younger and saw a neurologist for migraines (read: when I still had insurance). She told me that she couldn't write me many because they could be habit-forming, and I said that'd be fine because I wouldn't need that many, anyway. So, yay, a prescription for a barbiturate to be used whenever I take my over-the-counter Aspirin/Tylenol/Caffeine migraine pills. Fabulous!
Next, I mentioned some problems I've been having with regards to muscle weakness, in my hands and jaw muscles, especially. These are big problems when it comes to doing things like opening jars and bottles with my hands and trying to eat. My jaw muscles get tired partway through my meal, and I have to stop and rest. So she asked me some questions and then said she wanted me to go and have a thyroid test done at the hospital. So I'm gonna try to go over there on Friday. *Fingers crossed*
As she was looking at my tonsils, she asked me if I snored. I told her yes. She told me that she figured I had to, given the size of my tonsils. Then, she went on to say that when I get insurance, I need to have a sleep study done because I most likely have sleep apnea. I don't doubt this in the least and when I get insurance (hopefully in the next few months), I'll go do the sleep study.
Finally, as she was listening to my lungs and heart, she found something odd. Odd enough for her to order an EKG right then. So I laid there, wondering WTF? They did the EKG, and she came back to show me the print out. Apparently, I have a type of cardiac arrythmia called Premature Ventricular Contraction, or PVC. (Yes, I totally had to Wiki PVC when I got home to see what the letters stood for, LOL. At the top of the page, it says "ECG without significant abnormalities." Then, it's also got "sinus rhythm (rapid)" and "premature ventricular complexes."
Anyway, it amounts to me having an irregular heartbeat and a too-fast pulse. Over the next couple of weeks, I'm to keep a check on my pulse to see if it continues to race and see if it's still irregular. It was pretty much there the whole time through the EKG, and if it doesn't get better, she's going to look into it farther and probably put me on some meds to chill it the hell out. She said it would probably help with my feeling tired all the time if we could get my erratically galloping heart to slow the hell down and start trotting in time again.
So, basically, this doctor is exceptional times a million, and I am so happy to have her.
The questionable thyroid thing doesn't really bother me, but the questionable heart thing does. Though I suppose that if I must die at some point, going out via heart trouble is better than a lot of things. At least it isn't usually painful if I remember correctly. And how ironic that my heart will be the death of me, since it's been broken for years, anyhow? *Sigh*
Now, if you will excuse me, the letters on the page have been dancing for awhile, and I'm drunk off my ass from the Ambien I took earlier. So I'm going to have myself a snack and go to bed before the hallucinations start--which they will if I don't get to sleep soon.
It just so happened that I developed the plague over the last few days, so I had her check that for me, which turned out to be some sort of sinus infection. She gave me antibiotics and Nasonex for that, for free out of her office and a coupon to use to buy Mucinex. (See? Awesome!) Then, I laid out my laundry list for her.
She upped my Lamictal to 200 mg. because I told her that while I'm mostly controlled, I still have breakthrough spells sometimes. So now I'm to take 100 mg. of Lamictal in the morning with my Wellbutrin, and then another 100 mg. of Lamictal at night before bed. Ok, super, this will probably help. She even prescribed them differently this time for me to make the price cheaper. Go, Dr. M!
After that, I told her that sometimes I have a hard time going to sleep, but that I generally stay asleep once I get to sleep. But, of course, any sort of sleep disturbance starts sending me spinning my wheels in one direction or the other. I didn't get a full night's sleep last night or the night before, and I've got that whole hypomanic inner vibration going on inside me. I told her that I normally take Unisom over the counter, but that they knock me out for much too long--as in 14+ hours at a time, which is ridiculous. I told her that I tried cutting the 25 mg. pills in half to make 12.5 mg. pills, but that it didn't help, either. So she said, "No problem, I'll get you a prescription for Ambien." Awesome!
Then, I talked to her about migraines I've started back having again and asked her about a certain med that I used to take for them when I was younger and saw a neurologist for migraines (read: when I still had insurance). She told me that she couldn't write me many because they could be habit-forming, and I said that'd be fine because I wouldn't need that many, anyway. So, yay, a prescription for a barbiturate to be used whenever I take my over-the-counter Aspirin/Tylenol/Caffeine migraine pills. Fabulous!
Next, I mentioned some problems I've been having with regards to muscle weakness, in my hands and jaw muscles, especially. These are big problems when it comes to doing things like opening jars and bottles with my hands and trying to eat. My jaw muscles get tired partway through my meal, and I have to stop and rest. So she asked me some questions and then said she wanted me to go and have a thyroid test done at the hospital. So I'm gonna try to go over there on Friday. *Fingers crossed*
As she was looking at my tonsils, she asked me if I snored. I told her yes. She told me that she figured I had to, given the size of my tonsils. Then, she went on to say that when I get insurance, I need to have a sleep study done because I most likely have sleep apnea. I don't doubt this in the least and when I get insurance (hopefully in the next few months), I'll go do the sleep study.
Finally, as she was listening to my lungs and heart, she found something odd. Odd enough for her to order an EKG right then. So I laid there, wondering WTF? They did the EKG, and she came back to show me the print out. Apparently, I have a type of cardiac arrythmia called Premature Ventricular Contraction, or PVC. (Yes, I totally had to Wiki PVC when I got home to see what the letters stood for, LOL. At the top of the page, it says "ECG without significant abnormalities." Then, it's also got "sinus rhythm (rapid)" and "premature ventricular complexes."
Anyway, it amounts to me having an irregular heartbeat and a too-fast pulse. Over the next couple of weeks, I'm to keep a check on my pulse to see if it continues to race and see if it's still irregular. It was pretty much there the whole time through the EKG, and if it doesn't get better, she's going to look into it farther and probably put me on some meds to chill it the hell out. She said it would probably help with my feeling tired all the time if we could get my erratically galloping heart to slow the hell down and start trotting in time again.
So, basically, this doctor is exceptional times a million, and I am so happy to have her.
The questionable thyroid thing doesn't really bother me, but the questionable heart thing does. Though I suppose that if I must die at some point, going out via heart trouble is better than a lot of things. At least it isn't usually painful if I remember correctly. And how ironic that my heart will be the death of me, since it's been broken for years, anyhow? *Sigh*
Now, if you will excuse me, the letters on the page have been dancing for awhile, and I'm drunk off my ass from the Ambien I took earlier. So I'm going to have myself a snack and go to bed before the hallucinations start--which they will if I don't get to sleep soon.
Days 20 & 21
Ok, more thankfulness time.
Day 20: I'm thankful for Jimmy Buffett. His music takes me to the places I'd much rather be, at least until I can do my expatriation thing that I want to do.
Day 21: I had to go to the doctor today (this is going to be a separate post), and I have to say I'm super-thankful for my doctor. The woman is amazing. Given how many shitty doctors there are in this world, my awesome doctor is very much a blessing.
Now I'm going to try to write a separate post about my doctor visit before the Ambien I took a little while ago kicks in.
Day 20: I'm thankful for Jimmy Buffett. His music takes me to the places I'd much rather be, at least until I can do my expatriation thing that I want to do.
Day 21: I had to go to the doctor today (this is going to be a separate post), and I have to say I'm super-thankful for my doctor. The woman is amazing. Given how many shitty doctors there are in this world, my awesome doctor is very much a blessing.
Now I'm going to try to write a separate post about my doctor visit before the Ambien I took a little while ago kicks in.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Days 9-19
Uh, yeah, I fail spectacularly at remembering to do this shit.
Things I am thankful for, days 9-19.
Day 9: I'm thankful for coffee. I pretty much sublimated a bad binge drinking habit and a sex addiction into a caffeine and work addiction. Maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but it beats the alternative.
Day 10: I'm thankful for the Internet. Without it, I wouldn't have a job, I wouldn't have a lot of the friends I have, and I probably wouldn't even have my sanity because it was on the webz that I figured out what the hell was wrong with me.
Day 11: I'm thankful for my Kindle. It has provided me with lots of entertainment and happiness over the years.
Day 12: I'm thankful McRib is coming back soon. Yes, I'm a pathetic fat ass. No, you're not allowed to make any comment whatsoever about that.
Day 13: I'm thankful I have a place to live that is not my parents' house or the house of some dude, even if it's not the fanciest place ever. I like being alone.
Day 14: I'm thankful for my message board. It's a great place to hang out while working, and I've met some fantastic people there. I've even met several of them in real life and have made some great friends in that way.
Day 15: I'm thankful that my birthday is not going to be on Thanksgiving this year because I hate when that happens. Of course, the Universe added insult to injury by making it be on Thanksgiving *next* year when I--oh, God--turn 30, but we're not thinking about that right now.
Day 16: I'm thankful that I've lived long enough to realize some of the fucked up shit I've done and to stop doing it. I hope that God will let me live long enough to try to make even the smallest amends to the people I've hurt.
Day 17: I'm thankful for my super-comfortable bed. This mattress is probably the nicest thing I've ever owned.
Day 18: I'm thankful for the ocean. Just knowing that it exists somewhere under the same sky as me is often enough to calm my soul for a little while.
Day 19: I'm thankful that even in the dark, depressing dead of winter (and fall), there will always be the promise of a warm, bright, and shining spring and summer. At least until I can have the means and the wherewithal to move somewhere where the only seasons are rainy and not rainy.
Ok, I think I'm caught up, at least for now. Maybe I won't wait so long about updating again next time.
Things I am thankful for, days 9-19.
Day 9: I'm thankful for coffee. I pretty much sublimated a bad binge drinking habit and a sex addiction into a caffeine and work addiction. Maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but it beats the alternative.
Day 10: I'm thankful for the Internet. Without it, I wouldn't have a job, I wouldn't have a lot of the friends I have, and I probably wouldn't even have my sanity because it was on the webz that I figured out what the hell was wrong with me.
Day 11: I'm thankful for my Kindle. It has provided me with lots of entertainment and happiness over the years.
Day 12: I'm thankful McRib is coming back soon. Yes, I'm a pathetic fat ass. No, you're not allowed to make any comment whatsoever about that.
Day 13: I'm thankful I have a place to live that is not my parents' house or the house of some dude, even if it's not the fanciest place ever. I like being alone.
Day 14: I'm thankful for my message board. It's a great place to hang out while working, and I've met some fantastic people there. I've even met several of them in real life and have made some great friends in that way.
Day 15: I'm thankful that my birthday is not going to be on Thanksgiving this year because I hate when that happens. Of course, the Universe added insult to injury by making it be on Thanksgiving *next* year when I--oh, God--turn 30, but we're not thinking about that right now.
Day 16: I'm thankful that I've lived long enough to realize some of the fucked up shit I've done and to stop doing it. I hope that God will let me live long enough to try to make even the smallest amends to the people I've hurt.
Day 17: I'm thankful for my super-comfortable bed. This mattress is probably the nicest thing I've ever owned.
Day 18: I'm thankful for the ocean. Just knowing that it exists somewhere under the same sky as me is often enough to calm my soul for a little while.
Day 19: I'm thankful that even in the dark, depressing dead of winter (and fall), there will always be the promise of a warm, bright, and shining spring and summer. At least until I can have the means and the wherewithal to move somewhere where the only seasons are rainy and not rainy.
Ok, I think I'm caught up, at least for now. Maybe I won't wait so long about updating again next time.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Days 5-8
Days 5-8, or why Bunny sucks at being thankful.
No, seriously, I've just felt like ass lately and haven't done much of anything. I have to start back doing shit today, and I figured this would be as good a place as any to start.
Day 5: I'm thankful for my job. Yes, it's a pain in my ass most of the time, but the truth is, if I didn't work for myself, I wouldn't be employed at all. And I enjoy what I do, for the most part. I just get burnt out easily, which is due to a number of factors. But I've liked it more than anything else I've ever done, and I could see myself doing it forever if I could make some more money (and if the stress factor eased up a little).
Day 6: This is sort of a corollary to Day 5, but I'm thankful for all the kick-ass people I've met while doing my job and associated jobs. Working at home is extremely isolating, even for people who aren't terrible at making friends like I am. It gets boring and lonely. It's nice to have other people who understand and can keep you "company," even if they're scattered all over North America and none of them live within 300 miles of you. Also, I work with (or have worked with) some of the craziest, smartest, and most hilarious people on the face of the earth. I love them all to death and wish that our jokes of starting a commune somewhere tropical could come true!
Day 7: I am thankful for the way that God has chosen to reveal Him/Her/Itself to me so that I can believe and follow without compromising the things I hold dear. I think that, in the end, we're all following the same God, the same eternal truth, via a whole lot of different paths. I just wish we could all see that so we can stop fighting over it, although I suppose we all do, eventually, just at different times and places.
Day 8: I'm thankful for all my friends (not just Kitty and my work friends, although they're certainly included in this, too). Without them, I don't know where I would be. They're all brilliant, talented, beautiful people. (What, did you think I'd voluntarily spend time with people who weren't?) They're also a little crazy, but you have to be to put up with me, I think. They've been there for me when nobody else has, and I appreciate it more than they'll ever know.
No, seriously, I've just felt like ass lately and haven't done much of anything. I have to start back doing shit today, and I figured this would be as good a place as any to start.
Day 5: I'm thankful for my job. Yes, it's a pain in my ass most of the time, but the truth is, if I didn't work for myself, I wouldn't be employed at all. And I enjoy what I do, for the most part. I just get burnt out easily, which is due to a number of factors. But I've liked it more than anything else I've ever done, and I could see myself doing it forever if I could make some more money (and if the stress factor eased up a little).
Day 6: This is sort of a corollary to Day 5, but I'm thankful for all the kick-ass people I've met while doing my job and associated jobs. Working at home is extremely isolating, even for people who aren't terrible at making friends like I am. It gets boring and lonely. It's nice to have other people who understand and can keep you "company," even if they're scattered all over North America and none of them live within 300 miles of you. Also, I work with (or have worked with) some of the craziest, smartest, and most hilarious people on the face of the earth. I love them all to death and wish that our jokes of starting a commune somewhere tropical could come true!
Day 7: I am thankful for the way that God has chosen to reveal Him/Her/Itself to me so that I can believe and follow without compromising the things I hold dear. I think that, in the end, we're all following the same God, the same eternal truth, via a whole lot of different paths. I just wish we could all see that so we can stop fighting over it, although I suppose we all do, eventually, just at different times and places.
Day 8: I'm thankful for all my friends (not just Kitty and my work friends, although they're certainly included in this, too). Without them, I don't know where I would be. They're all brilliant, talented, beautiful people. (What, did you think I'd voluntarily spend time with people who weren't?) They're also a little crazy, but you have to be to put up with me, I think. They've been there for me when nobody else has, and I appreciate it more than they'll ever know.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Day Four: My One Talent
This is Day Four, and today I am thankful for the one real talent I have in this world, which is my ability to put words to the screen in a satisfactory enough manner that other people want to pay me for it. I am aware that, no matter how badly I would like to, I will probably never be able to write The Great American Novel. My talent, unfortunately, does not extend to fiction. I'll probably always hope that it will, but I'll live even if it never comes to fruition.
For now, it's enough that I'm able to make a little money doing what I've always wanted to do. Sure, it's not the most noble use of my talents, but I'm writing for a paycheck, which is something that's just a dream for other people in this world. So for that, I am grateful.
Through the pen, I make my ends now.... ;)
For now, it's enough that I'm able to make a little money doing what I've always wanted to do. Sure, it's not the most noble use of my talents, but I'm writing for a paycheck, which is something that's just a dream for other people in this world. So for that, I am grateful.
Through the pen, I make my ends now.... ;)
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Days 2 & 3
Ok, I suck at life and missed day 2 of this thing, so I'm combining them into one entry.
Day Two: I am thankful for medical science. Had I lived 500 years ago, I'd have probably been burned as a witch or subjected to very unpleasant exorcisms. Had I lived 100 years ago--or before the 1950s, really--I'd have probably been locked away in an institution my whole life. Had I been born 30 years earlier and medicated at the same age, my only options would've been lithium, lithium, one of the typical anti-psychotics, or lithium. Well, depending on exactly when they started treating me, Tegretol could've been an option, too.
But even 20 or 30 years ago, we didn't have nearly the options for treating the batshit that we do now. By that time, de-institutionalization had become the norm, so I wouldn't have been locked away, but I also wouldn't be able to have drugs that are (mostly) side effect-free. So I am very grateful for all the advances in medical science to allow me to live a semi-normal life, at least in comparison to what *could* have happened to me, had I lived in any other time period in the past.
Day Three: I am thankful for my family--strictly defined by my own parameters. As anyone who knows me can attest, there is no love lost between my extended family and me. I'm grateful for the best father ever, for my awesome granny (who passed away in 2003), and even for my insane mother, though I doubt I'd be able to say that if we lived in the same county. I suppose I'm grateful for some of my other family members as well, but not most of them, and I'm too lazy to go through and name the ones I give a shit about. So I'll just say "family" as my obligatory response and be done with it.
Ok, I think that wraps it up for today. I didn't sleep at all yesterday--i.e., Thursday night/Friday morning--because one of my stupid SEO clients decided at 4:30 am that he wanted to have a "Skype meeting" at 1 pm. I hadn't been to bed yet at that time, so I just stayed up. I ended lying down around 4:30 pm, and I slept til about 2 am, which is when I woke up hungry and thirsty. I've finished eating now, so I'm going to bathe and go back to bed, I think. I have to go to my parents' house tomorrow because I'm helping with the Christmas open house at my great-aunt's flower shop again this year on Sunday, so I'm gonna need as much sleep as I can get before I go. God help me.
Day Two: I am thankful for medical science. Had I lived 500 years ago, I'd have probably been burned as a witch or subjected to very unpleasant exorcisms. Had I lived 100 years ago--or before the 1950s, really--I'd have probably been locked away in an institution my whole life. Had I been born 30 years earlier and medicated at the same age, my only options would've been lithium, lithium, one of the typical anti-psychotics, or lithium. Well, depending on exactly when they started treating me, Tegretol could've been an option, too.
But even 20 or 30 years ago, we didn't have nearly the options for treating the batshit that we do now. By that time, de-institutionalization had become the norm, so I wouldn't have been locked away, but I also wouldn't be able to have drugs that are (mostly) side effect-free. So I am very grateful for all the advances in medical science to allow me to live a semi-normal life, at least in comparison to what *could* have happened to me, had I lived in any other time period in the past.
Day Three: I am thankful for my family--strictly defined by my own parameters. As anyone who knows me can attest, there is no love lost between my extended family and me. I'm grateful for the best father ever, for my awesome granny (who passed away in 2003), and even for my insane mother, though I doubt I'd be able to say that if we lived in the same county. I suppose I'm grateful for some of my other family members as well, but not most of them, and I'm too lazy to go through and name the ones I give a shit about. So I'll just say "family" as my obligatory response and be done with it.
Ok, I think that wraps it up for today. I didn't sleep at all yesterday--i.e., Thursday night/Friday morning--because one of my stupid SEO clients decided at 4:30 am that he wanted to have a "Skype meeting" at 1 pm. I hadn't been to bed yet at that time, so I just stayed up. I ended lying down around 4:30 pm, and I slept til about 2 am, which is when I woke up hungry and thirsty. I've finished eating now, so I'm going to bathe and go back to bed, I think. I have to go to my parents' house tomorrow because I'm helping with the Christmas open house at my great-aunt's flower shop again this year on Sunday, so I'm gonna need as much sleep as I can get before I go. God help me.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Day One: Kitty
I've been seeing on Facebook all these people who are doing this "30 Days of Thankfulness" or whatever it's called. I want to do it, too, to remind myself that all is not shitty, but I don't feel comfortable posting some of this shit there. Ergo, it goes here.
This is day one.
I will start out my thankfulness thingie by saying that I'm thankful for Kitty. She is a wonderful cat who's been there for me for many, many years, most of the time when no one else was. The fact that I haven't run her off completely yet speaks volumes for what kind of loyal cat she is. I don't say it, but I'm fully aware of what it means.
So, yeah...day one. I love Teh Kitteh.
This is day one.
I will start out my thankfulness thingie by saying that I'm thankful for Kitty. She is a wonderful cat who's been there for me for many, many years, most of the time when no one else was. The fact that I haven't run her off completely yet speaks volumes for what kind of loyal cat she is. I don't say it, but I'm fully aware of what it means.
So, yeah...day one. I love Teh Kitteh.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Just Because
She got out of town
On a railway New York bound
Took all except my name
Another alien on Broadway
Well, some things in this world
You just can't change
Some things you can't see
Until it gets too late
And, baby, baby, baby, when all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I'm up against out in this world?
And maybe, maybe, maybe you'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
I've got a hole in me now
Yeah, I got a scar I can talk about
And she keeps a picture of me
In her apartment in the city
Well, some things in this world
Man, they don't make sense
Some things you don't need until they leave you
Then, they're things that you miss
You say, baby, baby, baby, when all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I'm up against out in this world?
And maybe, maybe, maybe you'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
Let that city take you in
(Come on home)
Let that city spit you out
(Come on home)
Let that city take you down...
For God's sakes, turn around!
Baby, baby, baby, when all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I'm up against out in this world?
Well, maybe, maybe, maybe you'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
Turn yourself around and come on home
Yeah, come on home
Baby, baby, baby, come on home
Come on home
Monday, October 22, 2012
Woot!
I just acquired a new full-time client by sheer force of my flaming fucking awesomeness.
(Ok, so it probably has something to do with the fact that I write interesting, engaging blogs that are good for SEO and deliver them when I say I'm going to EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. Which no one else can do to save their lives.)
But still...a new convert to the fold simply because I am a badass motherfucker. Not bad for a late Sunday. *Smirk*
(Ok, so it probably has something to do with the fact that I write interesting, engaging blogs that are good for SEO and deliver them when I say I'm going to EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. Which no one else can do to save their lives.)
But still...a new convert to the fold simply because I am a badass motherfucker. Not bad for a late Sunday. *Smirk*
Sunday, October 21, 2012
I'm Calling You Out, You Bastard
Dear Bipolar Demon,
You've had control of me for the past several weeks. I have been able to wrest my mind back a few times, but in a day or two, you come back to snatch it away again.
Like right now--I feel like everything is pointless, that I'll never get better, that all I am good for is lying around and crying, that I will feel this way until the day I die.
But you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, because I know that isn't true. I know it's not me saying these things. I know it's you whispering these things in my ear in your seductive voice that's so, so, so easy to believe.
Fuck you.
I have felt better in the past. I have gotten better. I won't always feel this way because there have been times--sometimes fairly long periods of time--when your bitch ass has been chained to the dungeon wall in my brain and gagged so I couldn't hear a goddamn word you said. Just because you've managed to break loose again doesn't mean I'll never be able to lock you up again. It just means I need some stronger chains next time.
I know what you're trying to do to me. And I'll have you know that tomorrow, I'm hiding my shotgun from myself. No, that's not right. I'm not hiding it from myself; I'm hiding it from you, you cocksucking sonofabitch. The unloaded shotgun will be buried in the back of the closet in the other room, and the shells will be put in some difficult-to-get-to location that I haven't decided upon yet. And they will remain there until you're locked up again.
If I have someone come in on me, I will beat them to death with the vacuum cleaner if need be, but I will NOT let you take advantage of me. I will not let you control the part of me that is prone to self-destruct. I didn't give in to you without meds, you lying bastard, and I'm not about to now. You might get the upper hand for a minute, but by the time I'm able to lay hands on both gun and shells, I'll have snapped out of it.
You don't have the power to kill me yourself. All you can do is try to drive me to kill myself, and I don't want to die. Get that straight, asshole.
I have been broken so many times in my life. You will not do it again. You will not break me. You will not outwit me. You will not beat me. I didn't go through all the shit I've gone through for you to break me now. I didn't come this far for you to stop me now. It's too late for you to win this time.
I'm on to your game, you treacherous little motherfucker, and after a couple of days of increased meds, I'm coming for you. There is nowhere you can run and nowhere you can hide. I will break you this time and not the other way around.
Your ass is mine. I promise you that.
~An Angry Bunny
You've had control of me for the past several weeks. I have been able to wrest my mind back a few times, but in a day or two, you come back to snatch it away again.
Like right now--I feel like everything is pointless, that I'll never get better, that all I am good for is lying around and crying, that I will feel this way until the day I die.
But you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, because I know that isn't true. I know it's not me saying these things. I know it's you whispering these things in my ear in your seductive voice that's so, so, so easy to believe.
Fuck you.
I have felt better in the past. I have gotten better. I won't always feel this way because there have been times--sometimes fairly long periods of time--when your bitch ass has been chained to the dungeon wall in my brain and gagged so I couldn't hear a goddamn word you said. Just because you've managed to break loose again doesn't mean I'll never be able to lock you up again. It just means I need some stronger chains next time.
I know what you're trying to do to me. And I'll have you know that tomorrow, I'm hiding my shotgun from myself. No, that's not right. I'm not hiding it from myself; I'm hiding it from you, you cocksucking sonofabitch. The unloaded shotgun will be buried in the back of the closet in the other room, and the shells will be put in some difficult-to-get-to location that I haven't decided upon yet. And they will remain there until you're locked up again.
If I have someone come in on me, I will beat them to death with the vacuum cleaner if need be, but I will NOT let you take advantage of me. I will not let you control the part of me that is prone to self-destruct. I didn't give in to you without meds, you lying bastard, and I'm not about to now. You might get the upper hand for a minute, but by the time I'm able to lay hands on both gun and shells, I'll have snapped out of it.
You don't have the power to kill me yourself. All you can do is try to drive me to kill myself, and I don't want to die. Get that straight, asshole.
I have been broken so many times in my life. You will not do it again. You will not break me. You will not outwit me. You will not beat me. I didn't go through all the shit I've gone through for you to break me now. I didn't come this far for you to stop me now. It's too late for you to win this time.
I'm on to your game, you treacherous little motherfucker, and after a couple of days of increased meds, I'm coming for you. There is nowhere you can run and nowhere you can hide. I will break you this time and not the other way around.
Your ass is mine. I promise you that.
~An Angry Bunny
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Music Video Of The Day
For obvious reasons:
Head for the future
Run from the past
Hide from the mirror
And live in a glass
What dreams forget, the whiskey remembers
Kinda like molasses in late December
Head for the future
Run from the past
Hide from the mirror
And live in a glass
What dreams forget, the whiskey remembers
Kinda like molasses in late December
This Again
I really hate this fucking time of year.
I have been pretty diligent about staying on top of meds, sleep, etc., etc., but I'm still sinking. I'm not batshit, bouncing-off-the-walls crazy or anything. I'm just...blank. I wouldn't even call it depressed. I think it requires more energy than I have now to be depressed. I'm just...here.
I haven't done enough work to amount to anything in weeks. So, of course, I'm extra-behind again. The real problem here is that I don't charge nearly enough money for my work, but what do you do? Hell, hardly anybody will pay me these super-low rates. If I jacked them up, I wouldn't have any customers at all. :(
So I've got a zillion things to do, no motivation to do them (again), and no way to pay anyone to help me. And each day I fuck around and do nothing, I get that much more behind. I can't even bring myself to give a shit.
I wish there were someone out there in this world who gave a shit.
I am so alone.
I have been pretty diligent about staying on top of meds, sleep, etc., etc., but I'm still sinking. I'm not batshit, bouncing-off-the-walls crazy or anything. I'm just...blank. I wouldn't even call it depressed. I think it requires more energy than I have now to be depressed. I'm just...here.
I haven't done enough work to amount to anything in weeks. So, of course, I'm extra-behind again. The real problem here is that I don't charge nearly enough money for my work, but what do you do? Hell, hardly anybody will pay me these super-low rates. If I jacked them up, I wouldn't have any customers at all. :(
So I've got a zillion things to do, no motivation to do them (again), and no way to pay anyone to help me. And each day I fuck around and do nothing, I get that much more behind. I can't even bring myself to give a shit.
I wish there were someone out there in this world who gave a shit.
I am so alone.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
A Critical Analysis
Dear Self,
One of your biggest flaws is the fact that you're a coward. You always have been. You detest that weakness in others because you know it's a mirror for your own chicken-shittedness.
In addition to being a coward, you have this nasty habit of having no strength of your own convictions. You allow yourself to be talked into things that are terrible ideas. You go along with shit that you know is detrimental to yourself and, sometimes, others.
This is not a one-time event. This is a pattern that has repeated itself throughout your entire life. Yes, to a very large degree, it's because it's what you were groomed to do. You were raised by a narcissist and an enabler of the narcissist. You learned that the only way you could get through life without being crushed underneath someone else's foot was to just lie down on the floor for them, cover your eyes, and hope for the best.
Because of this, you've attracted the worst of the worst. Unscrupulous people sense that inherent weakness within you and exploit it. Nearly every single relationship you've had in both your child and adult lives--be it with friends, family, lovers, co-workers, everyone--has ended in you being taken advantage of and ultimately betrayed and left worse off than you were to start with. All your efforts to just roll over for people in order to avoid pain and confrontation have ended in just that--pain and confrontation.
You'd think at some point you'd get the goddamn hint. As The Last Psychiatrist says, if you flip a coin to help you make decisions, you'll get it right half the time. If you're currently batting less than .500, it's either time to completely change the way you do things or get a damned coin.
Yes, you got (figuratively) fucked as a child. But it's time to try to get past it. You cannot always live in fear of doing things differently and keep reliving the same toxic situations over and over, only with slightly different characters. If you always cave to the strongest influence on you at any given time, only to turn around and cave in the opposite direction a few miles down the road, you will never, ever, ever develop anything that can be called "character," and you will live at the mercy of someone else for the rest of your life--something you swore to yourself you wouldn't do after you got the hell out of your parents' house.
Do not keep playing out your pathetic psychodramas and bringing hell down on the heads of yourself and the one or two people in your life who ever actually gave a shit about you. You've been in one classic narcissist/borderline relationship after another your entire life.
Most of the time, YOU'RE the borderline, desperately clinging to the narcissist(s) because you want him/her/them to give you an identity. Remember that anyone who will give you an identity is going to saddle you with one that, in your right mind, you wouldn't fucking want in the first place.
On the other hand, you have, much to your chagrin, been the narcissist in the relationship, raining shit down on the couple of people in the world who've ever given a flying fuck about you. You have become your mother, in the ugliest way possible. You pander to people you shouldn't even bother giving the time of day, and you are mean, cruel, and heartless to people you should be the most loving and appreciative toward. Yes, in some ways, it is instinctual for you, having only been exposed to that kind of thing for most of your life with no healthy examples to fill the gap. But now you know better, and it's time to stop. You are no better than your mother if you continue down this road. In fact, you're worse because you realize what you're doing, and she most likely does not.
The thing about being either narcissistic or borderline is that they do not occur in a vacuum. You behave in these ways in relation to other people. With no one else around you, you cannot be either of these things. And that's what truly scares you the most--if you don't play out these ridiculous psychodramas, you have no roadmap whatsoever about how to go about life and living. You think you need these things in order to not be alone, but now you finally see that, ultimately, these stupid crutches that you cling to are EXACTLY what's keeping you crippled in the first place. And, yes, they will see to it that you are alone forever.
You know that now, so throw your poisonous crutches aside and walk on your own two feet. Or crawl if you have to. Hell, lay down and roll. Anything is better than continuing to rely on the demons that only want to consume you from the inside out. This is not just for you but for the people around you as well. Fallout from each and every one of your meltdowns hurts everyone. Not just you, not just the other people involved, but innocent bystanders as well. You know that these things are evil, and you've got a responsibility to at least keep them caged if you can't exorcise them altogether.
And that brings us to your other fatal flaw: You're wishy-washy as hell. This is mostly because of the cowardice and lack of character and backbone you exhibit. You say you should do x when you're in the presence of one person, but then you turn around and say you should do y, which is the exact opposite of x, when you're in the presence of another.
Do something. ANYTHING. It doesn't even matter anymore. Anything is better than being caught in this perpetual cycle of self-doubt, of ruminating, of questioning and never doing anything. You do this because, ultimately, you are afraid of changing, and keeping yourself constantly tied up in some sort of Catch-22 double-bind provides you with plausible deniability to continue spinning your wheels and doing absolutely nothing.
It is not enough to merely define the problem. You have to try to solve it, too.
After nearly two years of being medicated, a year of introspection, and six months of actively isolating yourself from the world to work on your problems, you finally have a fairly objective view of things that you have NEVER had before because your brain was so fucked up. It's easy to hide behind the "I don't know what to do" curtain, but the truth is, you do know. You've always known. You have an excellent sense of what's right and what's wrong; you just hardly ever have the integrity to act upon it.
You do not get to make up the narrative of your life as you go along. You don't get to say, "Well, I know what's right, so that doesn't make me a bad person. I just had my hands tied by such-and-such, and that's why I couldn't do the right thing...." You are the sum of your actions, nothing more and nothing less. If your actions are shitty, then you're a shitty person, regardless of what kind of mental gymnastics you try to perform to convince yourself you aren't.
You can be better than this. You are not forever confined by your past. Your battle with the bipolar demons have shown you that. You can rise above if you try hard enough. You do not have to lie, cheat, manipulate, and two-time your way through life just to keep from getting your head chopped off. There is a better way.
I know that you've made a lot of progress, but at this point, it's mostly been in isolation. And I know that you have remained in isolation because you are afraid that at some point, when the pressure is on, that you will revert to type. But everyone has that fear, and the only thing you can do is face each thing that life throws at you one at a time and do the very best you know how to do each time. Eventually, it will become a habit, and the fear that your dark self will take over will ease because your not-dark self is so much stronger.
What was going to be a short memo has turned into an epic, so I will try to end this quickly. You have taken a lot of steps in the right direction, but it's time to test the person you're becoming, to try it by fire, so that it will become strong and tempered from the flames.
Do what's right. If you're not sure what's right, get a damned coin. If you're lucky, there may be a benevolent God out there who has enough of a hand for parlor tricks to make sure the "right" side of the coin turns up when it needs to.
~Bunny
P.S. Those dreams that are haunting you are trying to tell you something in that strange, confused, and muddled way that dreams have. Listen to them.
One of your biggest flaws is the fact that you're a coward. You always have been. You detest that weakness in others because you know it's a mirror for your own chicken-shittedness.
In addition to being a coward, you have this nasty habit of having no strength of your own convictions. You allow yourself to be talked into things that are terrible ideas. You go along with shit that you know is detrimental to yourself and, sometimes, others.
This is not a one-time event. This is a pattern that has repeated itself throughout your entire life. Yes, to a very large degree, it's because it's what you were groomed to do. You were raised by a narcissist and an enabler of the narcissist. You learned that the only way you could get through life without being crushed underneath someone else's foot was to just lie down on the floor for them, cover your eyes, and hope for the best.
Because of this, you've attracted the worst of the worst. Unscrupulous people sense that inherent weakness within you and exploit it. Nearly every single relationship you've had in both your child and adult lives--be it with friends, family, lovers, co-workers, everyone--has ended in you being taken advantage of and ultimately betrayed and left worse off than you were to start with. All your efforts to just roll over for people in order to avoid pain and confrontation have ended in just that--pain and confrontation.
You'd think at some point you'd get the goddamn hint. As The Last Psychiatrist says, if you flip a coin to help you make decisions, you'll get it right half the time. If you're currently batting less than .500, it's either time to completely change the way you do things or get a damned coin.
Yes, you got (figuratively) fucked as a child. But it's time to try to get past it. You cannot always live in fear of doing things differently and keep reliving the same toxic situations over and over, only with slightly different characters. If you always cave to the strongest influence on you at any given time, only to turn around and cave in the opposite direction a few miles down the road, you will never, ever, ever develop anything that can be called "character," and you will live at the mercy of someone else for the rest of your life--something you swore to yourself you wouldn't do after you got the hell out of your parents' house.
Do not keep playing out your pathetic psychodramas and bringing hell down on the heads of yourself and the one or two people in your life who ever actually gave a shit about you. You've been in one classic narcissist/borderline relationship after another your entire life.
Most of the time, YOU'RE the borderline, desperately clinging to the narcissist(s) because you want him/her/them to give you an identity. Remember that anyone who will give you an identity is going to saddle you with one that, in your right mind, you wouldn't fucking want in the first place.
On the other hand, you have, much to your chagrin, been the narcissist in the relationship, raining shit down on the couple of people in the world who've ever given a flying fuck about you. You have become your mother, in the ugliest way possible. You pander to people you shouldn't even bother giving the time of day, and you are mean, cruel, and heartless to people you should be the most loving and appreciative toward. Yes, in some ways, it is instinctual for you, having only been exposed to that kind of thing for most of your life with no healthy examples to fill the gap. But now you know better, and it's time to stop. You are no better than your mother if you continue down this road. In fact, you're worse because you realize what you're doing, and she most likely does not.
The thing about being either narcissistic or borderline is that they do not occur in a vacuum. You behave in these ways in relation to other people. With no one else around you, you cannot be either of these things. And that's what truly scares you the most--if you don't play out these ridiculous psychodramas, you have no roadmap whatsoever about how to go about life and living. You think you need these things in order to not be alone, but now you finally see that, ultimately, these stupid crutches that you cling to are EXACTLY what's keeping you crippled in the first place. And, yes, they will see to it that you are alone forever.
You know that now, so throw your poisonous crutches aside and walk on your own two feet. Or crawl if you have to. Hell, lay down and roll. Anything is better than continuing to rely on the demons that only want to consume you from the inside out. This is not just for you but for the people around you as well. Fallout from each and every one of your meltdowns hurts everyone. Not just you, not just the other people involved, but innocent bystanders as well. You know that these things are evil, and you've got a responsibility to at least keep them caged if you can't exorcise them altogether.
And that brings us to your other fatal flaw: You're wishy-washy as hell. This is mostly because of the cowardice and lack of character and backbone you exhibit. You say you should do x when you're in the presence of one person, but then you turn around and say you should do y, which is the exact opposite of x, when you're in the presence of another.
Do something. ANYTHING. It doesn't even matter anymore. Anything is better than being caught in this perpetual cycle of self-doubt, of ruminating, of questioning and never doing anything. You do this because, ultimately, you are afraid of changing, and keeping yourself constantly tied up in some sort of Catch-22 double-bind provides you with plausible deniability to continue spinning your wheels and doing absolutely nothing.
It is not enough to merely define the problem. You have to try to solve it, too.
After nearly two years of being medicated, a year of introspection, and six months of actively isolating yourself from the world to work on your problems, you finally have a fairly objective view of things that you have NEVER had before because your brain was so fucked up. It's easy to hide behind the "I don't know what to do" curtain, but the truth is, you do know. You've always known. You have an excellent sense of what's right and what's wrong; you just hardly ever have the integrity to act upon it.
You do not get to make up the narrative of your life as you go along. You don't get to say, "Well, I know what's right, so that doesn't make me a bad person. I just had my hands tied by such-and-such, and that's why I couldn't do the right thing...." You are the sum of your actions, nothing more and nothing less. If your actions are shitty, then you're a shitty person, regardless of what kind of mental gymnastics you try to perform to convince yourself you aren't.
You can be better than this. You are not forever confined by your past. Your battle with the bipolar demons have shown you that. You can rise above if you try hard enough. You do not have to lie, cheat, manipulate, and two-time your way through life just to keep from getting your head chopped off. There is a better way.
I know that you've made a lot of progress, but at this point, it's mostly been in isolation. And I know that you have remained in isolation because you are afraid that at some point, when the pressure is on, that you will revert to type. But everyone has that fear, and the only thing you can do is face each thing that life throws at you one at a time and do the very best you know how to do each time. Eventually, it will become a habit, and the fear that your dark self will take over will ease because your not-dark self is so much stronger.
What was going to be a short memo has turned into an epic, so I will try to end this quickly. You have taken a lot of steps in the right direction, but it's time to test the person you're becoming, to try it by fire, so that it will become strong and tempered from the flames.
Do what's right. If you're not sure what's right, get a damned coin. If you're lucky, there may be a benevolent God out there who has enough of a hand for parlor tricks to make sure the "right" side of the coin turns up when it needs to.
~Bunny
P.S. Those dreams that are haunting you are trying to tell you something in that strange, confused, and muddled way that dreams have. Listen to them.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Schadenfreude
Schadenfreude...it's a lovely word, isn't it?
I don't often get the chance to indulge in it. More often, I'm on the receiving end. But I'm relishing in it right now.
Perhaps I'm a horrible person. Or perhaps some people just have it coming because their sense of hubris is astounding.
A few days ago, my mother called to tell me that Cousin Jesus's wife (who left him right after she got pregnant, then came back right before she had the baby in order to net a bunch of expensive shower gifts from my kinfolks, had the baby in early August, and stayed with him for a couple of months) called him to tell him that she is having him served with divorce papers.
Divorce. Papers.
Excuse me for a moment.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
*Ahem*
Ok.
I'm good now.
You see, the thing about Cousin Jesus--and the very reason that I've come to call him that--is that my whole family thinks he walks on water. He can do NO wrong, regardless of the fact that he's a drunk, a manipulator, a liar, a user, and, worst of all in my eyes, a goddamn hypocrite with an entitlement complex. He genuinely believes that the world owes him something just by virtue of him living in it. And, truth be told, I guess it's no wonder that he believes it because he's always had anything he's ever wanted just handed to him, and it's not the least bit appreciated.
It doesn't matter how many times he gets drunk and wrecks his truck; somebody's always there to hand him money to get a new one. It doesn't matter how many times he gets arrested; somebody's always there to bail him out to make sure he doesn't actually get booked. It doesn't matter how many financial jams he gets himself into; somebody's always there to funnel him money to keep him from getting his phone turned off or his truck repossessed or God knows what else.
I, on the other hand, the non-alcoholic, non-hypocritical, non-white-trash, college-educated member of the family, can do no right in the eyes of the rest of my kinfolks. I've never been arrested, never defaulted on a loan, never wrecked a vehicle because I was drunk, and certainly never expected the world to GIVE me a goddamn thing. Oh, and I didn't live in my mama's house until I got married at 30 years old and then promptly move into a trailer in her backyard, either. But, still, somehow, Cousin Jesus heals the sick and raises the dead while I am a non-entity, even to my own mother (or at least up until very, very recently--as in the last few months). It's pretty disgusting, actually.
Anyway, now, while I think that Cousin Jesus had no business getting married in the first place to someone as childish and immature as he is--which I said to my mother before the wedding in 2010--and he damn sure had no business fucking reproducing (God help us), I have to say that she's really no better than he is. Why? Well, like I said, she's childish and immature, and, really, nobody in her right mind would have the bastard to start with, so there's gotta be something wrong with her, too.
But, yes, I am taking an enormous amount of pleasure in this because he's finally found something that he can't either talk his way out of or convince someone else to buy his way out of. Watching a narcissist fall is one of the great pleasures of life, in my opinion.
Sometimes, it's nice knowing that people can't get away with being self-righteous, manipulative, overly-entitled dickheads their whole lives. Watching it come back and bite them in the ass is worth all the bullshit you have to put up with to get to that point. And I do believe that it almost always *does* come back to them one day, even if they believe that they're invincible.
I've fallen far enough. Time to watch somebody else do it for awhile.
I don't often get the chance to indulge in it. More often, I'm on the receiving end. But I'm relishing in it right now.
Perhaps I'm a horrible person. Or perhaps some people just have it coming because their sense of hubris is astounding.
A few days ago, my mother called to tell me that Cousin Jesus's wife (who left him right after she got pregnant, then came back right before she had the baby in order to net a bunch of expensive shower gifts from my kinfolks, had the baby in early August, and stayed with him for a couple of months) called him to tell him that she is having him served with divorce papers.
Divorce. Papers.
Excuse me for a moment.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
*Ahem*
Ok.
I'm good now.
You see, the thing about Cousin Jesus--and the very reason that I've come to call him that--is that my whole family thinks he walks on water. He can do NO wrong, regardless of the fact that he's a drunk, a manipulator, a liar, a user, and, worst of all in my eyes, a goddamn hypocrite with an entitlement complex. He genuinely believes that the world owes him something just by virtue of him living in it. And, truth be told, I guess it's no wonder that he believes it because he's always had anything he's ever wanted just handed to him, and it's not the least bit appreciated.
It doesn't matter how many times he gets drunk and wrecks his truck; somebody's always there to hand him money to get a new one. It doesn't matter how many times he gets arrested; somebody's always there to bail him out to make sure he doesn't actually get booked. It doesn't matter how many financial jams he gets himself into; somebody's always there to funnel him money to keep him from getting his phone turned off or his truck repossessed or God knows what else.
I, on the other hand, the non-alcoholic, non-hypocritical, non-white-trash, college-educated member of the family, can do no right in the eyes of the rest of my kinfolks. I've never been arrested, never defaulted on a loan, never wrecked a vehicle because I was drunk, and certainly never expected the world to GIVE me a goddamn thing. Oh, and I didn't live in my mama's house until I got married at 30 years old and then promptly move into a trailer in her backyard, either. But, still, somehow, Cousin Jesus heals the sick and raises the dead while I am a non-entity, even to my own mother (or at least up until very, very recently--as in the last few months). It's pretty disgusting, actually.
Anyway, now, while I think that Cousin Jesus had no business getting married in the first place to someone as childish and immature as he is--which I said to my mother before the wedding in 2010--and he damn sure had no business fucking reproducing (God help us), I have to say that she's really no better than he is. Why? Well, like I said, she's childish and immature, and, really, nobody in her right mind would have the bastard to start with, so there's gotta be something wrong with her, too.
But, yes, I am taking an enormous amount of pleasure in this because he's finally found something that he can't either talk his way out of or convince someone else to buy his way out of. Watching a narcissist fall is one of the great pleasures of life, in my opinion.
Sometimes, it's nice knowing that people can't get away with being self-righteous, manipulative, overly-entitled dickheads their whole lives. Watching it come back and bite them in the ass is worth all the bullshit you have to put up with to get to that point. And I do believe that it almost always *does* come back to them one day, even if they believe that they're invincible.
I've fallen far enough. Time to watch somebody else do it for awhile.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Do You Ever...?
Do you ever look at your life and wonder "Why did I give up drinking again?"
Yeah, that's me right now.
More to follow later. Too much shit to do to write more right this second.
Monday, September 17, 2012
I Can Hardly Stand All The Excitement
I've spent the past two weeks catching up on a backlog of shit that should've been done a long time ago. Some of it, I wasn't even aware had NOT been done. So B. from Huntsville and I have written probably 100 blog posts, getting (and keeping) everything up to date. Needless to say, I'm exhausted. The backlog is done, but I'm still having to write 4-6 posts a day to keep on top of everything.
But you know what? I work my ass off, and I deserve every goddamn dime of it...and then some.
In other news, the dreams still haven't stopped. Night before last I dreamed that J. had fallen off a bridge (dream logic, don't ask) in the middle of a storm. The water under the bridge was rushing violently (personal phobia), but no one else was going out to try to save her, so I did it. I pulled her out and thought she was dead. She lived, though, and I woke up shortly after that.
Talk about fucking nerve-wracking. Why won't these stupid dreams stop? All right, subconscious, I get it. I have issues and things I need to take care of. Stop beating me over the head with it, ok?
But you know what? I work my ass off, and I deserve every goddamn dime of it...and then some.
In other news, the dreams still haven't stopped. Night before last I dreamed that J. had fallen off a bridge (dream logic, don't ask) in the middle of a storm. The water under the bridge was rushing violently (personal phobia), but no one else was going out to try to save her, so I did it. I pulled her out and thought she was dead. She lived, though, and I woke up shortly after that.
Talk about fucking nerve-wracking. Why won't these stupid dreams stop? All right, subconscious, I get it. I have issues and things I need to take care of. Stop beating me over the head with it, ok?
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I Wish....
I wish I were thin.
Ok, not thin, but I wish I weighed what I did in high school. 170-ish. Which sounds fat until you consider that I'm between 5'9" and 5'10". Either way, it's a hell of a lot less than I weigh now.
Why? Lots of reasons, really.
But I'd be lying if I said it didn't have a lot to do with the fact that I wish I could be Spider-Woman for Halloween.
Where I'd go dressed like that, I have no idea. I might just stay at home and look at myself in the mirror. Plus, it'd give me an excuse to dye my hair black again. I miss the shit out of my black hair. :(
But for reals? Read about her--Spider-Woman, the original Jessica Drew version. And if you don't wanna wade through all that shit, just suffice it to say that she was brainwashed and started her "career," so to speak, as a villain. When she realized she'd been brainwashed, she turned against her brainwashers (is that even a word?) and went "good." There's way more to it, too, but I'm too lazy to write about it all. Suffice it to say that I find a lot in the character that I can relate to.
There's this, for example (clicky if it's not big enough to read; Blogger does something weird with image sizes):
Story of my life. *Sigh*
Besides, red looks amazing on me. Yellow, not so much. But red? Oh, yeah.
Ok, not thin, but I wish I weighed what I did in high school. 170-ish. Which sounds fat until you consider that I'm between 5'9" and 5'10". Either way, it's a hell of a lot less than I weigh now.
Why? Lots of reasons, really.
But I'd be lying if I said it didn't have a lot to do with the fact that I wish I could be Spider-Woman for Halloween.
Where I'd go dressed like that, I have no idea. I might just stay at home and look at myself in the mirror. Plus, it'd give me an excuse to dye my hair black again. I miss the shit out of my black hair. :(
But for reals? Read about her--Spider-Woman, the original Jessica Drew version. And if you don't wanna wade through all that shit, just suffice it to say that she was brainwashed and started her "career," so to speak, as a villain. When she realized she'd been brainwashed, she turned against her brainwashers (is that even a word?) and went "good." There's way more to it, too, but I'm too lazy to write about it all. Suffice it to say that I find a lot in the character that I can relate to.
There's this, for example (clicky if it's not big enough to read; Blogger does something weird with image sizes):
Story of my life. *Sigh*
Besides, red looks amazing on me. Yellow, not so much. But red? Oh, yeah.
30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know
It has been brought to my attention that it's National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week. They're running a thing called "30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know" and asking prolific bloggers to fill out this little questionnaire-type thing.
Clearly, I'm not a prolific blogger. I doubt anyone reads this thing but maybe...me? But, still, I feel compelled to do this shit, anyway. If there is anyone out there reading, humor me. Or skip this post. Whichever is fine. But maybe it'll help someone. And even if it doesn't, I guess it won't hurt.
30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know
1. The illness I live with is: Bipolar I, with psychotic features. I also have linear scleroderma with some generalized symptoms, asthma, severe allergies, and migraines. Also, a kitchen sink. I'm answering the questions in the context of bipolar, though, as it has had a even bigger impact on my life than being a fat asthmatic.
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2010.
3. But I had symptoms since: As long as I can remember. Since I was 5 or 6, at least. Maybe farther back. My memory is shit.
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Learning to live without people I truly care about because my illness is such a monster--and it turned me into one, too. Also, I have to pay very close attention to things other people don't even think about, like how much sleep I get.
5. Most people assume: That there is nothing wrong with me, unless they've had the dubious honor of dealing with it firsthand.
6. The hardest part about mornings are: Finding a reason to bother with even getting out of bed.
7. My favorite medical TV show is: House, I guess, but I don't watch TV. Haven't even really watched House in a couple of years. I haven't had cable since 2006.
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My sweet, sweet Kindle with its impressive collection of cheap/free books. There are days when it's the only thing that makes life worth living.
9. The hardest part about nights are: Not thinking about all the things I've lost. As you can see, I can hardly ever manage to do it.
10. Each day I take: 150 mg. of Wellbutrin--1 pill--in the morning, 2 B-complex gummy vitamins, 150 mg. (usually) of Lamictal--one 100 mg. pill and two 25 mg. pills--at night, and whatever headache or allergy stuff is necessary to get through the day. In the winter, I often need my albuterol inhaler for the asthma because it's aggravated by cold weather. Also, lots and lots of caffeine.
11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Think you're a goddamned idiot if you think popping some stupid herbal preparation or whatever is going to cure you if you're severely mentally ill. It might work for people who are either not sick but think they are or for people who are only mildly ill, through the placebo effect. But if you're really sick? It's like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Visible. At least then people wouldn't think I was full of shit when I'm unable to work or sleep 18 hours a day or sleep 2 hours a day or whatever.
13. Regarding working and career: It's hard. I've never really held down much of a job in my life. I can do it for a little while, but ultimately, I unravel. Before I started working at home, which I had to do for lack of any other options, I worked temp jobs. I've done this longer than I've ever done anything else (4 1/2 years).
14. People would be surprised to know: That I wish I could speak Spanish a lot better than I do (which is to say, hardly at all) and give English lessons to immigrant adults who genuinely wanted to learn.
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: The isolation.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: Run my own business.
17. The commercials about my illness: I don't think there are any, at least not that I know of. Again, I don't watch TV. Hell, they advertise antipsychotics like Seroquel and Abilify as antidepressants nowadays. People don't talk about the bipolars and the schizophrenics in polite society.
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Being able to drink socially. I can still do it to some degree, but it's not worth it most of the time.
19. It was really hard to have to give up: The belief that if I just tried a little harder, I could control these demons on my own. I had, after all, been working with that assumption for nearly 30 years.
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: I haven't, really, unfortunately. I have to work way more than any person should, and when I'm not working, I'm actively trying to work on myself. So no new hobbies, at least not right now.
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: Get together all my old friends and have an outrageously stupid party or something. Just anything to help me forget the shit I have to live with for a little while.
22. My illness has taught me: To look at things the way they really are, rather than the way I want them to be.
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: Anything that has to do with Big Pharma conspiracies and people not needing "all that medicine." Please. Suck. My. Dick.
24. But I love it when people: Think of me and do any little thing to show me that they've thought of me. Doesn't have to be big. Even someone engaging in a conversation with me about something not superficial for no other reason than because they care what I think is enough to make my day.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: I grew up in the Baptist church and attended a Methodist one for a while when I was a little older. Still, this particular story--and I'm going to quote it in its entirety because of the impact it has on me, even though I realize it's long--has only acquired its significance in fairly recent times. There are multiple reasons why. (I'm breaking it up into paragraphs that aren't in the original text to make it easier to read, due to its length.)
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: This will be the hardest thing you have to deal with in your life because no matter what you do or how hard you try to divorce yourself from it, it's always there. But there are people in the world who understand, and those are the ones you want to keep around, for they can help hold you up, even when you can't do it yourself. And for God's sake, take your goddamn medication, don't drink, don't do drugs of any kind, and try your best not to derail your own recovery.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: The fact that you can occasionally find understanding from people you never would've expected it from.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Help me clean my house and catch up on my work before it got even farther behind and I got more overwhelmed. (I'm looking at you, Kitty Cat.)
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: Eh, I don't know if you'd call this "involved," but I'm doing it in hopes that maybe what I have to say will help someone else somewhere down the line, as trite as it sounds.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Hopeful. Maybe there are people out there who care, even anonymously.
Also, there's this, about living with a chronic, invisible illness, if anyone gives a shit.
Clearly, I'm not a prolific blogger. I doubt anyone reads this thing but maybe...me? But, still, I feel compelled to do this shit, anyway. If there is anyone out there reading, humor me. Or skip this post. Whichever is fine. But maybe it'll help someone. And even if it doesn't, I guess it won't hurt.
1. The illness I live with is: Bipolar I, with psychotic features. I also have linear scleroderma with some generalized symptoms, asthma, severe allergies, and migraines. Also, a kitchen sink. I'm answering the questions in the context of bipolar, though, as it has had a even bigger impact on my life than being a fat asthmatic.
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2010.
3. But I had symptoms since: As long as I can remember. Since I was 5 or 6, at least. Maybe farther back. My memory is shit.
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Learning to live without people I truly care about because my illness is such a monster--and it turned me into one, too. Also, I have to pay very close attention to things other people don't even think about, like how much sleep I get.
5. Most people assume: That there is nothing wrong with me, unless they've had the dubious honor of dealing with it firsthand.
6. The hardest part about mornings are: Finding a reason to bother with even getting out of bed.
7. My favorite medical TV show is: House, I guess, but I don't watch TV. Haven't even really watched House in a couple of years. I haven't had cable since 2006.
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My sweet, sweet Kindle with its impressive collection of cheap/free books. There are days when it's the only thing that makes life worth living.
9. The hardest part about nights are: Not thinking about all the things I've lost. As you can see, I can hardly ever manage to do it.
10. Each day I take: 150 mg. of Wellbutrin--1 pill--in the morning, 2 B-complex gummy vitamins, 150 mg. (usually) of Lamictal--one 100 mg. pill and two 25 mg. pills--at night, and whatever headache or allergy stuff is necessary to get through the day. In the winter, I often need my albuterol inhaler for the asthma because it's aggravated by cold weather. Also, lots and lots of caffeine.
11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Think you're a goddamned idiot if you think popping some stupid herbal preparation or whatever is going to cure you if you're severely mentally ill. It might work for people who are either not sick but think they are or for people who are only mildly ill, through the placebo effect. But if you're really sick? It's like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Visible. At least then people wouldn't think I was full of shit when I'm unable to work or sleep 18 hours a day or sleep 2 hours a day or whatever.
13. Regarding working and career: It's hard. I've never really held down much of a job in my life. I can do it for a little while, but ultimately, I unravel. Before I started working at home, which I had to do for lack of any other options, I worked temp jobs. I've done this longer than I've ever done anything else (4 1/2 years).
14. People would be surprised to know: That I wish I could speak Spanish a lot better than I do (which is to say, hardly at all) and give English lessons to immigrant adults who genuinely wanted to learn.
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: The isolation.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: Run my own business.
17. The commercials about my illness: I don't think there are any, at least not that I know of. Again, I don't watch TV. Hell, they advertise antipsychotics like Seroquel and Abilify as antidepressants nowadays. People don't talk about the bipolars and the schizophrenics in polite society.
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Being able to drink socially. I can still do it to some degree, but it's not worth it most of the time.
19. It was really hard to have to give up: The belief that if I just tried a little harder, I could control these demons on my own. I had, after all, been working with that assumption for nearly 30 years.
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: I haven't, really, unfortunately. I have to work way more than any person should, and when I'm not working, I'm actively trying to work on myself. So no new hobbies, at least not right now.
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: Get together all my old friends and have an outrageously stupid party or something. Just anything to help me forget the shit I have to live with for a little while.
22. My illness has taught me: To look at things the way they really are, rather than the way I want them to be.
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: Anything that has to do with Big Pharma conspiracies and people not needing "all that medicine." Please. Suck. My. Dick.
24. But I love it when people: Think of me and do any little thing to show me that they've thought of me. Doesn't have to be big. Even someone engaging in a conversation with me about something not superficial for no other reason than because they care what I think is enough to make my day.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: I grew up in the Baptist church and attended a Methodist one for a while when I was a little older. Still, this particular story--and I'm going to quote it in its entirety because of the impact it has on me, even though I realize it's long--has only acquired its significance in fairly recent times. There are multiple reasons why. (I'm breaking it up into paragraphs that aren't in the original text to make it easier to read, due to its length.)
Early in the morning, he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst, they said to him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him.
Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." And once more, he bent down and wrote on the ground.
But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
She said, "No one, Lord."
And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on, sin no more."
~John 8:2-11
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: This will be the hardest thing you have to deal with in your life because no matter what you do or how hard you try to divorce yourself from it, it's always there. But there are people in the world who understand, and those are the ones you want to keep around, for they can help hold you up, even when you can't do it yourself. And for God's sake, take your goddamn medication, don't drink, don't do drugs of any kind, and try your best not to derail your own recovery.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: The fact that you can occasionally find understanding from people you never would've expected it from.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Help me clean my house and catch up on my work before it got even farther behind and I got more overwhelmed. (I'm looking at you, Kitty Cat.)
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: Eh, I don't know if you'd call this "involved," but I'm doing it in hopes that maybe what I have to say will help someone else somewhere down the line, as trite as it sounds.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Hopeful. Maybe there are people out there who care, even anonymously.
Also, there's this, about living with a chronic, invisible illness, if anyone gives a shit.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Sexuality: From Hyper- To A- In 3 Easy Steps
Ever wondered how to go from hypersexual to asexual in 3 easy steps? Well, wonder no more, my friends. Teh Bunneh has the answer, from bitter experience.
1.) Lose your mind.
2.) Lose everyone who's ever meant anything to you.
3.) Get medicated and watch your desire to get laid go down the toilet.
See? Now wasn't that easy?
All jokes--even lame ones like that one up there--aside, I have seriously lost pretty much all my inclination toward sex. I'm not sure when or why or how it happened, but it did.
Ok, well, here's the thing. In the abstract, I would totally say that I would like to have sex. In theory, it sounds like an excellent idea. But in practice? Ugh. No, thank you. Please keep your disgusting paws off of me.
Obligatory TMI warning: I don't know that the problem is my "sex drive," whatever that is, because I don't have an issue with masturbation. My vibrator gets its normal amount of use, you know? But the very thought of someone else touching me turns my stomach. I've become very standoffish--almost Asperger's-like. I've always been a little uncomfortable with being touched by most people, but I've gotten worse. I don't even want my friends to hug me. Just...please...no.
This has been going on for awhile, but what brought it to the forefront of my mind was a dream I had a few nights ago. My dreams are extremely vivid nowadays, and they torment me all night, every night. I can remember 5 separate ones from last night, for example. AND I TOOK A SLEEPING PILL! Needless to say, without the pills, my sleep quality is complete and total shit. Which is probably at least partly why I feel like hell lately.
Anyway, the other night, I dreamed that I had sex with this one dude I used to know. Actually, it was the guy my mother tried to marry me off to when I was, like, 16, but that's a whole 'nother can of worms I'm not going to open here. And, no, I never actually had sex with him in real life. Even though I was forced--ok, blackmailed--into dating him for nearly a year, I never even kissed him because...well, because I didn't fucking want to. And I hadn't yet reached the age where I fucked men because I didn't know what else to do. *Eyeroll*
Ok, I'm off track here. I'll leave the explanation of that situation for another day.
The point is, in my dream, I fucked this dude. Not only did dream me cry after it was over--and made him do it doggie style, so I didn't have to look at him--but also real me, when I woke up, literally felt nauseated. I expect that if I could've woken up enough, real me would've cried, too.
Not most normal people's reaction to a sex dream, hmm?
It wasn't just the fact that it was that guy, either. I mean, I'm sure that was part of it. But, like, back in April when my friend L., whom I fucked off and on from the time we graduated high school until about 3-4 years ago, came over, I rebuffed his advances, too. He came and sat next to me on the couch and threw an arm around me, and I kept scooting farther and farther away, until the arm of the couch impeded my progress. Then, I made some lame excuse about being tired and went to bed. Alone.
What. The. Fuck?
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I wish I *had* fucked him. I'm glad I didn't. This is just out-of-character behavior for me. I mean, I've got the numbers of at least 4 men in my phone whom I could call anytime I wanted, and they'd come over and fuck me if I just asked. A few minutes on the Internet would dredge up quite a few more who are willing. New ones, even. I just don't want to. Like I said, the thought of it makes me feel ill. I don't even get on any of the sex/kink/hookup websites anymore. Well, I still get on my message board, but that's not to hook up with people. It's just to chat with my old friends. I pretty much avoid the sex stuff there.
I'm not sure what happened. I haven't had sex in nearly 2 years. Haven't done anything, period, in over a year. Have I trained myself out of the desire? Or is it something else?
A part of me thinks that I've finally accepted how self-destructive that impulse is. I've realized that it's not healthy, and it damn sure doesn't make me happy. I don't like being a slave to an overwhelming, driving NEED that pushes me into doing shit I don't even want to do, things that I know are horrible ideas, things that are bound to cause more problems than they'll ever fix just to shut it up. Maybe I'm tired of that particular demon having that kind of control over me, so I've finally broken its hold on me? I don't know.
And, too, maybe I'm sick of the way that so many people have used that awful demon inside me to get what they wanted. Some of them didn't realize how exploitative it was, so I don't blame them...but some of them did. It wasn't the desire for them to fuck me that drove me to it. I was being driven by something bigger and stronger than me, and I turned to sex in DESPERATION to quiet it. Nothing about that is healthy. I don't fault the ones who didn't know. I do fault the ones who knew and didn't care.
I'm also sure that part of it is the fact that the sex demon inside ruined my relationships with the people I loved the most. My desperation to shut it up made me do horrible, stupid, destructive things that hurt other people even more than they hurt me. So every sexually-tinged thought is tainted with that knowledge, whether consciously or subconsciously, so I'm sure that's not helping matters, either.
It's just as well, I guess. At least I'm staying out of trouble.
1.) Lose your mind.
2.) Lose everyone who's ever meant anything to you.
3.) Get medicated and watch your desire to get laid go down the toilet.
See? Now wasn't that easy?
All jokes--even lame ones like that one up there--aside, I have seriously lost pretty much all my inclination toward sex. I'm not sure when or why or how it happened, but it did.
Ok, well, here's the thing. In the abstract, I would totally say that I would like to have sex. In theory, it sounds like an excellent idea. But in practice? Ugh. No, thank you. Please keep your disgusting paws off of me.
Obligatory TMI warning: I don't know that the problem is my "sex drive," whatever that is, because I don't have an issue with masturbation. My vibrator gets its normal amount of use, you know? But the very thought of someone else touching me turns my stomach. I've become very standoffish--almost Asperger's-like. I've always been a little uncomfortable with being touched by most people, but I've gotten worse. I don't even want my friends to hug me. Just...please...no.
This has been going on for awhile, but what brought it to the forefront of my mind was a dream I had a few nights ago. My dreams are extremely vivid nowadays, and they torment me all night, every night. I can remember 5 separate ones from last night, for example. AND I TOOK A SLEEPING PILL! Needless to say, without the pills, my sleep quality is complete and total shit. Which is probably at least partly why I feel like hell lately.
Anyway, the other night, I dreamed that I had sex with this one dude I used to know. Actually, it was the guy my mother tried to marry me off to when I was, like, 16, but that's a whole 'nother can of worms I'm not going to open here. And, no, I never actually had sex with him in real life. Even though I was forced--ok, blackmailed--into dating him for nearly a year, I never even kissed him because...well, because I didn't fucking want to. And I hadn't yet reached the age where I fucked men because I didn't know what else to do. *Eyeroll*
Ok, I'm off track here. I'll leave the explanation of that situation for another day.
The point is, in my dream, I fucked this dude. Not only did dream me cry after it was over--and made him do it doggie style, so I didn't have to look at him--but also real me, when I woke up, literally felt nauseated. I expect that if I could've woken up enough, real me would've cried, too.
Not most normal people's reaction to a sex dream, hmm?
It wasn't just the fact that it was that guy, either. I mean, I'm sure that was part of it. But, like, back in April when my friend L., whom I fucked off and on from the time we graduated high school until about 3-4 years ago, came over, I rebuffed his advances, too. He came and sat next to me on the couch and threw an arm around me, and I kept scooting farther and farther away, until the arm of the couch impeded my progress. Then, I made some lame excuse about being tired and went to bed. Alone.
What. The. Fuck?
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I wish I *had* fucked him. I'm glad I didn't. This is just out-of-character behavior for me. I mean, I've got the numbers of at least 4 men in my phone whom I could call anytime I wanted, and they'd come over and fuck me if I just asked. A few minutes on the Internet would dredge up quite a few more who are willing. New ones, even. I just don't want to. Like I said, the thought of it makes me feel ill. I don't even get on any of the sex/kink/hookup websites anymore. Well, I still get on my message board, but that's not to hook up with people. It's just to chat with my old friends. I pretty much avoid the sex stuff there.
I'm not sure what happened. I haven't had sex in nearly 2 years. Haven't done anything, period, in over a year. Have I trained myself out of the desire? Or is it something else?
A part of me thinks that I've finally accepted how self-destructive that impulse is. I've realized that it's not healthy, and it damn sure doesn't make me happy. I don't like being a slave to an overwhelming, driving NEED that pushes me into doing shit I don't even want to do, things that I know are horrible ideas, things that are bound to cause more problems than they'll ever fix just to shut it up. Maybe I'm tired of that particular demon having that kind of control over me, so I've finally broken its hold on me? I don't know.
And, too, maybe I'm sick of the way that so many people have used that awful demon inside me to get what they wanted. Some of them didn't realize how exploitative it was, so I don't blame them...but some of them did. It wasn't the desire for them to fuck me that drove me to it. I was being driven by something bigger and stronger than me, and I turned to sex in DESPERATION to quiet it. Nothing about that is healthy. I don't fault the ones who didn't know. I do fault the ones who knew and didn't care.
I'm also sure that part of it is the fact that the sex demon inside ruined my relationships with the people I loved the most. My desperation to shut it up made me do horrible, stupid, destructive things that hurt other people even more than they hurt me. So every sexually-tinged thought is tainted with that knowledge, whether consciously or subconsciously, so I'm sure that's not helping matters, either.
It's just as well, I guess. At least I'm staying out of trouble.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Letters From A Crazy Person
Dear X,
In the grocery store today, the cashier whose line I got in looked so much like you that I had to check her name tag to make sure it *wasn't* you. I know, what the hell would you be doing working in the Oxford Walmart? I dunno. It just took me by surprise.
What's worse, she didn't just look like you. She talked and acted like you, too. And I had to stand there and smile and say nice things while she rang up my stuff and chatted with me. I think I pulled it off, but Jesus Christ, it was hard.
Before I left the house today, I had all sorts of big plans for all the stuff I was going to get done. But running into a you look-alike fucked my head up so much that I managed to write a grand total of 4 blogs all night long.
You're on my mind all the time. And the stupid radio keeps tormenting me with this song:
The song is 20 years old. Why is it playing on the radio every time I get in the truck nowadays?
I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry. You'll never know how much. Just as you'll never know how much I love you.
~A Stupid Rabbit
Dear Y,
Florida was marvelous. Even if it did rain all the time, even if every single time we tried to swim was interrupted by something, even if we couldn't stay down there very long. None of that mattered. You know why? Because I was in my favorite place in the whole world...with you.
Oh, how I wish things could be the same again between us. You have no idea how much I wish they could be. I don't ever say anything, mostly because I'm a chicken shit, but I also don't want to make you uncomfortable. But, goddamn, I miss the way things used to be.
I guess it's true that you don't know what you once had until you've lost it. I took what we had for granted for years and years, and I deserved to be tossed aside for it. I don't blame you in the least. But that doesn't stop me from wishing it could be different.
I will keep hoping. I will keep hoping my whole life. But even if it never goes back to the way it was, I'd rather have it this way than not have you in my life at all.
You have always been--and will always be--loved by me.
~Bunny
In the grocery store today, the cashier whose line I got in looked so much like you that I had to check her name tag to make sure it *wasn't* you. I know, what the hell would you be doing working in the Oxford Walmart? I dunno. It just took me by surprise.
What's worse, she didn't just look like you. She talked and acted like you, too. And I had to stand there and smile and say nice things while she rang up my stuff and chatted with me. I think I pulled it off, but Jesus Christ, it was hard.
Before I left the house today, I had all sorts of big plans for all the stuff I was going to get done. But running into a you look-alike fucked my head up so much that I managed to write a grand total of 4 blogs all night long.
You're on my mind all the time. And the stupid radio keeps tormenting me with this song:
The song is 20 years old. Why is it playing on the radio every time I get in the truck nowadays?
I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry. You'll never know how much. Just as you'll never know how much I love you.
~A Stupid Rabbit
Dear Y,
Florida was marvelous. Even if it did rain all the time, even if every single time we tried to swim was interrupted by something, even if we couldn't stay down there very long. None of that mattered. You know why? Because I was in my favorite place in the whole world...with you.
Oh, how I wish things could be the same again between us. You have no idea how much I wish they could be. I don't ever say anything, mostly because I'm a chicken shit, but I also don't want to make you uncomfortable. But, goddamn, I miss the way things used to be.
I guess it's true that you don't know what you once had until you've lost it. I took what we had for granted for years and years, and I deserved to be tossed aside for it. I don't blame you in the least. But that doesn't stop me from wishing it could be different.
I will keep hoping. I will keep hoping my whole life. But even if it never goes back to the way it was, I'd rather have it this way than not have you in my life at all.
You have always been--and will always be--loved by me.
~Bunny
Sunday, September 2, 2012
You Still Have...All Of Me
I shouldn't care. I know I shouldn't.
I shouldn't even think about it.
But I do. I can't help it. It's beyond my control.
I can keep it to myself. I can hide the pain that gnaws at me. I can stay away. I can avoid wreaking havoc on their lives by keeping away. I can bear the pain. I can do all these things.
But I can't forget. I can't help being haunted by them, by ghosts of people who aren't even dead. I can't help loving them still, even the one whose knife I still haven't managed to pull out of my back yet.
No, I can't help loving them. And I damn sure can't help hating myself for it.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face, it haunts my once-pleasant dreams
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase....
I shouldn't even think about it.
But I do. I can't help it. It's beyond my control.
I can keep it to myself. I can hide the pain that gnaws at me. I can stay away. I can avoid wreaking havoc on their lives by keeping away. I can bear the pain. I can do all these things.
But I can't forget. I can't help being haunted by them, by ghosts of people who aren't even dead. I can't help loving them still, even the one whose knife I still haven't managed to pull out of my back yet.
No, I can't help loving them. And I damn sure can't help hating myself for it.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face, it haunts my once-pleasant dreams
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase....
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
And So It Begins
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
It's coming on already. It's not even Labor Day yet, and it's bearing down on me hard.
I've been having a hard time sleeping since I got back from Florida. I had such a fantastic time there with Kitty--despite the fact that it rained pretty much the whole time--that I think the reality of being stuck here alone in this house for another long, lonely fall and winter has hit me hard and ultimately started the inevitable wobble into crazy.
The dysphoric mania is ramping itself up. I haven't been able to do anything productive for 2 days. I didn't get to sleep until 8 am and then was up again by 3 pm. But the thought of doing anything that requires getting out of bed and/or doing something other than playing Neopets or Facebook games seems an obstacle that's absolutely insurmountable. I took my Lamictal hours ago, and my brain hasn't shut up yet. If I don't do something, the depression, caused by the days getting shorter, is sure to follow and stack on top of the mania, and it's back to mixed hell for Teh Bunneh. :(
Goddammit, why do I have to be crazy?
But there's so much that needs doing that I HAVE to pull my shit together tomorrow. But, of course, the demon is trying so hard to break my grip over him that he's telling me that I shouldn't go and take another 25 mg. of Lamictal and a sleeping pill in hopes of breaking this cycle before it gets too out of hand. I know I need to, though. I haven't gone off the deep end yet, and I would like to keep it that way. This is why I would give my right arm for PRN antipsychotics. But, alas, I can't afford a psychiatrist, and my doctor has yet to give them to me.
But lemme tell you a little something, folks: If I don't stop this runaway train soon, I'm going to be in for Fall 2010, redux.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
It's coming on already. It's not even Labor Day yet, and it's bearing down on me hard.
I've been having a hard time sleeping since I got back from Florida. I had such a fantastic time there with Kitty--despite the fact that it rained pretty much the whole time--that I think the reality of being stuck here alone in this house for another long, lonely fall and winter has hit me hard and ultimately started the inevitable wobble into crazy.
The dysphoric mania is ramping itself up. I haven't been able to do anything productive for 2 days. I didn't get to sleep until 8 am and then was up again by 3 pm. But the thought of doing anything that requires getting out of bed and/or doing something other than playing Neopets or Facebook games seems an obstacle that's absolutely insurmountable. I took my Lamictal hours ago, and my brain hasn't shut up yet. If I don't do something, the depression, caused by the days getting shorter, is sure to follow and stack on top of the mania, and it's back to mixed hell for Teh Bunneh. :(
Goddammit, why do I have to be crazy?
But there's so much that needs doing that I HAVE to pull my shit together tomorrow. But, of course, the demon is trying so hard to break my grip over him that he's telling me that I shouldn't go and take another 25 mg. of Lamictal and a sleeping pill in hopes of breaking this cycle before it gets too out of hand. I know I need to, though. I haven't gone off the deep end yet, and I would like to keep it that way. This is why I would give my right arm for PRN antipsychotics. But, alas, I can't afford a psychiatrist, and my doctor has yet to give them to me.
But lemme tell you a little something, folks: If I don't stop this runaway train soon, I'm going to be in for Fall 2010, redux.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
The Only Place To Say It
Happy Birthday, love.
I wish I could tell you myself, but I know you won't want to hear it from me. So I will say it here, where it will hurt no one, and hope that you are really and truly happy, both today and always.
~B. Rabbit
I wish I could tell you myself, but I know you won't want to hear it from me. So I will say it here, where it will hurt no one, and hope that you are really and truly happy, both today and always.
~B. Rabbit
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Well, Now I've Done It
Well, I've done something that'll probably make me the biggest bitch in history, but I had no choice.
Trying to continue on the way I was going was making me sick. The much-too-short vacation in Destin helped, but let's tell the truth: I am much too broke to go barreling down to the ocean every time I get overwhelmed. I will be lucky to go back next year, so I had to come up with an alternative way of dealing with it, and it was past time for me to do so.
Studies have shown that people with bipolar live, on average, a lot shorter lives than normal people, and that's even when the numbers are adjusted for suicide rates. Different studies come up with different numbers, but the most optimistic ones say that being bipolar knocks about 8 years off your life span. The more pessimistic ones say it's more like 25.
They cite a number of factors, including the shitty lifestyle choices. Most of us are overweight. Many of us are heavy cigarette smokers (not me, thank God). Others are alcoholics and/or drug addicts. Many of us live isolated lives (definitely me) and don't make enough money to provide ourselves a decent standard of living (also me). And then there's the fact that it's rare that bipolar is the *only* thing wrong with the people who suffer from it. We're a lot more likely to suffer from heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and so forth.
In my opinion, there's another factor involved that I suppose there's no real way of measuring. When you spend your whole life fighting the crazy, it wears you out. Your body just craps out on you. Between the crazy and the various things wrong with me which I will not even attempt to catalog here, I cannot remember a time in my life when I was ever NOT tired. Any mental stress I'm under only compounds the problem.
I've been under a goddamn lot of mental stress lately. My body is starting to crack under the pressure. I'm back to having migraines regularly, which is something that hasn't happened since I got off Depo in 2007. My asthma has started flaring up again, which usually doesn't happen until it starts getting colder. My body is reacting to all the stress by making me fucking miserable.
I cannot keep living this way.
I could smell the tang of fall on the wind today, which gave me a brief moment of panic. Usually, it doesn't happen this early. But I know that I always go mixed, at least to some degree, in the fall, and I'm going to do everything I can to fight it off. I can't have another Fall of 2010 happen again.
But I also know that all this shit going on around me will drive me down that hole if I don't do something. It did it last time. There's no reason to think it won't do the same again this time. But I can't have that happen.
So I had to step up and do something I should've done a long goddamn time ago but didn't because I was so conflicted about it. But the truth is, I've spent my whole life bending over backwards to accommodate other people while hardly ever getting anything in return for that. I've lived my whole life in the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" quandary. For the most part, I went with "damned if you don't" because it meant I could avoid confrontation.
But, clearly, "damned if you don't" is getting me nowhere and making me sick in the process. I'm going to die early as it is; I doubt I'll make it into my 50s. No use in driving myself into an even earlier grave.
So let's try "damned if you do" for awhile and see if that works out any better, shall we?
Trying to continue on the way I was going was making me sick. The much-too-short vacation in Destin helped, but let's tell the truth: I am much too broke to go barreling down to the ocean every time I get overwhelmed. I will be lucky to go back next year, so I had to come up with an alternative way of dealing with it, and it was past time for me to do so.
Studies have shown that people with bipolar live, on average, a lot shorter lives than normal people, and that's even when the numbers are adjusted for suicide rates. Different studies come up with different numbers, but the most optimistic ones say that being bipolar knocks about 8 years off your life span. The more pessimistic ones say it's more like 25.
They cite a number of factors, including the shitty lifestyle choices. Most of us are overweight. Many of us are heavy cigarette smokers (not me, thank God). Others are alcoholics and/or drug addicts. Many of us live isolated lives (definitely me) and don't make enough money to provide ourselves a decent standard of living (also me). And then there's the fact that it's rare that bipolar is the *only* thing wrong with the people who suffer from it. We're a lot more likely to suffer from heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and so forth.
In my opinion, there's another factor involved that I suppose there's no real way of measuring. When you spend your whole life fighting the crazy, it wears you out. Your body just craps out on you. Between the crazy and the various things wrong with me which I will not even attempt to catalog here, I cannot remember a time in my life when I was ever NOT tired. Any mental stress I'm under only compounds the problem.
I've been under a goddamn lot of mental stress lately. My body is starting to crack under the pressure. I'm back to having migraines regularly, which is something that hasn't happened since I got off Depo in 2007. My asthma has started flaring up again, which usually doesn't happen until it starts getting colder. My body is reacting to all the stress by making me fucking miserable.
I cannot keep living this way.
I could smell the tang of fall on the wind today, which gave me a brief moment of panic. Usually, it doesn't happen this early. But I know that I always go mixed, at least to some degree, in the fall, and I'm going to do everything I can to fight it off. I can't have another Fall of 2010 happen again.
But I also know that all this shit going on around me will drive me down that hole if I don't do something. It did it last time. There's no reason to think it won't do the same again this time. But I can't have that happen.
So I had to step up and do something I should've done a long goddamn time ago but didn't because I was so conflicted about it. But the truth is, I've spent my whole life bending over backwards to accommodate other people while hardly ever getting anything in return for that. I've lived my whole life in the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" quandary. For the most part, I went with "damned if you don't" because it meant I could avoid confrontation.
But, clearly, "damned if you don't" is getting me nowhere and making me sick in the process. I'm going to die early as it is; I doubt I'll make it into my 50s. No use in driving myself into an even earlier grave.
So let's try "damned if you do" for awhile and see if that works out any better, shall we?
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Love's Awakening
A few days ago, I said I'd had an epiphany but hadn't had time to post it yet. I'm taking time now.
****Disclaimer****
I have just taken a sleeping pill. If this gets more incoherent as it goes on, that's why.
Several days ago, when I heard the news, all I could think about was how I wanted to die. I even sent Kitty some messages that she must've thought were strange, coming out of the blue like that. But even though I hadn't decided how I was going to do it yet, I was ready and willing to kill myself to keep from having to deal with the pain, and the messages were a way of wrapping up loose ends, so to speak.
But I am still here. I don't know why entirely. But I am. I won't bore you with the details.
The next day, the day after I heard the news, there was a profound change that came over me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, even if I were given the opportunity, I would not trade places with any of them. This has not always been the case.
At one time, I would've. Even knowing that it would hurt at least one of them--probably more than just one--I would have done it, anyway, claiming that I'd been through enough hurt for one lifetime, so it was time for them to experience some of it for awhile. But now? No. Not even if a genie came to sit at the foot of my bed and asked me what my three wishes were.
Why? Because barring some sort of unforeseen "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" kind of deal, my doing that would hurt them. Casting one of them out in favor of myself would bring on all kinds of pain and misery, and I can't bear the thought of the people I love hurting, especially not on account of me.
So if someone has to suffer so that the others don't have to, then let it be me. I've had a lifetime of pain, so I'm probably better equipped to deal with it, brain crazies not withstanding. If I have to spend the rest of my life alone and broken-hearted so that they can be happy, I will do it without question.
I love them. I want them to be happy. If it takes my absence in order to accomplish that, so be it. I will bear my pain in (relative) silence and be glad that they are not the ones in my shoes.
If I ever had any doubts whether or not my love for them--all of them--is real or just a crazy person's obsessive inability to let go of the past, then those doubts are gone. It is most assuredly the former, and even if I do suffer for it the rest of my life....Well, if I'm not quite at peace with it, I have at least accepted my lot.
Be happy, my loves. I'll stand in the back and hope that I'm doing the right thing for once.
****Disclaimer****
I have just taken a sleeping pill. If this gets more incoherent as it goes on, that's why.
Several days ago, when I heard the news, all I could think about was how I wanted to die. I even sent Kitty some messages that she must've thought were strange, coming out of the blue like that. But even though I hadn't decided how I was going to do it yet, I was ready and willing to kill myself to keep from having to deal with the pain, and the messages were a way of wrapping up loose ends, so to speak.
But I am still here. I don't know why entirely. But I am. I won't bore you with the details.
The next day, the day after I heard the news, there was a profound change that came over me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, even if I were given the opportunity, I would not trade places with any of them. This has not always been the case.
At one time, I would've. Even knowing that it would hurt at least one of them--probably more than just one--I would have done it, anyway, claiming that I'd been through enough hurt for one lifetime, so it was time for them to experience some of it for awhile. But now? No. Not even if a genie came to sit at the foot of my bed and asked me what my three wishes were.
Why? Because barring some sort of unforeseen "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" kind of deal, my doing that would hurt them. Casting one of them out in favor of myself would bring on all kinds of pain and misery, and I can't bear the thought of the people I love hurting, especially not on account of me.
So if someone has to suffer so that the others don't have to, then let it be me. I've had a lifetime of pain, so I'm probably better equipped to deal with it, brain crazies not withstanding. If I have to spend the rest of my life alone and broken-hearted so that they can be happy, I will do it without question.
I love them. I want them to be happy. If it takes my absence in order to accomplish that, so be it. I will bear my pain in (relative) silence and be glad that they are not the ones in my shoes.
If I ever had any doubts whether or not my love for them--all of them--is real or just a crazy person's obsessive inability to let go of the past, then those doubts are gone. It is most assuredly the former, and even if I do suffer for it the rest of my life....Well, if I'm not quite at peace with it, I have at least accepted my lot.
Be happy, my loves. I'll stand in the back and hope that I'm doing the right thing for once.
Friday, July 27, 2012
You Need To Get Like Me
You know what makes you feel better when you feel like shit?
Flirting with a local subbie boy whom you've had a thing for for the last 6 years, while flirting with a dom from Germany whom you've known online forever and know you will never, ever meet in real life.
I still got it, bitches. Yes, I do.
Flirting with a local subbie boy whom you've had a thing for for the last 6 years, while flirting with a dom from Germany whom you've known online forever and know you will never, ever meet in real life.
I still got it, bitches. Yes, I do.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Things Aren't The Way They Were Before....
You know, sometimes, even when you wish you were dead, people can come out and surprise you in the nicest of ways.
I've been doing this sort of on-again, off-again thing with a subbie/switch/whatever boy, T., since...2006? Christ, I'm old. We went back and forth for a couple of years, but things kinda just faded out in late 2008. We only just started talking again a few months ago.
Yesterday, I was desperate. I needed someone, someone nearby, to keep me from falling headfirst into the first bottle of liquor I found, someone to keep me from finding a parade of men of to fuck to drive all the pain away for a little while. And against what would've been my better judgment, had I had any at that time, I sent T. a text. I wasn't even going to tell him what was wrong. I just needed someone to talk to me, to keep me occupied.
But he could tell I was desperate. He has demons of his own, and as most of us with demons will attest, it becomes easy to recognize it in others. He wouldn't let me get away with not telling him. I was so ashamed of being upset over something like this, something that, in all honesty, really had no impact on me whatsoever. He basically forced it out of me, though, and the whole story came spilling out like somebody'd opened the floodgates to the world's biggest dam.
Mind you, this shit is not something I talk about to anyone but maybe 2 people in the whole world. So he had no idea what was coming. Once it started, I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to. And you know what? He didn't laugh at me. He didn't roll his eyes at me. He didn't say I was a drama queen. He didn't rapidly change the subject. No, for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I had someone actually acknowledge my pain for what it was.
"No wonder your mind was shattered," he said. "Whose wouldn't be after all that?"
That's more validation for my feelings than I've gotten from anyone in a long, long time.
"That was cold," he said. "Really, really cold. Who does that to someone they claim to care about when that person needs them?"
I tried to explain, tried to let him know it was my fault, too, but he cut me off.
"I don't care what you did," he said. "You didn't deserve to lose everything you loved like that."
And just like that, this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. He went on to tell me that he knew I'd been so used to blaming myself and so used to feeling worthless all the time, but that it wasn't true. He told me that he understood why I was so upset over what I'd just heard, even though I felt like I had no right to be. Then, he said a bunch of other nice things and--get this--didn't come over to fuck me, even though I was clearly angling for it. He wanted to, I know. But he didn't.
I'll be goddamned. Chivalry does still exist in this world.
He had to go shortly thereafter to do something for his parents, but he came back later, just to check in. I have no idea how I'll ever repay him, but I'm going to do it somehow.
In the midst of my conversation with T., I also got a private message from someone on my message board. I'd posted something on there about "Worst day of my life, and, no, I don't want to talk about it" or something similar. And then, I got a PM from a sweet man (a regular poster, not some weird creeper) in Germany entitled "Why you are stronger than I am." In it, he made me promise to let him hear from me at least once every 10 years to make sure I hadn't given up yet. He also said a lot of other kind things that I won't go into, but I swear to God, between him (M.) and T., they talked my ass down from the ledge last night.
I sent M. a reply to his private message, thanking him and basically telling him that he and another friend were the only reasons I wasn't sitting drunk off my ass in a bar, looking for a group of strangers to run a train on me. Because he's in Germany, God knows what time it was there when I sent my message. But today, when I got up and checked, he'd replied, said some more nice things, and sent me a link to his blog, where he had posted this.
Now, if only I could read German, so I could read some of his other entries....
No matter, though. Between the two of them, they kept me...well, if not sane, as sane as I could be expected to remain last night. If there is a sentient and merciful God in this Universe, I hope he rewards those two for what they did for me last night. Regardless of how small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it meant fucking everything to me last night.
After I took my Lamictal, my brain calmed down a little and allowed me to see things a little more clearly. (Take that, everyone who says it's not an anti-manic. Ok, well, maybe it wasn't mania, but there were clearly racing, catastrophic thoughts, so whatever.) I had an epiphany late last night, which I intend to post later, but not right now because I've gone on too long already and need to get a little work done.
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end....
I've been doing this sort of on-again, off-again thing with a subbie/switch/whatever boy, T., since...2006? Christ, I'm old. We went back and forth for a couple of years, but things kinda just faded out in late 2008. We only just started talking again a few months ago.
Yesterday, I was desperate. I needed someone, someone nearby, to keep me from falling headfirst into the first bottle of liquor I found, someone to keep me from finding a parade of men of to fuck to drive all the pain away for a little while. And against what would've been my better judgment, had I had any at that time, I sent T. a text. I wasn't even going to tell him what was wrong. I just needed someone to talk to me, to keep me occupied.
But he could tell I was desperate. He has demons of his own, and as most of us with demons will attest, it becomes easy to recognize it in others. He wouldn't let me get away with not telling him. I was so ashamed of being upset over something like this, something that, in all honesty, really had no impact on me whatsoever. He basically forced it out of me, though, and the whole story came spilling out like somebody'd opened the floodgates to the world's biggest dam.
Mind you, this shit is not something I talk about to anyone but maybe 2 people in the whole world. So he had no idea what was coming. Once it started, I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to. And you know what? He didn't laugh at me. He didn't roll his eyes at me. He didn't say I was a drama queen. He didn't rapidly change the subject. No, for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I had someone actually acknowledge my pain for what it was.
"No wonder your mind was shattered," he said. "Whose wouldn't be after all that?"
That's more validation for my feelings than I've gotten from anyone in a long, long time.
"That was cold," he said. "Really, really cold. Who does that to someone they claim to care about when that person needs them?"
I tried to explain, tried to let him know it was my fault, too, but he cut me off.
"I don't care what you did," he said. "You didn't deserve to lose everything you loved like that."
And just like that, this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. He went on to tell me that he knew I'd been so used to blaming myself and so used to feeling worthless all the time, but that it wasn't true. He told me that he understood why I was so upset over what I'd just heard, even though I felt like I had no right to be. Then, he said a bunch of other nice things and--get this--didn't come over to fuck me, even though I was clearly angling for it. He wanted to, I know. But he didn't.
I'll be goddamned. Chivalry does still exist in this world.
He had to go shortly thereafter to do something for his parents, but he came back later, just to check in. I have no idea how I'll ever repay him, but I'm going to do it somehow.
In the midst of my conversation with T., I also got a private message from someone on my message board. I'd posted something on there about "Worst day of my life, and, no, I don't want to talk about it" or something similar. And then, I got a PM from a sweet man (a regular poster, not some weird creeper) in Germany entitled "Why you are stronger than I am." In it, he made me promise to let him hear from me at least once every 10 years to make sure I hadn't given up yet. He also said a lot of other kind things that I won't go into, but I swear to God, between him (M.) and T., they talked my ass down from the ledge last night.
I sent M. a reply to his private message, thanking him and basically telling him that he and another friend were the only reasons I wasn't sitting drunk off my ass in a bar, looking for a group of strangers to run a train on me. Because he's in Germany, God knows what time it was there when I sent my message. But today, when I got up and checked, he'd replied, said some more nice things, and sent me a link to his blog, where he had posted this.
Now, if only I could read German, so I could read some of his other entries....
No matter, though. Between the two of them, they kept me...well, if not sane, as sane as I could be expected to remain last night. If there is a sentient and merciful God in this Universe, I hope he rewards those two for what they did for me last night. Regardless of how small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it meant fucking everything to me last night.
After I took my Lamictal, my brain calmed down a little and allowed me to see things a little more clearly. (Take that, everyone who says it's not an anti-manic. Ok, well, maybe it wasn't mania, but there were clearly racing, catastrophic thoughts, so whatever.) I had an epiphany late last night, which I intend to post later, but not right now because I've gone on too long already and need to get a little work done.
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end....
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Well
Now I know the cause for the anxiety and wretchedness of the last couple of months. I always know when something is happening. I don't know how, but I do.
I went to the bank and McDonald's today, before I found out. And in between the two places, I was struck with a single thought--I will never be happy.
Then, I came home to confirmation of it.
I should be happy for them. I know I should be. When people you love get what they want most in the world, you're supposed to be happy for them.
But, goddamn, I wish I were dead.
I went to the bank and McDonald's today, before I found out. And in between the two places, I was struck with a single thought--I will never be happy.
Then, I came home to confirmation of it.
I should be happy for them. I know I should be. When people you love get what they want most in the world, you're supposed to be happy for them.
But, goddamn, I wish I were dead.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Maybe Praying For Strength Is A Bad Idea?
I can't live like this. I can't. I'm making myself sick. I can hardly eat. I sleep too much, and I'm tormented by my dreams the whole time. Tonight, I've been literally walking the floor. I feel about a hundred years old.
The guilt is killing me. Tearing me apart. Eating me from the inside out.
Must do something. Soon.
Why haven't I already?
Because in addition to being a bad person, I'm also a big, fat coward.
Dear God, give me strength. I surely don't have it in my myself.
The guilt is killing me. Tearing me apart. Eating me from the inside out.
Must do something. Soon.
Why haven't I already?
Because in addition to being a bad person, I'm also a big, fat coward.
Dear God, give me strength. I surely don't have it in my myself.
Monday, July 16, 2012
The Treadmill To Hell
So my friend B. came down from Huntsville to visit. He's been here since Monday. I appreciate the company, I guess, but it costs a LOT of goddamn money to feed him. I mean, when they sold my grandma's house, I got a little money from it, but I was kinda supposed to pay my taxes with it. I haven't been able to pay them yet because I have been having to use it for other things, and if I'm not careful, it's all going drift slowly away, and I'll have nothing--and my taxes still won't be paid.
I feel myself slipping down again. I was doing better, but I'm getting overwhelmed once again. Google levied a heavy penalty on all my sites back in April, and now I'm not making any money off of them. Like, it costs more money in hosting fees to keep them up and running than they bring in every month. I work my ass off constantly, and I'm still having to spend more money than I make. I'm just to the point where I feel it's not worth it anymore.
My daddy took out a loan for me last April to pay off my credit cards. The payment on the loan is $385 a month. And you know what? Both goddamn motherfucking cards are maxed the fuck out again because I was trying to do a good thing. So now I'm stuck with a $385 payment on the loan every month AND another $150 on the credit cards. I'm in worse shape now than I was before I got the fucking loan.
No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.
I do excellent work for very little money. I guess I should raise my rates, but Jesus Christ, I hardly get any customers now as it is. I'm having to go back to the phones, but they aren't even ringing now because--surprise--my sites don't rank for shit in Google anymore.
I feel like no matter what I do, it's one step forward and two steps back. I've already been told by my mother that she "can't" help me anymore. Mind you, I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever ASKED her for help. Basically, I was told that if I couldn't make it on my own, I had to move back to my mama's house.
A few things with that: 1.) I damn sure can't make money living there. 2.) Not one single thing has gone the way I wanted it to in my life, except for the fact that I got the fuck out when I was 18 and never went back. 3.) I swear before God, I will blow my fucking brains out before I'll go back.
I have basically been supporting someone else my entire adult life. I attract users, hangers-on, and everybody in the world who wants a free ride. I never wanted to be like my grandmother, who had plenty of money but would sooner let you starve to death than give up a penny of it. If I can help someone, I want to help them. But the thing is, people don't want help until they can get on their feet. They want somebody to do it for them. FOREVER.
I'm tired of footing the bills for everyone. I'm tired of being in debt because I've spent the last 10 years trying to help other people. Here's the thing--if I were just paying my own bills, not debt I've incurred doing for other people, I would be fine. Not rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but not always robbing Peter to pay Paul, either.
I wish now that I had just gone on and told my mama that I wanted to move into my grandma's house before they sold it. I wouldn't have had to pay rent, so that would've been $400 a month I could have saved. But I was supposed to have a roommate, who didn't want to move there, so I ended up not doing it. And by the time I realized that the whole roommate thing wasn't going to happen, they'd already gotten earnest money put down on the house. So I wasn't going to be some asshole who went swooping in there and said, "Nope, stop the sale. I'm moving in."
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it never works out. At this point, I couldn't get a real job. It's partly because I'm too crazy and partly because I haven't been officially employed since 2006. Who the fuck is going to hire me now?
Nobody. That's who.
My bills alone work out to be about $1400 a month. That's not counting food, gas, or anything else. (Before I got this money from the sale of the house, I went two months without buying light bulbs, even though every light fixture in my house only had one bulb in it because I could not spare the $2 for a box of light bulbs.) I make about $900 a month, now that the sites aren't pulling in extra money anymore. That's a BIG fucking gap. And bless your heart, you can forget anybody coming to my rescue.
But you know what? I don't need (or want) rescuing. I just want to not have to work myself to death for shit wages while steadily digging myself deeper into the hole because I'm constantly getting fucked from every direction.
The thought of taking another phone job makes me ill. I do good to manage to log in 10 hours a week because it makes me so sick to have to do it. But I honestly don't know what else I can do at this point. My mental health is going to suffer. I'll probably end up not being able to work at all because it'll drive me off the deep end again. But I honestly DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO anymore. It's not like I can send itemized bills to every motherfucker who screwed me over and expect to get anything back from it.
I just...I don't know what to do, and I'm back to having migraines and problems sleeping from worrying about it so much. I've basically made my sick over what essentially amounts to OTHER PEOPLE'S BILLS. I'm burnt the hell out and my body is starting to crap out on me again like it did last fall. I've been trying to take mental health days on Mondays, but I feel guilty for even taking a day off because I know I need to be making money.
Fuck.
This? Right here? Is why people kill themselves.
I feel myself slipping down again. I was doing better, but I'm getting overwhelmed once again. Google levied a heavy penalty on all my sites back in April, and now I'm not making any money off of them. Like, it costs more money in hosting fees to keep them up and running than they bring in every month. I work my ass off constantly, and I'm still having to spend more money than I make. I'm just to the point where I feel it's not worth it anymore.
My daddy took out a loan for me last April to pay off my credit cards. The payment on the loan is $385 a month. And you know what? Both goddamn motherfucking cards are maxed the fuck out again because I was trying to do a good thing. So now I'm stuck with a $385 payment on the loan every month AND another $150 on the credit cards. I'm in worse shape now than I was before I got the fucking loan.
No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.
I do excellent work for very little money. I guess I should raise my rates, but Jesus Christ, I hardly get any customers now as it is. I'm having to go back to the phones, but they aren't even ringing now because--surprise--my sites don't rank for shit in Google anymore.
I feel like no matter what I do, it's one step forward and two steps back. I've already been told by my mother that she "can't" help me anymore. Mind you, I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever ASKED her for help. Basically, I was told that if I couldn't make it on my own, I had to move back to my mama's house.
A few things with that: 1.) I damn sure can't make money living there. 2.) Not one single thing has gone the way I wanted it to in my life, except for the fact that I got the fuck out when I was 18 and never went back. 3.) I swear before God, I will blow my fucking brains out before I'll go back.
I have basically been supporting someone else my entire adult life. I attract users, hangers-on, and everybody in the world who wants a free ride. I never wanted to be like my grandmother, who had plenty of money but would sooner let you starve to death than give up a penny of it. If I can help someone, I want to help them. But the thing is, people don't want help until they can get on their feet. They want somebody to do it for them. FOREVER.
I'm tired of footing the bills for everyone. I'm tired of being in debt because I've spent the last 10 years trying to help other people. Here's the thing--if I were just paying my own bills, not debt I've incurred doing for other people, I would be fine. Not rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but not always robbing Peter to pay Paul, either.
I wish now that I had just gone on and told my mama that I wanted to move into my grandma's house before they sold it. I wouldn't have had to pay rent, so that would've been $400 a month I could have saved. But I was supposed to have a roommate, who didn't want to move there, so I ended up not doing it. And by the time I realized that the whole roommate thing wasn't going to happen, they'd already gotten earnest money put down on the house. So I wasn't going to be some asshole who went swooping in there and said, "Nope, stop the sale. I'm moving in."
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it never works out. At this point, I couldn't get a real job. It's partly because I'm too crazy and partly because I haven't been officially employed since 2006. Who the fuck is going to hire me now?
Nobody. That's who.
My bills alone work out to be about $1400 a month. That's not counting food, gas, or anything else. (Before I got this money from the sale of the house, I went two months without buying light bulbs, even though every light fixture in my house only had one bulb in it because I could not spare the $2 for a box of light bulbs.) I make about $900 a month, now that the sites aren't pulling in extra money anymore. That's a BIG fucking gap. And bless your heart, you can forget anybody coming to my rescue.
But you know what? I don't need (or want) rescuing. I just want to not have to work myself to death for shit wages while steadily digging myself deeper into the hole because I'm constantly getting fucked from every direction.
The thought of taking another phone job makes me ill. I do good to manage to log in 10 hours a week because it makes me so sick to have to do it. But I honestly don't know what else I can do at this point. My mental health is going to suffer. I'll probably end up not being able to work at all because it'll drive me off the deep end again. But I honestly DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO anymore. It's not like I can send itemized bills to every motherfucker who screwed me over and expect to get anything back from it.
I just...I don't know what to do, and I'm back to having migraines and problems sleeping from worrying about it so much. I've basically made my sick over what essentially amounts to OTHER PEOPLE'S BILLS. I'm burnt the hell out and my body is starting to crap out on me again like it did last fall. I've been trying to take mental health days on Mondays, but I feel guilty for even taking a day off because I know I need to be making money.
Fuck.
This? Right here? Is why people kill themselves.
Monday, July 9, 2012
A Letter I Wouldn't Send To Save My Immortal Soul
Dear Z,
This will be the first time since I met you that I didn't wish you a happy birthday. It used to be such an easy way for us to fall back into our old routines when we weren't talking. I told you happy birthday, you said thank you, and in a week, we were right back where we started from.
But not this time. I'm sure you won't notice, but I hope you do, anyway, and I hope it eats you alive.
~Bunny
This will be the first time since I met you that I didn't wish you a happy birthday. It used to be such an easy way for us to fall back into our old routines when we weren't talking. I told you happy birthday, you said thank you, and in a week, we were right back where we started from.
But not this time. I'm sure you won't notice, but I hope you do, anyway, and I hope it eats you alive.
~Bunny
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
I Ain't As Good As I'm Gonna Get...But I'm Better Than I Used To Be
I took new pictures of myself late last night. Yes, I should've been working, but fuck it. I work all the time.
This is significant.
People who know me will note that I haven't really posted pictures of myself in quite some time. Two reasons:
1.) I haven't felt pretty in a really long time. I've felt tired, fat, and old.
2.) I haven't liked the person I've seen staring back at me in a long, long time. Taking pictures and plastering them all over the Internet where I can see them all the time was not what I wanted to do. I've been using cartoon avatars pretty much everywhere--Facebook, my favorite message board, etc.--for about two years now.
But weekend before last, I got my hair trimmed up into a cute little stacked bob that hits pretty much right below shoulder length in the front and slightly shorter in the back. I also got my eyebrows waxed. The last time Kitty was here, she dyed my hair back to medium ash brown, and it hasn't been so long that the color's looking washed out yet. So since Kitty and I were cleaning way too much this past weekend to take any pics, I decided I'd do it myself before my eyebrows got too unruly again.
Even with shitty lighting, a not-so-great camera, and having to take the pics myself, they turned out fairly well. Some of them, anyway. I'd have preferred to have Kitty do it, but it's ok.
When I looked at them, I realized that not only do I not look nearly as old, tired, and fat as I feel (which may have a lot more to do with my skill with a makeup brush and at angling the camera to obscure my fatness than anything), but I also look better than I ever did before--at least in pictures.
Why? Because I think for the first time in my life, I like me. Not just the way I look. I've always been a huge narcissist in that respect. I mean, I like who I am, inside. I'm (mostly) at peace.
Ok, I'm still a dysfunctional bitch with a five-year-old inside, but it's a lot more harmless and a lot less destructive.
Of course, because old habits and old narcissists die hard, I had to post my favorites on my message board. (I also posted the best ones on Facebook, but I'm not going to here because I still want to retain some semblance of anonymity.) These are people who've been there with me since 2005, so they are fully aware of the ups and downs I've been through, if not the particulars of the situation. All of them are telling me how beautiful they think I am and how I look even better than they've ever seen me look, even when I was younger and smaller and had been through less.
They say there's a new light in my eyes, and I think they're right. It all goes back to that finally liking me thing, I think.
There's also a mental illness thread in that same forum that was started a few days ago. I've been very open about the shit I've been through--again, not about specific details of how I ruined my life, but about things like symptoms, treatments, and finding oneself. All my lovely friends keep telling me I'm an inspiration, that I'm brave, that they admire all the introspection and change I've been doing.
I'm not saying this to toot my own horn or anything. It's just nice knowing that the work I've done seems to have had enough of an effect that other people have noticed. One of the people said this:
I'm not gonna lie. I totally cried.
I still have a long way to go. I have amends to make, new mountains to climb, and old demons to hold down. But I think the worst is over, finally.
I don't take credit it for it all myself. Yes, I did some of it. But, mostly, I thank medical science and God. (Yes, I said it. No, I'm still not some crazy Baptist fundie. Perhaps I'll devote a whole post to my own personal revelations of that sort one day, but not now. Google "Gnosticism" if you're that fucking curious.)
I also credit the people in my life who didn't abandon me. That support simply can't be overstated.
I can look at me and smile now because, well, this is why:
I know how to hold a grudge
I can send a bridge up in smoke
And I can't count the people I've let down
The hearts I've broke
You ain't gotta dig too deep
If you wanna find some dirt on me
But I'm learnin' who you've been
Ain't who you've gotta be
It's gonna be an uphill climb
Oh, honey, I won't lie...
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand theman Bunny in the mirror I see
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
I've pinned a lot of demons to the ground
Got a few old habits left
But there's still one or two
I might need you to help me get
Standin' in the rain so long
Has left me with a little rust
But put some faith in me
And someday you'll see
There's a diamond under all this dust
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand theman Bunny in the mirror I see
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
But I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand theman Bunny in the mirror I see
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
This is significant.
People who know me will note that I haven't really posted pictures of myself in quite some time. Two reasons:
1.) I haven't felt pretty in a really long time. I've felt tired, fat, and old.
2.) I haven't liked the person I've seen staring back at me in a long, long time. Taking pictures and plastering them all over the Internet where I can see them all the time was not what I wanted to do. I've been using cartoon avatars pretty much everywhere--Facebook, my favorite message board, etc.--for about two years now.
But weekend before last, I got my hair trimmed up into a cute little stacked bob that hits pretty much right below shoulder length in the front and slightly shorter in the back. I also got my eyebrows waxed. The last time Kitty was here, she dyed my hair back to medium ash brown, and it hasn't been so long that the color's looking washed out yet. So since Kitty and I were cleaning way too much this past weekend to take any pics, I decided I'd do it myself before my eyebrows got too unruly again.
Even with shitty lighting, a not-so-great camera, and having to take the pics myself, they turned out fairly well. Some of them, anyway. I'd have preferred to have Kitty do it, but it's ok.
When I looked at them, I realized that not only do I not look nearly as old, tired, and fat as I feel (which may have a lot more to do with my skill with a makeup brush and at angling the camera to obscure my fatness than anything), but I also look better than I ever did before--at least in pictures.
Why? Because I think for the first time in my life, I like me. Not just the way I look. I've always been a huge narcissist in that respect. I mean, I like who I am, inside. I'm (mostly) at peace.
Ok, I'm still a dysfunctional bitch with a five-year-old inside, but it's a lot more harmless and a lot less destructive.
Of course, because old habits and old narcissists die hard, I had to post my favorites on my message board. (I also posted the best ones on Facebook, but I'm not going to here because I still want to retain some semblance of anonymity.) These are people who've been there with me since 2005, so they are fully aware of the ups and downs I've been through, if not the particulars of the situation. All of them are telling me how beautiful they think I am and how I look even better than they've ever seen me look, even when I was younger and smaller and had been through less.
They say there's a new light in my eyes, and I think they're right. It all goes back to that finally liking me thing, I think.
There's also a mental illness thread in that same forum that was started a few days ago. I've been very open about the shit I've been through--again, not about specific details of how I ruined my life, but about things like symptoms, treatments, and finding oneself. All my lovely friends keep telling me I'm an inspiration, that I'm brave, that they admire all the introspection and change I've been doing.
I'm not saying this to toot my own horn or anything. It's just nice knowing that the work I've done seems to have had enough of an effect that other people have noticed. One of the people said this:
"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
You are beautiful Bunny.
I'm not gonna lie. I totally cried.
I still have a long way to go. I have amends to make, new mountains to climb, and old demons to hold down. But I think the worst is over, finally.
I don't take credit it for it all myself. Yes, I did some of it. But, mostly, I thank medical science and God. (Yes, I said it. No, I'm still not some crazy Baptist fundie. Perhaps I'll devote a whole post to my own personal revelations of that sort one day, but not now. Google "Gnosticism" if you're that fucking curious.)
I also credit the people in my life who didn't abandon me. That support simply can't be overstated.
I can look at me and smile now because, well, this is why:
I know how to hold a grudge
I can send a bridge up in smoke
And I can't count the people I've let down
The hearts I've broke
You ain't gotta dig too deep
If you wanna find some dirt on me
But I'm learnin' who you've been
Ain't who you've gotta be
It's gonna be an uphill climb
Oh, honey, I won't lie...
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand the
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
I've pinned a lot of demons to the ground
Got a few old habits left
But there's still one or two
I might need you to help me get
Standin' in the rain so long
Has left me with a little rust
But put some faith in me
And someday you'll see
There's a diamond under all this dust
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand the
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances
With the devil
But I'm cleanin' up my act, little by little
I'm gettin' there
I can finally stand the
I ain't as good as I'm gonna get
But I'm better than I used to be
Friday, June 15, 2012
A Page From Mr. Franklin's Playbook
Ben Franklin (personal hero) famously worked on things he called "The Thirteen Virtues" for years and years and years. He devoted the largest chunk of his autobiography to them, actually. His Thirteen Virtues are, as follows:
[Lifted shamelessly from Wiki because there's no way in hell I actually remembered all of that]
When I was in college, a poor undergrad with an English minor, we had to read excerpts from Franklin's autobiography. I remember that he would choose one of these virtues a week to work on--only one. The rest, he'd let just sorta let the chips fall where they may. I remember thinking it was a great idea because if you did it long enough, some of things you did during, say, "Humility Week" would eventually start bleeding over into "Cleanliness Week" without you consciously focusing on it because you became so used to behaving in certain ways. I thought it was an excellent way to work on things you disliked about yourself without becoming completely overwhelmed.
Since I've been thinking of the various ways that I want to better myself lately, I think I'm going to start doing this. My "virtues," of course, will be different from Ben Franklin's, and I doubt that the ideas I come up with will be so cohesive, but I figure that if you wanna change yourself for the better, you might as well jump in with both feet. As Teddy Roosevelt (another personal hero) said:
Now to just decide what I want to start with....
"Temperance. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation."
"Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation."
"Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time."
"Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve."
"Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing."
"Industry. Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions."
"Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly."
"Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty."
"Moderation. Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve."
"Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation."
"Tranquility. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable."
"Chastity. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation."
"Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates."
[Lifted shamelessly from Wiki because there's no way in hell I actually remembered all of that]
When I was in college, a poor undergrad with an English minor, we had to read excerpts from Franklin's autobiography. I remember that he would choose one of these virtues a week to work on--only one. The rest, he'd let just sorta let the chips fall where they may. I remember thinking it was a great idea because if you did it long enough, some of things you did during, say, "Humility Week" would eventually start bleeding over into "Cleanliness Week" without you consciously focusing on it because you became so used to behaving in certain ways. I thought it was an excellent way to work on things you disliked about yourself without becoming completely overwhelmed.
Since I've been thinking of the various ways that I want to better myself lately, I think I'm going to start doing this. My "virtues," of course, will be different from Ben Franklin's, and I doubt that the ideas I come up with will be so cohesive, but I figure that if you wanna change yourself for the better, you might as well jump in with both feet. As Teddy Roosevelt (another personal hero) said:
"In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."
Now to just decide what I want to start with....
Friday, June 8, 2012
The Difference
So I think I finally figured out a succinct way to explain the difference between me and most people.
On the way to Memphis with my mother and aunt, the topic of trains came up. (Don't ask me how. I have no idea.) This is how the conversation went.
Me: Most freight trains run on diesel. Most commuter trains are electric.
My Mother: How do you know all this?
Me: Because I read.
My Mother: Well, where would you read something like that at?
Me: The Internet. I get bored and then think of some question I don't know the answer to, and I look it up.
[And now, the telling comments]
My Mother: Well, who would ever think to look up something like that?
Me: (genuinely confused) Who wouldn't?
My Mother: (looks at me with a disgusted look and changes the subject)
On the way to Memphis with my mother and aunt, the topic of trains came up. (Don't ask me how. I have no idea.) This is how the conversation went.
Me: Most freight trains run on diesel. Most commuter trains are electric.
My Mother: How do you know all this?
Me: Because I read.
My Mother: Well, where would you read something like that at?
Me: The Internet. I get bored and then think of some question I don't know the answer to, and I look it up.
[And now, the telling comments]
My Mother: Well, who would ever think to look up something like that?
Me: (genuinely confused) Who wouldn't?
My Mother: (looks at me with a disgusted look and changes the subject)
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Drowning: I Am Doing It
*Sigh*
I just spent 4 hours on the phone with Huntsville B. We'd been texting, and then he thought of something he wanted to tell me. He said it was too much to text, but that I could call him if I wanted. So I did.
Four. Fucking. Hours. And I hate talking on the goddamn phone!
For the record, that was not him keeping me on the phone and me trying to think of a good excuse to hang up. No, that was every single floodgate I had being opened all at once because I apparently needed to talk and didn't realize it, and he was the poor, unlucky soul who happened to be around at the right time.
I'm burnt out on work--on writing. (Hence the reason I haven't written a damned thing in my "writing" blog since the day I put it up and the reason that I burdened B. with all my bullshit for four goddamn hours. It's all been building up inside, but I've been too sick of writing to put it down on paper.) Now I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. I managed to drag myself into the bathroom to bathe and take my meds, but that's as far as I've gotten. I have work I need to do, but I can't think of a damned thing to write about. I haven't eaten in 9 hours, and I'm hungry, but I'm too tired to even fix anything to eat.
This has to get better. It really, really does.
I just spent 4 hours on the phone with Huntsville B. We'd been texting, and then he thought of something he wanted to tell me. He said it was too much to text, but that I could call him if I wanted. So I did.
Four. Fucking. Hours. And I hate talking on the goddamn phone!
For the record, that was not him keeping me on the phone and me trying to think of a good excuse to hang up. No, that was every single floodgate I had being opened all at once because I apparently needed to talk and didn't realize it, and he was the poor, unlucky soul who happened to be around at the right time.
I'm burnt out on work--on writing. (Hence the reason I haven't written a damned thing in my "writing" blog since the day I put it up and the reason that I burdened B. with all my bullshit for four goddamn hours. It's all been building up inside, but I've been too sick of writing to put it down on paper.) Now I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. I managed to drag myself into the bathroom to bathe and take my meds, but that's as far as I've gotten. I have work I need to do, but I can't think of a damned thing to write about. I haven't eaten in 9 hours, and I'm hungry, but I'm too tired to even fix anything to eat.
This has to get better. It really, really does.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Ain't That Funny?
Dear Z,
I bought powdered doughnuts today.
Then, I had a nervous breakdown.
The two things aren't related. They just happened to occur on the same day.
The stupid doughnuts made me think of you. The breakdown made me think of the other B. Not that it was his fault...just that he was the person I turned to when my mother and circumstances made me cry.
Funny, isn't it? For all your comments about what a terrible person he is and all your low-blow fat jokes at his expense, it's him I think of when I need help and you I think of when I eat doughnuts.
I still love you, but I hate you more. I feel neither of those things for him. That's probably just as well for him.
~B. Rabbit
I bought powdered doughnuts today.
Then, I had a nervous breakdown.
The two things aren't related. They just happened to occur on the same day.
The stupid doughnuts made me think of you. The breakdown made me think of the other B. Not that it was his fault...just that he was the person I turned to when my mother and circumstances made me cry.
Funny, isn't it? For all your comments about what a terrible person he is and all your low-blow fat jokes at his expense, it's him I think of when I need help and you I think of when I eat doughnuts.
I still love you, but I hate you more. I feel neither of those things for him. That's probably just as well for him.
~B. Rabbit
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