I Feel Pretty

 It's been a while.

So, winter mood swings are a thing, and they suck. I'm up, I'm down, I'm numb, I feel everything... It's a ride. I know winter is hard for many people, as winter usually spells out depression, so for those affected, I'm so sorry.

I did something that I didn't know would turn out so spectacularly, though. I bought something, because that's what I do. But the thing I bought this time actually helped me perk up quite a bit. I saw an ad on Facebook for Lily and Fox nail wraps. I looked at the site, and saw they were all on sale, so I took a chance and bought a bunch. I put on my first set, and my mood immediately lifted. Not because of the buying part, but because I actually feel pretty. Self care level: 100. 

I'm not sponsored by Lily and Fox, I'm simply telling you this because the company has been amazing to work with. You can email them, and you'll get some of the sweetest replies. I emailed them to ask if I could boost them here, and they were super sweet about it. It could have just been a "Sure", but it was a "How could we turn down this offer?" Check them out at lilyandfox.com for awesome nail wraps!

Back to my point...

Self care, especially during the dark, cold, yucky days of winter is super important. Some people take it too far and wind up thinking ONLY of themselves, but little things like doing your nails, taking a long shower, binging your favorite shows (without ignoring responsibilities, that is). Just find something that makes you happy. I can't believe how much better I feel just because my nails look all pretty. 

Friends, you matter. Your happiness matters. If you're struggling right now, know that it'll end. There IS a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes, there's a skylight in the long tunnel for moments that get you through the darkest parts.

Shambles

 That's what my life is in these days.

Since my last post, I've quit working altogether. I've submitted three times to Social Security that I'm not working now, but they're dragging their feet getting my benefits reinstated. This blows chunks because I have a few loans, and I can't ask mommy to pay them until I get disability reinstated. A- she's as broke as I am, and B- I'm a fully grown adult and shouldn't be asking mommy for money.

Since I stopped working, I've paid more attention to the novel I'm writing. Now, I know every reader out there thinks they can write a novel, but I'm not expecting much from it. I'll submit it to publishers, but I'm expecting a solid "no thanks" from every one of them. I've had a few friends read what I have so far, and they all seem to like it, so I'll bind a few copies for them, but again... I'm not expecting much.

Oh! And I'm losing my insurance on Thursday, so that's fun. I still have Medicare, but let me tell those "Medicare for all" supporters that Medicare does, in fact, suck. Badly. Need a prior authorization? Oh well, maybe next year. Need medications? Out of luck there, mate. Not to mention, that thing they said they'd cover with you only paying 20%? They lied. You now pay 100%. Good luck.

I could whine all day about my situation, but that's going to help exactly no one. So, Every day, I'm trying to find five good things. Something simple like... I saw a golden retriever, or I got a text from a friend. Focusing so hard on the good things that the bad things don't seem as big. Today, I got to visit with a friend/former coworker, which was amazing, so I count that as a good day.

Short post. The end.

Mm

 Mm. Ok.

I turned in all my computer stuff for what is now my old job, this morning. It was bittersweet. I'll miss some of my coworkers, but I'm glad to be rid of the stress of dealing with the Linda types. And yes, Linda was a real caller, but it's such a common name that I don't feel bad sharing it. She was absolutely terrible, but I never have to hear from her again. Yes, my new job will have its terrible people, but I'm hoping it'll be a LOT less.

I was able to go upstairs in the office to say goodbye to one of my favorite coworkers. That was sad. I also feel like I'm leaving an era. I was at this job longer than anything I've done since 2011. It was home for over two years.

I go into my new job on Monday to do some initial stuff, then I believe I officially start on the 8th. I'm excited for my new adventure.

My friends and family have been super supportive through everything I've done from going back to school each time, getting and quitting jobs, and eliminating the terrible people from my life. I'm truly blessed with wonderful people around me. Their support is essential for my success. I can only hope and pray that everyone has that kind of support system. Everyone trying to better themselves deserves that support. If you don't have it, I pray you find it.

The struggle in this new job is its eight-hour shifts on my feet. When I went to FanX (comic convention in Salt Lake City), I was on my feet for six hours, and I wanted to die. Prayers are now being accepted that I get used to it quickly!

You matter.

Hallow-no

 It's just not Halloween.

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday, but this year is just... meh. I'm using my pumpkin lotion, I put out some decorations on my front porch, I've watched some of my traditional movies, but I just can't get into it. The reason? Depression.

I've been in a funk for about a month now, and I just can't seem to shake it. I took a leave of absence from work for a few weeks, which is when this all started. Going back to work was a whirlwind of anxiety and about as much energy as a snail. I even let a Linda have it when she was screaming at me, which is terribly frowned upon.

I made it the first week back at the thirty hours my therapist allowed, but last week showed me that I can't even do this job on a part-time basis anymore. I worked like seven hours last week.

I met with my boss on Friday, and let her know I was going to be leaving at the end of this coming week. I'm only holding out for another week so I can keep my insurance until the end of November. Otherwise, I'd have quit right then and there.

I had an interview Friday, though. It's a part-time, three-day-a-week job that I believe I could be happy in, and a great way to pick myself back up into full-time work. That job even offers full-time, so I could grow within that company. It's a great opportunity!

I got distracted. Back to the topic...

My love for Halloween, and the whole season in general, has been smothered by this dark cloud hanging over my head. No. Not over my head. Surrounding my every being. It's so thick that I'm finding zero joy in the things I love. 

I haven't picked up my cello in weeks. My clarinet is being used as a foot rest. My piano is dusty. My diamond art is not even half done. My movies are uninteresting. My music is boring.

I've always heard that Bipolar depression is worse than "regular" depression, but seeing my friends go through theirs, I'm not convinced. I think those who suffer with depression get hit hard in their own way. But I gotta say, this depression has been worse than I've gone through in years, and I don't know how to deal with it. I can't see even a glimmer of light through this never-ending tunnel of pitch black darkness. 

I don't want to simply die. I want to stop existing.

Epic Failure

Ten thousand steps backward...

I've worked full-time for over two years now. For most of that time, I loved it, despite having to deal with the terrible people who call in. Not anymore. I'm all but done.

As some may remember, I took a leave of absence in April and May. I took another one for a few weeks this month. When I went back, it just about killed me.

I'm sitting at my desk, ready to cry, trying to not pull my hair out because of the anxiety, thinking about throwing away everything I have built in the last two years. Including my snazzy 2024 Outback. I simply can't do this anymore.

I've already contacted Social Security to find out how to get my disability benefits back, but that can take two months, and I've got nothing put away to cover my car for a week, let alone two months. My only solid option right now is to see if my boss will let me work 12 hours a week so I don't go over the maximum allowed income for disability. I do have two interviews Friday for jobs I believe I could be happier in, so there's that. 

My brain has decided that it wants to invade again, and take over. It's hard enough to deal with nasty people on the best of days, but lately, I'm giving their attitude right back to them, which can get me fired faster than you can say "quidditch". I need the income until my benefits kick in, because I refuse to lose my car. No car means no way to get to another job, ya know?

I feel like a massive failure.

Processing Error

I don't know what I'm doing...

It's been four days since I got the apology of a lifetime, and I have no idea how to process it. I have been so full of anger and hatred for this woman for nearly thirty years, and now I can't justify feeling those things anymore. She was genuinely apologetic, so my brain knows I have to let it go, but now there's a void where those feelings lived.

Anger and hate have lived in me longer than anyone should have to go through, and now that they're gone, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I held onto them because they were familiar feelings. They were my comfort, for lack of a better word. 

I'm sitting here in the dead silence of the night, wondering who I even am without the anger; without the hate. I don't know my own brain anymore. What am I feeling? Is this what "normal" people feel? This nothingness? 

No. Not nothingness. It's emptiness. There's nothing there. I feel this black hole dragging my chest inward like a sucking void. 

I feel so lost.

It's beyond sad, in my opinion, that a person could feel so lost without anger and hate. What kind of person am I if the two worst things to hold on to have defined me for so long?

Who am I? 

I don't know.

Redemption

I'm quite literally in shock.

I sent this text to some of my friends, and it's the best way I can get this out, so I'm sorry if you've already read most of this...

My mom and I went to Sam's Club for lunch (because tasty). As we're walking back to my car, I hear someone call my name. I turned around, and she says, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I'm super confused and have no idea who she is, until she pointed at herself and said, "Brooke." Instant rage, and I wanted to turn around, but I decided to listen to what she had to say. She starts crying and saying how sorry she is for how horrible she was to me. "You have every right to tell me to f*** off." But still, I listened. She just kept saying how terrible she was, and how there's no excuse, and how there's no way to rectify what she'd done, but she's sorry. Legit crying, so I assume she's genuinely apologetic. I gave her a hug because I never even thought this day would come, and I had no words. Well, I did tell her about how the Japanese people will repair broken things with gold so that something broken can be beautiful. It was cheesy, but it just came out. She said how gracious I was and how good a person I was for listening to her instead of walking away. 

My brain is silent. I have no idea how to process this.

What's more is that she apologized to my mom for what she went through watching me go through the torture and torment. She hopes her kids don't wind up like she did, and I told her with the knowledge she has now, she'll be able to help her kids understand how to treat others. 

I'm not crying. I'm not laughing. I'm... in shock. I don't know what to do or how to feel. This girl tormented and tortured me from age eight, all the way through our senior year of high school. Through memories and nightmares, she has tortured me for the eighteen years since high school. That's roughly twenty-eight years she's tortured me. I have no idea what to do with this. 

I do, however, think I feel calm. I think I've forgiven her. I think this will change my life, as well as hers. We even took a selfie as picture proof that this happened. I won't post it in here to protect her privacy, though.

Rest of my life: Day One

The End...?

 Or just an intermission...?

I'm at my limit. The stress of my job is affecting me mentally and physically. My sleep is awful, I'm gaining even more weight, and my brain feels messy. Why? Because my work decided to make the world's dumbest policy changes.

To start out with, we're no longer allowed to use doctor notes. At all. Ever. For any reason. Why? "Because it's a HIPPA violation." (Fun fact: When the note is freely given, it's voluntary, not mandatory. So no, it's not a violation.) Then, to try to straighten out the bad seeds on the team, we've all been punished with the most asinine adherence schedule. Now, we have to meet minimum 85% adherence-- no waivers for absences thanks to the no doctor notes rule. We must meet our "budgeted hours" every week, which is fine. My favorite, and quite possibly illegal part? If there's a holiday that the company is closed, like Labor Day, we have to either use PTO or manage to overwork ourselves by getting in the additional eight hours during the rest of the week to meet those budgeted hours. That's TWO hours extra for the remaining four days. 

"Lots of people work four ten-hour shifts. It's not that bad." True. But those people aren't me. I can't do that. Fine for others, not for me. 

Because of this idiocy, I'm on the razor's edge of quitting. In fact, I'm contacting my disability lawyer in the morning, before most of you will get a chance to read this. I'm calling off sick tomorrow because of this stress, and I have an emergency appointment with my therapist tomorrow evening. 

My life is crumbling beneath me, and I have no idea what to do. I've worked so freaking hard to get where I am, but the bridge from my past and my present is on fire, and I'm praying the last rope holds out long enough for me to find another position.

Adding on top of this is the sale of my house. I closed on it today, which makes me feel like a massive failure. So there's that.

These last two years have been fun, but it turned into a living hell in one swipe of the company pen

My life is no longer in my control. I just have to trust that God knows what He's doing, and I have to accept the path He has given me. 

.

I Try Not To

 ... but still wind up doing it.

Hello. My name is Charmaine, and I have a problem with focusing on the people who don't like me.

For my entire life, I've been the one people don't like. I'm the weird one who is the easiest target, in literally every situation, for bullies to find. I don't know why (other than I'm socially awkward), but if there's someone who can make themselves feel better by stepping on others, you better believe I'm the stepping stone they'll use. It started with my narcissistic father, spread to my narcissistic sister, and blew up to monumental levels when I hit school. It's even followed me through my adult life, which is particularly sad when you think of fully grown adults who need to step on others to feel better about themselves.

When I worked at the bookstore, I didn't read the "right" kind of books. When I worked at the music store, I didn't listen to the "right" kind of music. At my current job, my IQ and maturity levels are higher than junior high, so I don't fit in with the bombardment of "you're a grossy gross" "no, you're a grossy gross" and such childishness. 

Not fitting in has given the insecure individuals in each group a firm step on me and my refusal to change who I am to adapt to what I "should" be or do.

I'm me, and I'm not ashamed of it. But those people-- the entirely insecure ones who need to feel superior-- can still make me feel like the 11-year-old child in me. The one who's on the ground, curled up in a ball, getting the snot kicked out of her by the school bee-otch and her henchmen. 

No matter how much I tell myself that I don't care what others think... I still care what others think. Maybe not as much as I used to, but it still hurts when I get these people flat-out saying things as to how I'm not good enough, not smart enough, not cool enough. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm trying very hard to understand that there are people in my life who actually like me, but I'm not quite to the level where they mean more than the bullies. I'm in my mid-30s and still struggling to understand that I'm not the pity friend or the obligation. 

Likewise, I'm in my mid-30s and still struggling with bullies. If you're still dealing with being bullied after high school, know that you're not alone. Those people exist in a sad, sad world where they don't believe they're good enough, so they have to use you to step up on. Work on ignoring them. I know I'm still working on it. 

You can do it. I believe in you.

Belittled Sister

 Never good enough.

My narcissistic, so-called sister came over Sunday night, and as usual, overstayed her welcome by several hours. She was at my house until after eleven o'clock PM, with me having to get up for work the next morning. This is not unusual. She'll come over to visit her narcissistic father for an ego-stroking fest and stay no less than six hours. With both being narcissists, you can imagine how that goes. It's all "You're so great" and "Oh you poor victim" on repeat. It's both nauseating and infuriating. The ego boost they both get has them both on "Look how awesome I am" and "Me, me, me..." for days.

As we all know, narcissists never see anything wrong with what they do, and they are always the greatest person in the room. As hard as I try to ignore my so-called sister, I somehow still wind up pleading for her approval. It's gross and I hate myself every time. I'm honestly looking forward to the day where I don't ever have to see her again. (Which will mean my mom is gone, so let's deal with the she-witch for a while longer, eh?)

Anyhow, her royal highness has one high horse that irritates me to no end: She thinks her taste in music is superior because "I listen to deep music". Florence And The Machine, Passenger... Anything that makes you feel like a victim, basically. Now, I'm not knocking these artists. I like them! But this narc feels she has the moral high ground because she doesn't know the lyrics to a single song played on regular radio. And, oh, the look she gives me for listening to All Time Low could tear down the strongest of Gray Rock people.

I've never been bullied out of liking what I like, and I'll be damned if I let her do it now. I feel like a pathetic little worm for letting her make me feel bad for liking what I do, though. 

Mickey, bite me. I like ATL. I like One Direction. I like Hanson. I like some things played on the radio. I like what I like, and you have no right to tell me, in your narcissistic way, that I'm a lesser person for it. In fact, I'm stronger than you because I I don't tell you you're wrong for what MUSIC you listen to. What a pathetic life you live, stomping down people who aren't up to your standards. It's MUSIC, for crying out loud! Should I tell you you're not as good as I am because you drive a white car? It's that stupid.

Adding to this is her need to be the most knowledgeable person in the room. She's always right, you're always wrong, and if you don't take her advice, she gets this look... eyes closed, nose turned upward. The epitome of snob face. Add on top her tone of "you just killed my firstborn" and you feel the need to apologize and tell her she's right. I no longer follow these reactions with placating responses of adherence to her wisdom. That's one thing I've managed to conquer. I know what's best for me and my life, not her. 

She and I have never been close. Well, we were... until she started kindergarten. I was two. Since then, I've never met her standards. She so desperately wanted me to be exactly like her, but would freak out and scream "I'M AN INDIVIDUAL" if I was even remotely like her. I couldn't like a song she liked, I couldn't wear her old clothes, I couldn't do anything to please her. Our mom even takes my side on this. Mom knows it's all older sister's fault that we don't get along. One hundred percent on her. I've tried. I finally gave up. I'm me, and I'm happy with myself.

Mickey, I hope that one day you get help with your narcissism and become a good sister. Until then, you're going to be frequently offended as I shoot down your every criticism of me and who I am.

There Goes That

One step forward, ten steps back.

I bought my house and my puppies. Both I worked very hard to get, and both slipped through my over-stressed fingers in record time.

It was going so well, you know? I got everything I needed for two Golden puppies, I got a professional mover, and everything was just perfect. Then the other shoe fell. The house has no heater or air conditioner, leaving me with just a fireplace and a super outdated gas heater. Neither of which heat the house enough. With the never-ending winter, I was in pain, I was so cold. Even my eyeballs were cold! It was bad. Add on top of it that my work computer decided to go out, and my first week there was Hell on steroids. I drove back to my mom's house so I could get warm, and so I could get my work computer fixed. 

I went back to my house, and started having, like, ten to twenty panic attacks a day. They'd last anywhere from a few minutes, to a few hours. It was unbearable. So, I drove back to my mom's house, again. Somewhere in the mix, I had to surrender my puppies to the Humane Society because I couldn't handle them, either. I took on too much, too soon. They'll both go to great homes who can give them what I couldn't.

Now for the unexpected, and highly annoying plot twist...

I couldn't handle life, let alone work, so I'm taking a leave of absence for just under 2 months. I'm scheduled to go back to work as of June first, but I'm hoping to be back sooner. I feel like I'm leaving my team in a bind, which doesn't help my mental state, but I'm working hard, seeing my therapist twice a week throughout my leave, trying to get back on track quickly.

Last, and possibly the most painful... I'm selling my house. I lived there maybe eight days total. I feel like a freaking champ.

I'm not in a good place, these days. My meds were upped and therapy is intense, but I refuse to lose completely. My ability to work full-time came too slowly, and I worked too hard for it to lose it, now. There'll be another house, and probably another dog, but my job is something I can't replace. I may work at a call center, dealing with the usually disgruntled public, but I love it. 

It took me over ten years to get a job I love. Ten years of hard work. I'm not giving it up. That's all there is to it.

Positively Possible

Out with the bad, in with the good.

I've had a negative outlook on the world for as long as I can remember. I've always expected people to not like me, avoid me, and bully me. That was my life, though. Since the third grade, those have been my experiences with people. Even as an adult, I expect people to be that way. But the catch is... it's not always that way.

Expecting people to treat me poorly has actually made me treat them poorly. Having my guard up 24/7 means I'm all business with cashiers and I tend to take the smallest slight as a battle cry. This, as you can imagine, doesn't turn out well. Most of the time, anyhow. It's not something I do intentionally. It's just automatic due to conditioning. That's going to change. Starting last week.

A page I follow for the absolutely adorable Golden Retriever pictures, has actually become a kind of friend. The one running the page has some good common sense and wisdom. She(?) said something about eliminating the negative things that occupy too much space in my brain, and filling that space with positives. This is my new goal. 

How does this work? Let me tell you... I don't know. I've only been working on this for a week. I've taken one tiny event in my life-- one that has created disproportionate resentment-- and I've been picturing it dissipating (like when Voldemort turns to ash). When those pieces get higher, they turn to butterflies. So I'm not just trying to get rid of the thoughts, which let's face it, never works... I'm releasing it, and learning from it. 

It happened. I can't change that. What I CAN do is learn from it. I learned that, when you're dancing and you drop your prop, dont pick it up. I also learned that, when my teacher railed on me for it, she was young. She may not have known another way to explain how what I did wasn't protocol. And she, like many young ladies, was a perfectionist. That's ok. She's grown, I've grown. It's not worth holding on to.

Now to fill that space with positives. No, I'm not going to replace it with a good memory. That would be redundant, as those good memories already have their space. I'm going to find new things to put in that space. I don't know what, and I don't know when. I just have to look for anything positive, which requires me to actually LOOK for the positives that happen in my daily life. And if I'm going to FIND these positives, I have to let the wall down. I have to allow myself to open up a little and accept that, maybe people aren't so bad, after all. 

Never miss a post by following @BlogAboutMH86 on Twitter! (Maybe I should have gone into marketing...)

Repetition

So tired of this...

I just went to the urgent care, and I was about ready to scream. Those people were the worst I'd ever encountered at a so-called care facility.

This incision is obviously open. It's been bleeding and is pretty red. The nurses said "It looks like just some skin that's raised, which happens sometimes." So... my skin is now blood-red? Interesting. I didn't know there were people out there with blood-red skin. I must seek them out and join my people.

Just about every time I go to the urgent care, or the emergency room, for something that can't be seen right away, they look at my chart, see the Seroquel, and assume I'm being hysterical or imagining my problem. I have a psychiatric illness, so nothing I experience physically can be real, right? I can't have any problems like internal bleeding, because all I'm doing is imagining my pain.

This isn't the case for good doctors and facilities, though. There are the good ones out there. However, by far, most doctors and nurses believe that psychiatric patients are imagining or faking.

I'm livid. Absolutely burning with anger. I'm in PAIN here, and I was brushed off as just another crazy psych patient wanting attention.

When is mental illness going to gain the same status as cancer, asthma, or respiratory viruses? If a psych patient feels a lump, it's a freak out. If an asthma patient feels a lump, they get a biopsy. If the psych patient asks for a biopsy, we get "Well, if it'll make you feel better." Although, no lie, it's really fun to get the "oh" when they find out I was right.

I'm on the verge of angry-crying. 

People suck.

Also, the Blogger app has an issue and I'm about ready to throw my phone against a wall. When I make a new paragraph, it just keeps putting more and more spaces, so while I'm typing, it keeps going up and up, and I have to quickly erase the paragraph spaces before I completely lose what I'm doing. Adding insult to injury is going to earn these things a punch to the face. 

Big Changes

 ... and some things stay the same.

In the last two months, there have been some incredible changes in my life. Life-altering changes. Changes that I'm not fully prepared for, but will happen, anyhow.

In December, I went out to a podunk town to look at a house that was within my price range. I put in an offer, but someone else bid higher than I could go. I obviously didn't get it. The very next day, in the same town, on the same street, another house went on the market. It's bigger, has a bigger yard, but it doesn't have all the fancy upgrades. I loved it, anyhow, and submitted an offer. Fast forward, and I'm just waiting on news to close on it! I'm supposed to close by the end of February, so I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, biting my nails, and hoarding every box from Amazon I get.

Adding to that was me having major surgery just over a week ago. It was planned, and incredibly necessary, but not the greatest timing. My recovery is going so much better than I thought. Bonus: I didn't need any narcotic painkillers after the dose they gave me in recovery! That one dose left me so manic, I thought I would die. My wonderful neighbor dropped me off and picked me up, and I'm pretty sure I didn't shut up the whole 20-minute ride home. Sorry, K!

Something that hasn't changed is King Henry VIII's controlling temper tantrums. Unless you count getting worse as a change. So I upped my game. He's not amused, but I'm highly satisfied. 

My point in telling you all this is that, despite all these changes in my life, I've managed to keep myself level and employed. Two or three years ago, one of these things would have sent me into a tailspin so fast that I'd be on the floor in 2.3 seconds. Friends, followers... It really is possible to pull yourself up from the deepest, darkest depths of whatever Hell you're living in. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd be going on two years at a full-time job, let alone buying a house! 

Never judge where you are by someone else's life. I'm still learning that, but I hope this message gets to the right person. I had given up on life. I had given up on myself. All my friends were married, had graduated college, had a family... and here I was, living with my parents well into my 30s, no husband, no college degree, no life of my own. Until I stopped focusing on what I hadn't achieved, and started focusing on what I needed to feel useful. For me, that was a job working with the public.

Working with the public, for me, was making me focus on helping others, rather than focusing fully on myself. Focusing on yourself is the shortcut to misery. Helping others will give literally everyone a purpose. I have a wonderful friend who, through no fault of her own, cannot have a child. The one thing she really wants, and she can't have it. Instead of folding in on herself, focusing on her misery, she makes baby blankets for others. To be perfectly honest, it's her example that was a huge stepping stone for what I needed to do. I needed to stop focusing on my own misery and do something to help others.

I started a job at a local company's call center. It's a great company to work for (in most respects), I have wonderful co-workers, and I work from home. I'm in a department where I feel like the customer does all the hard work, but the occasional detective work makes me feel like I'm useful to others. Not to mention, I'm in the quietest department, so the stress level is quite low.

I'm not by any means saying you shouldn't focus on yourself, or do something for you. There needs to be that balance between helping you and helping others. For instance, I'm taking a medical billing and coding course that will help me expand my career options! For me, it's a win-win. I can finally finish an educational program, and I'll be helping others.

Sorry for the weird, scattered post. Sometimes, the thoughts just keep going. One thought leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another... If you know, you know.

I also have a new Twitter handle. Things happened and I lost the original one. Check me out there @BlogAboutMH86

Keep it real, my friends! Find the joy in your journey, don't compare yourself to others, and find your place.

Brain... No... Help...

Just make it stop!

Last night, his majesty, the narcissist, fell flat on his face, surrounded by the hoard he loves so much. He waited about an hour before calling my mom to bring him sugar, hoping it would give him the strength to get up. Then, here's the kicker, after having well over the necessary amount of sugar to give any normal human energy, he's still throwing a tantrum whenever calling 911 was mentioned. I kid you not, this human is flat on his face, entirely incapable of anything, shouting, "NOBODY CALLS! I'M IN CONTROL, HERE!!!" No... you're weak and unable to lift your head. But mom placates his majesty, and it took another hour and a half for the narcissistic hoarder to allow 911 to be called.

Would you like to guess what happens when you have the body of a narcissistic hoarder lying on the floor, covering the exact width of the only walking path in the basement, and six medics have to come in? Those medics get yelled at for having to move things. He was legit throwing a tantrum that things had to be moved to get his sorry ass off the floor.

So, my mom and I were at the hospital until 2:00 in the morning, making solid sure that I couldn't take my meds. Today has been a blast... I took the day off to deal with all of this, but I'm not going to have any more time off approved because of other people being off. 

Fun fact: I didn't plan this. This was an emergency. My company needs to understand this. They won't, though. Even though there are others in other departments who could step in and help my team, I will have to take unexcused time off because of a freaking emergency. My company is typically awesome. Not when it comes to emergencies, though. And I still don't say where I work so that I can say these things.

Typically, when I miss a dose, it takes no less than two days to recover. Since the bad symptoms didn't start until later this evening, I have this to look forward to for two more days. I might actually punch a wall. Pray. Hard.

Up To Here

... is exactly where I've had it.

People are difficult to deal with on the best of days. Especially for those of us who have issues working with people in the first place. Today has me way over the edge. 

When it gets stormy, people get collectively cranky. Today was one of those stormy days where the collective public said, "challenge accepted" and made our entire company feel like taking a look at open positions elsewhere. Normally I can get through these calls with eye rolls and such. Today, I lost my patience... audibly. When I got someone cranky (almost every call, btw), I was audibly annoyed, and many caught on. Keep in mind, I've been praised repeatedly for my patience on difficult calls, which is a surprise every time. Today, I will get no praise, but I'll probably get warnings. 

I had one b***h call in, both fists swinging, and says, "Do you even know why I called?!" Well, no, princess. You haven't said anything other than how much you hate this company. How on earth would I figure out that you needed a completely different company to complain to since your issue was with them???

Fun fact: If you're a jackass to the person on the phone who is trying to help you, you're not going to get the help you need. Not because we're inept, but because we want you off our line ASAP. Be kind to the other end of the line. We're people. We have company policies that we can't ignore just because you want this or that. We can't magically make your problem disappear if you're not doing your part on your end. We've been yelled at long before you called in, so expect us to be on guard and treat you with about as much respect as you're treating us with. Oh, and we'll complain about you, make fun of you, and avoid your calls if you're one of those people. You'll become a meme, an office zing word, and a joke between departments. Do you want that? No. Be a good customer and you'll get good service.

Example of one of those people we still talk about...

We have this woman, we'll call her Lucy, who calls in almost daily, yelling at anyone she talks to. She's always needing help finding places who can help her. Welp... All the places within 20 miles of Lucy have banned her from their businesses! So, every time we get someone who has been banned from one place, we call them a Lucy. Whenever someone loses it the way Lucy does, they're called a Lucy. Our group chats consist of things like, "I've got a Lucy caller" and "This caller got Lucy'd!" 

Don't be Lucy.

I Was Right

Why do I attract narcissists?

I've had a small problem with one of my coworkers since the day we were both hired on. He's just hit me the wrong way for going on 15 months, now. He can he absolutely hilarious, he can be helpful, and he can be a royal pain in the tush. I've suspected, at the very least, narcissistic tendencies throughout the last year. Today, I was proven right.

So, dude has a major issue that bugs not only me, but some other nameless coworkers, as well. I'm not going to go into detail, mostly because this post would turn into a rant. Anyhow... This issue finally got me to my breaking point, and I made no secret of it. I didn't outright say anything, and to be honest, I'm surprised he picked up on it. So, dude sends me a private message asking if he's offended me in some way, because my responses to him have been short, lately. I told him what's up, as nicely as I could, but making my point clear. I offered a compromise, which was promptly taken as an insult. This brought out his victim card. I had none of it, saying, "That's dramatic. Just meet me in the middle and we will both be perfectly fine." Now I have to wait for the tantrum that will inevitably follow when he reads that. 

Allow me to point out the narcissistic patterns and behaviors that showed up in our short conversation.

1- He didn't take responsibility for his actions. Instead of saying "I'm sorry for doing that" he said "I'm sorry I come off that way". This is him deflecting responsibility to me, because apparently I'm the one feeling this; not him doing it.

2- When a compromise was offered, he shut down, pulled out his victim card, and was seeking validation in his feelings of victimhood. He was looking for "I'm sorry. You're right, it's me. I'll do better." Or something to that effect. 

Narcissists are typically all-or-none thinkers; they're either the victim or the victor. They need to be one or the other. This gets them what they crave most: validation. Validation in their superiority, validation in their victimhood, validation in who they are, no matter what. Feeding a narcissist that validation they crave will do exactly two things: It will empower them, letting them know their behavior is just fine, and it will drag you just a little further under its thumb. The more power you give a narcissist, the less power you have.

I've seen the ramifications of "It's not that bad" and "I don't mind" thinking. 40 years down the road, you will be nothing, and the narcissist will believe it can do exactly nothing wrong. It will throw tantrums, it will guilt trip you into literally anything, and it will rule with a fist of stone. 

If you meet a narcissist, never, ever feed it. Stand your ground. You are not the problem. If it refuses to be rational (which, let's face it, a narcissist ever is), simply walk away. Don't engage it further than you absolutely to.

I KNOW!

You know, but you don't do. Then you get mad at me. 

To quote you, "Should I get mad at you when...?" The answer, in this case, is yes. You should get mad at me if you're trying to talk to me, and I start scrolling through my phone, watching a video, or look away when you're showing me something. Why? Because it's incredibly rude, for one. For two, it makes the other person feel like they're not important; like they're an annoyance you're trying to get rid of.

You do this to me on a daily basis. Can you remember the last time I chose my phone over you? I'm gonna bet on no. You know why you can't? Because it's been years! I made the decision to make you more important than my phone. If you start talking to me while I'm online, I shut off my screen to pay attention to what you're saying. You are important to me, and I show it. Obviously, it isn't two-way. 

I get it. You're retired and want to relax. However, you're all ears when your older child (who ignores you 99.9999999% of the time, and you know I'm not exaggerating) is available. That makes it sting worse. No, it doesn't sting... it hurts. Like a bullet to the gut, it hurts. 

I know you'll see this and think it's not true, but it is. It's not what I feel, it's what I see. Every... single... day. I come to talk to you during my breaks during work, and Facebook is more important to you. My breaks are ten whole minutes, and you can't tear yourself away from your screen that long? Trust me, that video, article, or whatever will be there in ten tiny minutes. 

When I point out that you do this, you get upset and say, "I KNOW!!!" But do you? Do you know? Do you know how much it hurts to have your mother consider the mindless stupidity that is Facebook to be more important than you? Do you know how it feels to be yelled at for asking that something get attention for 30 seconds? Do you know how many times I cry myself to sleep because you simply don't care? 

No. You don't. 

I won't be here forever. I hope you understand that. I-- the only one who helps you, defends you, is here for you-- won't be around forever. Keep that in mind.

Next Up

🎶 The circle of Bipolar goes round and round, up and down, air and drown 🎶 

I'm so over this. They need to find an actual cure for mental illnesses. Like, yesterday.

Six days ago, I dropped into depression like Henry VIII dropped Anne Boleyn. It was so fast that I didn't even know what was happening (unlike poor Anne), and it lasted five days. Today, again without warning, I was booted into hypo-mania. 

Hypo is dangerous, for me. I struggle with weight, and hypo makes me so bored that I just start mindlessly eating. Yes, I have Speks (get yours here), but sometimes, my mind gets going so fast, and my energy so low, that I'm in this haze. Trying to keep myself entertained in Hypo mode is like trying to prove that Lizzie Borden didn't do it. It goes in circles, nothing works, nothing getting done, with my brain spinning so fast I can actually feel my brain (if that makes any sense), and I'm in Hell.

Things I couldn't focus on tonight:

- TV

- Music

- Books

- Schoolwork (is it an adverb or an adjective?)

- Walking

- Applying lotion (don't ask)

- Work (probably should have been first on this list...)

- Conversation (which is a majority of my job)

- Tying my shoes (funny and painful)

- Thinking

- Breathing

- Sitting

- Standing

That list could go on, but as expected, I can't focus on what I couldnt focus on. 

I hate this. 

Hot Mess

Eject in 3... 2... 1...

I'm overly stressed, today. I volunteered to work an hour and a half in the early hours, to cover for someone who wouldn't be in. It was nice for about five minutes. Then, for the next eighty-five minutes, it was bombardment. Call after call after call. No break. I went back to bed, afterwards, since I now work afternoons and evenings. Couldn't sleep, hardly. Then comes the fun part...

When I got to work, I found out that, after having just been trained on something, I had to re-learn it, because the dang thing is broken, and we have to work around it. So that was bad enough. After training, I got bombarded with calls from India (because why give jobs to struggling or homeless Americans when you've got India?) with absolute jerks and morons. These people have zero qualms with literally yelling at you. Most often due to their stupidity. Side note: Why do we let the scam capital of the world have access to our sensitive information??? Not smart!

Best part... The programs I need to do literally anything? All down. If you think people are mad when their favorite football game isn't on, you should hear the tantrums that go on because they wasted ten whole minutes on the phone for nothing! I hate people...

So, here I am, avoiding work as best I can. I'm not doing the one thing I really should be doing, which is a 50/50 thing; 50% I need a moment, and 50% I'm lazy for not doing it. But I'm here until late, so I've got time.

Here I am, typing this out, feeling like a terrible coworker, and ready to cry because people in our world expect to be treated like they're kings and queens, but treat those trying to help them like verbal punching bags. I've even stopped waiting for a "thank you", because I know I'll get one every twenty calls, or so.

People, you get upset. Fine. We all do. Taking it out on the people on the other end of the phone is not going to help you. In fact, what it will do is cement your spot in the "this customer was this angry over his/her own stupidity" wall of fame. You will be discussed as "that caller" for at least a week. We will relentlessly make fun of you for being an absolute jerk. We will use your name the same way Karen is used. We will expect you to be the exact same, the next time you call in, and will send you directly to someone who gets paid enough to give it right back to you. You will not like that person, I promise you that.

Don't be that caller.

Hard Times

Cry. Laugh. Repeat.

My dear friend Bonnie passed away two months ago, and I'm still having an incredibly difficult time with it. Every freaking day, she comes to mind for some reason or another, and I will inevitably break down for a while. Every. Day.

I've sent messages to her Instagram, hoping that would help get my feelings out. Nope. Just made things worse. Even as I sit here writing this, tears are falling, and I seriously need to put the lid on my cottage cheese. 

I've lost people. Lots of people. Far too many people. They've all hurt. Badly. Very few have had me like this, for this long. My grandma, my dear uncle, and Bonnie. Not to say the others didn't mean that much to me, it's just how my brain has processed things. 

It hurts like mad. It feels like, as Ron Weasley put it, "Like I'd never be cheerful again." Sometimes it hurts so badly that I can't breathe... or move... or think. I feel like my soul is dying. Like I can't go on.

The one thing that's different from (almost) everyone else I've lost, I didn't know it was coming. I didn't know she was sick. And she had such a short battle with cancer that she was here, someone snapped, and she was gone. No warning.

There's an ever-growing hole in my heart, and no matter how hard I try, the pain doesn't let up. It's a constant reminder of these wonderful people I know, but can't ever talk to, again. Not for a while, anyhow. Eventually, though.

Hopefully my daily (somtimes 2, 3, or 4 times daily) breakdowns will slow. It'll never stop hurting, but I hope one day I'll be able to handle it better. Until then... Cry. Laugh. Repeat.

Maybe...

Maybe. Maybe not.

I've always been a cheerleader for "No, you can't think your way out of depression." I screamed it through the rooftops, posted blogs about it, and pointed that fact out to anyone who says anything to the effect of "think happy, be happy". But was I wrong?

I work phone lines for my company, and I get a truckload of crap. Dealing with the public is like trying to dismantle a hornet nest without getting stung. People are terrible. They blame you for their own stupidity; they think you can do what they want, despite company policy; and they yell at you for something someone else did. I've been here a year, this month, and I just discovered something...

The end of Wednesday, I decided I was going to stop being petty towards callers who are rude, never say thanks, or the India callers who are the bane of everyone's existence. Normally, I'd transfer them by dialing incredibly slowly, or I'd give a sarcastic "no problem". So, I told myself, "don't be petty" every time I wanted to be, and I gotta say... Thursday was incredible! I wasn't overly annoyed, I didn't complain all day, and I felt -- what's that word? -- decent!

Now, I in no way thought my way out of depression. I still have no motivation, I'm tired, and crying is a multiple-time-per-day thing. But I did manage to get a good day, where I didn't want to quit my job or take unscheduled time off. I like my job, but my brain has been at the wheel for a few months, now. Things haven't been so good, that way, but my direct boss, and the company as a whole, are incredibly helpful and understanding. It's a great place to work. No, I won't tell you where I work, for the safety of the people I work with, and the callers I deal with.

Today, however, was a train wreck. I kept telling myself to not be petty, but one caller from India used my last nerve as a jump rope, and I lost any and all control I'd gained yesterday. I'm cranky, I'm fed up, and the next person who asks me to spell my name is getting their picture on a dart board and used for target practice.

So, can you really think your way into a better day? I'd say yes, but it's circumstantial, and everyone will have their own way of doing that. Can you think your way out of a depressive episode? That answer always has been, and always will be a huge, resounding "no".

Experiment concluded.

On You

In case you were wondering...

The school shooting in Texas was entirely your fault. You- the one reading this. So long as you deal with mental health problems, anyway. You weren't there, you're properly medicated, you're perfectly normal... but it's your fault.

Every time a tragedy happens, people blame two things: guns and mental illness. Fun fact: it's neither.

This last murderer had no record of mental health issues, but America has a "mental health crisis". No need to blame the responsible culprit of evil, because mental health doesn't bring up the lack of religion, and subsequently, evil.

A person comes out with one of the many letters in the too long acronym, and the world welcomes them and supports them in acting on their feelings. Telling someone you have a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, and it's always a look, tone, or actual words of "Don't shoot me!" Not because of actual facts, but because of what the media has made it into.

Although I have never seriously threatened to harm another, and I have only harmed myself once, I am blamed for the mass murders in the country. People are all too happy to blame mental illness because the ever-growing lack of religion, and poor parenting, are creating a society with no personal responsibility.

People are absolutely terrified to get help with mental health, not because they think they'll hurt someone, but because they don't want that ugly, gross, absolutely vile accusation of being responsible for all the horrid things going on. 

If you are among the ignorant who think America has a mental health crisis, I pray you stub your toe. You aren't helping, you're not bringing awareness, and you are legit harming those of us who struggle with hurting a friggin bug. You're blaming something you don't understand, and you don't understand because you're not willing to do your research. 

America has an EVIL problem, and an ignorance  problem.  

Blaming mental illness for evil acts is like blaming purple nail polish for drugs. There's exactly zero link tying it together, zero fact to back it up, and zero brains in those blaming US for these heinous acts.

Remove head from butt, then speak.

Flying Monkey

I give up. I am alone in this.

Lately, my mom won't say a SINGLE bad word about the jackass she married. At all. She just goes silent, opens her phone, and ignores me. On the flip side, she'll whisper with said jackass, suddenly stopping when I walk into the room. Subtle, mom. Subtle.

That jackass is a god in this house. It does nothing, and demands everything. Mom will say, "We're a unit. We make decisions together" but jackass has the ONLY say in everything. My house is a trash heap because it won't allow any updates. It moves things just to be a jackass, but if I move something that is actually in the way, it throws a tantrum. Wanna take a guess as to whose side mom takes?

I guarantee she'll say "I say things when you're not there." Fun fact: If you don't defend someone IN THAT MOMENT, WITHIN EARSHOT OF THE OFFENDER, it teaches the offender that it hasn't done anything wrong. It will continue to be a jackass.

So freaking many times in my life, that jackass has been, well, a jackass, and has said, "I promise I'll change." It hasn't. Unless you consider getting worse a change. 

My mother has abandoned me, leaving me to drown. Why can't I swim? Because she stays out of it in the moment, proving yet again, that the useless clump of cells she married is king. Thanks mom. Just remember that, of your two children, I'm the one who is there to defend you, fight for you, spend time with you. I would hope I'd get that in return, but flying monkeys will always defend and justify a narcissist's behavior. In your case, it's because you're too afraid of that absolutely useless blob with the emotional maturity of a toothpick. Praiseworthy.

Gerald, I hate you with the passion of a wildfire. The day you die, I will laugh, I will dance, and I will praise God for His mercy. Once you are dead and burning in the inevitable Hell you have earned, you will not be even a whisper of a thought in the deepest part of the back of my brain. 

Mom, you used to be such an inspiration. You were so strong in the most difficult times, but now you cower at any resistance from the one who controls you and makes your life a living hell. I hope that one day, you realize who in this family is the one supporting you, expecting nothing in return, instead of the one who takes you for granted.

And The Hits Just Keep On Coming

Punch to the gut.

A few days ago, I found out that a dear friend of mine had passed away. Her obituary was posted today, and it's suddenly real. I didn't quite believe it, but it's very, very real.

My dear friend Bonnie was my (adopted) grandma's youngest, and the only one in her family to recognize the bond between her mom and me. She was very much her mother's daughter. She was a ball of light so bright that the sun got jealous. You'd swear she bounced everywhere because of her bubbly personality. Every "hello" was targeted to the heart, and she hit it every time. There are so many words to describe her, but it would be the world's longest blog post to list them all. A few of them are:

Kind

Giving

Caring 

Bright

Loving

Beautiful (inside and out)

Outgoing

Happy

Bonnie was a nurse (if those descriptive words didn't say that well enough), and actually gave grandma many more years to live by catching the first stroke right as it was happening. 

I'm absolutely broken. This woman was friend to all, and genuinely cared for those in her life. Now she's with her mom, shining down on her loved ones from above.

Thank you Bonnie, for being exactly who you were. You will be so dearly missed by so many. Give grandma a huge hug for me. I promise to look you up when I get there. Until then, you are forever tattooed on my heart, right next to grandma.

This is not goodbye; it's see you later.

Next Please

Is it over, yet?

Today has been absolute hell. To start with, work was beyond busy, as half my team was out sick. I don't blame them, and I don't curse them. We all get sick. It just kind of sucks when half the team is out. It's a nonstop bombardment of calls, with hardly any time to breathe, all day long. That was hard enough, but then the crap kept piling up. 

The Dystonia in my left foot has made its way to my hands. It's periodic and not as bad as my foot, but still creates havoc. Take, for example, when I was trying to dump my water bottle into my mug, my hand decided it was the perfect time to unexpectedly contract. I mean, who doesn't love a cold shower in the morning? Definitely got my desk cleaned off, as well.

To be fair, the vast majority of my calls were pleasant, short, and uncomplicated. It was just the back-to-back that was hard.

Now, to end the day, I had a cup of milk. Wait... allow me to rephrase: The table had a cup of milk. And the floor. And the 4 towels my mom and I used to lap it up. My hand really wanted an encore. What better way to end the day than with a milk bath? Spas do it, but the home version was less than relaxing.

I'm tired. I'm worn. I'm laughing just to keep from crying.

Here's to a better tomorrow.

Oh... I'm now on Tik Tok. Not sure what I'm doing, yet, but find me if ya wanna. @insaneinsurance

Learn Something New Every Day

That was eye opening.

My entire life, I've felt like the pity friend. The one others hang out with as a last ditch effort to get out of the house, the one others felt bad for, and the obligation. I've always felt nervous that I was bothering my friends any time I'd text or call; that they had better things to do than talk to me. Imagine my shock when I learned otherwise.

I was talking to one of my best friends, as usual, and she said "I love and miss you." My brain couldn't quite compute that as a she-meant-what-she-said thing. Like, why would anyone say that to me? I'm not the one people genuinely care about. I'm just the one people talk to when nobody else is around. My brain went round and round, trying to think of the why behind it. I mean, others have said it, but for some reason my brain never accepted it from them, either.

I started going through my memories with this friend, trying to see a time where I didn't feel like the obligation, and it hit me. Feelings are not facts. I felt like the pity friend, but her (and so many others) actions disproved that feeling. She and I spent practically every day together, one summer in high school. I was one of her bridesmaids. We took trips to Las Vegas and the UK. She texts me all the awesome things she sees in her job, and brings me keychains and decks of cards from all over the world. 

I'm still struggling to get my brain to change its tune, but I'm starting to see things in memories with other friends that kinda make me think I'm wrong. I'm 35 years old, and just now finding out that people do, in fact, care about me.

To all my wonderful friends, forgive me if I don't totally understand this concept quite yet. It might take another 35 years for it to sink in, but I'm working on it.

I Get It

I didn't fail. 

As many already know, I've been trying to lower my Seroquel dose, 50mg at a time. Less than two weeks ago, I started on 250mg. Today, that changes.

I noticed certain manic behaviors popping up. Most of the time, I noticed in time to check myself and control it before it could control me. I'd start talking a lot, talking quickly, and getting overly excited for fairly mundane things. That was easy enough to see and correct before it went overboard. Then it got bad.

Last Saturday, my mom and I picked up my favorite aunt, and we all went to lunch. Everything was cool; I wasn't leaning too far into the manic or the depressive. That is, until about five minutes after I'd finished eating. I got super quiet, I was staring at the table, and I'm pretty sure the storm cloud over my head was actually visible to everyone around. I stayed that way for a few hours until something brought me back up.

Fast forward to today. My job is phone customer service. I love it. I've got great people I work with, and it's not bam-bam-bam; I actually get a break between calls, most of the time. Yes, the general public seems to interpret "customer service representative" as "verbal punching bag" or "magician who can do anything, even if it's outside company policy or possibilities", but for the most part, it's fantastic. Until my brain went full-on attack mode.

I woke up crabby, and my very first call was a cantankerous old man who thought that he knew everything, and wouldn't listen to the rep he called for help. (Ok dude... Don't listen to me. Keep doing it wrong. I get paid by the hour, so I frankly don't care if you keep getting yourself in circles.)

Anyhow, by lunchtime, I was actually getting snippy with people. If the caller was rude, I seemed to give it right back. Not good in this industry, thanks to each and every call being "recorded for training and quality purposes", which is basically code for "We're going to use your bad calls as examples of why you USED to work here."

I kicked myself in the tush by calling off the afternoon and tomorrow, but it's better than losing my job altogether because of some idiot who can't grasp literally anything. The absences go against me, but they're not career-ending. Letting someone have it is a whole other ballgame.

In conclusion, I let my wonderful med manager know that I'll be increasing my dose back to 300mg, and as always, she trusts me to know myself, and has zero issues with calling it in. I really did find a great med manager! 

Always listen to yourself on how you feel with your meds. The doctor can hear you say how you feel, but they aren't inside your brain, and we might not always be able to express exactly what's going on inside. You'll know you've got a good one when they trust you just as much as you trust them. 

I AM NOT TELLING YOU TO BYPASS YOUR PROVIDER!!! ALWAYS SPEAK WITH THEM ABOUT ADJUSTMENTS!!! 

Different Is Not Always Bad

That's the best title I could think of. Go with it.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about romance, lately. Perfect day to finally write this, eh? Anyhow, I look back on some of my ex-boyfriends and wonder what life would be like if I didn't have this problem or that problem. That’s totally the wrong way to think of this.

I had two guys who I could have easily married and been perfectly happy with. They both have super generic names, so I don't mind using them. 

First there was Dan. We met in high school, dated for a short time my sophomore year, and got back together my senior year. He was a year ahead of me, so I got to brag about my college boyfriend. Anyhow, having Bipolar Disorder without a diagnosis really screwed things up between us. Things were said and we ultimately broke up when I was 20-ish. He was my first love, so it was really hard.

Short interruption for the world's worst relationship...

After that bad one ended, I met Rob. He was quite possibly the sweetest thing on the planet, and we really hit it off quickly. I fit right in with his friends, and he didnt seem too weirded out by my fashion sense. He was seven years older than I am, and he was ready to get married and start a family. I was not. I have blamed myself for the breakup for being too afraid, too flighty, too this or that.

I've been blaming myself, my behaviors, and my state of mind for over ten years. It took until just about this very moment to put the truth into words: I'm not the problem. There really is no problem. I just have a different path to walk than these two amazing men who are now married to the women they were meant to be with, and have the children they were meant to have.

Does this knowledge make it any easier? No. But I now realize that I am meant for something different than what I had imagined. Take, for example, the fact that I really don't want to have my own kids. I've always been a full supporter of fostering and adoption. Maybe that's my purpose. Or maybe I'm just here to learn how to focus more on others, learning how to help those in need of some kind. Who knows? But I am perfectly sure I'm on the right path for me.

My Brain Is Crying

More than a case of the Mondays.

I've tried to keep upbeat all morning. Lunch hit and everything went to pot. I'm not tired, but I have exactly zero energy. I used it all up this morning.

I'm sitting here, dying inside, debating on whether of not to ask for the afternoon off. I'm procrastinating, in hopes that I can make it to the end of the day. I've been quiet, not getting involved more than I have to, trying to conserve what little I had in the way of faked happiness and motivation. 

I can't talk the way I need to for my job. I can't write the way I want to for my blog. I can't express myself well today.

Days like this are horrible. Too down to do literally anything. Can't even take a nap because I wouldn't be able to sleep.

So here I sit, praying I make it through the day, dreading the inevitable long afternoon. T-minus four hours and counting.

Karma Chameleon

It comes... OK, so it hasn't gone.

I hate that absolutely useless piece of human tissue that seems to think it's in total control. It can't even be called Henry anymore, because it is not human. To be human, one must have a basic sense of humanity. A narcissist has no humanity, because it is a construct of its own mind. It doesn't care. About anything. It is incapable of thinking of anyone but itself. It wants what it wants, everyone else be damned.

It's memory is fading at a slightly alarming rate. We'll, alarming to my mom. Yesterday, it referred to a frying pan as a "coated pot." Mind you, a couple years ago, it straight up refused to acknowledge my mom when she called a small soup pan a "pan", insisting that it's a pot. Oh, and we're not allowed to say "crap" anymore, because, and I quote, "Do you know what that means? That's disgusting." Apparently we must refer to everything as exactly what it is, because it hates the word "stuff."

My mom and it are part of the LDS (Mormon) church. They teach that the man is head of the household-- meant to guide a family. It doesn't guide. It doesn't even lead. It controls, absolutely. Better still is the "calling" it has as the "branch president" of a congregation. Despite having less than twenty members in the branch, it gets such an ego boost from it. It's even more unbearable, as the years go on.

Oh, and I almost forgot... That church has a song that goes, "There is beauty all around when there's love at home." Interesting... There was love, yes, but only from mom. It took great pleasure in bullying me to the point of me getting so angry that I'd throw things. Mind you, I was supposedly the one with the problem. Yeah... total "inspiration" behind making it a leader 🙄

Literally nothing gets fixed in the house, unless it finally affects it. A nail that kept hooking on my pants for years was only fixed when it hooked on it. My toilet seat was hanging on by a thread for years, but it only got fixed when it fell off while trying to work on the tank (because it wouldn't flush). Yes, I laughed at that. The image if it stuck between the toilet and wall... Gold. 

Am I callous? Yes. But with what it has put me through, I've had to become that way for self-preservation. Yes, it still makes me angry, and yes, it still gets a kick out of that. However, I've just started treating its messes the way it used to treat mine. And I won't stop, because I refuse to lose my rights to a pansy-ass, overgrown toddler. Plus there's the whole "it's fairly close to the day it dies" thing that keeps me going.

If there's one thing everyone needs to know about narcissists, it's that they are so incredibly insecure that they need to control everyone and everything, and they need to tear down everyone for everything, in order to feel superior. It's a pathetic existence. 

Don't bow to a narcissist. At all. Ever. For any reason. You'll just start an avalanche, and wind up a shell of your former self.

Here We Go

Let's see if this works.

I've officially been at my job for six months, with the 21st of this month marking seven months. At this company, January is stupid busy, and we've been told that we can work all the overtime we want, all month. Key factor: we are not allowed any time off until February. This is where it gets a bit masochistic.

Since this is my first full-time job since 2011, and the first to last more than two months, I've already reached a major goal of mine. I feel awesome! I'm officially off all government subsidized programs (disability and medicaid), and I finally feel like I have a purpose! Every day, I have at least one person who is so overwhelmed by the fact that I could help them, that they just say "thank you, thank you so much". While I may not be saving lives, I like to think that I save people from stress. Either way, I'm doing something to help.

Back to the overtime thing...

I've decided that I'm going to work just forty-five minutes extra per day. Now, as someone who is still kind of adjusting to having to be at the same place for eight hours a day, five days a week, this is quite the high jump. Yes, I work at home, but it's still talking to people for eight hours and forty-five minutes, five days a week. That totals almost forty-four hours a week. 

Yes, I have the option of simply working my scheduled shifts, and I'm telling myself that if I can't do the extra on some days, that's perfectly fine. However, I have a problem with buying Little Mermaid figurines, and that money would come in handy 😂 But still, the most important part of this is being able to push my limits just a bit, to prove to myself, and only to myself, that I can do this; that I can reach these goals. I've already worked three days of overtime, so if I can't do it tomorrow, I'm fine with that. We all need a break sometimes, right?

Short post.

Hum-bugged

Don't wear hearing aids. Stare at food. Don't punch anyone.

Happy Christmas to all of my lovely readers! Hoping you all have a wonderful day.

My Christmas is a disaster. I mentioned a while ago how my "sister" and her husband swindled my mom out of two thousand dollars for an unnecessarily extravagant laptop. I've mentioned a few times exactly how much I really don't like them. I'm pretty sure you're all tired of hearing about the useless narcissist I was forced to call "dad". Having all these... beings... in one place is going to drive me off a cliff.

Mr and Mrs Swindle are talking about how "We were going to do this, but didn't want to be creepy." Sooo.... instead of being helpful to someone in need, you decide to care more about your appearance, and what someone might think about you?

King Henry VIII told a story about a Jeep pulling its Ford out of some mud, and it emphasizes how IT wanted to give that driver a medal. This may not seem like much, but it's one very large piece of the narcissistic puzzle. 

The best part of this torture is the ego stroking. It absolutely FLIES back and forth between the three of them. Add on the fact that the two... males... both keep talking, at the same freaking time, because neither will concede control of the one-sided "conversation".

I can't deal with this. I can't stand these... beings... at the best of times. Get them together and my nerves are shot, my teeth are all ground down, and I'm ready to spit fire.

I grew up being told to stand up for myself, unless it's standing up to "sister" or "father". All I ever heard was, "Be nice" and "You need to apologize". Yeah... Where are the apologies from these two... things? Where's the validation that I'm not, in fact, their doormat?

If you've got someone who treats you like you're unimportant trash, never believe them when they say they'll change. They won't. They've been treating you like trash for years, and promises to change are empty. There's always the "honeymoon" phase, where they're nice and good, then the ball drops, and they double down on what they're doing to you. Abusers of all kinds are entirely incapable of treating you any other way. Remove them from your life. It'll hurt, thanks to them making you believe you need them, but realize you're worth so much more.

They won't change.

They can't change.

They don't care.

They can't care.

It's just who they are.

Time

Be here. Do this. Take that.

It's been said a million times, and I'll just add to it: there isn't enough time in the day. Between full-time work (going on six whole months, now!), doctor appointments, errands, and the extremely limited "me" time, I'm just done. 

A few weeks back, I lowered my Seroquel from 400mg to 350mg. There were a couple of really bad days, but overall, it's not bad. Weirdest part is that I'm sleeping better now. Anyhow, my moods are pretty level, considering the time since I lowered it, but I still get this awful feeling at the end of the day. Like, full-blown depression, with a smattering of "I'd like to punch you in the face" anger. Unfortunately, this lovely concoction of emotions pops its ugly head out at some inconvenient times. My poor mom is getting the force of it.

Today was odd, and tomorrow will be very similar. I took the morning off for a doctor appointment, and worked the six hours from noon unti, well, 6:00 PM. The darker the sky got, the darker my mood got. Bad enough that work was nonstop busy, but between people being people, and this foul mood of mine, I'm sure a few unsuspecting souls got a taste of it.

I'm trying desperately to lower my Seroquel to the lowest tolerable level, because I was recently diagnosed with insulin resistance, and Seroquel is known to have an effect on that. I've started to change the way I eat (being without a constant supply of Cheetos isn't helping my mood 😡), and I'm exercising more, but there's a long way to go. I'm round. I look like, if you took a bouncy ball, stuck toothpicks in for arms and legs, and added a Cocoa Puff for the head. A large part of that is genetic, but that won't stop me from trying my hardest to change it. 

I haven't written in a while, because I'm so done after work, that I simply don't want to. However, this blog is my catharsis. Talking about these things and emotions is helpful in treating them. I very much encourage everyone to have a catharsis. Write, clean, rant, sing... Just do something to get it out in a constructive way. I've got a whole list of "my life sucks" songs, if you find yourself in need. 

That's all.

Thank you for your time.

You may now continue scrolling.

It's A Thing- Go With It

Some days, you just need a pool noodle.

Today can go away, and never return. But that's the great thing about todays- they always go away, never to return. Even when you're suffocating, trying to get just one sigh of relief, today will be gone tomorrow.

It's stormy, today. Normally, this wouldn't mean a thing. Today, it means my depression has turned on me, keeping me from really doing much of anything. I can't even smile. It's annoying.

One of my coworkers simultaneously made me laugh and feel a bit better, if only for a minute. She told me I sounded cheerful. That's the last word I'd use to describe me, today, but I guess sounding cheerful is a good step in keeping me from a total breakdown. It was just a nice thing to say.

Then, after stupid people did lots of stupid people things, I get a text from a friend, informing me that she found me a pool noodle. Yes, there's an explanation. No, I don't feel like explaining it. Let it be a mystery.

That seemingly small thing let me know that today will, in fact, end. Tomorrow will come, erasing today from my mind.

As this wonderful friend says... "The moral of the story" is you never know what can make your day. It could be something you always do, or something so small that you'd never think of.

Good friends should be everyone's go-to. Find your happy place in good people. You deserve it.

Second Thoughts

Big red flags...

So, last week, I did intake for a new therapist. I didn't do this with my actual therapist, but with some rando who does it. That was red flag number one. 

During this intake, there was an intern, who was simply observing. That's fine. Everyone has to learn their profession, sometime, right? Red flag number two  was when I was "advised" with things like, "don't talk about that, during therapy" and "don't say that during therapy". So... what's the point of therapy, if I can't talk about why I'm there?

Literally the only reason I'm keeping the appointment with this therapist, is to find out if she's any better than the company she works for. I've been in and out of  therapy since I was, like, twelve. Over they years, I've learned to read the warning signs for a bad therapist. I had one who didn't accept my interests or choices, and actually met with my mom, concerned about my desire to get into criminology. I had another who, during our first appointment, was twisting words, trying to make me say that I didn't work, because it's not important to me (which is 100% false). Still the worst, by far, was when I was locked up in the world's worst inpatient facility. She drilled it through the heads of all the women there, that we were there because we did something wrong, not because we had illnesses.

There's a shortage of therapists, in general, so finding a good one is about as easy as finding a snowball in Yuma, Arizona.

I have my first appointment with this new one, next Thursday. To be honest, I'm not holding my breath, but we shall see...

OK, I'm finally gonna say it.  

I have an aunt who needs a smack to the head, in hopes that she'll learn a thing or two. I don’t like her-- I never have, and I never will. (Well, I have two aunts I can't stand, but this is just for one.)

This woman felt that she had the right, throughout my childhood, to dictate how I kept my bedroom. Every time she'd come in from out of town, she'd go into my room, and act like bloody Hitler, to "clean". No. That's not your right. You are not my mother. You do not live here. You do not get a say. Yes, my bedroom made disaster zones look organized, back then, but you had ZERO right to do that.

She's one of those narcissistic jerks who thinks she's the center of attention, and if you don't acknowledge her in the way she thinks you should, she needles you until you do. Yes, she has some serious narcissistic tendencies. She should know that, too. I mean, she has a degree in psychology, which we are all aware of, because somehow it makes her better...?

I've bitten my tongue for thirty years, when it comes to her, but I'm done. I sincerely hope she's reading this, because I will not be acknowledging her existence again. I'm fed up, and today was the final straw.

She and my uncle are in town, again. They came to the house to pick up my mom and the other narc, to go do some super boring stuff. They're on the porch, chatting, and I open the door, to find out where I need to move my car. I get a "hello" and a smile from my uncle. That's it, because he's the normal one. Then the aunt... she says hello, right about the same time uncle does. I wave, because I'm me. She then proceeds to say "hello" again, like I've done her some great injustice. My mom tells her I'm antisocial, because, well... I am. What aunt said next, had my blood boiling. She says, "I don't care! I'm her aunt!" and tries to push past my mom, to get to me.

Yeah, I heard that. Hearing aids are wonderful inventions. They're great to be able to hear, and even better is taking them out when you don't want to listen to someone. 

Aunt... no. You may be my aunt, but that gives you exactly ZERO right to invade my space, my privacy, and it sure as ever loving HELL does NOT give you the right to touch me. That psychology degree is absolutely useless if you can't grasp basic "touch me and die" or "I don't wanna talk to you" body language.

You aren't the center of the universe. You aren't special. You're factory-standard. If someone acknowledges you like the queen you think you are, it's probably because they want to avoid your theatrics.

Stop. 

Now. 

You don't get to dictate other people's lives. 

You're not God. 

Bye!

Epitome

So done.

As anyone who takes psych meds knows, it's a ride. I'd say it's a roller-coaster, but if an roller-coaster was built to mimic this, it'd kill people. Sharp corners, sudden drop-offs, rises so sharp that it'd just crash...

I've been seriously agitated, lately, so I took a small amount extra (yes, prescribed by my wonderfully knowledgeable med manager). I took half the extra dose, but it still punched me. All day, I've been tired, drained, uninterested, and now, I'm crying for no reason at all.

I barely got through this workday. Thankfully, my load was light, but I still just wanted to go back to bed. My brain was so foggy, and the dystonia-- typically contained in my left foot-- made it's usual, drug-induced appearance in my mouth. Suddenly, if a word had a B in it, my mouth decided it didn't want to open up for a solid two seconds. Yes, I timed it.

I went to dinner with a friend, who was visiting from out of town. That was nice. Didn't really notice anything wrong. But... then I came home, and it all hit me, again. 

Around 9:00, my brain decided I needed to cry. No reason. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular. When that stopped, I just about fell flat, I was so tired. Here I am, thirty-seven minutes later, and all I want is to disappear. 

I hate this.

Friday the 13th

Die.

I have never been superstitious. Friday the 13th isn't a thing. All it is is people being overly cautious, looking straight ahead, so as to miss the telephone pole in front of them. They missed walking into the pole, but got smashed from the side by something they were too busy thinking wasn't going to happen. This particular day has no super powers. It's no different than any other day. Then today happened...

I've never said what my job is, or with which company. I do this so I can say things, like I'm about to say, without getting fired.

Today started off stellar. I didn't sleep well, thanks to my body fighting an elusive illness, which I won't explain. When I could finally drag myself up, I couldn't eat anything. Because sick.

I logged on, an hour early, to make up for some time I missed this week, because I've been, you got it, sick. Only half the programs I use actually came up correctly. The others taking a solid fifteen minutes to decide to grace me with their presence. 

The day had been going relatively well, but super slow. Then I got the email...

Something to the effect of, "Sorry, but this isn't excused because, if you're not prepared, just take a break". To which I responded, something to the effect of, "It's not that I wasn't prepared to work, it's that I wasn't prepared to do this totally new thing, which I had never done, and have zero idea how to do".

I was bombarded with something new, which I wasn't supposed to be doing until next week, and it's not excused?!?! Management didn't bother to check what was happening, and I'm the one at fault?!?! No. Management's fault. 100%. **Ammendment: It was finally excused**

Here's the kicker... I was so wrapped up in defending this thing to management that, when I clocked out for lunch, I forgot to set my availability as "Hey! I'm not here! Get someone else!" Thus creating the exact same problem that I'd been fighting, before. 

Other things that have happened include:

*Bashed my toes while walking around the house.

*Split my heel open by stepping on a freaking magazine.

*Splashed soda up my nose... twice.

*Published this post to the wrong blog. Obviously that was fixed.

**UPDATE (1:17 pm): I got new glasses from mail-order, today. They're wrong. My day continues to sink even lower.

**UPDATE NUMBER TWO (3:34 pm): I slammed my knee directly into the corner of my desk's leg. I can no longer feel my big toe 

**UPDATE THREE (3:42 pm): The cords that keep my work computers, ya know, on, have now decided they're done.

It's only 1:00. Here's hoping this day ends with all my limbs still attached.

No Better

So many types of toxic people, so few nerves left intact.

I've written, before, about not begging for attention from those who obviously don't want to be in your life. I'm finally taking my own words to heart. 

I've got friends, then I've got Facebook friends. People who do nothing more than hold a place, and make me seem more popular than I really am. People don't like me. I accepted this a long time ago, and I frankly don't care. I've got the best, most amazing real friends, so I tend not to notice others. But those others who feel the need to "unfollow" me, just to spare my feelings by not deleting me, those are the worst.

Some of these are blatantly ignoring me, and others choose to stay out of my life, completely.

I've got some people who I used to be super close to, who are now FB placeholders. The vast majority of them unfollowed me for the most petty of the twenty-first century reasons: politics. Super adult-ing, there, folks. 

Welp, I'm not going to keep placeholders, anymore. I deserve better. I deserve real friends. Friends are involved with each other's lives. Friendship isn't a one-way street.

So, for all my FB placeholders, this is your last chance to show you're still the person who was my friend. For any reasons you may have for walking out of my life that abruptly, you've got one last chance. Be a friend, or go your own way.

Dear readers, I implore you, do not allow yourself to be taken in by people who don't cherish you, just as much as you cherish the! You're worth much more!

ISO: Big-Girl Pants

Nope, nope, nope.

Today marks something in my life that has literally never happened before. I have officially been working forty hours per week, for a month! Major milestone, here! Of course, working at home definitely helps. No traffic, no weather, no special work clothes. It's wonderful!

I'm plugging along, enjoying life, when I'm punched in the face with an upcoming "retreat". I got an email asking for ideas on where to go, and where to eat. There was definitely panic involved.

I'm not big on socializing, in general. Add in loud, busy places, and I'm gonna have to take the next three weeks off, just to recover from that.

It's nothing against my coworkers or manager, at all. Everyone is great! I simply can't do everything normal people do. Add in the whole "I'm deaf" thing, and it'll wind up being me sitting awkwardly, while everyone else talks. That is, if the places are loud. Not even the best hearing aids help when there's a ridiculous amount of background noise.

By the time I was seven, I was a pro at talking my way out of things. Sure, some of them are awkward, and leave people entirely confused, but I still did it. And every single time, I made things up. "I've got a family thing that night", or "So sorry, but I've got something I've got to do", or "My mom called, and something terrible has happened" type things. 

I've worked very hard to stop lying to get out of things. It doesn't help my cause, and it definitely isn't easy keeping all those fibs straight. But, as we all know, the truth is much harder to say. "I'm super anxious, here, and need to leave" is perfectly fine to say, and people usually understand, but saying it is near impossible. 

I've now got to stand up, put on my big-girl pants, and explain that I simply don't do well in social situations. Or, on the flip side, I could put on my big-girl pants, and expose myself to something that seems impossible, but may actually turn out well. Either way, I've got to find a way to do this.

Umm... Not Ok.

Beyond pathetic. Absolutely inexcusable.

As some of you may know, I started a new job last month. In fact, tomorrow marks one month! And this isn't necessarily just a job. There's a very real possibility that it could turn into a career! Full time, benefitted, the works.

With this new job, comes new health insurance. Yes, I pay through the nose for it, as well as for the co-pays, but at least I'm earning my care, now!

The only plan I was able to really afford, happened to be the only plan my therapist of three-or-so years did not accept. I let her know in advance. Plenty of time to wrap things up. Or, so I thought.

I wanted to be sure she'd canceled my future appointments, so I sent her a text. Her response? Nothing. Zip. Thumb-tied. She ghosted me faster than a blind date would ghost a raw-organic-vegan (which I totally got stuck with, one time).

As a professional, that's not OK. As a therapist, that's dangerous. You don't ghost someone with a delicate mental state. Thankfully, I'm pretty good on my own. But it does make me wonder if she's done this to others who weren't OK. 

No, I'm not going to tell you her name, or where she's located. But I will tell you that she'd not ever really helped me. It was always just shooting the breeze, or ranting about one thing or another. No actual work has been done in the more than three years I'd been seeing her. I'm sure that works for some, but it definitely doesn't work for me.

So, farewell, old therapist. Great person, and definitely helps many others! But I'm glad to be moving on.

It Just Never Ends

My body is bound and determined to stop me from reaching my weight loss goal.

For those not in the know, I was born with the bones in my legs and arms twisted. This includes the bones in my feet and hands. All of which have varying degrees of rotation. I had one leg fixed, and that's all that's ever gonna happen. I hope. I also deal with Dystonia in my left foot. Because why not? 

Welp, thanks to this lovely deformity, I tend to injure myself quite easily. My wrists are useless, both with chronic tendinitis, and playing the cello is interesting, as my fingers aren't straight-on, but sideways. But the worst is the rotation plus the Dystonia, in my left leg, have combined to just about kill me.

My Dystonia forces my foot forward, making my knee go to an uncomfortable degree inward. Last October, I managed to injure something in the back of my knee, which is supposed to be impossible to injure. Since it's impossible, two doctors had no idea how to treat it. "Rest and ice" is what I got. Yes, that time it did help. Not this time. 

It doesn't stop there, no... 

Today, I officially overworked the tendon on the top of my right foot, to the point of actual tears (as in legit crying). It frickin hurts! How did this happen? Twisted tarsals, and lots of walking.

Since I re-injured my knee, I haven't been able to use my bike, or my snazzy new sitting elliptical, so I've been walking (carefully) while work is slow. I was super proud of myself, yesterday, when I got over 10,000 steps! I've been getting, like, 2,000, so this was awesome! I'm paying for that, now, after getting over 8,000, today.

I guess my body decided that a three pound loss was enough, and just shut down.

Bright side: I'm still three pounds down! In just three weeks, too! That hasn't happened since I was eighteen and still dancing!

Should Have Known

Urge to stab...

The evening of July 4th, our air conditioner kicked the bucket. Couldn't find anyone to come out until the 7th. It got up to 88° inside. 

On the 7th, we had a new stove delivered, after our seventeen-year-old one died, a few weeks before. The guys couldn't install it, because the wall has the wrong kind of outlet.

Also on the 7th, in the evening, the thermostat for the air conditioner decided to finally stop working. Once again, it got up to 88° inside.

Here we are, today...

The air works, thanks to a friend of a friend, who came out to install the new thermostat. It would have been fine, if the thing would have fixed it a year ago, when the thermostat started having issues. But what does it care? It's got the nice cool basement to escape to.

We still have no stove. Why? Because it canceled the appointment for the electrician, who was supposed to come this coming Thursday. But, you know, what does it care? It's not the one who has to cook.

I've said it for a long time, and I'll say it again: This house is a dump, and it's 100% the narc's fault. It doesn't believe in updating a house. Most of the carpet and paint, here, is circa 1970-something. Original to the house. Any updates have been paid for by mom. Usually after a lengthy debate about how she doesn't want to live in a dump, and it throwing a tantrum, because it doesn't want to do it, let alone help.

It broke its toilet, in the basement, a couple months ago, but won't fix it. We got so many generous donations to fix the kitchen floor, but won't allow anyone to come in to do that, insisting that it can do it, but we all know it won't do it  (yes, that money is still put away for that purpose).

It's father was a hoarder, and it had to clean out the apartment when he died. It's not just the garbage, it's the damage done because of that garbage. Now it's placing that on me. But, as we all know, narcissists don't give a single crap about anyone else, and hoarders literally have panic attacks when actual garbage is chucked. So, mom and I live in a dump, because Herr Henry VIII (yes, that's a reference to 2 people) won't allow anything to get fixed.

Ladies and gents... my life.