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Tuesday, September 29, 2015

My Brain Hurts

 Medicaid. The pain in so many butts.

Have you ever wondered why there are so many people not on proper medications? Yes, there are those who refuse to take them, but there are also those of us with no choice.

Allow me to 'splain...

I was going to one psychiatrist for a while, but she didn't listen to me when I said, "I can't take that because I'm allergic to it," and prescribed it anyway. So, annoyed with that one, I moved to another who actually listened to me! She gave me something I'd never tried and seemed to work. Well... until today. I had to postpone the follow-up appointment I'd set and was put three weeks out. I have no refills on my meds. I can't get hold of anyone whose head isn't shoved up their... anyway... I called a new place that does both therapy and med management. Here's the kicker: I have to have an initial intake appointment where this one person who has known me for twenty whole minutes will assign me a therapist. I then have to see this therapist for four weeks before I can get medications.

I got Medicaid so I could get my mental wellbeing in check, not so I could go to doctors who don't care and prescribe whatever comes to their mind first. I have found an incredible Allergist, General Practitioner, and OB/GYN on Medicaid, but I have yet to find a good Psychiatrist.

On the bright side: My friend in England sent me a pic from out her window! My only life's wish is to go to England.

"English Girls"~ The Maine

Monday, September 28, 2015

Day= Made

My life has a purpose! Well... kind of.

Today, I started as a recess aide at the school I worked at last year. Some of my (now) second and third graders ran up and hugged me and just had to tell me everything that was going on. They were actually excited to see me! I rarely have people excited to see me.

When last school year ended, I was heartsick because those kids had become such a bright spot in my life. Just the thought of going back lifted my mood. These kids show me what real acceptance is. Now, they don't know me all that well, but I still say some stupid things every now and then, but they just go with it. Kids are amazing.

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

I'm going to start vlogging and posting my videos to YouTube. I'm not sure when exactly the first will be up, but I hope all you faithful followers will join me and my rants there.

This was scattered, so here's a super random song...
"And I Waited"~ Hanson

Sunday, September 27, 2015


"Escape from the city and follow the sun"

I'm not a city girl. I hate crowds and the general hustle and bustle of cities. I don't live right in Salt Lake City, but I dare you to call the suburbs "country escapes." Every now and then, I like to take a drive somewhere outside the valley. Today, my mom and I went up Big Cottonwood Canyon. Here's the results...

If you get overwhelmed and need an escape, it's not something shameful. Escaping can rejuvenate you in ways no medication can.

"Ready To Run"~ One Direction

Friday, September 25, 2015

I Am

I am no one.

My father has a habit of telling me, "I'll just say it to mom," when we're all in the same room. Not sure if it's this way with everyone else, but when I'm sitting at the table, literally two feet away, I can hear what he's saying. Every time he does this, it just confirms everything I've ever thought about not being wanted. My mother has recently picked up this habit.

It's not just about being unwanted, it's a blow to any confidence or sense of self-worth I've managed to build up. When they do this, they basically deem me a "non-entity." I don't have room in my limited ego to constantly take blows like that. As it is, I wake up every day hoping to go back to sleep because I can't do any good for anyone when I'm awake. I just seem to get in the way.

Tonight, this blow has sent me spiraling. In the five minutes it's taken me to think out and type this, I've gone from, "Fine, I'll leave," to "How many pills do I have and what mix will do it?"

They'll only learn of my feelings on this if they actually read this because, I, too, have a habit- not showing the person who has hurt me that they did, indeed, hurt me. That goes back to my tormented days as Brooke's doormat.

So tonight, I'll silently cry myself to sleep, praying (as usual) to not wake up.

"I Am, I Said"~ Neil Diamond

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Letter To The Media

Dear media,

Every time someone does something heinous, you tend to blame mental illness. The Colorado theater shooter, the Columbine shooters, Andrea Yates; all labeled "mentally ill." While there have been many crimes committed by people with mental illnesses, it is far from common.

When you label someone as mentally ill, whether they have been diagnosed by a qualified professional or not, you label the millions of law-abiding mentally ill people as criminals. I have Bipolar Disorder, but that doesn't mean I'm going to shoot up a bank. I have friends who have post-partum depression, but their kids are alive and well.

When reporting a story of a criminal, please refrain from labeling, or announcing a diagnosis. Those people with mental illnesses who commit crimes are a minority. Referring to a criminal as "mentally ill" only promotes fear and perpetuates stigmas. You don't say "The bank robber has had no diagnosis of mental illness," so why say that they have?

In closing, please refrain from using mental illness as a copout.

Millions of law-abiding citizens who just happen to have a mental illness

Monday, September 21, 2015


The never-ending stream of stupidity continues.

I have a tendency to say incredibly stupid things without thinking. I call it my "lack of a brain-to-mouth filter." It's when the words come out of my mouth before I even realize that I've thought of them.

Last week, a couple of people I know came to help me paint my bedroom. Now, these two people are quite possibly the least judgmental people I've met (and a freakishly cute couple!). You know when you meet someone and know right off the bat that they're a good person? It doesn't happen to me very often, but these two just ooze acceptance. Even with that, I still don't know them very well and wound up with vocal vomit. I couldn't stop talking no matter how hard I tried. They just smiled and tried to keep up with my speeding thought train as best they could. I hope they know how grateful I am.

A couple days ago, my mom and I went to IKEA. We were trying to find our way out of the senseless maze. We found a gate and were told we could go out that way. I pushed and pushed, but the gate didn't move. When the worker told me to pull, I said "I'm a natural blonde," and laughed. Only after I'd lost sight of her did I realize that she was blonde.

This happens most when I'm manic or what I call "situationally manic." Side note: Yes, I know it's not a word, but I use it anyway. That's when I'm in a depression or mixed state but something happens to temporarily boost my mood. I have absolutely no idea how to make it stop and would give my first-born for a cure.  My kingdom for a cure!

"My Stupid Mouth"~ John Mayer

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Friends & Stuff

People suck.

I said a while ago that friendships are like plants; if you ignore them, they die. I've also said that I'm tired of the one always putting in the effort. I decided that I was going to see who my true friends are by practically ignoring everyone. I don't even need all my fingers to count how many people acknowledge me.

There are the people I talk to regularly. I've never worried about them. I've got the people who comment on things when they see them in the five minutes a day they spend online. It's very much appreciated. Then I've got the ones who never comment, "like," share, or even acknowledge that I've commented on something of theirs. They ignore me until they think I've done something wrong. I've got quite a few of those people. These are the people I can tag in things, send notes, "like" everything they do, but only notice I exist when I make a typo or mislabel something.

When they're offline and in real, live person, I only exist when nobody else is available. I've had quite a few "friends" pop up when their relationships are going down the toilet, or if they're having a crisis. Yes, I get that I'm a good listener, but I'm not your therapist. I've got my own things to deal with, and you popping up only when you need a sounding board is not okay. Either be a friend, or an acquaintance. You can't go back and forth as you feel you need.

Since I made the decision to let others show their dedication to our friendship, I've lost quite a few people. I can't say I lost friends because, friends try to keep in contact.

One more thing...

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I voice an opinion and someone tells me I'm wrong. I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
Facts can be wrong, actions can be wrong, but opinions (as well as feelings) are never wrong! When I say I don't like kids, don't reply with, "How can you possibly say that? Kids are such a joy and blessing." You are welcome to your opinions; allow me to have mine.

"Can nobody hear me?"
"Hear Me"~ Imagine Dragons

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Victim Or Survivor?

I hate waking up  with thoughts like these...

While I was in the shower this morning, I started thinking about my school days. School was my own personal circle of Hell that Virgil told Dante was too dangerous to enter.

It started off innocently. I was thinking about this Archaeology class I took the summer between fifth and sixth grades. It was a blast! We got into a silly string war on the last day! Then my thoughts moved to fourth grade.

There were three math classes with varying degrees of difficulty. I was in the highest class. Each day, we were to complete one problem on a sheet we were given. These problems were incredibly difficult, but I always got them right. At the semester, my teacher decided that I wasn't smart enough to be in the high class because, I kid you not, I got one problem wrong. ONE! Since I was no longer smart enough for her, she dropped me to the LOWEST class! My mom fought the school and said that I was not to be in the other teacher's class. We had a meeting, and the principal agreed with my mom and me. Finally, I was put in the middle class. Side note: a few years later, the teacher who taught the low class was arrested for "inappropriate contact with students." Thanks mom for fighting!

Fourth grade was also when I was locked in the school counsellor's office for being the victim of a bully.

I dealt with a ton of crap in school, but the thing that hit hardest was in ninth grade. I had spent eighth grade at a different school and when I came back to my home school, I wasn't very well received. I was having a bad day all around, so when I was walking to another class, having someone spit in my face was the last straw. That's right... someone actually spit in my face. I went to my guidance counsellor's office to tell her what happened and just broke down. Side note: she was an amazing counsellor! She's the only reason I got out of the 9th grade!

I've always told people that there comes a time when you must stop thinking like a victim and start thinking like a survivor. I'm not convinced that I have taken my own words to heart. I think that's what I'm going to start working on in therapy.

"Concrete Angel"~ Martina McBride

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Too Many Changes

"2015 is the year of the crap pile."~ Charmaine's calendar.

This year has been one blow after the next. Yes, my world was uprooted by the news of Zayn leaving One Direction, as well as the news of the "hiatus." Not long after that, one of my all-time favorite artists, Nick Santino, announced that he has not only formed a new band, but that they have a new EP out now. Side note: Beach Weather. It's fabulous!

Now, you may think that this is all childish and wonder why these things affect me, but the thing is, it's big and unexpected. I don't like big and unexpected changes. Small and predetermined change is alright, but don't blindfold me and untie it right as I'm about to walk into a wall.

When my "sister" moved back in, my world wasn't just uprooted, it was bulldozed. I lost all control of my emotions and actions. When my grandma passed, I could hardly breathe. I cried at least once a day for weeks (been doing better on that). Every time I go up to her grave, that feeling comes back.

The biggest change hit me like a bat to the face. I saw my therapist last Friday and she told me that she has been offered, and has accepted, a new position somewhere else. I get to pick between two interns at the clinic I'm at now, but I'm still not okay with it. It took me about six or seven months to get comfortable enough with my current therapist to really open up. How am I going to get that way with another new one?

"Night Changes"~ One Direction

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Just A Daughter

"Silence will fall when the question is asked." ~Doctor Who (NERD ALERT!)

I back down faster than a balloon gives in to a pin. Why? My father. Have you ever heard "Whatever You Say" by Martina McBride? The chorus says, "I know you can hear me, but I don't think you're listening." This is my father. I can say something that I need or want, and he'll pass it off and just do what he always has. I have always said that he should have never gotten married, let alone had a family because he cannot, no, he will not change for anyone. He does what he wants, everyone else be damned.

When I ask his opinion on something, he'll say, "you usually ignore my suggestions." Yes, I do. Do you know why? Because that's how I was taught. I'll suggest things to him, he'll say "that's an idea," and forget it five seconds later.

We fight quite a bit because I believe that a man should be a dad; not just a father. He cut himself out of my life when my sister decided she no longer needed him. Ever since, it's been a one-sided relationship. I do what he likes, talk about what interests him, etc., but when I talk about something, he doesn't really listen.

There have been quite a few times where I've stopped talking to him; sometimes, for weeks, but stupid me goes back to trying. I don't know why I do. I always get the same result. I get hurt because he doesn't know how to be a dad.

Sure, he's been there to help out when I've had surgery, but even then, he's downstairs until I call (three freaking times) that I need something. He gets it and returns to his claustro-hell.

A father is supposed to be a pillar. The pedestal that every girl puts her daddy on is empty in my heart. He hurts me more than he cares enough to realize. I want a daddy. I want to be able to say I'm daddy's little girl. The sad fact is, though, that I never will. All because my father will always do whatever satisfies my father.

"Whatever You Say"~ Martina McBride

Sunday, September 6, 2015

I'm Fired Up

I hate this. Make it go away.

No joke, I would much rather be in a depression than manic. I can't get to sleep, and when I finally do, I don't stay asleep. I overreact to everything. Whether I get angry or excited depends on a myriad of things that I feel like I have no control over. I'm hypersensitive to everything; I mean everything. Noises, pain, tickles, heat, and other people.

My mind is running a billion miles per second (you can read Blame It On The Train for more insight than I have the attention span to give right now). I can't put coherent thoughts together, which is really fun when trying to talk to someone new. I have no idea if this is connected, and would love to know if this happens to anyone else, but I get way more panic attacks when I'm manic (kind of like right now, for no reason). Breathe in, breathe out.

The really annoying part about mania is that I can't feel it coming on. Weird? Probably. I can feel myself slipping down, but the rise up never quite hits me as, "Hey! This is your brain! I'm going manic, so get ready!" I guess I just revel in the fact that I'm to a point out of the depression where I can get myself up, showered, and dressed and don't think anything of it. Well, I can tell that the depression is letting up, but I guess I just never think it'll get to this point.

I tweeted last night exactly how I felt about mania. I said,
"Dear mania,
You were not missed. Please return to the Hell from whence you came and leave me be." *I crack myself up! HA!*

"Fired Up"~ Hanson