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Friday, December 22, 2017

Death is Painful

Nobody warned me that my life would be hell.

I’m dying. Slowly and painfully. At least, that’s how it feels. I feel like screaming during the day, but the nights are worse.

Every illness, mental or physical, gets worse at night. Since I’m a trained physician, I’ll tell you why. Or maybe I’ll just muse with my own opinions since I know nothing about this. In my opinion, it’s because you’ve fought all day long, you’ve had to, and at night, you get tired of doing just that. You let your guard down and every bit of pain you’ve suppressed all day rushes in and you’re flooded with every emotion you’re capable of at the moment.

Yes, nights are hard. Tonight is particularly difficult. I took a Xanax to see if that would keep it at bay, but no luck. The absolute worst part of nights right now, for me, is that I sleep for MAYBE two hours a night. The rest of the night,  I lay in bed, listening to my clocks tick. Fun, eh?

I haven’t slept more than five hours in quite a while. I’m not tired during the day. One symptom of mania is a lack of need for sleep, so I’m completely awake. Now if only I had something to do... I’ve got two crochet projects I’m working on, I’ve rearranged my room, and I’ve cleaned up parts of the house. Nothing holds my interest for more than a few minutes. Like, right now, I’m watching a movie I’ve been dying to see. I have no idea what’s going on because my mind is elsewhere. 

Oh well. Two more weeks and I can start my new meds. I’ll just look forward to that for now.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

You. Out. Now.

I’m so beyond over this...

My head is spinning, I’ve got more energy than a three-year-old, and all I want to do is cry because I have exactly zero control over this. Just once, I’d like to be able to choose my mood. Like you always hear people saying, “Happiness is a choice.” Well my “happiness” comes with severe irritation and irrational, destructive behaviour.

I’m never this manic for this long. It usually lasts a week, maximum. I’ve been here for nearly 2 months now. I’m ready for it to be over.

You’d think that if I told my med manager that I’m manic, they’d put me on a downer. Not mine, tho! Oh no. She gave me a THIRD upper! Genius, right? A few weeks later, I asked for Depakote. I got a low dose, just 250 mg. It looked like it was working! But then it just kind of stayed where it was. It didn’t make me all better. Today, my dose was raised to 500. I pray this helps because I’m pretty sure I’ve lost more friends. Or at least ticked them off.  Like I said... destructive behaviour.

Prayers, thoughts, and good vibes welcome!

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Really?

Are you serious?!

Back story:

I don’t exactly know what happened, but somewhere around July, my ankle popped and suddenly I couldn’t walk right. Since then, I’ve been walking on the outside of my foot with my ankle cocked outward. As you can imagine, this causes pain. Not mild pain, either. The pain radiates about halfway up my shin. If I force myself to walk with my foot flat, my foot cramps up and I look like I’m leaving the bar.

I went to a sports medicine doctor first. He sentenced me to physical therapy. I did that twice a week for four weeks and called it quits because I was just getting worse. 

Then I went to a podiatrist. He gave me insoles that are supposed to force my foot flat. All they did was make the outside of my foot hurt when I walked on it.

Today, I saw an orthopaedic surgeon. He poked, twisted, and flexed, but couldn’t find anything wrong. Here comes the good part... He took a look at my list of medications and asked what they were all for. I simply said that my psych meds were for depression because it’s easier to understand. Then he looks at me and asks, “Do you see a therapist?” I was totally thrown off, but I answered that I do. His response? “Maybe they have some insight.” 

Right... so I can’t walk right or without severe pain because I have a mental illness?! What kind of doctor are you?! Look, I came to you because I have a PHYSICAL problem, not so you could tell me that it’s all in my head because I take psych drugs! You’re not a psychiatrist. You know nothing about that. Stick to what you know and fix my bloody ankle!

This kind of thinking is totally and completely unacceptable and is everything I’m fighting. Unfortunately, however, it is the norm.

So if you’re looking for a surgeon in the SL valley, don’t go to Dr. James Morgan at TOSH.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Nothing

“I feel nothin.”- Capt. Barbosa

Today has been exceptionally difficult. The thing that started it all is that my therapist is a nutter. Not an experimental nutter, oh no. She’s a sit-back-and-see-what-you-figure-out-on-your-own nutter. She does absolutely nothing for me! A couple weeks ago, she suggested I work on radical acceptance, a DBT skill. Catch: she didn’t tell me what that meant, how to do it, or what to start with. I had to buy a DBT skills workbook and read about it. Not to mention that she thinks mindfulness is the cure. My stance on mindfulness is much less enthusiastic, to say the least. I told a friend (who never responded, btw) how I felt about it. I said, “Great. So I’m aware of these emotions. Now what?!” This therapist has a LOT to learn before she can do any good for anyone.

Add on top of that that I had to watch TV. All. Day. Long. My mom was home sick. She can do her word finds while the TV is on. I cannot. She suggested turning it off to read, but with as irritated as I was, reading really wasn’t an option. 

Tonight, even with the crappy mood I was in, I went to a church party. I’m in a new congregation that’s actually really great, but I didn’t feel well, so I left early.

So all in all, today sucked. I told y’all before how I wish I were dead every single day, right? Well today it was the first thought in the morning, and it’ll be the last thought as I go to sleep tonight. I. Hate. My. Life. That’s all there is to it. I got landed with “the worst case of Bipolar” my therapists and med managers have seen, not to mention anxiety so bad that it keeps me from going out (most of the time), let alone hold a job. I just want it to end, and it’s getting to a point where I’ll take matters into my own hands if something tragic doesn’t miraculously happen to me. I want to die. I’m done.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

What’s In A Name?

Decisions, decisions...

For most of my life, I have chosen nicknames for myself. My name is Charmaine, but very few people are allowed to call me that. In elementary and junior high school, my friends called me Charm. It’s the first five letters of my first name, so at least it’s relevant. In high school, everyone called me CJ, though I have no J in my name. For several years now, I’ve asked that people refer to me as Rie. Being the last three letters of my middle name and the name my grandfather used to call my grandmother, thus far, it is my favourite nickname. Some have asked me why I don’t simply use my first name. I’ve never had an answer. Until now, that is.

Brooke wasn’t the only one who came down on me in school. Most of the kids did. Their favourite weapon was making fun of my name. As all my American readers know, there’s a brand of toilet paper that resembles my name. You can imagine the roads they went down with that. 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated my name, and the relentless abuse of it in school has made it so that I have never really owned it. It’s never felt like who I am. I don’t look in the mirror and see Charmaine. I’ve wanted to change it since I was eighteen years old, but today, it’s been a real thought. I’ve asked friends and family what they would think of the change, and most are supportive, but honestly, it gives me anxiety. 

So now I’m stuck with a potentially life changing decision. Keep the name that isn’t really mine, or go thru all sorts of government crap to get a name I can own? 

What’s your vote? Remain Charmaine, or change it to Anna-Maria?

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Medication Conversation

This could get weird...

So I went out with a good friend to see a movie (Home Again. Super cute!) and go to dinner. Nothing fancy. Just two friends hanging out.

While we were at dinner, we started talking about mental health. I'm not entirely sure how we got there, but with this friend, it's a usual subject. Now, when I get talking, especially about a topic I'm passionate about, my mouth tends to run faster than my brain. My brain usually catches up fairly quickly, but tonight, I didn't realise what I'd said until I got home. I said, "I honestly dont know why I'm even on meds."

I only realised I had said that when I sat down to take my meds. I sat there, staring at the bottles and that sentence just kept going round and round in my head. I kept asking myself, "Why am I on meds?" I mean, I've been in a depression for near a year now even though I'm on an antidepressant. Side note: I've been down here because of a ridiculously strong birth control that depleted my testosterone level, and low testosterone causes depression. I got a testosterone implant that has done exactly zero for me. Thus continuing this train of thought.

So I ask again. Why do I take meds that do exactly nothing for me? I have no answer for this.

I used to think people were nuts when they'd say, "I miss my mania," but I totally get it now. I loathe being manic, but anything beats a year-long depression. Every now and then, I feel "funny." I'm never sure how to describe it, but sometimes I wonder if that's what good feels like. It feels funny because it's been so long since I've felt good that I no longer recognise it.

I have two friends that I know of who suffer from depression. One understands that Bipolar depression is different and much more difficult to treat. The other hasn't quite learned that yet. I appreciate her attempts to help me, but what works for depression doesn't touch Bipolar depression.

I'm at a loss. My meds don't help. I've tried others, but I get the bad reactions from them. One made me so dizzy that I was throwing up, and another has left me with permanent involuntary eye movements (super fun, let me tell you...). I've basically tried every med in the book. My new-ish med manager is so conservative that she'll start me on the lowest dose of something. Even when I told her that I wanted the one I'm on. I'd been on the highest dose for a year before she changed it, but when she put me back on, she put me on the lowest dose and expected it to work. And now with the testosterone implant... I'm on a low dose despite having a dangerously low level!

Revelation coming in 3... 2... 1...

Maybe it's just that I need a much higher dose of testosterone. Maybe my meds just can't keep up with my low level. Guess I'll just have to see next month when I get a higher dose. Only problem with that is that if it doesn't work and I still need a higher dose, I have to wait three whole months to raise it again.


Hmm...

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Dear Father

I finally get it.

I'm the younger of two girls in my family. No brothers. Just my "sister" and me. 

When I was little, I was what they call a daddy's girl, but as I grew older, my dad walked out of my life. He was still in the house, but he wasn't really part of my life. By the time I hit high school, I'd see him for maybe an hour a day because he was either working or in the depths of the pig sty he created in the basement. 

Now that he's retired and I'm at not working, I've come to realise something... I've realised that the man has absolutely no respect for me. He falls all over himself when my sister comes over; talking about her job for hours on end. My father values work, which is something I cannot do, therefore he doesn't value me.

I've told y'all before that he's a narcissist, which is hard enough to deal with on his good days, but this realisation actually kinda hurts. 

I hate my life.

Friday, July 21, 2017

Defective

Another one?!

I've got six weddings in three months and every one of them is significantly younger than I am. I just went to the wedding of a girl I used to babysit! And I'm still single.

It used to be that I'd get hit on by every guy in the room, but since I got fat, nobody takes a second look. I don't really blame them. I mean, I'm not particularly attracted to fat guys, so why should the guys I'm interested in be attracted to a fat girl? Not to mention my style now. I wear whatever fits. I used to be very well dressed! 

I've been going to the gym lately. I can't do much yet, but I still had to tighten my belt today. That should help, right?

I joke all the time about how I'm going to die alone, but the truth of the matter is that I'm terrified of just that. I'm terrified that, when my parents are gone, I'm going to be completely and totally alone.

I get that I have issues. Those aren't going to go away. But isn't there ANYONE out there who can deal with me?!

So now I'm sitting here crying because I'm so effing jealous of all these people I should be happy for. 

Monday, July 17, 2017

Pure Hatred

Hate. Loathe. Despise.

I have never, in my life, hated something so much. Brooke comes close, but this is by far worse. This thing is the worst thing that could possibly happen. What am I talking about? Chronic illness.

Whether it be physical or mental, chronic illness is never fun. My parents volunteer at a care centre and sometimes I go with them. These people are confined to wheelchairs, and some of them are literally losing their minds. It's heartbreaking!

While I can sympathise with those people, I can empathise with those struggling with mental illness. It's a never ending struggle. For those of us born with our problems, it's a lifelong journey of pain and suffering. I can't speak for everyone, but I, for one, hate it. 

I can't say enough how much I hate living from day to day knowing that I'm not normal, that I'm defective. I don't know how many others feel this way, but I most definitely do. Getting awarded disability benefits hasn't helped with this, either. Now it's official... I'm disabled. 

I hate this. I hate my illnesses.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Good

"I'm good. How are you?"

We've all said these words. If they're true or not is up to you. If you really care about the person you're talking to or not is also up to you. The thing that is not up to you is their response.

Once in a very rare while, I'll get a text from one of my friends saying something to the effect of, "I haven't heard from you in a while. How are you?" I'll answer back that I'm good and ask the return question. This is when they lay all their life's problems onto me. But hey... I asked, right? Wanna know the funny thing? Not one of my friends knows that when I say, "I'm good," what I really mean is, "I'm dying. Please help me." If I say that I'm great, that's another story. 

My point is that they'll go on and on and I'll be genuinely sympathetic, but they don't bother to make sure that I'm really ok. 

This doesn't speak for all of my friends. I have one who will periodically ask how I'm doing and really want to know. And if I reach out to others in a crisis, they're right there for me. My problem is that some get a "good" from me, lay out all their problems, and don't ask further questions. Friendship is a two-way street. I'm not your therapist. I've got more problems than you'll ever see.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

New Favourite?

Why do they do this?

I have totally and completely lost all respect for my favourite band, We the Kings. Why? Because they took a public political stance.

It doesn't matter if I agree or disagree with them, what matters is that someone with that much power should not be talking politics. There are way too many feeble-minded followers who will do whatever these people say. 

Take Katy Perry during the election. She was openly campaigning for her candidate. I had a friend who voted that way simply because "Katy said so." This friend didn't know what the platforms were she was voting for, nor did she care. She just wanted to be like Katy Perry.

No, I won't tell you who I voted for, nor will I tell you how I feel on any given political topic. I will let you decide things for yourself. The way America should be. Free-thinking instead of feeble-minded followers.

I'm listening to We the Kings right now and I can't seem to enjoy it as much. Maybe time to find a new favourite? We'll see.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Closure

Farewell.

I haven't posted in nearly two months. I just haven't had anything to say, I guess. Nobody has said anything to me about missing my posts, either, so...

Last Friday, I got a brand new car. I'm talking BRAND new. It had a whole ten miles on it when I signed the papers. Needless to say, I was excited. Well... until Sunday night.

I started thinking about my old car. All the things I'd done with it, all the places it took me. Worst part: there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. I'd had that car for nine and a half years and I was running on the original battery. That's unheard of! Sure it sucked in snow and the horn reminded me of Fran Drescher, but it was a great car! I started to feel like I'd betrayed my best friend. Just tossed it aside in favour of something shinier. So I had a bit of a meltdown.

Now I had a decision to make: keep the new car or return it and get my baby back. I thought about it all night and weighed the pros and cons of both. I loved that car, but the new one won out.

Monday morning, my parents and I went back to the dealer. We asked if they still had my license plates and one of the sales people went to find them. He was able to find them and gave them to me! Then we asked to see my car again and they were more that accommodating! They took me to it and even opened it so I could sit in it! I was able to say a proper goodbye to the thing that had been my everything for nine and a half years. 

This may all sound stupid to you, but I loved that car. Now I get to grow to love another one. And if you're in the SL valley and are looking for a car, I'd HIGHLY recommend Mark Miller Subaru! They bent over backwards for me!

Here's my baby when she was new in 2008. Goodbye baby.

 

Monday, April 10, 2017

Vici

Veni Vidi Vici.

For some time now I've been anxious in my own home. I made my dad turn on the alarm back on after my mom leaves for work because I'm left the only one upstairs and I'm asleep. 

Another thing I've changed is that I've been showering at night when my mom's home because I'm too afraid to do it in the morning with my dad downstairs. But today I vici'd the crap out of that.

Today I got up, checked to see if the alarm was on, and jumped in the shower while my dad was downstairs! Huzzah! I had to keep reminding myself that no one in their right mind would break in in broad daylight with two cars in the driveway, but I did it! 

I went to therapy this morning and my therapist was quite excited that I had conquered my fear. I'm not so sure it's conquered just yet, but it's a start!

Veni vidi vici. I came, I saw, I conquered.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Who Knew?

Well that was eye-opening...

My new med manager likes to run blood tests on new patients. She's got a form all ready with everything she wants checked. So I was a good girl, got my arm invaded with that pointy thing that I refuse to say, and got a blood draw.

When she got the results, she called me. Everything was fine with the exception of one hormone that I didn't even know women desperately needed. My testosterone level was at a 3. Normal for women is 50. 

Wanna take a guess at what low testosterone levels can do? It increases depression. Big time. 

Wanna take a guess what contributes to low testosterone? Birth control. I'm on a shot that's stronger than the pill, therefore causing lower and lower levels.

Wanna take a guess at the cost of an FDA approved testosterone replacement? Three hundred dollars every three months.

Wanna take a guess at how screwed I am?

I've got an appointment with my OB/GYN to discuss other birth control options. I'm not holding my breath, honestly, but we'll see. 

So if your depression seems to just hang on too long, ask your doctor to check your testosterone levels. Could do some good for women and men.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Busted

Ow.

I have a rare talent: I can get injured doing just about anything. I blew my wrist out when I was picking up someone's legs (don't ask), I blew my knee out when I turned around, and I threw my back out leaning on the counter. Well now I've blown my Achilles' tendon doing stairs.

I did this last Wednesday. Today is Saturday and I'm getting nowhere with it. Ok, maybe not "nowhere," but it still hurts to walk, cross my ankles, or put any kind of pressure on it without my walking boot. 

I'm telling you all this because, as we all know, physical restrictions can increase depression. I have had worse than zero attention span, my self-worth has plummeted, and all is like to do is curl up in bed and sleep all day. I've been going to bed earlier than usual because I'm just worn out. Thankfully, however, I'm not biting heads off, but my depression is definitely worse.

I'm doing the whole "rice" thing (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation), but the thing is just slow to heal. I'm even on 800 milligrams of ibuprofen! 

Prayers and good vibes are always welcome. I don't know how much longer I can do this... I may bite my own foot off.

Monday, April 3, 2017

Day By Day

Why not?

Not a day goes by where I don't wish I were dead. Doesn't matter if I'm depressed or having the best day of my life. Either way, I wish I could just die.

After seeing the fallout of a friend's suicide, I'm not a fan of taking matters into my own hands. I just wish that, maybe the train signal isn't working one day when I pass by, or what if that guy on his phone doesn't see the red light. Things like that cross my mind all day long. 

I tend to cry when I talk about this. Not because I'm scared to die, but because I can't get the one thing I really want. I'm a Christian, so my knowledge of an afterlife with no ailments is quite appealing. No more depression. No more anxiety. No more feeling like I have zero control over myself. 

Some people tell me that my pain is a reminder that I'm alive. They don't get that, to me, this is a bad thing. I don't know about you, but I hate pain. Physical, emotional, it all sucks! 

I guess my life is in God's hands. 

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Easy Target

I give.

I've been bullied my whole life in every situation. We all know about Brooke in school and at church. I got one day's rest from that on Saturdays. What I never got a rest from was my sister. To this day she takes pride in tearing me down to make herself feel superior. 

Then came the time for me to work...

My first job, I worked with a "friend" of mine who made sure that I knew I wasn't as good at the job as she was. 

Skip ahead a few years to when I was working a book store. I was constantly berated because I wasn't reading as fast or as much as everyone else. Then there were two of the managers... They wouldn't let me take bathroom breaks, gave me extra work with unreasonable deadlines, and openly made fun of my weight. One night, I was about to get off shift when one of them said, "Rie can do it." This was a job that would have taken over an hour and I was off in ten minutes, so I said in the nastiest tone I'm capable of, "Nope. Rie is off in ten minutes."

Then I got a job at a music/movie store. Not long after I started, one guy quit and I was constantly reminded that he quit because he didn't like me. Even the store manager told me this. Now, we were allowed to pick the music played in the store as long as it didn't curse. I made a near fatal error by stating that I hate Frank Sinatra. So I got ripped apart for my taste in music. Then came the fun part... I got made fun of for being a Christian. Make fun of muslims and all hell breaks loose, but Christians are fair game? 

I suppose I'm too quiet and a bit naive. I find bullies everywhere I go. I'm a perma-victim. Yay me. 

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

The Bad Guy

I don't get it...

I'm often made out to be the bad guy in a situation. Dad pushes me to where I have a breakdown? I'm the bad guy. I tell my friends, repeatedly mind you, to give me back the thing they stole from me? I'm the bad guy. I put my foot down to maintain my safety and sanity? You got it... I'm the bad guy.

I'm easy to blame. I get all flustered when I'm angry, so defending myself doesn't go over well. I'm small and don't talk a lot. And let's not forget the fact that I'm "only" mentally ill.

People are far too quick to judge me on my behaviour like everything I do is calculated and purposeful. I don't get out of hand often anymore, but it still happens. Now hear me when I say this: I have exactly zero control over my emotions and only about fifty percent control over my behaviour, so to say I'm at fault for everything I do is preposterous. 

I'll own up to bad behaviour when I'm in control over myself, but don't you dare say that the things my mental illness controls is me. I HAVE a mental illness; I am not that illness. Understand that when you think I'm being rude, unusual, or inappropriate, that's the illness... not me. I've always been described as kindhearted, funloving, and giving. 

There is the illness, and there is me. Learn the difference.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Hey Sunshine

Clouds and snow and clouds.

For the last while, it's been cloudy most days. Now, I don't know about y'all, but for me, cloudy days increase my depression. I've had some pretty bad days in recent weeks. But when the sun comes out, it's like instant relief! Well... most of the time.

A couple of weeks ago, I had possibly the hardest day I've had lately, but by all accounts, I should have had one of the best. The sun was shining and I wasn't couped up in the house because I was running errands with my mom. I didn't understand it. I still don't. 

Yesterday I was driving home from having lunch with my parents and I was in heaven. The sun was out and it warmed up my car. That warmth surrounded me and it was like I had no worries in the world. 

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to summer. I'd say spring, but the way this winter has gone, we'll probably have snow into June here. I hope my pessimism is unfounded, however. I need blue skies and no more snow!

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Is or Has?

"She's Bipolar."

Umm... No she's not. Add the word "disorder" next time you want to label someone as a mental illness. That would make you say, "She's Bipolar Disorder." Now does that sound fair? To label someone as the root of millions of people's problems? 

Now try saying it with "has" instead of "is." "She has Bipolar Disorder." Much better.

You wouldn't say it with any other mental illness, so why do it with Bipolar Disorder? I've never heard anyone labelled as depression. It's always that they have depression. Why, then, am I labelled as the illness itself and you are not?

Think. Learn. Don't get hit in the face.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Break Time

Maybe it's time for a time-out.

For the last few weeks, I've found it pretty hard to care about this blog. I feel like my writing is suffering because of my lack of caring. I don't share as much as I have been, either. My views are suffering as well. 

I was talking to my mom about this, and she said something that really stuck in my head. She said that maybe the blog has served its purpose. I thought about that and found that it really has. Originally, I intended to educate people on the realities of mental illness, but an unintentional lesson I learned was that I got to know myself inside and out. 

So unless I find a subject that I really feel needs sharing, I'm going to be taking a little break. Thank you all for your support over the years! 

As the Terminator said... I'll be back.

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Enough Already!

Right.

So since the doctor in the emergency department told me to get off one of my meds (it was making me crazy!), this infernal depression is back. I've got one of those "happy light" things, but it doesn't seem to work for me. I've been pretty low for a few weeks now and I'm beyond tired of it. Now add on top of that the fact that I'm sick.

It started yesterday and just got worse today. This is the second time in six months that I've gotten sick. I don't get sick! What? Are these viruses on steroids or something?! The only times I get sick are when my allergies act up in the spring and fall. Before this last bout I had during last semester, I can't even remember the last time I was actually sick.

Depression already has physical effects. I don't need my head to be some kind of stuffed, useless ball along with it. 

I haven't been dealing with this very well. It's making me cranky and making my depression worse. I'm trying to not bite heads off, but I know I have a few times. 

In other news: I went for an intake appointment at the biggest facility in the valley today. I got all my paperwork done then I was supposed to see a therapist. My dad and I sat waiting for this therapist for very near an hour before finally leaving. Needless to say, I called another, smaller clinic when we got home.

They made me wait there an hour and a half total, while I feel like death, for no reason whatsoever. As my mom said... bad business. They knew I was coming and they weren't prepared. I won't be going back.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Snapped

Seriously?!

So I'm not in the best  of moods today as it is. I managed to force myself out of the house to have lunch with my parents, but on my way home, everything and everyone was getting on my last nerve. The real fun began in my neighbourhood...

I was coming along the main road to my house, when a sorry excuse for a man that I know comes and makes a left turn right in front of me after looking right at me! I've never liked this guy. He's rude, self-centred, and not the type to help you out unless you're popular in the area. He snapped my very last nerve, so I flipped him off. He then proceeds to follow me home and shout, "Was that really necessary?" Are you freaking kidding me?! Don't you dare bring your holier than thou attitude to me! So I shouted back that he saw me coming. He tried to deny it, so I told him that he actually stopped, looked right at me, and kept going. I slammed the door after that.

I don't hate many people, but the way this sorry excuse for a man has treated my family is unforgivable. And this isn't the first time he's pulled a left in front of me! This has happened at least five times before. So do I feel bad for flipping him off? Not for a second. 

On the bright side, my dad and I moved some very heavy furniture around right after I got home, so that got rid of all my angry energy!

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Clearing My Mind

Really?!

So yesterday, I was cleaning my room as a way to get myself out of this stupid depression. I went to take some things into the basement and fell down the freaking stairs! You can imagine how genius I felt, but what really surprised me was the fact that it didn't make me angry. The only thing to come out of my mouth was a slightly-louder-than-usual "ouch." Sure it stayed on my mind, but not like it would have if I was still depressed and annoyed. So yay! Cleaning worked!

Today I'm all sore, but I'll live. I've got a massive bruise on my back and a pretty big one on my arm, but I'm still not upset about falling. 

Cleaning, for me, has always been a way to sort things out. "Tidy on the outside makes tidy on the inside" sort of thing. I still have exactly zero idea why I was depressed, but I'm definitely glad I'm out of it now! 

Next time I fall into depression, I think I'm going to organise my shirts by colour...

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

In A Pit

I'm so done with this.

I go to a friend's house twice a week to catch up and read for a bit. Yesterday we were talking about how we are when we're depressed. Mostly we talked about how every tiny thing gets on our nerves. Things that shouldn't even be things get turned into raging irritation. This is where I was yesterday.

It started after I had lunch. I noticed that the music I was listening to wasn't making me happy anymore. That was weird enough because We The Kings is one of my favourite bands. Then my dad came upstairs and I noticed that just his existence was irritating. That's when I knew for sure that I was falling into a depression.

Last night, however was the worst. See, my mom and I take our medications at the same time so neither of us forgets. I have punch that I take mine with. I opened the fridge to find my punch had been pushed to the back. No big deal, right? Wrong. I almost blew a fuse over it. That's when I gave in and started crying. 

When I'm not feeling well, my mom (and usually Dad, too) will stay up with me instead of going to bed. Last night, I put in the sixth Harry Potter and we watched that until I got tired. After all, depression in my house means Harry Potter night!

Today, I stayed in bed until ten thirty because, well, I have nothing to do. Having nothing to do generally adds to my depression. Maybe I'll reorganise my books again...

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Work It

Something's gotta give...

Enrico Caruso, a famous opera singer, was once quoted to have said that his voice has him. Yes, he has a voice, but with fame comes give and take. He basically meant that he went wherever his voice was needed. He missed the birth of his daughter because his voice had to be somewhere. Get what I'm saying?

If that was clear as mud, allow me to explain my side of this. Yes, I have mental illnesses, but they also have me. Lately, it seems like I have less and less control over myself. My manic-depression is deciding what mood I'm in and when. I'm just along for the ride. My Anxiety is controlling where I go and what I do. I can't seem to get anywhere by myself lately. I have to have someone with me or know that I'm meeting someone there. My brain is controlling my life.

I looked for jobs again today. Bad idea. It does nothing but frustrate me. "Must have two years experience." "Customer service for busy office." Aren't there jobs out there for people who hate people?

I still marvel at the pure stupidity of my old med manager and therapist for saying that I can work. Right... So apparently being absolutely terrified of human contact makes me the perfect candidate for retail. I get so angry that I can't work. You think I like being labeled "disabled?" I'd rather die, but I know my limits and it's getting to a point where my front door is my limit.

I need to find a therapist who will work with me on my social phobia. My last one focused on the bullying trauma. That's not going to help me be a contributing member of society! I need to be able to say hello to someone without having a full-on panic attack! Does nobody realize this?! Help me!

I'm done with that rant now...

So, since leaving Facebook, my stress levels have gone way down. I don't miss it at all. No need to fear, however, I'm still on Twitter and Instagram. You can follow me there!

Twitter: @AROTBEblog
Insta: rie_define

I post the occasional picture on Insta and I don't really tweet except for my blog posts, but I'd love for all my friends to stay connected and meet new ones along the way!

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Opera Drama

No more people. Please!

So my entire family went to see Man Of Lamancha done by the Utah Opera today. Since this particular episode isn't technically an opera (it's a musical), it was a full house. Full house in that theatre means we're cramped in there like sardines. Hardly any room to breathe.

Before the show, we waited in the lobby. Can I just say that people are loud? They have absolutely no consideration for anyone else, they'll shout over one another, and someone touched me! Never, ever touch me if you want to keep your hand! 

During the show, I was able to focus more on it rather than the hundreds of people surrounding me, except for the guy behind me... Every time he'd clap, it sounded like a .44 magnum going off right next to my ear! If you haven't caught on, I don't do well with loud noises. 

After the show, my mom and I found a hidden restroom which was far from populated. The time spent in there allowed many people to leave the theatre. I was happy with this. Then we got to the lobby... There weren't anywhere near as many people as there were before the show, but they were even louder! How?! Why?! Do you really need those on the space station to hear you?! I was getting extremely agitated and was just about to scream "shut up," but I talked my parents into leaving first.

Getting home was like coming home after a long trip. I was still slightly irritated, but the amazing dinner my mom made helped with that. Now my mom and I are sitting here watching NCIS and life is as it should be once more. There is balance in the force. Voldemort is defeated. The Doctor has saved mankind.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Pain In The Neck

Oww.

So yesterday was fun. I had an endoscopy where the doctor stretched my esophagus so that it would be normal sized. Yesterday was way worse, but today still sucks. I can't swallow solid food without severe pain. I'm not saying that's stopping me, I'm just saying it's not the brightest idea. 

To add insult to injury, I bit my bottom lip in my sleep. It's now bleeding and infected. Every time I move my mouth, I'm reminded of this. I've had to learn to use a straw on the right side of my mouth instead of the middle. Even talking... some words make my teeth hit the sore spot. And you can forget about putting lip gloss on! 

Now for the icing on the cake... I was looking at every job site I could for near an hour and found exactly nothing I can do. Everything is full time, requires knowledge or skills I don't possess, or is incredibly public customer service. With the knowledge and skills, I can learn that stuff, but nobody is willing to train! "Do not apply if you have no experience with Quick Books..." How am I supposed to get experience when nobody's willing to train?! Huh?!

In closing, today sucks. Except that I got to have lunch with my mom.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Nighttime

Winter.

Have I mentioned lately exactly how much I loathe this season? It's dark, it's cloudy, we've been dumped on by snow like three times since Christmas, and then there's the cold. The thing I hate most of all: the darkness. I've said before about how I hate darkness, and tonight is no better.

Today was pretty chill. My poor mom was home sick so there was a lot of TV watching and some time to read. Then came the call I'd been waiting for for two years... I have a hearing date for disability benefits! I was so excited! Then came the darkness...

Nighttime has a way of bringing out the depression in most people, and I'm no exception. As soon as the lights went out, my mind began to spin and my failed life came to the forefront. I mean, look at me. I can't handle going to school, let alone hold a job. The only times I get out of the house are with my mom, my weekly date with my friend, and to get to the clinic. Except I won't be going to any clinic until next month... I got an intake appointment with the biggest clinic in the valley on the ninth and I have no idea when I'll be assigned a therapist or med manager. Good thing I've got refills on my meds!

Besides not getting out much, I've succumbed to the fact that I will never marry. I'm going to die alone. Why? Well partly because I don't get out, and partly because nobody could handle me. I've heard from therapists and med managers alike that my moods are more extreme than others. I can barely deal with it, so how can I expect anyone else to? 

I really hate darkness.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Good Bye

I announced a few days ago that I had officially rejoined the Facebook world and have had nothing but attacks since. I could type "hello" and my so-called "friends" would attack me. Not the friends I actually see and communicate with. Oh no... these are the ones who I haven't seen or heard from in years, save it be through Facebook. So I'm announcing now that I'm leaving Facebook permanently. 

Sure, I could just delete them, but there's too many of them. I'd wind up with like five friends. Besides, Facebook is nothing but politics now and heaven forbid I State an opinion. If I don't agree with your stance, I ignore your post. If someone disagrees with my stance, all Hell breaks lose. That one, even close friends get in on, and yes I'm angry with them. I'm hurt that they couldn't simply ignore it and feel like they have to attack me. 

So good bye toxic atmosphere! No more Facebook, no more messenger.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Bad Clinic

So I just fired my clinic.

It's always irritated me that not one single person there respected my religion or my choice to participate in Christianity. They would use the name of my Lord and Saviour  like they do in movies- like it's just another curse word. When I told my therapist that I was participating more deeply in my church, she asked, "why?" Today, I saw my med manager and she told me to go to a different religion because it would be better. Excuse me? I found my truth. You're welcome to your truth, but don't you dare question mine or try to shove yours down my throat.

The best part, however, was today. I had brought in a paper from the state to be filled out by a medical professional to deem me disabled and unable to work. After explaining how I have been feeling for the past month or so to my med manager and my work history being known by my therapist, the two of them together decided that I am, in fact, not disabled. 

Allow me to rebut with a few facts about my work history... 

I had one job that I quit after a week. I have walked out of more jobs than I can remember, and after interviews, I avoid any job offer by ignoring their phone calls. Employment and I do not get along. At least not for more than a month. I can't deal with the public because people suck and will take out their mistakes on the poor cashier. I walked out of the one and only full time job I had a few years ago because they put me on attendance probation after I left one (yes, one) day a few hours early.

I'm the first to tell you I don't have a problem, but I also know my limits. I. Can't. Work. 

It's no secret that I've applied for disability benefits, and my therapist was more than willing to write a letter explaining just how bad my symptoms are and how they affect me working, so why would she deny me state benefits in the mean time? I don't get it.

So I'm now incredibly irritated and ready for war with whoever talks to me first. Friends: approach with caution. Unless you don't mind me venting.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Do It For You

"Stubborn." "Impudent." "Insolent." "Contemptuous."

These words have something in common (besides relative definition). Can you guess what they are? They are all words used to describe someone who needs help but refuses to get it. I know. I was there.

Years ago, I was called each and every one of these words by those who care about me because they could see that something wasn't quite right and I needed help. Granted, I sought therapy on my own, but medications were a whole other story. 

I was dead set convinced that I could handle this on my own; that God would get me through the hard times. My faith helped, but it only got me so far. Whenever people would suggest medication to me, I said I'd think about it just to placate them. I wanted nothing to do with meds. I didn't want the stigma. I didn't want people to look at me as weak. 

For quite a while, I was combative, rude to my family, and thought that, not only could I do this without meds, but that I knew better than everyone. For years, I'd have breakdowns that tore me down so far that I was tearing others down with me. I would fight with family and friends just because they got on my nerves. I had exactly zero tolerance. 

The big realisation came when I overdosed on pain killers. That's the point where I admitted to myself that I needed the help of therapy along with medication.

I tell you this because I don't want you to have to learn the hard way that I did. I don't want you to wind up in the hospital, hooked up to machines with a tube up your nose with a charcoal drip going down your throat. Don't make your loved ones see you that way.

 If you find it difficult to get along with people, are having breakdowns frequently, or feel like you can't control things, I beg you, get medication. 

There's a lot more tolerance toward mental health than there used to be. The people who love you will not think you are weak. In fact, it takes more strength to admit you need help than it does to deal with it alone. 

If you still can't do it for yourself, do it for your family and friends. They deserve the best version of you.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

My Apology

I've always taken Agent Gibbs' rule to heart to never apologise because it's a sign of weakness, but a friend of mine taught me that it takes real strength to do so. So here goes nothing...

For a while now, my behaviour has been, at best, unpredictable. Looking back on the things I've said makes me hold my head down in shame. The level of straight up caustic words spewed from my mouth is, for some, unforgivable. I can't honestly say I don't blame these people because there are plenty of others who have stuck with me thru every dark day, but I hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive me one day.

I have had exactly zero control over my emotions and, yes, actions for the past month or so. The reason being that I was having a severe reaction to one of my medications that I was technically being overdosed on. It was prescribed, so don't get all panicky on me. Not even my doctor could have foreseen a reaction this bad. I wound up in the emergency room last night as a result of this reaction. 

To my friends who have stuck with me, I thank you and I am truly sorry for the things I have said. I pray we can move past this and I will try my best while I am detoxing to behave myself. This will take some time, so bear with me. I will rejoin the Facebook world once I can trust that I can be rational and kind once more. 

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

No More

I've been crying on and off all afternoon.

So I went to my first day of this semester, found out the load was going to be too much for me. I changed my schedule no less than three times after I got home. Everything I tried to sign up for was either full or late at night (like getting out at ten o'clock!). So I cried because I was frustrated. Now I'm sitting here crying because I figured out that I loathe school. It puts way too much pressure on me. So I made the big decision to drop out.

My parents are very supportive of my decision, as usual. Some of my friends are having issues with it, however. Mostly because they all think I can do it. I hate to fail everyone, but I'm on the edge of a total mental breakdown. Hospitals would be involved if I stay in and try. School simply isn't healthy for me. 

At least I can say I gave it a valiant effort. Thank you everyone who supported me through this. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Round Two

I'm so nervous that I'm not going to sleep well tonight.

So school starts up again tomorrow. As I'm sitting here in the dark of night, my stomach is tying itself into knots. I had to watch a few videos for my IT class and, well... I'm not holding my breath for a good grade. I'm a techno idiot so doing much of anything with computers is basically not going to happen. I mean, I can use my word processor and navigate the internet, but besides that, I'm way out of my league.

It's not just that class, though. I also have to take interpersonal communications. Yeah... communicating isn't my strong point. I write because I can't talk. Now if I just have loads of papers due, I'll manage, but from what I've heard, it's more oral presentations. I'm protected from those, thankfully, but I don't know if this teacher will work with me. Here's hoping.

Besides the scary classes, it's going to be all new people. I don't like new people. I don't like people. I hate having to get to know someone new and I generally just keep it light ("Hi. Nice day, right?" and "Did you get this question?"). People can usually sense this and leave me alone. This is both a good and bad thing. I mean, I like making friends, but I also like being by myself. I'm stuck in the middle of "I'm here!" and "Go away." The worst is when I have a friend who is constantly in need of attention and validation. If that's what you're looking for, I'm not your girl. I learnt to validate myself, you can, too.

So we'll see how tomorrow goes. Wish me luck. 

Thursday, January 5, 2017

The Blame Game

Why me?

I get blamed quite a bit for things I didn't do, and people tend to assume that I'd do something that I never would. It's always been annoying. Today it comes to a head.

Now, I can't remember every single one of these since it happens so often, but I'll give you a few insights.

A few days ago, my mom accused me of using the money she had given me for school on other things. She knows clear and well that I don't! Naturally, this accusation caught me off guard and it took some time to forgive her for thinking that way about me.

My Bishop (the leader of my congregation) threatened to make me speak during church, but he qualified it with "as long as you don't berate them the whole time."  Excuse me?! You obviously have no idea who I am...

As I posted a while back, my high school music teacher berated me in front of my entire section because she believed the word of a whiny, attention-seeking sycophant when he told her I was laughing at him. I was, in fact, goofing off with someone (who got no punishment, by the way...). 

My favourite,  however, was when I was twelve (I think...). I was on the school bus, waiting to go home. I was talking to my friend when the bus driver gets up and starts yelling for me to get off. She accused me of some terrible things including cursing at her as I got off. I have no doubt that Brooke had something to do with this. Side note: it was against policy for her to kick me off. She lost her job not long after that for other similar offences. 

I get so tired of people accusing me just because I'm there. What, am I just an easy target? Do I have a mischevious face? What makes people believe I'm capable of terrible things?!