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Tuesday, May 26, 2015

A Reckless Mistake

So...

I got some feedback from my last post (which is now deleted) saying that I shouldn't kill the blog. The only reason I was given was that these few people enjoyed reading it. Sorry, but that's not enough. I don't do this for the pure sake of entertainment; I do it in hopes that someone dealing with this may find solace in knowing that they are not alone. I also do it for myself as a catharsis. I pour my heart, soul, and mind into every post, so when it gets maybe thirty views, it confirms everything I've ever believed: I'm not important; I don't matter. So, I've made a decision that I won't share this on Facebook anymore. We all know how most Facebook users are-- you get bored, so you scroll through your feed and click on a link because, well, you have nothing better to do. I'm done being that link. I only want people to read what I have to say because they want to.

I may place too much weight on numbers, but my entire life, I've never felt important.

  • I danced as a kid, and all I ever wanted was to do a duet. When I finally talked my teacher into it, we practiced three times and it ended.
  • I was in the wind ensemble for six years. I was last chair most of the time, but after my sophomore year of high school, I worked really hard and made second chair- not just in the school, but in the district orchestra! At the end of the year, I was hoping to get the class award for "most improved junior." I got "on her way to success." Yeah... that took no time or thought at all.
  • I will bend over backwards to help someone, but when I ask for help, I get half-baked offers that are quickly forgotten. I asked my sister to paint the Batman logo on a pair of shoes I had. That was in October; I still don't have them back. She asked me to pick something up from a place that was closing in forty-five minutes. I was getting my hair done and didn't think I'd make it. After I was finished, I drove like mad to get there only to find she was already there and hadn't told me.
  • I visited St. George last summer for a Blue Angels airshow. I have a friend down there who has been like a second mother to me for years. I told her I was coming down several months in advance and gave reminders between. When I was there, she said she was too busy and had other plans. (For those who don't know, St. George is about three hundred miles south of Salt Lake City. Not exactly walking distance.)
 I've never been the girl people think about and it has made me wonder if I'm important to anyone. I have absolutely no self-worth because people have made it known that they don't think I'm worth the time or effort.

So now comes the experiment... how many people are going to make the effort to read what they have said they like when it's not conveniently linked on Facebook?

"Polaroid"~ Imagine Dragons

Monday, May 11, 2015

Hello

"Hi. My name is Charmaine."

An easy enough sentence. It's completely true, has no pretenses, and is the one thing that can't ever change. So why is it so difficult to get out?

I've always had a problem with social interaction, but lately, it's been getting worse. I tend to attribute my lack of social skills to my years as a bully's doormat. Between her and her cronies, I just expect everyone to use me, abuse me, or stab me in the back. In high school, I started to strike before they could, and I guess I just never let that go.

When I meet someone new, small talk is just not going to happen. I can't stand the whole, "What do you do? Where do you live? What are your hobbies?" I learned a long time ago that someone will only ask me about myself so they can use it against me, so now, when someone starts talking to me, I either freeze or, more often, say something so incredibly stupid (e.g. far from the original topic).

As you can imagine, this sets off alarms in the other person. She's weird. Is she slow? Is she trustworthy? The people who will talk to me for more than a couple of minutes are few and far between. When someone is patient with me, I don't know what to do. I can count the number of people who haven't made any assumptions about me in the last year using one hand. I recently started going to a new congregation ("ward" for Utahns), and every single finger I can hold up came from someone there.

Most people will never understand the feeling of pure terror someone with social phobia gets when around people. Going to the bank, ordering at a restaurant, even just a nod or smile to someone passing in the other direction makes me panic. My heart races, I can't breathe, my palms sweat, and I can't hardly stand because I'm shaking so badly.

So, since I can't seem to make a proper introduction in person, I'll do it here...

Hi. My name is Charmaine, but most people call me Rie.

I work part-time at the most amazing elementary school in the world as an aide for students who need a little extra help.

The only thing I'd ever give it up for is an opportunity to work as a crime scene photographer or clean-up. I was going to school for Criminal Psychology, but haven't been able to take classes for a few years.

Most of my hobbies revolve around music or criminology. I have played clarinet since I was twelve years old. Music is really everything to me. I own more music than most people know exists, but most of it is punk or indie. I also love to study serial killers and have quite a few true crime books in my library.

I have a hard time in social situations, and many times, I'll make an excuse to get out of going. I'll say things that sound weird or off the wall, but I promise, I know what's going on in my head. Someone has to, right? So please be patient with me, and I'll warm up.


"It's Time"~ Imagine Dragons

Friday, May 8, 2015

Smoke, But No Mirrors

This isn't going to be like anything I've ever done.

With the weather getting nice, I like to drive around with my window open. I like to stick my arm out and feel the breeze. I like how my hair moves. I like a lot of things, but every time I get around a smoker, I have to roll up my window.

They will argue that it is their right to smoke, which it is, but what about the right of those who don't smoke to breathe?

There are two things all smokers know, but choose to ignore: 1~ It is harmful to yourself, 2~ It is harmful to those around. If you knowingly hurt yourself any other way, you would be put on a suicide watch. If you knowingly tried to hurt someone else any other way, you'd be arrested. Why, then, do we allow smokers to roam free?

With the knowledge that they are harming everyone around, they should be arrested and charged with attempted murder (first degree murder for all those non-smokers who die of lung cancer), and if kids are around, child endangerment. It may sound harsh, but everyone around is inhaling the smoke, not just the person who made the decision to light up. If someone were to inject heroine into your system without your consent, do you think that person would get away with it? If a parent had a meth lab in the house, do you think they'd keep the kids? The only difference between smoke and illicit drugs is the rate at which they kill.

I recently lived (vicariously) the last days of a beautiful soul who passed away due to lung cancer, having never smoked a day in her life. She left her young family, her parents and siblings, and many friends behind. I don't know for fact if it was caused by second hand smoke, but think of all those who die because of someone else's choice.

Just as driving drunk or high, you made the decision... why should someone else suffer the consequences?

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Speechless

I'm a little mixed about how I feel...

Yesterday, I talked about trying to find a good inpatient programme. Today, I follow that up with: I went to the emergency room last night. No, I didn't attempt anything, I was just desperate for meds and it was my last option.

I dragged my mom with me because I knew I would chicken out or overreact. When I first got there, I wanted to turn around and go home. I've been through this before and it's never pleasant. If you've ever been there, you know how demeaning it is. The nurses treat you like an inconvenience, the doctors know nothing about mental health, and the crisis worker just wants to do the admit because it's less work than actual patient care. Last night was... unexpected.

I get there, and the girl at the check-in wasn't condescending when she heard why I was there. She didn't necessarily go above and beyond to be kind, but to be honest, it was better this way- less demeaning. Then, the nurse who took me back to do all the vitals and whatnot was super nice and very understanding. She believed me when I said I had no active plan and didn't try to make me feel bad at all!

By this point, I figured that those were all the nice people in the place, and my hopes died, but it never ended. The techs, the nurse, the doctor, and the crisis counselor were possibly the best team I could have asked for! Every one of them treated me like a person! Never once was I described to someone else by my diagnosis, but simply by my room number. Better still, the crisis counselor actually listened to me! He realized that I didn't need to be admitted to inpatient, so instead of doing that, he found an alternative.

I'm still in a bit of shock. I've never been treated like an actual person in an ER before. Seriously, if you need anything in Utah, go to LDS Hospital. (No, they didn't pay me to say that...)


"Thank You"~ Dido

Monday, May 4, 2015

On The Hunt

"May the odds be ever in your favour."

I've spent the better part of today looking into inpatient treatment programmes, and let me tell you, it's hard. The one everyone around here knows is booked to capacity and no one else will even tell me if they have an open bed. They insist o a referral from an emergency room or your psychiatrist. Why is this a problem? Because A~ I don't technically have a psychiatrist until the 20th, and B~ If I go to the ER without a life-threatening injury, Medicaid can deny it and I get stuck with the full bill.

Why am I looking at inpatient programmes? Because I can't do it on my own anymore. I know I have an appointment in two weeks, but every thought I have ends with me hurting myself somehow. It gets rather creative, if I do say so myself. Put your mind at ease, though. I have no actual plan, I just keep hoping that a truck will veer into my lane.

I'm beyond terrified, though. I'd be out of my comfort zone, around loads of people, and I wouldn't have access to music. Each of those individually will make me nervous, but put them together and you've got a bomb with an incredibly short fuse. That's the reason I can't be "blue sheeted." I need to know that I can get out whenever I want. With a blue sheet, I'd be there for at least three days. That's three days away from my bed, my room, my pillow, and my music. Everything that calms me down.

There are places that do what is called a "partial hospitalisation programme," where you are there for six hours per day and get to go home at night, but as I looked into those more, they're all for ages twelve through seventeen.

Trying to find anything in Utah is difficult. I searched "adult inpatient psychiatric" and almost all of the results were for substance addiction recovery or adolescent psychiatric units. I get that Utah has a "rose coloured glasses" view on the world, but seriously? This state is severely lacking in mental health assistance. Small wonder we rank highest in suicides.

I wish I could make my own lyric videos with the correct lyrics... Not sure if these are right, so just listen.

"Through The Dark"~ One Direction

Saturday, May 2, 2015

My Personal Inferno

Aaaaaaaaand I'm a turtle.

This social anxiety thing is incredibly inconvenient. I got a call for an interview which I was more or less expecting, but for a different position that is way more public than the one I applied for originally. Just the thought of the place makes me nauseous. It's a small area that can get super busy. There are a few positions within, but every single one involves talking to people. Not going to lie, it sounds like a wicked fun job, but maybe more for someone less social/claustrophobic.

I've been getting calls from numbers I don't have in my phone, and every one of them makes my heart race. It's like a pop quiz that you're not prepared for. My heart and brain are screaming, "THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!" It's the same thing when I have to call someone, and heaven forbid I have to leave a message. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

The thing is, I know I should like being around people because I don't always like being alone, but I don't. Makes me wonder if that's why I like cemeteries so much. Technically people, but no pressure to talk or make an impression. Plus the old ones are absolutely beautiful...

I almost forgot! This lovely lady features someone new every Friday, and yesterday was my day! Her blog is amazing and inspiring! I love reading it! This link will take you to the feature, but please, please, PLEASE read more! You'll thank me. I promise.

I got to play this in high school. Love these pieces!
"The Divine Comedy-- Inferno"~ Robert W. Smith