I'm Tired

I'm not always perky, happy, or optimistic. People can't seem to understand that. Every now and then, I'll point out on Facebook that people support those with physical illnesses they didn't ask for, so why can they not support someone with a mental illness they didn't ask for. I suddenly get some understanding and empathy from my friends and family. Well... for about three days until they forget and say that I'm always being down or pessimistic.

What really annoys me is when people point out that my posts are getting "happier." Do you not understand what Bipolar means? I go up, I go down. I can't control it. It makes me feel bad when someone will only comment on my "happy" posts. The "bi" in "Bipolar" means two. Two poles: Manic and Depressive. My biggest pet peeve is when people try to tell me how to "fix" myself. No, my moods aren't caused by thyroid issues or a vitamin deficiency. My moods are caused by my brain. Is your diabetes caused by your lungs?

The truth is, I'm fighting a battle every second of every day. You can't see it, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'm in the middle of a battle that I will ultimately lose unless I hit back harder than my brain does. I need a support system of friends, family, a therapist, and medication to make it through each day. When someone tells me that they don't like my depressed posts, it's like they're not accepting every part of me. How can I trust someone who only likes half of me?

I'm tired.

I'm tired of fighting.

I'm tired of the pain.

I'm tired of crying myself to sleep.

I'm tired of emotions taking control.

I'm tired of feeling worthless.

I'm tired of being afraid.

I'm tired of the endless pills.

I'm tired of knowing I'm sick.

I'm tired of having to make excuses.

I'm tired of feeling nothing and everything all at once.

I'm tired of worrying.

I'm tired of holding back.

I'm tired of keeping secrets.

I'm tired of feeling like a burden.

I'm tired of disappointing people.

I'm tired of being judged.

*Grumble*

Oh, Utah...

People tend to have quite a few assumptions about Utah. The main stereotype is Mormons. Yes, I've heard all the jokes. No you don't have anything new. To be fair, there are quite a few here, but if you're thinking polygamy, you need to do your research. Warren Jeffs and whatnot are their own church- the FLDS.

Having grown up in this religion, I've learned one thing: Utah Mormons are the absolute worst sort of people. Here are people who will give to charity, read scripture daily, and look at you in disgust if you're not wearing the latest styles at church. And heaven forbid you dye your hair! I'm not stylish, I'm not particularly "girly," and at the moment, my bangs are turquoise.

On the other side of the mirror are the non-LDS (yes, that's what we call the people here who aren't members of the LDS church.) To be "in" with that crowd, you must talk like a drunken sailor on leave while chain-smoking and downing a bottle of Jack. That may be going a bit far, but you get my point. 

Yes, there are the "in betweens," but finding them is difficult. I'm one of them. Yes, I go to church. No, that doesn't mean I'm necessarily "chruchy."

My point is, everyone looks down on someone, and I'm tired of it. Why can't people just be themselves and not have to worry about fitting in? So I dye my hair. Does that make me a bad Christian? So you have tattoos. Does that make you a bad person? The answer to both is a huge, resounding NO.

Whining over.

"What If"~ Five For Fighting

Yes, More Pictures

I'm in a photographic mood, but it's too cold to go out. So... you get to see some of my favorite pictures that I've taken on my iPhone.

The Blue Angels

I couldn't resist

My life for near 20 years.

Utah State Capitol Building

Listen, Please

"I know you can hear me, but I don't think you're listening."

Do you have someone in your life that, no matter how hard you try, you can't connect with for the simple reason of, they don't listen? It's infuriating! You can talk until you're blue in the face, but it just goes in one ear and out the other. Everyone needs to be heard. Especially by the people closest to them. The pain it causes when you're not heard can dig deep and take years to heal; if ever.

Ranting in 3... 2... 1...

My father, hard worker that he may be, has 100%, absolutely no idea how to be a dad. He removed himself from my life when I was about eight, only doing the mandatory tasks since. He'd take me to my dance/band/choir performances, but all he'd ever say afterward was "nice." When I ask him to take me to a doctor appointment, he'll go walk around so I have to call him and wait when I'm done.

Why am I on this rant? Because he has once again taken my sister's side. Doesn't matter what the issue, he will take her side. Every. Time. I told you a while back that my sister is out-grudging me. Well, I asked if he'd mentioned anything to her about thanking me. His response? "I said this is from Charmaine. She said 'Yeah, that's nice.'" Call me crazy, but I didn't hear anything about him directly asking her if she had thanked me. Side note: She hasn't.

So, I said that until my sister can get off her high horse, it's going to be awkward for her at our house. My father then went on about how he hopes that this conflict will end soon. Mind you, he doesn't seem to notice or even care that I have made a gesture and the ball is in my sister's court now. My mother is on my side. She's asked my sister if she'd thanked me. No response, but at least she's tried.

My father says he doesn't know how to talk to me. If he'd listen once in a while, maybe he would.

"Whatever You Say"~ Martina McBride

Pea Green

Envy, jealousy, whatever you want to call it.

I have quite a few friends with similar diagnoses as I have, and every one of them is married and has a real job. Some even have kids. They handle their moods and anxiety enough to be fairly normal. At least in my eyes.

These friends have everything I want, and it irritates me that they seem to be handling things better than I do. I mean, I can't go out in public without a companion because my anxiety spikes and I'm as useful as a decapitated jackrabbit. I can't answer my phone, look people in the eye, or even ask for a to-go box without shaking like a bag of popcorn. I frequently ask myself why these friends can do something and I can't. We've got the same diagnosis, so why can't we do the same things?

Every time one of these friends posts something about going to a party, concert, or even a busy store, I get jealous. If they post pictures of their spouse or kids? You got it... jealous. I'm not saying that I'm not happy for them, I'm just annoyed at myself that I can't do, really anything.

I started a new job at a fairly large department store. I was put in the apparel department, but I still have to do cashiering. I can't even look at a cash register without getting a panic attack. I also have to learn to use the overhead paging system and answer calls. Like I said before... I can't even answer my own phone without an anxiety spike.

Sometimes, I just hate my life.

"Hey Jealousy"~ Gin Blossoms

Masks

"Put your brave face on."

I wear a mask that even I forget I'm wearing sometimes. Today, that mask came in handy.

As you know, I've been working at an elementary school supervising the kids at recess. Well, I got a new job that will work better for me and I quit the school. Telling the principal was easy. Telling the kids... not so easy.

Most of the kids I know well are in third grade, and when they found out, I was surrounded and locked into a group hug. Some of them wouldn't leave my side and kept saying, "I'm going to miss you." My heart shattered.

When the fifth grade came outside, the girls who were being bullied (see here) looked as if they'd just lost their last hope. They talked to me their whole recess and were obviously disappointed.

I say my mask came in handy today because I had to keep smiling and telling them that everything will be fine. I was dying inside. Those kids have been my whole world for a year. Many times in this last year, before I got my meds sorted, those kids were the only thing keeping me alive. The thought of those faces smiling up at me would shine a bright light on my darkest days. I'm already regretting leaving.

"Every Day"~ Rascal Flatts

Genetics

Ohana.

I've been thinking a lot today about family and genetics. For those who may not know, mental illnesses can run in families. Seeing as how my mother's family lived in The Netherlands during two world wars, I don't doubt the presence of PTSD. I know that at least one of my aunts has it. I'm no geneticist, but I wouldn't pass off for a second that someone in my line has suffered with Bipolar, as well. Warning: It gets pretty sappy after this...

I got my red hair from this lovely lady, my father's mother. I know that there's dementia on my father's side, which I've read can lead to other mental illnesses, but as far as I know, nothing else. She had a great sense of humor that I like to claim to have also gotten from her.

 

I got my empathy and stubborn personality from this lovely lady, my mother's mother. This strong woman lived through two world wars, one of which she had five kids. There would be two more kids, one of which (my mother) was almost born on the ship during their move to America.

 

And just for kicks (and to prove I'm not adopted, though sometimes I wonder), this is my mother. Well, my uncle, too, but I got most of who I am from this lovely lady. She taught me how to care about others, she's put up with my insane phases, and put me (and my sister) above herself at every turn. I've screamed at her, called her names, and have begged her to leave me alone, but she's still by my side whenever I need her. She took me to dance classes/performances/competitions, put up with me while I learned to play clarinet, made me a gypsy costume when that's the only thing I wanted to be for Halloween, and sat by my bed after I had surgery. If there is one major influence in my life, it's my mother. She's strong when she needs to be, but one of the most caring people I've ever met. Plus I tend to look like her, so...

 

I wish I had a picture of my father when he was a kid, but I don't. You'll just have to imagine a tall man with black hair and green eyes. I know I complain about my father quite a bit, but the truth remains that he is one of the hardest working men I know. He worked security for the majority of his life. Every now and then, they'd do trainings and he'd have to get pepper spray in his face. He'd simply say, "It's not pleasant," and that was it. If something needs to be fixed in the house, he's the one to do it. He has also been there for dance, band, and weird phases. We've built a model plane and practically every shelving unit in our house. He's shown me around my car's engine, and held my hand as I re-learned to walk after surgery. He, too, is a major guiding light in my life.

 

End of sappy-time.

Grudge-less

Feeling the love.

I've always thought that wishing someone happy birthday simply because Facebook tells them it's your birthday was an easy way out. The truth of it is, that even though they see it pop up, nobody is obligated to say anything. I got quite a few Facebook messages as well as texts from friends and family, and every one was appreciated!

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

I'm not totally into the whole zodiac thing, but I'm a scorpio; queen of grudges. My sister is a virgo, but she's definitely out-grudging me. I told you a while back that, when she had me backed into a corner, yelling at me, my brain reacted and I kicked her. To this day, I swear it wasn't me. Anyway, that was back in August and she still isn't talking to me. I made a gesture of nice-ness by leaving something for her at her apartment. I've heard no word of thanks.

I've been working on not holding grudges. It's no secret that my father gets on my nerves. Plenty of times I've given him the silent treatment or held onto that annoyance for far too long. I've been trying very hard to turn it around and let things go quickly. I had a point here... I forgot where I was going.

Anyway, since I've been working on not holding grudges, I feel loads better. The tension in the house has decreased as well as my personal tension. When I can turn it around quickly, it's like a tiny personal victory. To me, every personal victory is one step closer to total self-control.

"Let It Go"~ Demi Lovato

Sep/Oct Pictures

At last.

I finally put all the pictures I've taken since September onto my computer. I looked through them all, and as usual, there were some crappy ones and some great ones. Since photography is both my connection to the world and my catharsis, I'm going to share some of the better ones with you!









Eclipsed blood moon.

Self Control

(insert clever tag line here)

There are very few things we actually have control over. Those with mental illness tend to have even less control. I've found a few ways to maintain control over myself.

Since graduating high school, my hair hasn't remained the same color for more than three months. Actually, it's usually more like two. I do mostly reds and browns, but at the moment, it's brown, blonde, blue, and green all kind of streaked together. Home-done bleach job gone bad, but I hear it looks cool!

I also have this thing with socks. Yes, socks. When I was seventeen, I vowed to never wear traditionally matching socks ever again. Since then, I've justified my mismatched socks by patterns, solid colors, ankle/knee-hi, and even just because they came out of the same drawer. Side note: I have four, count em, four sock drawers.

Even blogging helps me maintain self-control. I get to say what I want, and if I don't like the way a post turns out, I delete it. Yes, there are many posts that you lovely people haven't seen.

My point is, you need some level of control over yourself to be happy. Everyone does. From the way you do your hair, to what you do for work, to... well, so many other things!

"No Control"~ One Direction

Got Cyanide?

I spent all day watching Netflix and wishing that I were dead.

Story: Last Saturday, I started to get a pain in my throat. I decided to keep drinking and sucking on cough drops to keep it from getting worse. This did not work. My throat just got worse and worse. I spent the greater part of Saturday and Sunday unable to even breathe without searing pain. Then, the rest of my body decided to get in on it. The aches, pains, and never-ending pile of tissues (graphic, I know, I'm sorry). Yay allergies turned sinus infections...

I'm not good at being sick. I can't just curl up in the blankets, watch TV, and embrace my misery. I'm the kind of person who curses whatever's making me sick while sitting up in protest. I don't sleep because I'm annoyed that I'm sick, I won't do home remedies, and I absolutely will not go to a doctor unless I'm dying. Today, I was dying.

I broke down and went to a doctor who said she couldn't do anything until I've had this sinus infection for a week. Awesome. So now I get to ride this out and just pray it's gone by Thursday. I really don't like the idea of being sick on my birthday...

Side note: Hope everyone had a great Halloween!

Here's the song that's been stuck in my head all day.
"Summertime"~ Ships Have Sailed