Christmas Z’s

Words. Those are things, right.

Anyone who has had their meds adjusted at all, can understand the oh-so-fun side effects. And when things are that far off, it’s difficult to be nice to basically anyone.

I’ve spent the last month or so on Depakote because, well, mania. It started out all right, for the most part. Then one day, it decided to make me super tired. It started out with sleeping nine to ten hours per night, but now I’m sleeping a good fifteen to eighteen hours a day. And even when I’m awake, I’m tired.

As you can imagine, this makes me feel so very useful. And since today is Christmas, there’s loads to do. Cooking, cleaning, being awake long enough to open presents... Thankfully, the thing I’m forced to call “sister” didn’t come over as early as it usually does, so I got a nap. I’ve been awake from that nap for two hours now, and I’m already needing another.

In other news... I hope you and yours had a very Merry Christmas 🎄 Spend time with the people you actually like. Don’t ever feel obligated to spend it with family if there are members who feel the need to treat you like trash. You deserve better than that. If you have to, do what I do when “sister” comes over: I bury my nose in a book, and block everything and everyone out.

Santa, Baby

Christmas. It’s a thing. Have a happy one.

As Christmas is like, super close, I thought I’d say something about it.

I know everyone has their list; things wanted or needed. I, however, would like to take the price tag off and offer something else. Yes, this is random. Deal with it.

For Kate: A kept hope that you will get a child of your own. You are always in my prayers.

For Anna: Hopes that you find happiness so far away from your family and friends.

For Kierstin: May your anxieties be hushed as you continue to grow. Know that I’m behind you 100%.

For Berkeley: May that stupid foot of yours finally get better! It’s beyond ridiculous.

For my mom: Hopes that the year goes by quickly and you have a happy retirement afterward!

For my aunt Ria: Prayers of support as you go through this tough time.

For Jemma & Lee: As you bring your new daughter into your lives, may you find joy in the harder times.

For Rose & Glen: Prayers you find happiness in your lives, work, and family.

For Amber: A big, BIG hug and know that I’m always here!

For Crystal: Again, congrats on the new job, and may it be everything you hope, and more!

I know I can’t do everyone, but Happy Christmas, and a great New Year for everyone ❤️

Last Place

*Quippy opening line goes here*

You know those friends? The ones you’d do anything for, whether you talk a lot or not? If they asked you to jump the Grand Canyon, you’d do it. I’m that person. However, I don’t have someone like that.

I’ve got a few good friends, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t trade them for the world. It would just be nice to have a do-anything-for-you friend like everyone else has. 

Someone puts up a fundraiser, I’m first in line to share or donate (if I can). I put up a fundraiser, nothing. Someone posts something personal and emotional online, and they have hundreds of supporters. I do it, and it’s ignored.

I’ve come to accept the fact that I am simply someone created to create a sense of obligation in others. Not a strong enough sense to have anyone actually do anything, just enough to keep me as a Facebook friend. My happiness has  never been a factor. I simply exist to keep a seat warm.

I feel as though my role in life is to experience as many difficulties as possible so God can judge the charity of those around me. Feels real good to know I was never meant to be happy. Fuzzy bunnies couldn’t make me happier.

You want to know the best part? I won’t stop walking on coals for my friends. It’s just who I am. I’ll get nothing in return, and I’ll silently hold it against you, but I will always be there for you. Because that’s what friends do.

The Smaller Side Of Mental Health

Not my usual post, but hopefully it’ll get to the right people.

I’ve got a friend/sorority sister whose son, well, I’ll let you read for yourself. I copied this from her Facebook... Yes, I took the names out.

A lot can happen in the lives of our children that we never share with others. (Not just because husband’s in information security 😂)

 The good and the not so good often go un-posted and even just unsaid to anyone outside of our families and close friends. But it's time to open up about one of the hardest things that we are going through as a family. 

Our sweet son has been diagnosed with some unique challenges with Anxiety and Oppositional Defiant Disorder that we have been working with for a few years now, More recently he's also been diagnosed with Celiacs and juvenile RA. It's been such a learning experience for our whole family, but husband said it best in one of my many times of stress..."he came to us because you CAN do this, you CAN help him." #blessedwifemoment

I know God trusts us.

So from the suggestion of his Dr and therapist, through many, many prayers I finally could not deny any longer that we were supposed to get a dog, and train them as a service dog, to help our son.

This is not an easy or inexpensive process and we've been working on getting one for quite a while now. It's been though for is to decide what we can cut out of our lives to save money and what our family, especially the other 3  kids still needs to feel like this son isn't talking over or lives-even though many days he does.

We are so lucky to have some friends set up a Go Fund Me on our family's behalf. Donate if you can, share if you are willing, say a prayer or send good vibes that this will all work out and that we can help our sweet son. ❤️ #thankyou #wecandothis 

You can help here

The Most Horrible Time Of The Year

One. Één. Uno. Une.

Holidays are hard for many people, and for many reasons. For me, it’s because it’s just me. Single, unattached me. Everyone’s talking about their spouse and/or kids, and I’m all, “I’ve got my mom, two narcissists, and a brother-in-law.” No husband, no boyfriend, not even a date.

The last actual relationship I had was in 2007. It ended because he was 27 and ready to get married, and I had just turned 21 and wasn’t ready for that. Instead of waiting, he booked it. Yeah... that made me feel super worth it.

And now I’m significantly overweight, and not even fat guys wanna get to know the personality behind the pounds. Plus, when you’re over 25 and single in Utah, you’re basically labelled “defective” and a “lost cause”. 

Best part is seeing everyone’s family pictures, and hearing about traditions. Awesome.

So I’m not super festive. Bite me.

In other news: I’ve got a broken tooth and no way to cover the cost of the crown. If you enjoy my blog, a spectacular way to show it would be to donate 

HERE

Beware Of Resident: She Bites

I’m angry that I’m angry, and that makes me angry.

The picture most people have of mania is pure elation. Super happy and carefree. Those who watched “ER” would have seen a wider picture of the quicker-than-light switch to a “freak out”. What most people do not see is the anger.

Now, I know everyone experiences mania in their own way. You may be the one who is the happiest person alive during an episode. I, however, get annoyed, agitated, and straight up angry.

I learned the hard way to keep the majority of it off the internet. This time, I told friends that they’re better off not talking to me. Apparently this did not sink in, which lead to a shouting post to leave me be. 

I’m one of those who is super picky with those I will talk to when I feel particularly yucky. There are exactly 3. Outside of my therapist, of course. They know who they are, and I would hope they know why. 

I have lost friends (well, more like “friends”) through manic episodes. I’m not nice to mostly anyone, and anyone who hits that itty bitty last nerve is going to get a full-force verbal punch to the face.

So, please, let me be. My brain is giving me  a time ten million times harder than anything I’m giving you. No calls, no texts, no emails, no messages, no cards, not even smoke signals. None of those things (or any other form of communication you can come up with) will earn you a pleasant response. I will bite, your feelings will get hurt, and in the occasion you take this warning as a joke, you will no longer be part of my life. 

This, friends, is mania.

Kindness Is Contagious

Random acts of kindness are fun.

Ok, so I went to lunch with my mom today. We went to a place right across from the high school, so we were expecting loud, obnoxious teenagers. Granted, that’s like, every teenager on the planet, but still.

Anyhow, we get there behind four high school boys, and I was less than thrilled. You can imagine my reaction when they were, get this, quiet and respectful! They waited their turn, didn’t make the entire restaurant privy to their conversation by shouting, and cleaned up after themselves! 

When my mom and I left, I snapped a picture of the car and its plates. Here comes the fun part...

Schools are all too used to getting calls from people complaining about their students, so I decided to flip that. When I was finally transferred to the school police officer, I explained the situation, gave her the car info, and asked her to thank those four boys for behaving so nicely. 

You never know how far a simple compliment can go. You’ll never know how your behaviour affects that stranger you didn’t even talk to. Especially this time of year, patience and kindness are desperately needed and, when given, very much appreciated.

A challenge for everyone: Do five things that help someone else. Move a shopping cart out of the way, pick up the toy the stressed mother’s baby threw on the ground for the millionth time, tell someone they look nice... There are endless possibilities.

Go forth and be kind!

It’s A No From Me

Picture this...

If our moods had to audition for America’s Got Talent, how many would actually make the next round? Let’s see...

Depression: No desire to get out of bed, can barely lift limbs,  doesn’t want to talk despite need to, but really good at crying.

Mania: Annoyed at every little thing, overly critical of others and self, suicidal ideation typically higher, but house is super clean.

“Normal”: Doesn’t really know how to feel because you’re used to feeling so much, but can smile without crying inside, and can tolerate obnoxious people and situations.

Simon Cowell would have a blast with these. He asks Depression if they have a dog, sends Normal to the next round, and is afraid Mania will take his place as most critical and feared judge.

For the last couple weeks now, I have been so manic that I seriously can’t stand being in my own brain. I’ve got music on almost all day. When it’s not on, I’m reading or using Duolingo to learn Dutch, and even watching TV. 

I don’t like this. 

I hate this.

Stress Mess

So. Much. Fun.

Stress is a fact of life. Some have daily stress, some are blessed with just occasional stressful days. Wherever you are between those points, you’ve experienced this super fun thing.

An awesome thing about mental illness is that stress pokes its ugly head into our lives in so many different ways. Personally, it makes me manic. What you don’t see is the physical effects.

A little over a year ago, I had to get a new mattress. I wound up with a Tempur-Pedic. “Ooh! Fancy!” Yeah. And expensive, to boot. It was designed to mould to your body and straighten your spine. That’s all well and good... unless you’re stressed. Stress has a tendency to keep your muscles from relaxing. This is a massive problem for something that only works when you are, well, relaxed.

In the 13 months I’ve had this mattress, I’ve spent about 2 months in my recliner all night, and about 8 months having to spend part of the night out in the chair.

Best part: it’s not paid off and I’m already looking forward to the day I can get rid of the evil thing. I. Hate. It. It’s really fun in my case because, when I don’t sleep well, the mania gets worse and hangs on longer.

In closing, never again will I buy anything Tempur-Pedic. Ever.

Halloween Horrors

I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween...

This time of year has been a bit difficult since the Halloween right before my eleventh birthday. I absolutely love autumn and the holidays in it, but it also has a difficult memory.

October 25, 1997. My first time dealing with loss. In memory, at least. I heard about it on the 27th, when my mom was walking me to school. We got into the schoolyard, and were met by two giggling girls who were a year older. “Do you know Bryan Williams? He’s dead.” They we’re laughing at the fact that a classmate, and friend, of mine was dead.

Mom and I went straight into my classroom to find my teacher sitting on her desk, crying.

That day was a blur. The counselors came in to talk to us, but I frankly don’t remember much of anything. It wasn’t a normal day. No class work was done.

The day of his funeral was the day of our Halloween party. We had a substitute, which was weird for a party day. My mom picked me up during the party to go to Bryan’s funeral. 

There weren’t many people there, and that fact still gets to me today. A child was killed,  but there weren’t many people there.

Bryan David Williams,  ten years old, was killed because his only ride home chose to drive drunk. Bryan was thrown from the vehicle, and landed on his head- killing him instantly.

Passing Up, Or Passing On?

Backstory:

Growing up, my neighbourhood had a thing during October that was an absolute blast. You’d hear a knock on the door, but when you opened up, you’d find a treat, a picture of a ghost, and instructions. You were to put the picture in your window to mark that you’d been “had,” and drop treats at 2 other neighbours in the same way.

This is the most basic way things are spread. You have the opportunity every single day to pass along a simple kindness. With social media, you don’t even have to leave your house. 

You never know how far your kindness can go. A compliment, a greeting, holding the door for someone. Nothing is ever too small.

Now, I know country music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but this song is everything I’m trying to express here...

Life Is Good

I’m almost afraid to write this...

I’ve been at work for two weeks now. Most of the time, I’d like to scream, but that’s not what I’ve been focusing on. My foot with dystonia has been a massive pain (to pun, or not to pun?), but the Vice Principal who is over me is super chill and doesn’t really care that I have to sit sometimes. The kids, for the most part, are great. Naturally there are some troublesome kids, but hey, it’s Jr High.

Today, I got what some people would call bad news, but I’m loving it. I don’t fully understand parts of it, but I do know that I get to do something that I’m both good at, and actually enjoy doing: organising. 

In the first week, I learned to hide in corners between classes because it’s easier to get through a raging river than it is to get through a stampede of teenagers.

I also became a bit of a bad guy for some of these kids. They kept telling me that they don’t like me. I tell them that, if they get to class and do what they’re told, they don’t have to talk to me. Guess they took it to heart! I honestly don’t care if they hate me, as long as they’re in class.

In conclusion, things are going quite well. I’m in shock, and praying this continues. Thank you all for the encouraging words, prayers, and support!

Coming Up Roses

Up, down, left, and finally... right.

My life stopped the end of December, 2010. I had two major reconstructive surgeries on my right leg 13 months apart. That’s when everything blew up. I mean, I’ve always had symptoms, and they took a major turn for the worse when I was 16/17-ish, but after being on a maximum dose of morphine for three days, followed by OxyContin, Percocet, and Ativan for a few weeks, my brain retaliated. Not nice.

I quit the job I’d had for four years in March, 2011. Partially because of the effects of surgery, and partially because I had to work with a teacher that made Mussolini look like a teddy bear.

After that, I was in and out of jobs so fast that I never really learned everyone’s names. I would work anywhere between three months and, yes, one week. Anxiety became my constant companion. I couldn’t go anywhere by myself unless I knew I was meeting someone there. Even at that, I’d wait in my car until that person showed up. I couldn’t even go to the gas station, where social interaction was almost a guaranteed zero. 

The last time I tried working was the beginning of the school year in 2017. I was technically employed for a month, but I wasn’t there more than ten days total. It was a disaster.

I was able to go to the UK last year, which was actually quite frightening. But I made it through. Not well, but I did it.

Sometime in the last six months, everything suddenly changed. I went to get gas on my own, I went to the bank, I started talking to people. And now, I honestly can’t recognise my life. It’s a complete 180 from what I’ve known for almost nine years. My moods have been relatively stable for a month, which has never happened. I’m going outside, moving, walking, even going to the nearby park to walk around. Exercise is a major mood lifter. The subsequent weight loss is also a mood lifter. 

With things being so much better, I decided to try applying at the local school district again this year, just to see what I could find. I got a few calls for elementary level special education paraeducator, office clerks, and one high school position that would have cost me more in gas than I’d get paid. Then a call came from a junior high offering a position I had never heard of: student mentor. I scheduled an interview just to find out what was involved. Since I haven’t been in the job game for so long, I didn’t really have any professional references. The principal asked if there were any former coworkers I could think of. One came to mind who was a vice principal when I worked at the high school (pre-surgery). Fast forward an hour, and I get a call asking me to call this junior high principal back. I called and was floored by what happened next. She told me that she had spoken with my former VP who told her, in essence, that she’d be an idiot if she didn’t hire me.

WHAT?!?!

I accepted the job, but asked for just 20 hours per week. That was fine, everything is good. I did my hire papers last Friday and am just waiting for my background check to come back. I should be able to start next week!

Umm...

What’s college for, again?

So my regular doctor’s office is a teaching clinic. I deal mostly with residents who have the title of “doctor,” but they’re still not experienced enough to work independently. This doesn’t bother me. I mean, everyone has to learn their job somehow, right? What bothers me is their lack of understanding on certain subjects.

I get it. No doctor can know everything about everything. But with the prevalence of mental illness these days, basic knowledge in the area should be mandatory for general practitioners. No, they needn’t know every psych med on the market, or even the symptoms of every disorder. But again, basic knowledge would be helpful.

Example:

I saw a new resident today who basically laid into me for not having a normal sleep schedule. He told me that I need to take melatonin at the same time every night until I get into a groove. I had to explain that there’s not a single medication available, whether it be over-the-counter or prescription, that can make me sleep. He did not believe this. I gave up trying to argue.

As someone who works as a GP, he was very good. He even works with my neurologist and knew about Dystonia. But his basic knowledge about mental health was severely lacking.

Now, I’ve (obviously) never been through medical school, but anyone who has been to any college or university knows that you’ve got to take a million classes which have exactly nothing to do with your major. Majoring in history? Well, you’ve got to take fifty math classes, memorise the chemical makeup of everything in existence, and speak four other languages. So shouldn’t medical school teach things outside their specialty? Just my own opinion...

I Present: My Life

Every. Single. Time.

Any time something good happens in my life, something terrible follows that’s so bad that it cancels out the good.

I grew up dancing. I had to have major reconstructive surgery on one leg. I can’t dance anymore.

I played clarinet (almost) all through high school. No more school, no more opportunity to play, ability diminishes. 

Make a new friend. They learn about my illness and quirks. They abandon me.

My parent’s first child decides to be a friend. A year later turns in on herself and becomes narcissist.

Friends leave for college and return afterward. Then they move out of state.

Found the best therapist. Moves somewhere I can’t go after her internship.

Get where I’m coming from? I have given up on anything good in my life lasting more than a month. Not that good things happen to me much, anyway. Even if I have a good day, the next day is hell on steroids.

I just give up.

Inconvenient

I hate my life.

Yet another reminder that my father is a self-absorbed, entitled narcissist. Everything that he deems to be in his way must be moved immediately following his repetitive question, “What do you want done with this?” Meanwhile, he keeps stuff all over- usually in our walking path. If I say anything about how it’s in the way, he pulls out his victim card. When that’s worn out, he attacks anything he can think of. “You’ve got stuff on the table.” So do you, hypocrite. 

In the midst of all this fun are his flying monkey (aka enabler) and his golden child. My mother (the flying monkey) will justify anything and everything the narcissist does and gets on his “Charmaine is the problem” train. If I say anything against him, she either gets upset, or flat out ignores me. I, on the other hand, must listen to her every complaint, every day, about her work. If I’m not reactive and sympathetic to every tiny thing she went through, I’m suddenly a terrible person.

Dinner time at our house has become “Charmaine can’t say anything without me rolling my eyes, interrupting, or passing it off as insignificant.” Oh, and heaven forbid I expect her to learn the language I need. If I start signing, she looks away. I’m making an effort to learn her language, she could at least attempt to understand mine.

Gray Rock Method is based on minimal interaction. One article I read pointed out, “If you don’t have to talk to them, don’t.” I haven’t said more that three words at a time to my father since February. Keeping him out of my personal life is more of a struggle because of two factors: I still life with his highness, and anything I tell my mother goes straight to him.

Overall, my mother and I have a pretty good relationship, despite her attachment to the narcissist. I’m starting to wonder, though, if I should just keep my personal life to myself. Any tiny bit of info that either of them get is fuel to the fire.

Any advice would be helpful.

Thanks in advance!

Insignificant

Don’t mind me, I’m good on my own.

I have never had the kind of supportive friends and family that other people always seem to have. If I ask that something be shared, like a blog post or video, I get maybe one person who does. 

I’ve recently started doing bits of history with (subjective) humour thrown in. Once, and only once, has my Facebook page been shared. No explanation with it, so no new followers. 

I’ve asked countless times for certain blog posts to be shared, and nothing. More often than not, I don’t get so much as a “like.”

Everyone else has so much support that when they ask their friends and family to share, it gets done. I honestly have zero idea why I even ask anymore. I’m obviously not important enough or good enough at anything that makes people want to pass along what I do. 

I’m the kind of friend that I don’t have. You ask for feedback, I give it. You ask for shares, I’ll most likely do it. If you need a favour, I’m first in line to help. 

I get somewhere around 0.00000001% the support that I give. I’m not gonna stop, because I’m a good friend. But it would be super nice to get just a fraction of support that friends and family are supposed to give.

Second Child

***You're here, now. You should check out some of my other posts***


Second best.

First child: “I broke a nail. It bled for a second.”

Parents: “Oh no! Which finger? How long was it? Let me see! You gotta put a bandage on it!”

Second child: “I’ve got a fatal illness.”

Parents: “I’ve been through that. You’ll live.”

——————-

First child: “I got a B on my math test.”

Parents: “That’s so great! I knew you were smart!”

Second child: “I got a B-.”

Parents: “You need to apply yourself more.”

——————-

First child: “I spend more on clothes than I do food.”

Parents: “Well you look incredible!”

Second child: “I splurged and bought a $10 album.”

Parents: “You need to manage your money better.”

———————

I frankly don’t believe ANY parent when they say they love their children equally. They can’t. Kids are individuals with different personalities, and nobody gets along with every personality. The problem comes when you dismiss one kid in favour of another, or treat that child as if they’re second best. Again... kids are individuals, not clones. One kid’s B is another kid’s D+. What one is good at, the other isn’t. What one fights, the other knows nothing about. 

Believe it or not, kids can tell when they’re second. And it gets more obvious as they get older. 

Check out my other blog 

here

New Beginnings

I started a thing.

For  a while now, I’ve been wanting to make videos. Ideas have come and gone, but I think I finally found something.

History has always fascinated me. Granted, I’m mostly interested in English history, but each city has its own interesting history. Today, I started with the Salt Lake City cemetery.

If you’ve lived in SLC for any amount of time, you’ve more than likely heard of some of the oddities surrounding the historic cemetery. Emo’s grave, “victim of the beast 666,” and a few others. There are also some very cool things, like the Christmas Box angel. My draw is a little more personal.

The views from the annex are stunning. If you’ve never been up there, you’re seriously missing out.

Anyhow, I made my very first video today. Every single first attempt sucks, no matter what you’re doing. I’ve got to learn how to do things better and try harder to stick to my own accent (you’ve gotta watch to believe it...). But I’m sure with helpful hints and (hopefully helpful) criticisms, I’ll get to where I want to be.

Up, Down, Inside Out

“Words taste like peaches.”- Ellie on “Chuck”

I’ve been having an absolute blast lately. I like to say that I’ve “broken through my meds.” Thanks to the brain-numbing effects of psych meds, I can’t think of another way to say it. Basically, my symptoms are too much for the meds to handle (ok, so I can find another way...). 

I’m maxed out at 400mg of Seroquel, but I’m far from stable. I don’t notice it during the day, being alone most of the time, but in the evening, it’s like I just... I don’t know... I feel everything. I feel fast, if that makes any sense. Manic, but to an extreme. It feels like I can feel my blood moving through my brain. It’s rather obnoxious.

The best part is trying to sleep at night. We have all seen the things on FB or IG that say something to the effect of, “Me: *tries to sleep* Brain: Allow me to give you a selection of your most embarrassing moments from your childhood.” Yeah... I got quite a few of those. 

My brain, however, prefers to remind me of everything that has angered me throughout my life, starting when I was around five or six. I get so beyond agitated that I don’t get to sleep until at least two in the A.M. Dreams are unbelievably vivid and usually wake me up several times before I finally give up around 7:00 and get out of bed.

It’s been somewhere around a month of this.

Here’s the kicker: Both meds that actually work for me are on my neurologist’s you-probably-shouldn’t-take-that-if-you-wanna-stop-twitching-anytime-soon list. Par-tay... 

I’m thinking twitching (and subsequently walking funny with horrid pain) isn’t a deal-breaker anymore. I’d rather feel stable than run marathons... or walk for three minutes.

If you had to choose in my position, which would you choose: physical pain or emotional turmoil?

Memorials

War has been going on since the beginning. Invasions, power struggles, retaliations, and other unknown reasons. No matter the reason, it leaves more than just physical scars.

PTSD (among others) is extremely common and extremely under-treated among soldiers. Most suffer in silence. Some can’t deal with it and wind up taking their own lives. Far too many wind up living on the streets. It’s the biggest tragedy, in my opinion, to lose someone heroic in such a terrible way.

Some who have served in action have said things like, “It’s (messed) up,” and “Nothing’s the same when you come back.” Those of us who haven’t served cannot truly understand the full extent of how they feel. 

To the men and women who fight for our safety and freedom, you are not alone. Help is available without judgement. Please reach out. Heroes deserve better.

There’s a hotline to call, text, or chat online. There’s even a number for the deaf and hard of hearing (link below).

You are never alone. We are behind you, and we support you. 

Click here for help

No More

0.5-1%

Narcissistic Personality Disorder affects between 0.5-1% of the population. 50-75% of those are men. Sounds relatively minimal, right? Wrong. Those percentages are only those who have been properly diagnosed. My father, like SO many others, have not been properly diagnosed. But then, why should he go to a psychiatrist? There's nothing wrong with him. I'm the one with problems, just ask him.

Yet another thing he refuses to believe is that he is a hoarder. His father was a hoarder, so you'd think that seeing his filth and having to clean it up would have clicked in his brain that he shouldn't do things like keep the broken ice maker from the fridge that hasn't even been inside the freezer in around ten years.

Five to fourteen million (nice and specific, huh?). That's how many people are compulsive hoarders in America. But again... he's not diagnosed because he sees no problem (that's the narcissism talking).
Then there's this.


I won't even get in to that.

But I am one hundred percent done with his crap. I have applied for a job that will allow me to move out. Here's hoping I get it and that it works out!

Side note: Did anyone get the Doctor Who reference, or am I just a lone geek?

Not Built For This

Who can do this?!

Yesterday, I decided to start treating the narcissist the same way he treats me (moving things I decide are in my way, pushing through without a word, pointing out every little thing he does wrong, etc). All I can say is I have no idea how anyone can do that on a regular basis.

The energy it takes to be so selfish and cruel is amazing. The emotions involved (which he lacks) are overwhelming. I never realised exactly how little self respect Narcissists have. I mean, how could you have self respect while treating your own CHILD like they don’t matter? 

I have said for upwards twenty years that he is the kind of person (can’t call a narcissist a man because they don’t possess crucial qualifications) who should have never gotten married, let alone had children. 

Funny thing about his children, though... His favourite is also a narcissist. Not quite sure how that works, but it’s happened. In my own way, I’ve never put up with his behaviours. As a child, when he’d push and push, I’d break and have what he deemed a “temper tantrum.” It was, in fact, a response to his *insert explitive here* behaviour. Now I push back. I refuse to give in and allow him to make me feel worthless, useless, and unwanted (his specialty).

So now I have to find a way to deal with him that doesn’t make me feel like a terrible person and let’s me maintain boundaries. I’m in a group on Facebook that has been super helpful. Someone gave me the link to an article on “the gray rock method.” Figuring out how to use that is gonna be an adventure because my therapist doesn’t really know anything about narcissism or its abuse. If anyone has any suggestions, my ears are open (so to speak).

Weak

Seriously... 

So yesterday was terrible. Actually, the last few days have been. They’ve all had at least one good thing in them, but overall, I haven’t had the best time. Nothing in particular, just not feeling great.

Flash forward to this morning...

As everyone who has ever experienced any kind of depression knows, fatigue can be a day stopper. All you can do sometimes is stay in bed. Today is that kind of day for me. I can barely lift my arms, my legs feel like they’re gonna buckle underneath me, even breathing is a conscious effort. Despite all this, I got up, got dressed, and left the house. 

Allow me to tell you exactly how bad that idea was...

I had to go to UPS to return a package. The thing itself wasn’t that big, but as we all know, Amazon will sometimes use freakishly big boxes for relatively small items. Just getting the empty box out the door was an adventure. Then I had to pack the not-as-light-as-I-wanted-it-to-be thing back into the box. I dropped the thing 4 times in 3 minutes. 

When I finally got it packed, the next struggle was driving. Yes... driving takes coordination and energy. I did get there, then proceeded to sit in my car for a solid ten minutes trying to get the energy to go inside.

I succeeded, but then had to drive to my mom’s office so I could pick her up for lunch. I know she’ll say I didn’t have to, but I’m a creature of habit, and Thursday is lunch day. 

Here’s hoping I make it home...

Moral of the story: don’t force yourself to do more than you can. It’s not fun.

The Best Medicine

Everyone needs to laugh, so I’ve stolen pictures off Instagram and compiled them here. Enjoy.

My Life, Ladies and Gents

One thing after another...

Ok, as most of you know, I had two major surgeries on my right leg a year apart. Both times I had to teach myself how to walk all over again. From December 2010 through at least June of 2012, I was (obviously) less active. I gained like thirty /forty pounds in that time. But it hasn’t stopped there...

Since I got home from the UK, I’ve gained another fifty or so pounds despite every effort. I got a Fitbit, joined a gym, got a diet app, and take (almost) daily walks. 

You can imagine how this is affecting my moods. I mean, I grew up a dancer. I didn’t weigh over a buck twenty until surgery. It’s the vicious cycle you always hear about. Eat, get depressed that you ate, feel fat, eat more because you’re depressed...

I’m stuck. I can’t afford to keep buying new, bigger clothes. This has got to stop, but I have no idea how. If there’s anyone in the area of Murray/Cottonwood Heights/Millcreek that would like to join the Vasa on Van Winkle and go with me two or three times a week, you’d be my hero! 

Some Thoughts

This could get random...

I was just talking to a friend, and our conversation turned to how I lost over two hundred Facebook “friends” when I posted my first post here. I’ve lost about another hundred in the years since. Some hurt, some had to get super nasty about how I get sad or angry “all the time” and how I’m “not allowed” to just because I have a mental illness (yes, really). But to be honest, most I hardly knew. Maybe we had a class back in jr high or something. No big deal there. I’ve got few friends, but like so many people have said, I’d rather have a few good friends than a load of fake ones.

Now... I haven’t spoken to the narcissist in somewhere between two and three months now. There was an all-out blowout a while back where I told him everything he does. His response to everything was, “I don’t understand. Can you explain?” But then, how do you expect a narcissist to understand that they do anything wrong? The one thing he could understand was when I told him that he never excuses himself, he just pushes through. He said he’d change that. Yeah... that lasted about 2 hours. But in the time I haven’t spoken to him, he’s actually managed to get WORSE! “Me, me, me. My way. This is what works for me. I need it this way. I need this special thing so I can complain it’s not like the usual.” Systems the family has had for years suddenly don’t work for him and we must now abide by what works for him.

And now the most random subject (opinion) today... If you haven’t heard of As December Falls, you’re seriously missing out. If you’re into that style, anyhow. They’ve got two EPs and just came out with their first full-length album. Not one of those disappoints. They’re an entirely independent band from Nottingham, England. So independent that when I got my hard copy of the album, the address was handwritten. 

Maybe...?

I've been noticing changes lately. I: joined a gym, went to get a new cell, went to get a new key, and even did the thing I have avoided since the day I got a driver's license (going through a drive-thru). I did all these things BY MYSELF, which has been impossible for the last several years.

Granted, I haven't spent much time doing any of these things, but I did them. I got out of bed, got dressed, left the house, got into my car, drove there, went inside, and actually spoke to people. Side note: I'm seriously freaking myself out just thinking about this. Although, my hearing aids have come in handy when I don't want to talk. It's actually kind of funny that most people just assume I'm deaf when they see the wires.

Random subject change in 3... 2... 1...

I would like to thank Stephanie for helping me out with learning how to sign and figure out how to do the actual video. This is happening, people! I'll let you know when the video is up. It'll be a while, but it'll get done.

Short post today. Thank you for your attention. You may now forget this and continue with your day.

Aspirations

Here goes nothing other than a couple hundred bucks...

Since I lost part of my hearing, I’ve been doing the best I can learning American Sign Language with the help of a printed dictionary as well as a dictionary app. I took  two years of ASL in high school, so I know the basics, but I will never sign properly. 

ASL is a language all its own. It’s got different sentence structure than we English-speakers are used to. I’ve worked on Spanish, Italian, and Dutch, but have yet to grasp their sentence structures. So basically I’m stuck using ASL signs in English order. This will inevitably irritate at least ninety percent of the deaf/hard-of-hearing community. Ask me if I care. As long as I can understand the sign, communication will be attainable.

I had an idea (which will also irritate signers everywhere) to make music videos using sign. This will basically be me doing the best I can while asking the community for help refining my skills. I’ve gotten myself just about everything I need to do this, including a tripod, microphone, and an actual camera bag to carry everything.

So, if you happen to be a signer (deaf or hearing), I could really use some help. I will continue to lose more and more of my hearing and will need to be able to communicate. Yes, I could take classes, but I dare you to do that when you, A- have exactly zero dollars, and B- can’t be around people for that long or that often.

I will set up an email to go along with my (attempt at a) YouTube channel for corrections, suggestions, or any help you can offer. All will be appreciated.

Explosion Imminent

I’m done holding back.

My whole life, most people have treated me poorly. Even friends. It’s always been, “Don’t do this, can’t say that. You have to be peaches and cream toward me, while I can treat you however I want. But if you even try standing up for yourself, I’ll just yell at you more.” This started at an early age and has never stopped. 

Family, friends, and one particular person in my extended family I’d really like to punch in the face. Repeatedly. 

I learned this lesson rather slowly, but by age nine, I learned which people to talk to about what, and which people would simply justify the actions of others. My father’s and sister’s actions were always justified and defended. Small wonder I can’t stand either of them.

That said, I had a few who were always on my side and condemned the actions of abusers. My guardian angels. One woman in particular lived just down the street from me, was involved in my life quite a bit (still is), and would get on Brooke’s case whenever she was on mine. 

To this day, I test the water with every single person I come across to find out what I can or can’t say. Starting with a new therapist takes quite a while for me. Often, I don’t say much for a few months.

So fair warning, I will not put up with being pushed down anymore. You expect me to me super nice, you’d better treat me the same. Because I promise you, I will let you know if you’re being uber jerk.

Yay...

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Four posts ago, I told y’all about a mysterious problem with my foot. I’ve known what it is for quite a while, but haven’t posted. No, I’m not dying, I simply haven’t thought about posting it.

So this mysterious problem is called Dystonia. It causes my foot to move on its own. All. The. Time. When I walk, my toes curl which makes it both difficult and painful. This started nearly two years ago. I went to doctor after doctor, two of whom told me I was imagining it and just needed to see a psychiatrist. I finally went to a neurologist who informed me that it was caused by Latuda. I figured this before and asked my med manager to switch me to something else. However, the neurologist told me there are like four meds I can take which don’t cause Dystonia. I’m on one of those now: Seroquel.

As you can imagine, this has taken quite a toll on me physically and emotionally. I used to be quite active, but now I can walk about five minutes without wanting to chop off my foot. I’ve gained weight because of this. That made me more depressed, and it’s just been a vicious cycle. Less movement causes more depression, which causes less movement. Yay side effects.

WebMD defines Dystonia:

Dystonia seems to be related to a problem in the basal ganglia. That's the area of the brain that is responsible for initiating muscle contractions. The problem involves the way the nerve cells communicate. Acquired dystonia is caused by damage to the basal ganglia.

It can last a few years or even be lifelong. All because I took a drug I didn’t want to take in the first place because I had heard about the side effects. My then med manager insisted that it was safe and I had nothing to worry about. That’s the last time I let anyone tell me to take a med I don’t want to take. 

Listen to your instincts. If you feel strongly about a medication, speak up. You know your mind and body better than anyone else.

The Narcissist

I’m beyond done.

As some of you know, I was raised by a Narcissistic father. He’s never been a dad. When I was young, I’d get angry and tell him to leave me alone. He’d laugh and mock me even when I was super small. 

As I grew older and developed more symptoms of my own illnesses, he took great joy in pushing my buttons then wonder why I was screaming at him. One specific memory come to mind...

I was in my early 20’s and hadn’t told anyone about my diagnosis yet. As usual, he pushed me to breaking point. Here comes the kicker... As I’m screaming at him, he keeps repeating, “You’re sick! You’re sick!” I picked up something heavy, prepared to throw it, and said, “Tell me that one more time.” He only backed off when my mom intervened.

Things he believes:

- He knows best. Doesn’t matter the subject or situation.

- He does nothing wrong. Ever. If you’re angry with him, it’s something you did, he’s just the victim.

- His opinion is the only one that matters.

- He’s always right. 

The list could go on, but you get the idea.

I stopped speaking to him almost 2 weeks ago. Not out of spite, out of self-preservation. I told my counsellor about this and she agrees that I need to distance myself while I try to find a way to coexist with him until I can move away. Honestly, there is never a way to coexist with a Narcissist. They take up too much space, if you get what I mean. That’s also why I hate when my sister comes over. One Narcissist is hard enough. Two is impossible. They feed off each other and it’s just an ego-stroking fest.

My mom is probably gonna not be too happy with this post, but it needs to be said. My mental stability is questionable, at best. I fight, not just my own illnesses, but his, as well. 

Bipolar Disorder is ugly, painful, and a general pain in the tush. Add on anxiety, social phobia, PTSD, and severe panic disorder and you’re in for a fun ride. I shouldn’t have to deal with him on top of all that. I honestly don’t know how long I can take it before I let him have a glimpse into my mind and what I think of him. I can rant with the best of em.

That’s all, folks.

Unwell

Great...

So my meds were changed a month ago. Things have been looking up, especially when my dose was doubled. I've been feeling pretty good for a couple weeks now. That is, until about two days ago.

I crashed. Big time. I lost most of my energy, desire to do anything, and I've gotten pretty quiet. Frankly, I don't understand it. You can call it typical for someone with rapid cycling, but I literally went to bed one night as manic as could be, and woke up the next morning in this funk. Not my usual switch. Typically I'm up and down hour by hour.

My counselor is independent, not with a clinic. Her schedule is packed, so I can't see her as often as I'd like. She seems to think I'm doing alright. I'm not convinced at the moment. I do, however, have a good friend I can email. She says I can email her any time I need to. It's not quite like actually talking, but seeing as how she lives in England and the seven hour time difference... Makes things difficult. But she knows exactly how I feel and has been through a lot of what I've gone through. I hope everyone has a friend that they can talk to like that.

I got distracted...

My point tonight is that I really don't feel well. The last thing I need is to watch a high intensity movie, but my dad wanted to watch something and he likes maybe three movies and guess what he wanted to watch... "White House Down." You don't get much more high intensity than that. I'm tempted to simply take my meds that knock me out and go to bed early.

Here's to a better tomorrow.