Brain... No... Help...

Just make it stop!

Last night, his majesty, the narcissist, fell flat on his face, surrounded by the hoard he loves so much. He waited about an hour before calling my mom to bring him sugar, hoping it would give him the strength to get up. Then, here's the kicker, after having well over the necessary amount of sugar to give any normal human energy, he's still throwing a tantrum whenever calling 911 was mentioned. I kid you not, this human is flat on his face, entirely incapable of anything, shouting, "NOBODY CALLS! I'M IN CONTROL, HERE!!!" No... you're weak and unable to lift your head. But mom placates his majesty, and it took another hour and a half for the narcissistic hoarder to allow 911 to be called.

Would you like to guess what happens when you have the body of a narcissistic hoarder lying on the floor, covering the exact width of the only walking path in the basement, and six medics have to come in? Those medics get yelled at for having to move things. He was legit throwing a tantrum that things had to be moved to get his sorry ass off the floor.

So, my mom and I were at the hospital until 2:00 in the morning, making solid sure that I couldn't take my meds. Today has been a blast... I took the day off to deal with all of this, but I'm not going to have any more time off approved because of other people being off. 

Fun fact: I didn't plan this. This was an emergency. My company needs to understand this. They won't, though. Even though there are others in other departments who could step in and help my team, I will have to take unexcused time off because of a freaking emergency. My company is typically awesome. Not when it comes to emergencies, though. And I still don't say where I work so that I can say these things.

Typically, when I miss a dose, it takes no less than two days to recover. Since the bad symptoms didn't start until later this evening, I have this to look forward to for two more days. I might actually punch a wall. Pray. Hard.

Up To Here

... is exactly where I've had it.

People are difficult to deal with on the best of days. Especially for those of us who have issues working with people in the first place. Today has me way over the edge. 

When it gets stormy, people get collectively cranky. Today was one of those stormy days where the collective public said, "challenge accepted" and made our entire company feel like taking a look at open positions elsewhere. Normally I can get through these calls with eye rolls and such. Today, I lost my patience... audibly. When I got someone cranky (almost every call, btw), I was audibly annoyed, and many caught on. Keep in mind, I've been praised repeatedly for my patience on difficult calls, which is a surprise every time. Today, I will get no praise, but I'll probably get warnings. 

I had one b***h call in, both fists swinging, and says, "Do you even know why I called?!" Well, no, princess. You haven't said anything other than how much you hate this company. How on earth would I figure out that you needed a completely different company to complain to since your issue was with them???

Fun fact: If you're a jackass to the person on the phone who is trying to help you, you're not going to get the help you need. Not because we're inept, but because we want you off our line ASAP. Be kind to the other end of the line. We're people. We have company policies that we can't ignore just because you want this or that. We can't magically make your problem disappear if you're not doing your part on your end. We've been yelled at long before you called in, so expect us to be on guard and treat you with about as much respect as you're treating us with. Oh, and we'll complain about you, make fun of you, and avoid your calls if you're one of those people. You'll become a meme, an office zing word, and a joke between departments. Do you want that? No. Be a good customer and you'll get good service.

Example of one of those people we still talk about...

We have this woman, we'll call her Lucy, who calls in almost daily, yelling at anyone she talks to. She's always needing help finding places who can help her. Welp... All the places within 20 miles of Lucy have banned her from their businesses! So, every time we get someone who has been banned from one place, we call them a Lucy. Whenever someone loses it the way Lucy does, they're called a Lucy. Our group chats consist of things like, "I've got a Lucy caller" and "This caller got Lucy'd!" 

Don't be Lucy.

I Was Right

Why do I attract narcissists?

I've had a small problem with one of my coworkers since the day we were both hired on. He's just hit me the wrong way for going on 15 months, now. He can he absolutely hilarious, he can be helpful, and he can be a royal pain in the tush. I've suspected, at the very least, narcissistic tendencies throughout the last year. Today, I was proven right.

So, dude has a major issue that bugs not only me, but some other nameless coworkers, as well. I'm not going to go into detail, mostly because this post would turn into a rant. Anyhow... This issue finally got me to my breaking point, and I made no secret of it. I didn't outright say anything, and to be honest, I'm surprised he picked up on it. So, dude sends me a private message asking if he's offended me in some way, because my responses to him have been short, lately. I told him what's up, as nicely as I could, but making my point clear. I offered a compromise, which was promptly taken as an insult. This brought out his victim card. I had none of it, saying, "That's dramatic. Just meet me in the middle and we will both be perfectly fine." Now I have to wait for the tantrum that will inevitably follow when he reads that. 

Allow me to point out the narcissistic patterns and behaviors that showed up in our short conversation.

1- He didn't take responsibility for his actions. Instead of saying "I'm sorry for doing that" he said "I'm sorry I come off that way". This is him deflecting responsibility to me, because apparently I'm the one feeling this; not him doing it.

2- When a compromise was offered, he shut down, pulled out his victim card, and was seeking validation in his feelings of victimhood. He was looking for "I'm sorry. You're right, it's me. I'll do better." Or something to that effect. 

Narcissists are typically all-or-none thinkers; they're either the victim or the victor. They need to be one or the other. This gets them what they crave most: validation. Validation in their superiority, validation in their victimhood, validation in who they are, no matter what. Feeding a narcissist that validation they crave will do exactly two things: It will empower them, letting them know their behavior is just fine, and it will drag you just a little further under its thumb. The more power you give a narcissist, the less power you have.

I've seen the ramifications of "It's not that bad" and "I don't mind" thinking. 40 years down the road, you will be nothing, and the narcissist will believe it can do exactly nothing wrong. It will throw tantrums, it will guilt trip you into literally anything, and it will rule with a fist of stone. 

If you meet a narcissist, never, ever feed it. Stand your ground. You are not the problem. If it refuses to be rational (which, let's face it, a narcissist ever is), simply walk away. Don't engage it further than you absolutely to.

I KNOW!

You know, but you don't do. Then you get mad at me. 

To quote you, "Should I get mad at you when...?" The answer, in this case, is yes. You should get mad at me if you're trying to talk to me, and I start scrolling through my phone, watching a video, or look away when you're showing me something. Why? Because it's incredibly rude, for one. For two, it makes the other person feel like they're not important; like they're an annoyance you're trying to get rid of.

You do this to me on a daily basis. Can you remember the last time I chose my phone over you? I'm gonna bet on no. You know why you can't? Because it's been years! I made the decision to make you more important than my phone. If you start talking to me while I'm online, I shut off my screen to pay attention to what you're saying. You are important to me, and I show it. Obviously, it isn't two-way. 

I get it. You're retired and want to relax. However, you're all ears when your older child (who ignores you 99.9999999% of the time, and you know I'm not exaggerating) is available. That makes it sting worse. No, it doesn't sting... it hurts. Like a bullet to the gut, it hurts. 

I know you'll see this and think it's not true, but it is. It's not what I feel, it's what I see. Every... single... day. I come to talk to you during my breaks during work, and Facebook is more important to you. My breaks are ten whole minutes, and you can't tear yourself away from your screen that long? Trust me, that video, article, or whatever will be there in ten tiny minutes. 

When I point out that you do this, you get upset and say, "I KNOW!!!" But do you? Do you know? Do you know how much it hurts to have your mother consider the mindless stupidity that is Facebook to be more important than you? Do you know how it feels to be yelled at for asking that something get attention for 30 seconds? Do you know how many times I cry myself to sleep because you simply don't care? 

No. You don't. 

I won't be here forever. I hope you understand that. I-- the only one who helps you, defends you, is here for you-- won't be around forever. Keep that in mind.

Next Up

🎶 The circle of Bipolar goes round and round, up and down, air and drown 🎶 

I'm so over this. They need to find an actual cure for mental illnesses. Like, yesterday.

Six days ago, I dropped into depression like Henry VIII dropped Anne Boleyn. It was so fast that I didn't even know what was happening (unlike poor Anne), and it lasted five days. Today, again without warning, I was booted into hypo-mania. 

Hypo is dangerous, for me. I struggle with weight, and hypo makes me so bored that I just start mindlessly eating. Yes, I have Speks (get yours here), but sometimes, my mind gets going so fast, and my energy so low, that I'm in this haze. Trying to keep myself entertained in Hypo mode is like trying to prove that Lizzie Borden didn't do it. It goes in circles, nothing works, nothing getting done, with my brain spinning so fast I can actually feel my brain (if that makes any sense), and I'm in Hell.

Things I couldn't focus on tonight:

- TV

- Music

- Books

- Schoolwork (is it an adverb or an adjective?)

- Walking

- Applying lotion (don't ask)

- Work (probably should have been first on this list...)

- Conversation (which is a majority of my job)

- Tying my shoes (funny and painful)

- Thinking

- Breathing

- Sitting

- Standing

That list could go on, but as expected, I can't focus on what I couldnt focus on. 

I hate this. 

Hot Mess

Eject in 3... 2... 1...

I'm overly stressed, today. I volunteered to work an hour and a half in the early hours, to cover for someone who wouldn't be in. It was nice for about five minutes. Then, for the next eighty-five minutes, it was bombardment. Call after call after call. No break. I went back to bed, afterwards, since I now work afternoons and evenings. Couldn't sleep, hardly. Then comes the fun part...

When I got to work, I found out that, after having just been trained on something, I had to re-learn it, because the dang thing is broken, and we have to work around it. So that was bad enough. After training, I got bombarded with calls from India (because why give jobs to struggling or homeless Americans when you've got India?) with absolute jerks and morons. These people have zero qualms with literally yelling at you. Most often due to their stupidity. Side note: Why do we let the scam capital of the world have access to our sensitive information??? Not smart!

Best part... The programs I need to do literally anything? All down. If you think people are mad when their favorite football game isn't on, you should hear the tantrums that go on because they wasted ten whole minutes on the phone for nothing! I hate people...

So, here I am, avoiding work as best I can. I'm not doing the one thing I really should be doing, which is a 50/50 thing; 50% I need a moment, and 50% I'm lazy for not doing it. But I'm here until late, so I've got time.

Here I am, typing this out, feeling like a terrible coworker, and ready to cry because people in our world expect to be treated like they're kings and queens, but treat those trying to help them like verbal punching bags. I've even stopped waiting for a "thank you", because I know I'll get one every twenty calls, or so.

People, you get upset. Fine. We all do. Taking it out on the people on the other end of the phone is not going to help you. In fact, what it will do is cement your spot in the "this customer was this angry over his/her own stupidity" wall of fame. You will be discussed as "that caller" for at least a week. We will relentlessly make fun of you for being an absolute jerk. We will use your name the same way Karen is used. We will expect you to be the exact same, the next time you call in, and will send you directly to someone who gets paid enough to give it right back to you. You will not like that person, I promise you that.

Don't be that caller.

Hard Times

Cry. Laugh. Repeat.

My dear friend Bonnie passed away two months ago, and I'm still having an incredibly difficult time with it. Every freaking day, she comes to mind for some reason or another, and I will inevitably break down for a while. Every. Day.

I've sent messages to her Instagram, hoping that would help get my feelings out. Nope. Just made things worse. Even as I sit here writing this, tears are falling, and I seriously need to put the lid on my cottage cheese. 

I've lost people. Lots of people. Far too many people. They've all hurt. Badly. Very few have had me like this, for this long. My grandma, my dear uncle, and Bonnie. Not to say the others didn't mean that much to me, it's just how my brain has processed things. 

It hurts like mad. It feels like, as Ron Weasley put it, "Like I'd never be cheerful again." Sometimes it hurts so badly that I can't breathe... or move... or think. I feel like my soul is dying. Like I can't go on.

The one thing that's different from (almost) everyone else I've lost, I didn't know it was coming. I didn't know she was sick. And she had such a short battle with cancer that she was here, someone snapped, and she was gone. No warning.

There's an ever-growing hole in my heart, and no matter how hard I try, the pain doesn't let up. It's a constant reminder of these wonderful people I know, but can't ever talk to, again. Not for a while, anyhow. Eventually, though.

Hopefully my daily (somtimes 2, 3, or 4 times daily) breakdowns will slow. It'll never stop hurting, but I hope one day I'll be able to handle it better. Until then... Cry. Laugh. Repeat.

Maybe...

Maybe. Maybe not.

I've always been a cheerleader for "No, you can't think your way out of depression." I screamed it through the rooftops, posted blogs about it, and pointed that fact out to anyone who says anything to the effect of "think happy, be happy". But was I wrong?

I work phone lines for my company, and I get a truckload of crap. Dealing with the public is like trying to dismantle a hornet nest without getting stung. People are terrible. They blame you for their own stupidity; they think you can do what they want, despite company policy; and they yell at you for something someone else did. I've been here a year, this month, and I just discovered something...

The end of Wednesday, I decided I was going to stop being petty towards callers who are rude, never say thanks, or the India callers who are the bane of everyone's existence. Normally, I'd transfer them by dialing incredibly slowly, or I'd give a sarcastic "no problem". So, I told myself, "don't be petty" every time I wanted to be, and I gotta say... Thursday was incredible! I wasn't overly annoyed, I didn't complain all day, and I felt -- what's that word? -- decent!

Now, I in no way thought my way out of depression. I still have no motivation, I'm tired, and crying is a multiple-time-per-day thing. But I did manage to get a good day, where I didn't want to quit my job or take unscheduled time off. I like my job, but my brain has been at the wheel for a few months, now. Things haven't been so good, that way, but my direct boss, and the company as a whole, are incredibly helpful and understanding. It's a great place to work. No, I won't tell you where I work, for the safety of the people I work with, and the callers I deal with.

Today, however, was a train wreck. I kept telling myself to not be petty, but one caller from India used my last nerve as a jump rope, and I lost any and all control I'd gained yesterday. I'm cranky, I'm fed up, and the next person who asks me to spell my name is getting their picture on a dart board and used for target practice.

So, can you really think your way into a better day? I'd say yes, but it's circumstantial, and everyone will have their own way of doing that. Can you think your way out of a depressive episode? That answer always has been, and always will be a huge, resounding "no".

Experiment concluded.

On You

In case you were wondering...

The school shooting in Texas was entirely your fault. You- the one reading this. So long as you deal with mental health problems, anyway. You weren't there, you're properly medicated, you're perfectly normal... but it's your fault.

Every time a tragedy happens, people blame two things: guns and mental illness. Fun fact: it's neither.

This last murderer had no record of mental health issues, but America has a "mental health crisis". No need to blame the responsible culprit of evil, because mental health doesn't bring up the lack of religion, and subsequently, evil.

A person comes out with one of the many letters in the too long acronym, and the world welcomes them and supports them in acting on their feelings. Telling someone you have a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, and it's always a look, tone, or actual words of "Don't shoot me!" Not because of actual facts, but because of what the media has made it into.

Although I have never seriously threatened to harm another, and I have only harmed myself once, I am blamed for the mass murders in the country. People are all too happy to blame mental illness because the ever-growing lack of religion, and poor parenting, are creating a society with no personal responsibility.

People are absolutely terrified to get help with mental health, not because they think they'll hurt someone, but because they don't want that ugly, gross, absolutely vile accusation of being responsible for all the horrid things going on. 

If you are among the ignorant who think America has a mental health crisis, I pray you stub your toe. You aren't helping, you're not bringing awareness, and you are legit harming those of us who struggle with hurting a friggin bug. You're blaming something you don't understand, and you don't understand because you're not willing to do your research. 

America has an EVIL problem, and an ignorance  problem.  

Blaming mental illness for evil acts is like blaming purple nail polish for drugs. There's exactly zero link tying it together, zero fact to back it up, and zero brains in those blaming US for these heinous acts.

Remove head from butt, then speak.

Flying Monkey

I give up. I am alone in this.

Lately, my mom won't say a SINGLE bad word about the jackass she married. At all. She just goes silent, opens her phone, and ignores me. On the flip side, she'll whisper with said jackass, suddenly stopping when I walk into the room. Subtle, mom. Subtle.

That jackass is a god in this house. It does nothing, and demands everything. Mom will say, "We're a unit. We make decisions together" but jackass has the ONLY say in everything. My house is a trash heap because it won't allow any updates. It moves things just to be a jackass, but if I move something that is actually in the way, it throws a tantrum. Wanna take a guess as to whose side mom takes?

I guarantee she'll say "I say things when you're not there." Fun fact: If you don't defend someone IN THAT MOMENT, WITHIN EARSHOT OF THE OFFENDER, it teaches the offender that it hasn't done anything wrong. It will continue to be a jackass.

So freaking many times in my life, that jackass has been, well, a jackass, and has said, "I promise I'll change." It hasn't. Unless you consider getting worse a change. 

My mother has abandoned me, leaving me to drown. Why can't I swim? Because she stays out of it in the moment, proving yet again, that the useless clump of cells she married is king. Thanks mom. Just remember that, of your two children, I'm the one who is there to defend you, fight for you, spend time with you. I would hope I'd get that in return, but flying monkeys will always defend and justify a narcissist's behavior. In your case, it's because you're too afraid of that absolutely useless blob with the emotional maturity of a toothpick. Praiseworthy.

Gerald, I hate you with the passion of a wildfire. The day you die, I will laugh, I will dance, and I will praise God for His mercy. Once you are dead and burning in the inevitable Hell you have earned, you will not be even a whisper of a thought in the deepest part of the back of my brain. 

Mom, you used to be such an inspiration. You were so strong in the most difficult times, but now you cower at any resistance from the one who controls you and makes your life a living hell. I hope that one day, you realize who in this family is the one supporting you, expecting nothing in return, instead of the one who takes you for granted.

And The Hits Just Keep On Coming

Punch to the gut.

A few days ago, I found out that a dear friend of mine had passed away. Her obituary was posted today, and it's suddenly real. I didn't quite believe it, but it's very, very real.

My dear friend Bonnie was my (adopted) grandma's youngest, and the only one in her family to recognize the bond between her mom and me. She was very much her mother's daughter. She was a ball of light so bright that the sun got jealous. You'd swear she bounced everywhere because of her bubbly personality. Every "hello" was targeted to the heart, and she hit it every time. There are so many words to describe her, but it would be the world's longest blog post to list them all. A few of them are:

Kind

Giving

Caring 

Bright

Loving

Beautiful (inside and out)

Outgoing

Happy

Bonnie was a nurse (if those descriptive words didn't say that well enough), and actually gave grandma many more years to live by catching the first stroke right as it was happening. 

I'm absolutely broken. This woman was friend to all, and genuinely cared for those in her life. Now she's with her mom, shining down on her loved ones from above.

Thank you Bonnie, for being exactly who you were. You will be so dearly missed by so many. Give grandma a huge hug for me. I promise to look you up when I get there. Until then, you are forever tattooed on my heart, right next to grandma.

This is not goodbye; it's see you later.

Next Please

Is it over, yet?

Today has been absolute hell. To start with, work was beyond busy, as half my team was out sick. I don't blame them, and I don't curse them. We all get sick. It just kind of sucks when half the team is out. It's a nonstop bombardment of calls, with hardly any time to breathe, all day long. That was hard enough, but then the crap kept piling up. 

The Dystonia in my left foot has made its way to my hands. It's periodic and not as bad as my foot, but still creates havoc. Take, for example, when I was trying to dump my water bottle into my mug, my hand decided it was the perfect time to unexpectedly contract. I mean, who doesn't love a cold shower in the morning? Definitely got my desk cleaned off, as well.

To be fair, the vast majority of my calls were pleasant, short, and uncomplicated. It was just the back-to-back that was hard.

Now, to end the day, I had a cup of milk. Wait... allow me to rephrase: The table had a cup of milk. And the floor. And the 4 towels my mom and I used to lap it up. My hand really wanted an encore. What better way to end the day than with a milk bath? Spas do it, but the home version was less than relaxing.

I'm tired. I'm worn. I'm laughing just to keep from crying.

Here's to a better tomorrow.

Oh... I'm now on Tik Tok. Not sure what I'm doing, yet, but find me if ya wanna. @insaneinsurance

Learn Something New Every Day

That was eye opening.

My entire life, I've felt like the pity friend. The one others hang out with as a last ditch effort to get out of the house, the one others felt bad for, and the obligation. I've always felt nervous that I was bothering my friends any time I'd text or call; that they had better things to do than talk to me. Imagine my shock when I learned otherwise.

I was talking to one of my best friends, as usual, and she said "I love and miss you." My brain couldn't quite compute that as a she-meant-what-she-said thing. Like, why would anyone say that to me? I'm not the one people genuinely care about. I'm just the one people talk to when nobody else is around. My brain went round and round, trying to think of the why behind it. I mean, others have said it, but for some reason my brain never accepted it from them, either.

I started going through my memories with this friend, trying to see a time where I didn't feel like the obligation, and it hit me. Feelings are not facts. I felt like the pity friend, but her (and so many others) actions disproved that feeling. She and I spent practically every day together, one summer in high school. I was one of her bridesmaids. We took trips to Las Vegas and the UK. She texts me all the awesome things she sees in her job, and brings me keychains and decks of cards from all over the world. 

I'm still struggling to get my brain to change its tune, but I'm starting to see things in memories with other friends that kinda make me think I'm wrong. I'm 35 years old, and just now finding out that people do, in fact, care about me.

To all my wonderful friends, forgive me if I don't totally understand this concept quite yet. It might take another 35 years for it to sink in, but I'm working on it.

I Get It

I didn't fail. 

As many already know, I've been trying to lower my Seroquel dose, 50mg at a time. Less than two weeks ago, I started on 250mg. Today, that changes.

I noticed certain manic behaviors popping up. Most of the time, I noticed in time to check myself and control it before it could control me. I'd start talking a lot, talking quickly, and getting overly excited for fairly mundane things. That was easy enough to see and correct before it went overboard. Then it got bad.

Last Saturday, my mom and I picked up my favorite aunt, and we all went to lunch. Everything was cool; I wasn't leaning too far into the manic or the depressive. That is, until about five minutes after I'd finished eating. I got super quiet, I was staring at the table, and I'm pretty sure the storm cloud over my head was actually visible to everyone around. I stayed that way for a few hours until something brought me back up.

Fast forward to today. My job is phone customer service. I love it. I've got great people I work with, and it's not bam-bam-bam; I actually get a break between calls, most of the time. Yes, the general public seems to interpret "customer service representative" as "verbal punching bag" or "magician who can do anything, even if it's outside company policy or possibilities", but for the most part, it's fantastic. Until my brain went full-on attack mode.

I woke up crabby, and my very first call was a cantankerous old man who thought that he knew everything, and wouldn't listen to the rep he called for help. (Ok dude... Don't listen to me. Keep doing it wrong. I get paid by the hour, so I frankly don't care if you keep getting yourself in circles.)

Anyhow, by lunchtime, I was actually getting snippy with people. If the caller was rude, I seemed to give it right back. Not good in this industry, thanks to each and every call being "recorded for training and quality purposes", which is basically code for "We're going to use your bad calls as examples of why you USED to work here."

I kicked myself in the tush by calling off the afternoon and tomorrow, but it's better than losing my job altogether because of some idiot who can't grasp literally anything. The absences go against me, but they're not career-ending. Letting someone have it is a whole other ballgame.

In conclusion, I let my wonderful med manager know that I'll be increasing my dose back to 300mg, and as always, she trusts me to know myself, and has zero issues with calling it in. I really did find a great med manager! 

Always listen to yourself on how you feel with your meds. The doctor can hear you say how you feel, but they aren't inside your brain, and we might not always be able to express exactly what's going on inside. You'll know you've got a good one when they trust you just as much as you trust them. 

I AM NOT TELLING YOU TO BYPASS YOUR PROVIDER!!! ALWAYS SPEAK WITH THEM ABOUT ADJUSTMENTS!!! 

Different Is Not Always Bad

That's the best title I could think of. Go with it.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about romance, lately. Perfect day to finally write this, eh? Anyhow, I look back on some of my ex-boyfriends and wonder what life would be like if I didn't have this problem or that problem. That’s totally the wrong way to think of this.

I had two guys who I could have easily married and been perfectly happy with. They both have super generic names, so I don't mind using them. 

First there was Dan. We met in high school, dated for a short time my sophomore year, and got back together my senior year. He was a year ahead of me, so I got to brag about my college boyfriend. Anyhow, having Bipolar Disorder without a diagnosis really screwed things up between us. Things were said and we ultimately broke up when I was 20-ish. He was my first love, so it was really hard.

Short interruption for the world's worst relationship...

After that bad one ended, I met Rob. He was quite possibly the sweetest thing on the planet, and we really hit it off quickly. I fit right in with his friends, and he didnt seem too weirded out by my fashion sense. He was seven years older than I am, and he was ready to get married and start a family. I was not. I have blamed myself for the breakup for being too afraid, too flighty, too this or that.

I've been blaming myself, my behaviors, and my state of mind for over ten years. It took until just about this very moment to put the truth into words: I'm not the problem. There really is no problem. I just have a different path to walk than these two amazing men who are now married to the women they were meant to be with, and have the children they were meant to have.

Does this knowledge make it any easier? No. But I now realize that I am meant for something different than what I had imagined. Take, for example, the fact that I really don't want to have my own kids. I've always been a full supporter of fostering and adoption. Maybe that's my purpose. Or maybe I'm just here to learn how to focus more on others, learning how to help those in need of some kind. Who knows? But I am perfectly sure I'm on the right path for me.

My Brain Is Crying

More than a case of the Mondays.

I've tried to keep upbeat all morning. Lunch hit and everything went to pot. I'm not tired, but I have exactly zero energy. I used it all up this morning.

I'm sitting here, dying inside, debating on whether of not to ask for the afternoon off. I'm procrastinating, in hopes that I can make it to the end of the day. I've been quiet, not getting involved more than I have to, trying to conserve what little I had in the way of faked happiness and motivation. 

I can't talk the way I need to for my job. I can't write the way I want to for my blog. I can't express myself well today.

Days like this are horrible. Too down to do literally anything. Can't even take a nap because I wouldn't be able to sleep.

So here I sit, praying I make it through the day, dreading the inevitable long afternoon. T-minus four hours and counting.

Karma Chameleon

It comes... OK, so it hasn't gone.

I hate that absolutely useless piece of human tissue that seems to think it's in total control. It can't even be called Henry anymore, because it is not human. To be human, one must have a basic sense of humanity. A narcissist has no humanity, because it is a construct of its own mind. It doesn't care. About anything. It is incapable of thinking of anyone but itself. It wants what it wants, everyone else be damned.

It's memory is fading at a slightly alarming rate. We'll, alarming to my mom. Yesterday, it referred to a frying pan as a "coated pot." Mind you, a couple years ago, it straight up refused to acknowledge my mom when she called a small soup pan a "pan", insisting that it's a pot. Oh, and we're not allowed to say "crap" anymore, because, and I quote, "Do you know what that means? That's disgusting." Apparently we must refer to everything as exactly what it is, because it hates the word "stuff."

My mom and it are part of the LDS (Mormon) church. They teach that the man is head of the household-- meant to guide a family. It doesn't guide. It doesn't even lead. It controls, absolutely. Better still is the "calling" it has as the "branch president" of a congregation. Despite having less than twenty members in the branch, it gets such an ego boost from it. It's even more unbearable, as the years go on.

Oh, and I almost forgot... That church has a song that goes, "There is beauty all around when there's love at home." Interesting... There was love, yes, but only from mom. It took great pleasure in bullying me to the point of me getting so angry that I'd throw things. Mind you, I was supposedly the one with the problem. Yeah... total "inspiration" behind making it a leader 🙄

Literally nothing gets fixed in the house, unless it finally affects it. A nail that kept hooking on my pants for years was only fixed when it hooked on it. My toilet seat was hanging on by a thread for years, but it only got fixed when it fell off while trying to work on the tank (because it wouldn't flush). Yes, I laughed at that. The image if it stuck between the toilet and wall... Gold. 

Am I callous? Yes. But with what it has put me through, I've had to become that way for self-preservation. Yes, it still makes me angry, and yes, it still gets a kick out of that. However, I've just started treating its messes the way it used to treat mine. And I won't stop, because I refuse to lose my rights to a pansy-ass, overgrown toddler. Plus there's the whole "it's fairly close to the day it dies" thing that keeps me going.

If there's one thing everyone needs to know about narcissists, it's that they are so incredibly insecure that they need to control everyone and everything, and they need to tear down everyone for everything, in order to feel superior. It's a pathetic existence. 

Don't bow to a narcissist. At all. Ever. For any reason. You'll just start an avalanche, and wind up a shell of your former self.

Here We Go

Let's see if this works.

I've officially been at my job for six months, with the 21st of this month marking seven months. At this company, January is stupid busy, and we've been told that we can work all the overtime we want, all month. Key factor: we are not allowed any time off until February. This is where it gets a bit masochistic.

Since this is my first full-time job since 2011, and the first to last more than two months, I've already reached a major goal of mine. I feel awesome! I'm officially off all government subsidized programs (disability and medicaid), and I finally feel like I have a purpose! Every day, I have at least one person who is so overwhelmed by the fact that I could help them, that they just say "thank you, thank you so much". While I may not be saving lives, I like to think that I save people from stress. Either way, I'm doing something to help.

Back to the overtime thing...

I've decided that I'm going to work just forty-five minutes extra per day. Now, as someone who is still kind of adjusting to having to be at the same place for eight hours a day, five days a week, this is quite the high jump. Yes, I work at home, but it's still talking to people for eight hours and forty-five minutes, five days a week. That totals almost forty-four hours a week. 

Yes, I have the option of simply working my scheduled shifts, and I'm telling myself that if I can't do the extra on some days, that's perfectly fine. However, I have a problem with buying Little Mermaid figurines, and that money would come in handy 😂 But still, the most important part of this is being able to push my limits just a bit, to prove to myself, and only to myself, that I can do this; that I can reach these goals. I've already worked three days of overtime, so if I can't do it tomorrow, I'm fine with that. We all need a break sometimes, right?

Short post.