Shambles

 That's what my life is in these days.

Since my last post, I've quit working altogether. I've submitted three times to Social Security that I'm not working now, but they're dragging their feet getting my benefits reinstated. This blows chunks because I have a few loans, and I can't ask mommy to pay them until I get disability reinstated. A- she's as broke as I am, and B- I'm a fully grown adult and shouldn't be asking mommy for money.

Since I stopped working, I've paid more attention to the novel I'm writing. Now, I know every reader out there thinks they can write a novel, but I'm not expecting much from it. I'll submit it to publishers, but I'm expecting a solid "no thanks" from every one of them. I've had a few friends read what I have so far, and they all seem to like it, so I'll bind a few copies for them, but again... I'm not expecting much.

Oh! And I'm losing my insurance on Thursday, so that's fun. I still have Medicare, but let me tell those "Medicare for all" supporters that Medicare does, in fact, suck. Badly. Need a prior authorization? Oh well, maybe next year. Need medications? Out of luck there, mate. Not to mention, that thing they said they'd cover with you only paying 20%? They lied. You now pay 100%. Good luck.

I could whine all day about my situation, but that's going to help exactly no one. So, Every day, I'm trying to find five good things. Something simple like... I saw a golden retriever, or I got a text from a friend. Focusing so hard on the good things that the bad things don't seem as big. Today, I got to visit with a friend/former coworker, which was amazing, so I count that as a good day.

Short post. The end.

Mm

 Mm. Ok.

I turned in all my computer stuff for what is now my old job, this morning. It was bittersweet. I'll miss some of my coworkers, but I'm glad to be rid of the stress of dealing with the Linda types. And yes, Linda was a real caller, but it's such a common name that I don't feel bad sharing it. She was absolutely terrible, but I never have to hear from her again. Yes, my new job will have its terrible people, but I'm hoping it'll be a LOT less.

I was able to go upstairs in the office to say goodbye to one of my favorite coworkers. That was sad. I also feel like I'm leaving an era. I was at this job longer than anything I've done since 2011. It was home for over two years.

I go into my new job on Monday to do some initial stuff, then I believe I officially start on the 8th. I'm excited for my new adventure.

My friends and family have been super supportive through everything I've done from going back to school each time, getting and quitting jobs, and eliminating the terrible people from my life. I'm truly blessed with wonderful people around me. Their support is essential for my success. I can only hope and pray that everyone has that kind of support system. Everyone trying to better themselves deserves that support. If you don't have it, I pray you find it.

The struggle in this new job is its eight-hour shifts on my feet. When I went to FanX (comic convention in Salt Lake City), I was on my feet for six hours, and I wanted to die. Prayers are now being accepted that I get used to it quickly!

You matter.

Hallow-no

 It's just not Halloween.

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday, but this year is just... meh. I'm using my pumpkin lotion, I put out some decorations on my front porch, I've watched some of my traditional movies, but I just can't get into it. The reason? Depression.

I've been in a funk for about a month now, and I just can't seem to shake it. I took a leave of absence from work for a few weeks, which is when this all started. Going back to work was a whirlwind of anxiety and about as much energy as a snail. I even let a Linda have it when she was screaming at me, which is terribly frowned upon.

I made it the first week back at the thirty hours my therapist allowed, but last week showed me that I can't even do this job on a part-time basis anymore. I worked like seven hours last week.

I met with my boss on Friday, and let her know I was going to be leaving at the end of this coming week. I'm only holding out for another week so I can keep my insurance until the end of November. Otherwise, I'd have quit right then and there.

I had an interview Friday, though. It's a part-time, three-day-a-week job that I believe I could be happy in, and a great way to pick myself back up into full-time work. That job even offers full-time, so I could grow within that company. It's a great opportunity!

I got distracted. Back to the topic...

My love for Halloween, and the whole season in general, has been smothered by this dark cloud hanging over my head. No. Not over my head. Surrounding my every being. It's so thick that I'm finding zero joy in the things I love. 

I haven't picked up my cello in weeks. My clarinet is being used as a foot rest. My piano is dusty. My diamond art is not even half done. My movies are uninteresting. My music is boring.

I've always heard that Bipolar depression is worse than "regular" depression, but seeing my friends go through theirs, I'm not convinced. I think those who suffer with depression get hit hard in their own way. But I gotta say, this depression has been worse than I've gone through in years, and I don't know how to deal with it. I can't see even a glimmer of light through this never-ending tunnel of pitch black darkness. 

I don't want to simply die. I want to stop existing.

Epic Failure

Ten thousand steps backward...

I've worked full-time for over two years now. For most of that time, I loved it, despite having to deal with the terrible people who call in. Not anymore. I'm all but done.

As some may remember, I took a leave of absence in April and May. I took another one for a few weeks this month. When I went back, it just about killed me.

I'm sitting at my desk, ready to cry, trying to not pull my hair out because of the anxiety, thinking about throwing away everything I have built in the last two years. Including my snazzy 2024 Outback. I simply can't do this anymore.

I've already contacted Social Security to find out how to get my disability benefits back, but that can take two months, and I've got nothing put away to cover my car for a week, let alone two months. My only solid option right now is to see if my boss will let me work 12 hours a week so I don't go over the maximum allowed income for disability. I do have two interviews Friday for jobs I believe I could be happier in, so there's that. 

My brain has decided that it wants to invade again, and take over. It's hard enough to deal with nasty people on the best of days, but lately, I'm giving their attitude right back to them, which can get me fired faster than you can say "quidditch". I need the income until my benefits kick in, because I refuse to lose my car. No car means no way to get to another job, ya know?

I feel like a massive failure.

Processing Error

I don't know what I'm doing...

It's been four days since I got the apology of a lifetime, and I have no idea how to process it. I have been so full of anger and hatred for this woman for nearly thirty years, and now I can't justify feeling those things anymore. She was genuinely apologetic, so my brain knows I have to let it go, but now there's a void where those feelings lived.

Anger and hate have lived in me longer than anyone should have to go through, and now that they're gone, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I held onto them because they were familiar feelings. They were my comfort, for lack of a better word. 

I'm sitting here in the dead silence of the night, wondering who I even am without the anger; without the hate. I don't know my own brain anymore. What am I feeling? Is this what "normal" people feel? This nothingness? 

No. Not nothingness. It's emptiness. There's nothing there. I feel this black hole dragging my chest inward like a sucking void. 

I feel so lost.

It's beyond sad, in my opinion, that a person could feel so lost without anger and hate. What kind of person am I if the two worst things to hold on to have defined me for so long?

Who am I? 

I don't know.

Redemption

I'm quite literally in shock.

I sent this text to some of my friends, and it's the best way I can get this out, so I'm sorry if you've already read most of this...

My mom and I went to Sam's Club for lunch (because tasty). As we're walking back to my car, I hear someone call my name. I turned around, and she says, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I'm super confused and have no idea who she is, until she pointed at herself and said, "Brooke." Instant rage, and I wanted to turn around, but I decided to listen to what she had to say. She starts crying and saying how sorry she is for how horrible she was to me. "You have every right to tell me to f*** off." But still, I listened. She just kept saying how terrible she was, and how there's no excuse, and how there's no way to rectify what she'd done, but she's sorry. Legit crying, so I assume she's genuinely apologetic. I gave her a hug because I never even thought this day would come, and I had no words. Well, I did tell her about how the Japanese people will repair broken things with gold so that something broken can be beautiful. It was cheesy, but it just came out. She said how gracious I was and how good a person I was for listening to her instead of walking away. 

My brain is silent. I have no idea how to process this.

What's more is that she apologized to my mom for what she went through watching me go through the torture and torment. She hopes her kids don't wind up like she did, and I told her with the knowledge she has now, she'll be able to help her kids understand how to treat others. 

I'm not crying. I'm not laughing. I'm... in shock. I don't know what to do or how to feel. This girl tormented and tortured me from age eight, all the way through our senior year of high school. Through memories and nightmares, she has tortured me for the eighteen years since high school. That's roughly twenty-eight years she's tortured me. I have no idea what to do with this. 

I do, however, think I feel calm. I think I've forgiven her. I think this will change my life, as well as hers. We even took a selfie as picture proof that this happened. I won't post it in here to protect her privacy, though.

Rest of my life: Day One

The End...?

 Or just an intermission...?

I'm at my limit. The stress of my job is affecting me mentally and physically. My sleep is awful, I'm gaining even more weight, and my brain feels messy. Why? Because my work decided to make the world's dumbest policy changes.

To start out with, we're no longer allowed to use doctor notes. At all. Ever. For any reason. Why? "Because it's a HIPPA violation." (Fun fact: When the note is freely given, it's voluntary, not mandatory. So no, it's not a violation.) Then, to try to straighten out the bad seeds on the team, we've all been punished with the most asinine adherence schedule. Now, we have to meet minimum 85% adherence-- no waivers for absences thanks to the no doctor notes rule. We must meet our "budgeted hours" every week, which is fine. My favorite, and quite possibly illegal part? If there's a holiday that the company is closed, like Labor Day, we have to either use PTO or manage to overwork ourselves by getting in the additional eight hours during the rest of the week to meet those budgeted hours. That's TWO hours extra for the remaining four days. 

"Lots of people work four ten-hour shifts. It's not that bad." True. But those people aren't me. I can't do that. Fine for others, not for me. 

Because of this idiocy, I'm on the razor's edge of quitting. In fact, I'm contacting my disability lawyer in the morning, before most of you will get a chance to read this. I'm calling off sick tomorrow because of this stress, and I have an emergency appointment with my therapist tomorrow evening. 

My life is crumbling beneath me, and I have no idea what to do. I've worked so freaking hard to get where I am, but the bridge from my past and my present is on fire, and I'm praying the last rope holds out long enough for me to find another position.

Adding on top of this is the sale of my house. I closed on it today, which makes me feel like a massive failure. So there's that.

These last two years have been fun, but it turned into a living hell in one swipe of the company pen

My life is no longer in my control. I just have to trust that God knows what He's doing, and I have to accept the path He has given me. 

.

I Try Not To

 ... but still wind up doing it.

Hello. My name is Charmaine, and I have a problem with focusing on the people who don't like me.

For my entire life, I've been the one people don't like. I'm the weird one who is the easiest target, in literally every situation, for bullies to find. I don't know why (other than I'm socially awkward), but if there's someone who can make themselves feel better by stepping on others, you better believe I'm the stepping stone they'll use. It started with my narcissistic father, spread to my narcissistic sister, and blew up to monumental levels when I hit school. It's even followed me through my adult life, which is particularly sad when you think of fully grown adults who need to step on others to feel better about themselves.

When I worked at the bookstore, I didn't read the "right" kind of books. When I worked at the music store, I didn't listen to the "right" kind of music. At my current job, my IQ and maturity levels are higher than junior high, so I don't fit in with the bombardment of "you're a grossy gross" "no, you're a grossy gross" and such childishness. 

Not fitting in has given the insecure individuals in each group a firm step on me and my refusal to change who I am to adapt to what I "should" be or do.

I'm me, and I'm not ashamed of it. But those people-- the entirely insecure ones who need to feel superior-- can still make me feel like the 11-year-old child in me. The one who's on the ground, curled up in a ball, getting the snot kicked out of her by the school bee-otch and her henchmen. 

No matter how much I tell myself that I don't care what others think... I still care what others think. Maybe not as much as I used to, but it still hurts when I get these people flat-out saying things as to how I'm not good enough, not smart enough, not cool enough. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm trying very hard to understand that there are people in my life who actually like me, but I'm not quite to the level where they mean more than the bullies. I'm in my mid-30s and still struggling to understand that I'm not the pity friend or the obligation. 

Likewise, I'm in my mid-30s and still struggling with bullies. If you're still dealing with being bullied after high school, know that you're not alone. Those people exist in a sad, sad world where they don't believe they're good enough, so they have to use you to step up on. Work on ignoring them. I know I'm still working on it. 

You can do it. I believe in you.

Belittled Sister

 Never good enough.

My narcissistic, so-called sister came over Sunday night, and as usual, overstayed her welcome by several hours. She was at my house until after eleven o'clock PM, with me having to get up for work the next morning. This is not unusual. She'll come over to visit her narcissistic father for an ego-stroking fest and stay no less than six hours. With both being narcissists, you can imagine how that goes. It's all "You're so great" and "Oh you poor victim" on repeat. It's both nauseating and infuriating. The ego boost they both get has them both on "Look how awesome I am" and "Me, me, me..." for days.

As we all know, narcissists never see anything wrong with what they do, and they are always the greatest person in the room. As hard as I try to ignore my so-called sister, I somehow still wind up pleading for her approval. It's gross and I hate myself every time. I'm honestly looking forward to the day where I don't ever have to see her again. (Which will mean my mom is gone, so let's deal with the she-witch for a while longer, eh?)

Anyhow, her royal highness has one high horse that irritates me to no end: She thinks her taste in music is superior because "I listen to deep music". Florence And The Machine, Passenger... Anything that makes you feel like a victim, basically. Now, I'm not knocking these artists. I like them! But this narc feels she has the moral high ground because she doesn't know the lyrics to a single song played on regular radio. And, oh, the look she gives me for listening to All Time Low could tear down the strongest of Gray Rock people.

I've never been bullied out of liking what I like, and I'll be damned if I let her do it now. I feel like a pathetic little worm for letting her make me feel bad for liking what I do, though. 

Mickey, bite me. I like ATL. I like One Direction. I like Hanson. I like some things played on the radio. I like what I like, and you have no right to tell me, in your narcissistic way, that I'm a lesser person for it. In fact, I'm stronger than you because I I don't tell you you're wrong for what MUSIC you listen to. What a pathetic life you live, stomping down people who aren't up to your standards. It's MUSIC, for crying out loud! Should I tell you you're not as good as I am because you drive a white car? It's that stupid.

Adding to this is her need to be the most knowledgeable person in the room. She's always right, you're always wrong, and if you don't take her advice, she gets this look... eyes closed, nose turned upward. The epitome of snob face. Add on top her tone of "you just killed my firstborn" and you feel the need to apologize and tell her she's right. I no longer follow these reactions with placating responses of adherence to her wisdom. That's one thing I've managed to conquer. I know what's best for me and my life, not her. 

She and I have never been close. Well, we were... until she started kindergarten. I was two. Since then, I've never met her standards. She so desperately wanted me to be exactly like her, but would freak out and scream "I'M AN INDIVIDUAL" if I was even remotely like her. I couldn't like a song she liked, I couldn't wear her old clothes, I couldn't do anything to please her. Our mom even takes my side on this. Mom knows it's all older sister's fault that we don't get along. One hundred percent on her. I've tried. I finally gave up. I'm me, and I'm happy with myself.

Mickey, I hope that one day you get help with your narcissism and become a good sister. Until then, you're going to be frequently offended as I shoot down your every criticism of me and who I am.

There Goes That

One step forward, ten steps back.

I bought my house and my puppies. Both I worked very hard to get, and both slipped through my over-stressed fingers in record time.

It was going so well, you know? I got everything I needed for two Golden puppies, I got a professional mover, and everything was just perfect. Then the other shoe fell. The house has no heater or air conditioner, leaving me with just a fireplace and a super outdated gas heater. Neither of which heat the house enough. With the never-ending winter, I was in pain, I was so cold. Even my eyeballs were cold! It was bad. Add on top of it that my work computer decided to go out, and my first week there was Hell on steroids. I drove back to my mom's house so I could get warm, and so I could get my work computer fixed. 

I went back to my house, and started having, like, ten to twenty panic attacks a day. They'd last anywhere from a few minutes, to a few hours. It was unbearable. So, I drove back to my mom's house, again. Somewhere in the mix, I had to surrender my puppies to the Humane Society because I couldn't handle them, either. I took on too much, too soon. They'll both go to great homes who can give them what I couldn't.

Now for the unexpected, and highly annoying plot twist...

I couldn't handle life, let alone work, so I'm taking a leave of absence for just under 2 months. I'm scheduled to go back to work as of June first, but I'm hoping to be back sooner. I feel like I'm leaving my team in a bind, which doesn't help my mental state, but I'm working hard, seeing my therapist twice a week throughout my leave, trying to get back on track quickly.

Last, and possibly the most painful... I'm selling my house. I lived there maybe eight days total. I feel like a freaking champ.

I'm not in a good place, these days. My meds were upped and therapy is intense, but I refuse to lose completely. My ability to work full-time came too slowly, and I worked too hard for it to lose it, now. There'll be another house, and probably another dog, but my job is something I can't replace. I may work at a call center, dealing with the usually disgruntled public, but I love it. 

It took me over ten years to get a job I love. Ten years of hard work. I'm not giving it up. That's all there is to it.

Positively Possible

Out with the bad, in with the good.

I've had a negative outlook on the world for as long as I can remember. I've always expected people to not like me, avoid me, and bully me. That was my life, though. Since the third grade, those have been my experiences with people. Even as an adult, I expect people to be that way. But the catch is... it's not always that way.

Expecting people to treat me poorly has actually made me treat them poorly. Having my guard up 24/7 means I'm all business with cashiers and I tend to take the smallest slight as a battle cry. This, as you can imagine, doesn't turn out well. Most of the time, anyhow. It's not something I do intentionally. It's just automatic due to conditioning. That's going to change. Starting last week.

A page I follow for the absolutely adorable Golden Retriever pictures, has actually become a kind of friend. The one running the page has some good common sense and wisdom. She(?) said something about eliminating the negative things that occupy too much space in my brain, and filling that space with positives. This is my new goal. 

How does this work? Let me tell you... I don't know. I've only been working on this for a week. I've taken one tiny event in my life-- one that has created disproportionate resentment-- and I've been picturing it dissipating (like when Voldemort turns to ash). When those pieces get higher, they turn to butterflies. So I'm not just trying to get rid of the thoughts, which let's face it, never works... I'm releasing it, and learning from it. 

It happened. I can't change that. What I CAN do is learn from it. I learned that, when you're dancing and you drop your prop, dont pick it up. I also learned that, when my teacher railed on me for it, she was young. She may not have known another way to explain how what I did wasn't protocol. And she, like many young ladies, was a perfectionist. That's ok. She's grown, I've grown. It's not worth holding on to.

Now to fill that space with positives. No, I'm not going to replace it with a good memory. That would be redundant, as those good memories already have their space. I'm going to find new things to put in that space. I don't know what, and I don't know when. I just have to look for anything positive, which requires me to actually LOOK for the positives that happen in my daily life. And if I'm going to FIND these positives, I have to let the wall down. I have to allow myself to open up a little and accept that, maybe people aren't so bad, after all. 

Never miss a post by following @BlogAboutMH86 on Twitter! (Maybe I should have gone into marketing...)

Repetition

So tired of this...

I just went to the urgent care, and I was about ready to scream. Those people were the worst I'd ever encountered at a so-called care facility.

This incision is obviously open. It's been bleeding and is pretty red. The nurses said "It looks like just some skin that's raised, which happens sometimes." So... my skin is now blood-red? Interesting. I didn't know there were people out there with blood-red skin. I must seek them out and join my people.

Just about every time I go to the urgent care, or the emergency room, for something that can't be seen right away, they look at my chart, see the Seroquel, and assume I'm being hysterical or imagining my problem. I have a psychiatric illness, so nothing I experience physically can be real, right? I can't have any problems like internal bleeding, because all I'm doing is imagining my pain.

This isn't the case for good doctors and facilities, though. There are the good ones out there. However, by far, most doctors and nurses believe that psychiatric patients are imagining or faking.

I'm livid. Absolutely burning with anger. I'm in PAIN here, and I was brushed off as just another crazy psych patient wanting attention.

When is mental illness going to gain the same status as cancer, asthma, or respiratory viruses? If a psych patient feels a lump, it's a freak out. If an asthma patient feels a lump, they get a biopsy. If the psych patient asks for a biopsy, we get "Well, if it'll make you feel better." Although, no lie, it's really fun to get the "oh" when they find out I was right.

I'm on the verge of angry-crying. 

People suck.

Also, the Blogger app has an issue and I'm about ready to throw my phone against a wall. When I make a new paragraph, it just keeps putting more and more spaces, so while I'm typing, it keeps going up and up, and I have to quickly erase the paragraph spaces before I completely lose what I'm doing. Adding insult to injury is going to earn these things a punch to the face. 

Big Changes

 ... and some things stay the same.

In the last two months, there have been some incredible changes in my life. Life-altering changes. Changes that I'm not fully prepared for, but will happen, anyhow.

In December, I went out to a podunk town to look at a house that was within my price range. I put in an offer, but someone else bid higher than I could go. I obviously didn't get it. The very next day, in the same town, on the same street, another house went on the market. It's bigger, has a bigger yard, but it doesn't have all the fancy upgrades. I loved it, anyhow, and submitted an offer. Fast forward, and I'm just waiting on news to close on it! I'm supposed to close by the end of February, so I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, biting my nails, and hoarding every box from Amazon I get.

Adding to that was me having major surgery just over a week ago. It was planned, and incredibly necessary, but not the greatest timing. My recovery is going so much better than I thought. Bonus: I didn't need any narcotic painkillers after the dose they gave me in recovery! That one dose left me so manic, I thought I would die. My wonderful neighbor dropped me off and picked me up, and I'm pretty sure I didn't shut up the whole 20-minute ride home. Sorry, K!

Something that hasn't changed is King Henry VIII's controlling temper tantrums. Unless you count getting worse as a change. So I upped my game. He's not amused, but I'm highly satisfied. 

My point in telling you all this is that, despite all these changes in my life, I've managed to keep myself level and employed. Two or three years ago, one of these things would have sent me into a tailspin so fast that I'd be on the floor in 2.3 seconds. Friends, followers... It really is possible to pull yourself up from the deepest, darkest depths of whatever Hell you're living in. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd be going on two years at a full-time job, let alone buying a house! 

Never judge where you are by someone else's life. I'm still learning that, but I hope this message gets to the right person. I had given up on life. I had given up on myself. All my friends were married, had graduated college, had a family... and here I was, living with my parents well into my 30s, no husband, no college degree, no life of my own. Until I stopped focusing on what I hadn't achieved, and started focusing on what I needed to feel useful. For me, that was a job working with the public.

Working with the public, for me, was making me focus on helping others, rather than focusing fully on myself. Focusing on yourself is the shortcut to misery. Helping others will give literally everyone a purpose. I have a wonderful friend who, through no fault of her own, cannot have a child. The one thing she really wants, and she can't have it. Instead of folding in on herself, focusing on her misery, she makes baby blankets for others. To be perfectly honest, it's her example that was a huge stepping stone for what I needed to do. I needed to stop focusing on my own misery and do something to help others.

I started a job at a local company's call center. It's a great company to work for (in most respects), I have wonderful co-workers, and I work from home. I'm in a department where I feel like the customer does all the hard work, but the occasional detective work makes me feel like I'm useful to others. Not to mention, I'm in the quietest department, so the stress level is quite low.

I'm not by any means saying you shouldn't focus on yourself, or do something for you. There needs to be that balance between helping you and helping others. For instance, I'm taking a medical billing and coding course that will help me expand my career options! For me, it's a win-win. I can finally finish an educational program, and I'll be helping others.

Sorry for the weird, scattered post. Sometimes, the thoughts just keep going. One thought leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another... If you know, you know.

I also have a new Twitter handle. Things happened and I lost the original one. Check me out there @BlogAboutMH86

Keep it real, my friends! Find the joy in your journey, don't compare yourself to others, and find your place.