Avoidant Or Just Shy?

Avoidant Personality Disorder (as defined in the DSM-IV)

A pervasive pattern of social inhibition, feelings of inadequacy, and hypersensitivity to negative evaluation, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by four (or more) of the following:

(1) avoids occupational activities that involve significant interpersonal contact, because of fears of criticism, disapproval, or rejection
(2) is unwilling to get involved with people unless certain of being liked
(3)shows restraint within intimate relationships because of the fear of being shamed or ridiculed
(4) is preoccupied with being criticized or rejected in social situations
(5) is inhibited in new interpersonal situations because of feelings of inadequacy
(6) views self as socially inept, personally unappealing, or inferior to others
(7) is unusually reluctant to take personal risks or to engage in any new activities because they may prove embarrassing

I'll be the first to deny that anything is wrong with me, but every one of these criterion describe me. The DSM-IV goes on to say that APD is often diagnosed with Social Phobia and Panic Disorder With Agoraphobia.

Now, I'm not necessarily afraid of going outside, but I make sure that nobody on my street is outside before I go out. The thought of (a) having to talk to someone, and (b) not looking good enough or (c) not having anything interesting to say keeps me inside more often than not.

I was talking with my mother about this after the Hellish experience at the coffee shop, and she made a valid point: With all I've endured with Brooke (the bully) and the crap shower of "friends" I had in high school, I just expect everyone to be critical and reject me as a person.

I was just reading an old post (Just Another Figure), and I realized that my issue with criticism goes deeper than I thought. I've talked before about how my sister never approves of anything I do, but even something so stupid as her saying, "I wouldn't wear it" to my new jeans, hurts.

Going through all my old posts, I've talked about a few of these criterion before. Like in Socially Inept. The title alone calls out criterion 6.

I had never heard of Avoidant Personality Disorder until someone sent me a link suggesting this may be an issue for me. Looking into it, I must (reluctantly) admit that it seems to fit. Heh heh... that rhymed!

I'm not going to claim this on my long list of issues until I talk to my therapist and psychiatrist. The less I have on it, the happier I am.

"Learn To Be Lonely"~ Minnie Driver

Picture Of Hell

Nope, nope, nope.

So, last night, my sister and I went up to where the Utah State Capitol Building is so I could take some pictures. Whenever we do this, we crank up the stereo and dance and sing along like a couple of teenagers. It's a blast! I got some great pictures this time thanks to the fact that the sun was still up.

After the Capitol, we swung by to get my dad and the three of us went to this coffee shop that my sister knows with a great view. The second we got out of the car, I could tell that this wasn't going to be a piece of baklava.

Everyone inside were the type of people who think bathing is overrated and everything they wear/eat/whatever has to be natural (including the carcinogens in their cigarettes). Thankfully, my sister said that the view was out back.

As we walked through the shop, I could hear the music in my head get tense (like you hear in movies before you get the reprieve). I was expecting to be able to breathe deeply when we got outside, but no... Outside were the people who, in high school, look down on anyone who isn't driving a brand new BMW. Needless to say, the music went something like, DUN, DUN, DUUUUUUN.

I wish I could say that the whole time, I went through unnoticed, but the fact of the matter is, I don't fit either group and everyone was staring with their faces on permanent judgment.

Long story short, I managed to get out of there pretty fast, and, better still, managed to hold in my total and complete breakdown until I got home.

Instead of a video, I thought I'd share some of my pictures :)

The Changes

Things need to change.

The last few days (and posts) have been rather depressing. I'm sure you could see that yourself since you're just that smart, but voicing your feelings is... well I just... I lost where I was going with this.

I've been trying to be optimistic, but that's just not me. I've been indulging  my depression and trying to make it slightly better with Gilmore Girls and more chocolate than anyone should eat in a year. This helps, but as I've said before, music is my life. Nothing can change my mood faster or more efficiently than music.

Sometimes, I get on YouTube and find a song I like, then make a sort of chain by clicking on one of the suggested videos. It can take some weird turns, let me tell you! I've done 90's, 80's, YouTubers, interviews, you name it, I've done it.

I did a chain today that started with the video below and ended with a documentary about kids who don't age. Yeah... weird. Anyway, this totally made my day because I am, as I'm sure you remember, a One Direction fangirl and Batman is my all time favorite superhero. Side note: I would love to know what the boys would think of this.

Enjoy!

"Dark Knight Changes"~ Eli Thomas (??)

The Outcast

I really just don't understand why people don't care.

I've had people tell me that I write about something that others are too afraid to, that I'm a good writer, and that they enjoy my posts. In the last month, I've had two people share my posts. Yep... it really affects you.

I was scrolling through my Facebook just now and saw one friend post that she has had over five hundred views on her blog in one day. I had nineteen yesterday. She thanked her friends and family for sharing and supporting and attributes her number to them. I'm not trying to downplay her or her blog because she is amazing and so is her blog! I'm just curious why I don't have people who care enough about me or what I have to say.

I have asked, begged, and even bribed people to share my posts, yet nobody ever does. I've threatened to kill my blog a few times because of lack of interest, and every time I see others get that much love, I still think about it. I mean, if you like a restaurant, you tell others about it. Why, then, do you read my post, like it, but not share?

It has been this way in everything I've ever done. I go to a birthday party for a friend and there are so many people there. I could invite fifty people to mine and three would show up. I just wish that people could understand exactly how much it hurts to be excluded by the people who are supposed to care.

I may not be the most intelligent or sociable person, but you will never find a better, more loyal friend.

"Through The Dark"~ One Direction

What Goes Down, Must Come Up

Anyone got a white glove?

I just cleaned my entire room. Why? Because I got seriously annoyed. Things today have just been one fail after the next. My wifi was out for awhile, so I couldn't really do anything, so I decided to run a few errands. This is where my adventure begins...

I went to mail a package for my friend in Oklahoma, but when I got there, I realized that I had forgotten her address. Side note: the guy working at the post office was unusually nice for a postal worker. He even smiled! Then, I went to the pharmacy to get a prescription that I was told had been called in on Monday. It wasn't there. You want to know what was there, though? An old woman who couldn't figure out that, standing right next to me and butting in on my business was far from OK! Most pharmacies have a "privacy rope" that instructs patrons to stand a certain distance back, but not this one.

When I got home, I called my doctor's office and was on hold for, get this, fifteen minutes before someone finally picked up! Then they deny having told me they would call it in on Monday and say that it should be there tonight.

Needless to say, I was hopping mad! So I did what I usually do when I have energy: I cleaned. Maybe I should seek a career in housekeeping...

Now I'm just cooling down with a Cherry Pepsi, pretzels, and Gilmore Girls. I really need a job...

"Something's Gotta Give"~ All Time Low (totally my spirit song at the moment)

Simple Things

Did I stammer?

My biggest pet peeve is when someone either doesn't listen to me or hears something wrong and doesn't bother to ask for clarification. This is a daily occurrence at my house. The worst part is when I'm already visibly upset and get misheard. This will send me into "stare at the ground and shut mouth" mode every time.

My family has seen me in this mode so many times that I'm sure they know I'm upset, but it's rare to hear a "what's wrong?" Is it really that difficult to see that I'm upset? No. Someone I've never met could see it. Granted, I don't always want to talk about whatever it is that's bugging me, but it never hurts to ask.

The absolute worst thing anyone could ever do is know that I'm upset and completely ignore the fact. Like I said, I may not want to talk about it right then, but don't just go on talking about the schedule or, my favorite, tell me personal things about people I don't know and don't care about.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm upset. I'm sending a good friend back to her home in England, my computer keeps kicking me out of whatever I'm trying to do, and I didn't get the job that I (strangely enough) actually wanted.

Word of advice: when you see someone agitated or upset, ask why. It's not difficult. You never know how a simple kindness will affect that person.

"Appreciated"~ Rixton

What Doesn't Kill You...

There comes a time when you must stop thinking as a victim and start thinking like a survivor.

This is something I have said for quite a while, but have a hard time applying to myself at times. Most of the time, I don't think about my illness, but sometimes I just feel like the universe screwed me.

After nine months of working with my therapist (still the best one in the world!!!), I finally accepted my illness as a part of me, rather than a defining quality or even a separate entity. This was huge! Then came the diagnosis of PTSD. I'm still in Egypt on that (denial= the Nile), but every now and then it hits me in the face and I can't ignore it.

Fun example: A few years back, someone who I had always seen as this strong, indestructible person wound up in a coma. Side note: this is incredibly difficult for me to write. I rushed to the hospital where I saw this pillar of strength lying on a table with a breathing tube down the throat and tubes attached all over. For eight days, I went to the hospital and sat by the bed, praying for this person to not only survive, but to come back normal.

This story has a happy ending, but the image of that person on the table will forever haunt me. It intrudes my thoughts and turns dreams into nightmares.

Back to my point... When things keep getting piled on, it's easy to sit and pity yourself. I look at others who seem confident, have careers or families, or have loads of people who like them and I feel like, if I didn't have Bipolar Disorder or Anxiety that I would be just like them. I blame my circumstances for pretty much everything wrong in my life.

Feeling like a victim is OK on occasion, but making it a habit isn't. People always tell me how strong I am and I usually shut it down because I feel that my illnesses make me weak. The truth of it is, however, if you are living with a mental (or physical) illness, you are strong! If you're still breathing at the end of the day, you are a survivor!

"Stronger"~ Kelly Clarkson

Can't Think... Too Tired

Dear sleep,

I'm sorry we fought. I miss you. Please come back.

Sincerely,
Me


Have you ever had a night where you can feel every single stupid second pass? Where every tick of the clock kills your hope just a little more? This has been my last few days.

Sleep is crucial for everybody's health and well-being, but when you're on a medication that is supposed to knock you out... I've been practically catatonic. Especially fun at my interview last Wednesday.

I'm sure everyone around loves when I don't sleep seeing as how I get cranky and overly sarcastic. The really obnoxious thing is that, what people don't seem to understand is, when I'm cranky, it's not because of my Bipolar. Everyone has moods. Everyone has bad days. Just because I have an illness that messes with my brain and moods, doesn't mean every single mood is because of that. If that were the case, every single person on the planet would have the diagnosis.

The really fun part for me is the total and complete lack of coordination. My mind isn't in sync with my body. Half the time, I have no idea what I'm doing. I tried washing my hair with conditioner this morning, then tried to blow it dry with my brush. It took me at least a minute of trying to turn it on to figure out that I was holding the wrong thing. I wish I was kidding.

Well, since my brain isn't working, I'm going to leave it here.

In honor of The 4th of July...
"Made in America"~ Toby Keith

Politics, Anyone?

Self discovery is annoying sometimes...

For as long as I can remember, I have had panic attacks when I get angry or try to stand up for myself. It's not a pretty sight and it just makes the situation worse.

Fun example: A few years back, I got the front end of my car taken off by an imbecile who... well I'll spare you the details. ANYWAY... needless to say, I was raging! I got out of the car, already shaking, and when he tried to blame me, I started shouting and eventually got to a place where I couldn't do anything.

I have finally figured out why. My entire life, I have been punished in some way or another when I would get angry. At home, well, let's just say my father has never been "daddy." (Don't you dare let your thoughts wander down Abuse Alley!) At school, Brooke and her lemmings would just egg it on and when I'd get home in a bad mood... Not to mention the school psychologist who literally locked me in her office and cut me off from any social interaction.

I learnt that anger is an emotion that was punished at a very young age. Yay epiphany...

Now with all the ridiculous political crap that's going on, I get pretty upset just looking on Facebook or Twitter. There are accounts on Twitter who have made it their mission to end bullying. Kudos! However, now with the SCOTUS decision, these people seem to think it's alright to bully anyone who supports traditional marriage. I'm going to say this once...

Free speech is not limited to one point of view. Support for traditional marriage is OK! Support for LGBT marriage is OK! Not supporting one or the other is also OK! I promise.

Life would be so much less irritating if there weren't so many people who are perpetually offended. I hate politics because there is yes and there is no. I try not to get involved, but this one is getting beyond ridiculous. If you don't make your profile look like a bag of Skittles spilled, suddenly you're homophobic.

I've got friends all over every imaginable spectrum. I don't care what your preferences are, what colour your skin is, or what religion you are or aren't... I respect people. The only label anyone should ever be given is "person."

Well... that took a very different turn than I intended... I'm going to end it here.

This song has been stuck in my head for days!
"Appreciated"~ Rixton

The Pedal's Down

Well, that was telling...

Have you ever had something happen that reminds you of something you feel? Not sure what I mean? Allow me to explain...

Today, while driving, there was a car that had been creeping up on me (more like going ten over the limit) who decided that the yellow light meant "floor it so you don't have to wait." This left me the only car waiting at the light (since I'm apparently the only driver in the state who follows the road rules).

As I was waiting, quite a few cars started piling up at the light going the opposite direction. There were enough of them that they got the straight and left turn light first.

So I'm sitting there with all these cars coming right at me, and I'm thinking, "Lovely. I'm sitting here alone while everything is coming at me."

I've felt like this more times than I care to think about. It just seems like everyone is passing me in life and when crap shower hits, I'm left to deal with it myself. This year's high school graduates are ten years younger than I am. Most of them are going to college, or at least have some kind of plan. I've got people I know who are five years younger who are married, live in their own place, or have graduated college and have careers.

I've heard people say, "Never judge your chapter one to some else's chapter ten," but I'm on chapter twenty-eight and I've got none of those things people on chapters twenty-five or even eighteen have.

Things just seem to be spinning out of control lately. I lost my job, my independence (thank you, wrist), and the one person who has ever called me "best friend." Not to mention, people have tried to start arguments on Twitter. Hate to burst baiter's bubbles, but I won't. Arguing with strangers online is pathetic and a desperate cry for attention. If you want my attention, just say hi! I've got enough negativity in my life, I don't need yours.

Basically, I feel like I'm losing control.

"No Control"~ One Direction

The Struggle Is Real

Huh?

So, I had my appointment with my psychiatrist a couple days back and we upped my medication. Doubled it, actually. I started the new, higher dose last night and I'm doing my best to function.

I slept for thirteen hours last night and only got up because I thought it was a bit pathetic to still be in bed at eleven o'clock. I wish I'd just stayed there because I've been freakishly tired the whole four hours I've been up. My brain isn't loving this new dose, either. I'm having trouble with the whole, words-putting-into-sentence-doing. Fun example: I had to retype the word "into" six times because I kept hitting the wrong keys. I also just had to fix "fun" because I spelt "fen," instead.

I went through this when I started the medication initially and my body adjusted fairly quickly. I'm hoping the same thing will happen as the dose continues to get raised.

Since I can't think of anything else to say on that, here's just a couple of reminders...

• You can sign up for email notifications so that when I post, Blogger sends you an email. That's not going to stop me from posting it everywhere, but it could potentially be easier for you.
• I'm on Twitter. My Twitter handle... name... thingy... is @AROTBEblog.
• Facebook group here (hope that actually works). Side note: I hate that Facebook is 99% politics now, so please keep all of that out.
• You are all fabulous!

I'm too tired and not functioning enough to find a relevant song...
"Courtesy of The Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American)"~ Toby Keith

My Daily Road

I hope I'm not kicking myself in the butt here...

Group interviews are the bane of my existence. I've been to a few and every time I get back to my car and practically break down. The whole time, I'm sitting there smiling and pretending to have an ounce of confidence while attempting to keep my breathing in check and mentally willing my heart to keep some sort of regular rhythm.

Not to say that interviews aren't a condoned form of torture in general, but for anyone with anxiety, they're pure hell. Add the group aspect and not even a heavy dose of Xanax can help.

I seem to have an incredible knack for making people believe that all is well when all I really want to do is scream and pace. This comes in handy on occasion (like when I do a group interview for a job that I really want!), but it doesn't really help when I'm trying to convince a psychologist that I'm really dying inside.

The socially accepted sadism happened five hours ago and I'm still trying to get out my anxious energy. Ok, the interviewers were really nice and kept the pressure to a minimum, but the whole social anxiety thing always takes over. It even takes over when I have to go out to my therapist's office.

I lost track of my point... SO! Releasing anxious energy... I've always been fidgety, but when I'm trying to hold it together, I try to sit still, but it always comes out my hands or feet. I tend to tap my foot or wring my hands. When I interviewed for my last job at the school, when I walked out, my hands were bright red and incredibly sore. In public places, I usually just hold on to my worry stone, but at an interview, it would look really bad. 

I'm having a freakishly hard time finding a song to go along with this topic, so you get this...

"Every Road"~ The Maine

Actions & Reactions

That was not fun.

I told you about my new medication and the struggles that came with. Nothing has changed there, but last week, I found out something the hard way: Seroquel does not mix with prednisone.

Story: I was also blessed with asthma and severe allergies. These two things often make it difficult to breathe. When this happens, my doctor puts me on a few days of prednisone (steroids help calm everything down- contradicting much?). Well, about three hours after my first dose, I got super dizzy and my vision got all blurry. That, for me, is a migraine.

I thought this was just my typical Thursday (migraines are pretty common in my world) and didn't think anything of it. The next couple of days were the same: take pills, get migraine. Four days in a row is abnormal, so I asked my mom (blurry vision... can't read) to read the side effects of Seroquel. She found that it could interact with steroid medications.

Ah-HA!

Now, before you go judging my doctor, I was the one who failed to update my medication list, so he didn't know what I was taking.

I have a nasty habit of not reading those ridiculously long information inserts the pharmaceutical companies put with medications because, well, I'd really rather not know every possible reaction. It gets disturbing. I've learnt my lesson.

Know your medications. Know them so well that you could go one-on-one with the chemists who created them. The more you know, the fewer unnecessary reactions you'll have to endure.

I'm kind of obsessed with this song right now.
"Wait On Me"~ Rixton

Blank

I'm so done with this.

When a dog is sick and has no hope of recovery, we euthanize it and call it humane. When a person is sick and has no hope for recovery, we medicate them beyond comprehension so they can live in the horrific pain they've so longed to be rid of. People always talk about how selfish suicide is, but honestly, how selfish is it of those forcing this person to live in agony?

As the school year ended, so did my job. My days are now filled with job hunting, watching a TV show with an obnoxious liberal agenda, and arguing with my father who can't seem to realize that he's my anger trigger. Let's just say, he's not the type of person who should have gotten married, let alone had children.

Side note: The more I realize my whole life has been a one sided relationship with my father, the more I realize why I can't get along with men in general. I just expect every one of them to be selfish.

Anyway, along with no job and a self-serving father to argue with, I also have a bum leg and two busted wrists. Needless to say, I'm feeling pretty worthless right about now. I can't exercise, so I've been gaining weight. I still have no friends in the valley. I'm, as always, the good friend who talks first (exceptions made for two). The only thing I want is for this to all be over.

I'm a Christian and firmly believe in an afterlife, but I don't even want that. I just want to stop existing altogether. I have no hope; I have no future.

What exactly did I do to deserve the hellish life I was given?

A Classical Matter

Why does this always happen?

It seems that, no matter how good a day has been, my mind is flooded with negative thoughts and memories at night. Tonight is particularly bad and I can't sleep because of it. I can't really say I'm thinking about this, but rather my brain seems to think I need to be reminded. The thing keeping me up tonight happened in high school.

We did a musical every year at my school and I was always in the orchestra pit. Most of the time, I can only remember how fun it was. We had a tradition-- every drink bottle we finished would be put on the ledge surrounding the pit and the goal was to get the whole thing covered. My friends and I put more than our fair share up there. We also had our "costumes" for each musical (crowns for Once Upon A Mattress, Cowboy hats for Oklahoma!, etc...). We had pit parties, pajama day for our Saturday rehearsals, and so many other fun things! Tonight, however, my brain has decided to remember Kathryn and Brad (I frankly don't care that I'm using real names here. Bullies have no right to identity protection).

Kathryn played string bass and Brad played trombone. Both sat behind me in the pit. Side note: I play clarinet. I honestly can't remember if this was my sophomore or junior year, but I want to say sophomore, but either way, it has stuck with me. See, they decided that, whenever we reached a poco rit. in the music, they would poke me with the bow and say "poco retard!" I tried a few times to passively wave it off, hoping that, by not reacting, they'd lose interest and quit doing it. They didn't. It went on from the first pit rehearsal all the way through closing night. All I could do was pretend not to notice then cry in the bathroom during breaks and intermission.

To this day, I get a minor panic attack when I'm playing a piece and I see poco rit. Every now and then, people ask why I don't play anymore. I give excuses like, "I don't have anyone to play with," or, more recently, "I busted my wrist," but honestly, I just get sick of being afraid of  basic music notations. I play a wind instrument. I can't afford to lose my breath.

I have no idea what I did to deserve to be their target. Even after the musical, I tried being nice to them, but they both treated me like something they'd stepped in. Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Was it Brooke? If any of my fellow Colts still talk to either of these two... people... any explanation would be appreciated. I'd even accept an "I don't remember, but I'm sorry."

Cliché, but I love this movement of this piece.
"K622- Allegro"~ Mozart

I Will Remember You, Bugs

(Clever opening line goes here)

All my life I've never really cared if people didn't like me based simply on what I like or what I wear. I got relentlessly made fun of in sixth grade because I loved Hanson, but I never once denied that I did just to please anyone. In seventh grade, I had this blue lipstick that I couldn't live without; I got snotty comments left and right, but I kept wearing it. Basically, I refuse to change anything about myself for the simple reason of "to please you." My entire existence has been validated by an eight-year-old-girl.

This may sound entirely trivial to you, but it meant the world to me. Yesterday, some of my girls had a One Direction book (mostly for the pictures since they can't really read yet), and every one of them said that they liked Niall-- all except one. When she said she liked Liam, the other girls were practically appalled! "How could you think he's cute?!" But she never backed down. She didn't care that her choices weren't popular, she held to her opinions and didn't let anyone or anything sway her.

This school year, working with these kids, I've learnt quite a lot.

• It doesn't matter where you come from, you'll always have a friend.
• A mental illness label doesn't mean a thing.
• No matter what bad things you think about yourself, someone else always has a different perspective.
• Everyone has bad days, but tomorrow is a brand new start.
• Your weight and dress size mean squat.
• The unconditional love of a child is the best feeling in the world!

Today was my last day with these monkeys. I just hope I get the opportunity to see them again next year.

"I Will Remember You"~ Sarah McLachlan

I'm A Bit Off

I've had a blank post open for four days trying to find something to write about. Right now, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get a post up. I've heard stories about how people stop taking their medications because they feel like the pills destroy who they are. I definitely understand now. My creativity and imagination have stalled and I don't even really want to write anymore. Well, I do, but I don't. Know what I mean? I'm most definitely not myself right now. Here is my best effort today...

Let the adventures begin!

So, I was finally able to get meds. I've been on them for about two weeks now, and I have no idea if they're working or not. Sounds weird, right? I mean, I've been on such a roller coaster for so long that I can't tell if I'm on my way down or if the medication is bringing me down to make things more even.

I'm still in that "body needs to adjust" phase so I'm constantly tired and just basically annoyed that I'm not really me at the moment. The really fun part is when I'm in the middle of something and I suddenly get so tired that I can't function. The recent rise in temperature (88f right now!) isn't helping matters any, either.

I was also lucky enough to get anxiety meds. Now, I've never been on anything for anxiety, so I don't really know much about them, but the one I got is apparently a controlled substance and I only get twenty pills per month. Each pill lasts only six hours. So basically, I have to hide ten solid days each month and can only be out for five or six hours the other days? I don't think so! If anyone knows of something I can take regularly instead of "as needed," please comment below.


"Reflection"~ Christina Aguilera

A Reckless Mistake

So...

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

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

• I danced as a kid, and all I ever wanted was to do a duet. When I finally talked my teacher into it, we practiced three times and it ended.
• I was in the wind ensemble for six years. I was last chair most of the time, but after my sophomore year of high school, I worked really hard and made second chair- not just in the school, but in the district orchestra! At the end of the year, I was hoping to get the class award for "most improved junior." I got "on her way to success." Yeah... that took no time or thought at all.
• I will bend over backwards to help someone, but when I ask for help, I get half-baked offers that are quickly forgotten. I asked my sister to paint the Batman logo on a pair of shoes I had. That was in October; I still don't have them back. She asked me to pick something up from a place that was closing in forty-five minutes. I was getting my hair done and didn't think I'd make it. After I was finished, I drove like mad to get there only to find she was already there and hadn't told me.
• I visited St. George last summer for a Blue Angels airshow. I have a friend down there who has been like a second mother to me for years. I told her I was coming down several months in advance and gave reminders between. When I was there, she said she was too busy and had other plans. (For those who don't know, St. George is about three hundred miles south of Salt Lake City. Not exactly walking distance.)

 I've never been the girl people think about and it has made me wonder if I'm important to anyone. I have absolutely no self-worth because people have made it known that they don't think I'm worth the time or effort.

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

"Polaroid"~ Imagine Dragons

Hello

"Hi. My name is Charmaine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


"It's Time"~ Imagine Dragons

Smoke, But No Mirrors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speechless

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

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

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

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

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

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


"Thank You"~ Dido

On The Hunt

"May the odds be ever in your favour."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Through The Dark"~ One Direction

My Personal Inferno

Aaaaaaaaand I'm a turtle.

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

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

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

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

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

An Obligation

Don't mind me. I'm no one.

For a very long time now, I've been the obligatory friend. If I call and you can't think of a good excuse fast enough, you hang out with me. If you think I can help you in any way, you might call, but probably not. If I offer help, you jump at it, say "we need to hang," and I don't hear from you until you need help again.

Sure, I've got friends I can text, but they're mostly in other states. The closest one is about half an hour away by freeway.

The last time I got invited to something besides someone's Facebook lash/jamberry/whatever-you're-selling party was a friend's wedding. That was four years ago. Side note: exception- I had a friend visiting from another state who invited me to hang every weekend she was here.

A few weeks ago, I helped out an old friend who needed something I had plenty of. As was expected, I got a "thanks" and a "we should get together" and then silence. Every other person who helps someone at least gets a public thank you on Facebook. The only time I get tagged in something is when I hijack my mom's page and tag myself.

I constantly see people talking about going to concerts, lunch, or movies and not once has anyone asked if I want to go. Side note: I'm literally sitting here crying while writing this. It hurts, more than people realize, and when something hurts that much, you start avoiding it. I've folded so far into myself that just the thought of talking to someone gives me a panic attack. Have I really been ignored so long that I no longer know how to interact with people?

Just once, I'd like someone to genuinely invite me to do something without me hinting that they should. No obligation, no ulterior motives.

I was thinking about this last night and actually got to a point where I was looking for inpatient facilities because my thoughts scared me so much. I texted the one person I knew who knows exactly how I feel, and like an opening in the clouds, he responded. I didn't know what to say when he asked if there was anything he could do because not many people genuinely ask me that, but he listened to (well, read) my senseless rants.

 Most people have the mentality of, "I don't need to worry because someone else will," and that's how people like me wind up alone. It just takes one to say, "I got you."

Yes, this again. Maybe you'll listen to the words this time.

"What If"~ Five For Fighting

The Avoidance Queen Returns

Social Anxiety Disorder as defined by the DSM-5 (found @ socialanxietyinstitute.org)

A.  A persistent fear of one or more social or performance situations in which the person is exposed to unfamiliar people or to possible scrutiny by others. The individual fears that he or she will act in a way (or show anxiety symptoms) that will be embarrassing and humiliating.

B.  Exposure to the feared situation almost invariably provokes anxiety, which may take the form of a situationally bound or situationally pre-disposed Panic Attack.  

C.  The person recognizes that this fear is unreasonable or excessive.

D.  The feared situations are avoided or else are endured with intense anxiety and distress.

E.  The avoidance, anxious anticipation, or distress in the feared social or performance situation(s) interferes significantly with the person's normal routine, occupational (academic) functioning, or social activities or relationships, or there is marked distress about having the phobia.

F.  The fear, anxiety, or avoidance is persistent, typically lasting 6 or more months.

G. The fear or avoidance is not due to direct physiological effects of a substance (e.g., drugs, medications) or a general medical condition not better accounted for by another mental disorder...

Copyright 2013, The American Psychiatric Association

This is me. I'm always afraid of doing or saying something stupid, I avoid social interaction as much as possible, I know it's excessive, and I've been doing this for years. Best part, I can't even handle the thought of going to something social.

This is on my mind right now, because in less than an hour, I have to leave to go to a group interview. A one-on-one interview is bad enough (Am I dressed properly? Will I say the right things? Is there something in my teeth?), but "group"? I'm freaking out!

For anyone who has been to a group interview, you know that you're all given an opportunity to speak (at least the one's I've been to). I'm a quiet person at the best of times. I don't usually speak unless absolutely necessary, and the more people there are around, the harder it is for me to open my mouth!

Anyway, back on topic... I'm basically the queen of avoidance. I avoid driving past places that remind me of traumatic events, even years after the fact. That (insert demeaning expletive here) lived in my neighbourhood, but I still manage to avoid its house more often than not. I take the long way round just to avoid places in this city that set off the anxiety. Side note: There are quite a few places. I may have to move to a different state if many more happen.

I know, I know... I use this song quite a bit, but it's perfect for this topic!

"Xiat"~ Trevor Moran

So Many Thoughts

This is hard...

I've been asked to write my story to post in someone else's blog (major cool, by the way!), and it's bringing things up that I really wish would just stay where I've kept them, so very well hidden.

I've been incredibly off lately. I've said and done things that are so far from my norm that I'm actually questioning myself. I don't like myself right now. I mean, not that I'm ever my own best friend, but it's much worse lately. Because of this, I'll be deleting and/or editing some recent posts. Actually, it's because some people got their knickers in a twist.

Time to be completely open... Yes, it annoys me that, as a white American, I'm not allowed to voice my pride in my ancestry. Everyone should be allowed to be proud of themselves for who they are and where they come from. Being proud of being Dutch/Irish/French/pretty much anything without an actual skin tone, does not in any way qualify me as racist. If you think it does, then you need to reevaluate your definition. To be honest, if I was anything besides white, nothing I say would be considered racist. You know it's true, so suck it up and move on.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programme.

Not one single paragraph in this post corresponds with any other, so this would be a good time to say that it's been fun, but I can't concentrate any longer. Here's a song...

"Church Of The Poison Mind"~ Culture Club

A Broken Record

This post has been edited for those too sensitive to accept harsh truth.

I want to give up.

I have a tendency to daydream about things that I know will never happen, but lately, everything has been becoming real. In these daydreams, I'm smart, funny, and living in England (usually somewhere in Yorkshire), but the truth of it is, I'm none of those things and I'll never even get to visit my beloved country.

Just the realization of this has made me a super-pessimist this morning. I'm crabby, there's a strange man in my room (don't go there...), and I have to move half my stuff around just so he can fix my carpet. So, yes, I'm sitting here typing in my pajamas while some random guy is working on my floor. It's kinda funny once you imagine it, but I'm still crabby.

Not just the sudden, stabbing realization of every dream I've ever had going down the drain, it's just knowing that I'll never have the normal life. I'll never be able to live on my own, I'll more than likely never get married, basically, I'll never be what society sees as "normal," so what's the point?

Every day, I see people with severe cognitive impairments who rely on others for everything, and it just about kills me to know that I'm, in a way, exactly the same. What's worse is that this country doesn't care. I can't work anywhere near as much as it would take to sustain myself, but if I lived in Puerto Rico and said I couldn't speak English, my disability claim would be approved in no time (no joke or exaggeration). If I were a ten year old child whose parents said I had ADHD, same deal, but because I'm an adult doing the best I can with my circumstances, I get denied. I'm drowning, and if America doesn't care, why should I?

In my denial letter, it listed every single one of my diagnoses and then said that I can still perform normal work with no accommodation. Mind you, it listed "social anxiety and panic disorder." Nope. I don't need accommodation...

"Strong Enough To Break"~ Hanson (Again, I hate fan-made lyric videos because they're usually wrong, so just listen.)

Psychiatric "Care"

I give...

When I finally got Medicaid (despite not being single and pregnant), I was so excited because I hadn't been able to see a doctor regularly in over two years, but now it's nothing but frustration.

The psychiatric clinic I finally found in my area told me that Medicaid required an evaluation before beginning treatment, so I wasted two hours and did as I was told. Afterward, I was told that the psychiatrists needed to review the notes from the evaluation before I could be "assigned to a psychiatrist." A week later, I got a call to set up an appointment with the doctor they deemed best for me. I took the first available appointment which wasn't until, get this, a month and a half later!

I've been basically off any form of medication for months, and they want me to wait even longer?! I called the God-sent free clinic I had been going to and asked if they could give me anything to get me through. The dim-witted "doctor" they gave me to (once the one I had seen moved on) could not grasp the concept that, no, I hadn't filled the prescription she gave me last time because I told her countless times that I'd already been on that and it didn't work (run on sentence...)! So what does she do? She calls in the same freaking thing!!!

I've missed so much work in the last couple of months that I'm actually afraid of losing my job. All because nobody seems to understand that when someone says they need medication now, they need it now.

Suicide rates in the US, Utah specifically, have been rising for years, and this is a big reason why.

"Rescue"~ The Summer Set

Not Qualified

Wait, what?

I've been looking for a job for the summer, and it's absolutely ridiculous. Every part-time job I look at, requires at least two years of college (or similar experience...?). Some say they require a bachelor's degree for an entry level position! To do what?! Type things into a computer?!

Then there's the language issue. It's considered discrimination to say "must speak English," but not discrimination to say "must be bilingual Spanish?" Umm...

I've started looking at writing jobs just to see what's out there. Without a degree in journalism, I'm basically stuck with social media and apparently must "eat, sleep, live social media." Not quite sure how you eat social media...

Basically, without a Ph. D. and fifty years experience, I'm stuck with retail or call centers. I've done my time at both. I've lost it at both. I've quit both (a few times). I can't handle them because of all the people. Even the school is too social for me.

I'm at a loss. When in the process of applying for disability benefits, they pose the question, "is there any other type of work you can do?" The answer is technically yes, but without the degree and experience, I'm not even qualified to file paperwork.

"Take This Job And Shove It"~ Johnny Paycheck

What A Day

Yesterday was rather interesting...

If you read yesterday's post, you'll know that I'm still manic. As such, Most of yesterday was a bit of a mystery. I couldn't handle it and had to call my mother home from work.

Once I finally managed to stop crying, we went to get something to eat. When we got back, my dad came up with some research he had done on naturopathic remedies. I'm always skeptical of things like that because, well, I'm not a hippie (that's how I see it anyway. I know some of those things actually work for some), but he mentioned this therapy light thing that I've heard about before and I got pretty excited. I've seen them and talked to people who use them and it's all good news, so we went to get one.

Then we moved on to possibly my favorite thing on the planet: books. A while ago, I was looking through the bookstore and found a couple of Anxiety books I wanted but couldn't get right then. Well, I finally got them! "Overcoming Social Anxiety and Shyness" by Gillian Butler, and "The Anxiety Workbook" by David A. Clark, PhD & Aaron T. Beck, MD.

As you can imagine, this sent me from "crying and irritable" straight to "flying high," but the day wasn't over just yet. The Sizzler was helping the Salt Lake City Police Department with their "Cops for Kids" fundraiser. Side note: We didn't actually know this before deciding to go there. The parking lot was packed! I could just imagine the crowd inside and it automatically sent alarms to my brain. When we got in there, we were told exactly what this was. The cops would be our wait staff and all the tips would go to the Juvenile Justice Centre. It was actually a lot of fun (mostly)!

Being out that much and around that many people is never a good idea for me, so all through dinner, I had the ever lovely psychomotor agitation. When I finally got home, I turned on my Wii and started boxing. Seriously, if you have energy, box. Tennis is a good idea as well!

Oh! I almost forgot to mention that I'm actually going to look for a naturopath. Yep... the most skeptical girl on the planet is going to try not being hopped up on medication. This'll go well...

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day, so instead of my usual musical addition, there's this:


From "Schindler's List"

 

Don't Stand Out, Don't Fit In

This post has been edited because it was mean. I'm sorry.

I'm still manic, so this could get weird...

It's no secret that I have trust issues. I've been betrayed, stabbed in the back, and abandoned by those who supposedly care about me, and it's happening again. Bright side: She told me.

The therapist I've been working with is the best therapist I've ever been with, but she's an intern and graduating next month. I've been working with her since late August of last year and I didn't actually open up until February. That's about six moths of seeing her every week and having to talk about things I don't even admit to myself. I'm not exactly excited to start over again with someone new.

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

One time, during session, I got rambling about how whenever I tell people about something I like and suggest that they check it out, I almost always get something along the lines of "that sucked." Music is my world and I don't stick to just one genre, I listen to all types (except metal and rap because, well, those aren't music). I have more music than most people even know exists because I listen to different things.

I've got some people in my life who won't accept anything I suggest, calling it "stupid," or saying, "yeah, no" and moving on. These things mean something to me and they've just been brushed off.

I have always been incredibly accepting of individuality, so these people irritate me to no end. "Why do you still talk to them," you ask? Because I'm the good friend. Always have been, always will be. I don't care how you dress, what music you listen to, or what your religious beliefs are, I like you for you. If you have something that means so much to you that you want to share it with me, I listen. All I ask is that you do the same for me, because one day, I will get fed up.

"Weird"~ Hanson (try actually listening to the lyrics)

Blame It On The Train

DSM IV on mania/manic episodes: (Side note: This has since been updated in the DSM 5, but I don't have access to that right now.)

A distinct period of abnormally and persistently elevated, expansive, or irritable mood, lasting at least 1 week (or any duration if hospitalization is necessary).

• During the period of mood disturbance, three (or more) of the following symptoms have persisted (four if the mood is only irritable) and have been present to a significant degree.

1. inflated self-esteem or grandiosity

2. decreased need for sleep (e.g., feels rested after only 3 hours of sleep)

3. more talkative than usual or pressure to keep talking

4. flight of ideas or subjective experience that thoughts are racing

5. distractibility (i.e., attention too easily drawn to unimportant or irrelevant external stimuli)

6. increase in goal-directed activity (either socially, at work or school, or sexually) or psychomotor agitation

7. excessive involvement in pleasurable activities that have a high potential for painful consequences (e.g., engaging in unrestrained buying sprees, sexual indiscretions, or foolish business investments)

This may sound like fun or even a nice reprieve from the depressive side, but I promise you, this is pure Hell. If you didn't get it (because I didn't exactly say before), the symptoms in bold are the ones I usually get. Allow me to expand:

Decreased need for sleep is pretty straight forward. It's not necessarily insomnia, it's just that I don't need sleep. I can get two or three hours a night and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day long. However, when I can't sleep, I don't have the luxury of being able to get up and do something since I still live at home. So instead, I toss and turn all night and get freakishly irritated at my lack of sleep.

Again, more talkative is straight forward. I tend to only talk when absolutely necessary, but when I'm manic, it's vocal vomit. Ask a simple question and you'll get a long answer along with anything else that comes to my head.

Racing thoughts are beyond annoying. It's like looking straight ahead at a passing train and trying to really see anything. It's all a blur. People often ask me what I think about, but I never have an answer. Imagine for a minute... There are thousands of sticky notes on that train. It's flying by at a hundred miles an hour. Now, try to grab just one sticky note.

Distractibility is probably the most anno

Psychomotor agitation is difficult for some to understand. It's not exactly a household phrase, so not understanding it is, well, understandable. It's basically useless movement. It's not getting you anywhere or anything; you're just moving. I've always had a problem with paper. Give me a piece of paper and you'll never see it again because I'll fold it, roll it, whatever. I recently got a worry stone on my therapist's advice. It helps. Really. A lot.

Pleasurable activities with potential painful consequences. Yeah, there are way more options than the examples they give. I promise. I used to go on spending sprees. That has gotten me in quite a bit of trouble, but I'm broke now and no one in their right mind will give me another credit card. Now I eat. I have a huge box of Goldfish that I've had for just over a week and it's already more than half gone. The Girl Scout cookies? Gone. Any candy in the house? Gone. The salads? Haven't touched them. Told ya I don't eat anything healthy!

This in and of itself isn't fun, but add my anxiety on top of it and you get someone who can't get herself dressed and out of the house, let alone work. I just can't. I tried today. I got up, showered, dressed, I even put on makeup and drove to the school, but when I got there, I couldn't make myself go in. I hate that. I love my job and those kids, but my stupid brain is keeping me from doing anything productive.

I know it's Tuesday, but I thought about writing this yesterday, so it counts.
"Manic Monday"~ The Bangles

Words Escape Me

100th post! Woot!

I talked to a lady today who shocked me. I have more or less known this lady for ten years, but I never really talked with her. I knew her son in high school and became friends with her (far too beautiful) daughter a few years later, but that's about it. She showed me something that I have been searching for since, well, always.

Knowing my history with her kids, she asked what I've been up to. We talked about work, photography, and a few other things. We talked about how talented her son is (best pianist I've ever seen!) and the behavior of the artist which morphed into my writing. When I talk about my blog, inevitably the question of what it's about arises. I'm really good at avoiding this because I'm still uncomfortable talking about all this. For some strange reason, I told her the name of it. Call it uncontrollable anxiety, social overload, or vocal vomit; fact is, I said it.

What she did next threw me for a serious loop. She asked if I had Bipolar. An understandable question at this point, but then she started telling me how she understood because she has this and other things that run in her family. At this point, I'm on auto-pilot with nodding, smiling, and interjections of "yeah" because I couldn't believe that she neither looked at me funny nor stepped back in self-protection.

She didn't assume anything, she understands what I'm going through, and she wasn't afraid to tell me about how she understands. She talked about these things running in her family like you'd talk about how red hair runs in yours. No fear, no judgment, no stigma. I'm still in awe. This woman is my new hero!

"What If"~ Five For Fighting (I know I use it a lot, but I like it)

It Works!

I must share!

Last time I saw my therapist, she told me about a technique she learnt from an article written by a neurologist on how to get better sleep.

Background: A big part of what happens when you sleep is that the blood recirculates throughout the body. You legs are the biggest part of that process. What this neurologist (wish I knew who!) suggested was to sit flat against the wall with your legs straight up (yes, up) for thirty minutes right before bed. No getting up for water, bathroom, anything.

Well, I (as usual) was having a hard time getting to sleep last night thanks to my ever running brain, so I decided to try this. I grabbed a book (I actually had to search for one that didn't include murder and the subsequent investigation), got sideways on my bed (because I have no floor-to-wall space), and propped my legs up. Granted, I only made it twenty minutes before one of my feet went numb, but I still noticed a difference!

Now, I didn't get to sleep any faster, but the few hours I got were much more restful! This neurologist did a study with people doing this every night and concluded that those who did, felt like they got two whole hours more sleep than those who didn't, even though they may have gotten the same number of hours. Basically, the people who did this felt more rested.

Now, since I woke up in such a good mood, I give you a blast from my high school past!

"Accidentally In Love"~ Counting Crows

BOOM!

Told ya.

I knew I was going to break down eventually, and apparently that's today. I have quite a load pushing down on me and today was the last straw. This camel's back is officially broken. I've been trying to be more upbeat and look at the bright side, but I think it's contributing to the pressure, so I'm going to get this all off my chest...

Lately, I've been having some major sleep issues. I can't sleep without drugging myself with Benadryl. Even at that, I'm not really sleeping thanks to the overwhelmingly terrifying nightmares. I've got two recurring nightmares that really get to me and they've both made their appearances near nightly. I'll spare you the details (mostly because I don't want to think about it that much), but I'm not the biggest fan of public bathrooms or fire.

It's been such great weather here and it plummeted today. I think this is the most snow we've gotten since winter 2013/2014. It's dreary and depressing. Bad weather is a double hit on me. It's not just dark and depressing, it physically hurts. I had major surgery on my leg a few years back where the doctor had to break it. Long story short: I have a metal rod and a few screws in it now. So when the barometer drops, anyone who has had a broken bone or almost any surgery knows the pain.

I've got a few other things that I won't go in to because, well, this would be the world's longest blog post, but today just put the pin to the balloon. With the snow comes indoor recess for the kids. Indoor recess is my own personal Hell in the best of conditions, but I had to train someone today. Don't get me wrong, she's a super nice lady, but the only perk to indoor recess is my alone time (little as it may be). Side note: I also didn't feel like talking or smiling already today, and I exhausted everything I could muster in an hour.

So basically, I shut down. Driving home in the snow while tired and emotionally drained was less than fun. So I'm going to put some music on and hide.

"Heartbeat"~ Mayberry

Tried. Failed. Next?

Bite me.

Have you ever read those articles about how exercising when you're depressed can help? And have you ever actually attempted exercising when you're depressed? If so, how did that go? For me, it's actually quite infuriating.

Exercise doesn't take many brain cells and it allows your mind to run free (at least the exercises that people not obsessed with the gym can do), so everything I've held down starts to come up along with everything I didn't even know I've held down. It's especially angering because I've struggled with weight management for a few years and I want the weight to all come off after ten minutes of walking. Side note: After that ten minutes, I reward myself with cookies. Not the best idea, but sure tasty! Side note to the side note: I don't eat a lot, but nothing I eat has any level of nutritional value. Hence the weight struggles.

Now, when I'm manic and have all that excess energy and I've already cleaned the entire house with a toothbrush, I'll get out my step exercise... thing (I don't know what it's called. Judge me.) and spend anywhere between two and thirty minutes at it and I'm perfectly fine.

Side note: I've got a cut on my arm and have no idea where I got it...

I had a point, I just don't remember it... Oh yeah! Not everything that professionals say is going to work for everyone. I've tired just about everything "they" say to do and most of it doesn't work for me. On the flip side, what works for me may not work for you. I'd be interested to know what does and doesn't work for you (I know that most people won't leave comments here, but I'm gonna ask anyway.), so let me know!

"Physical"~ Olivia Newton-John

ROTFL

I'm kind of tired of talking about my problems, so I'm just going to tell you some stories that make me laugh just thinking about them.

Last Friday, I was waiting for my mom to come home. I usually look out my bedroom window which faces the driveway. Well, I saw her car there and she had the door open but hadn't yet gotten out. Well, I put my shoes on and went to open the door not knowing that she had since walked up. I open the door and screamed! I literally screamed! I wasn't expecting her to be there! It scared me half to death and I couldn't stop laughing for like half an hour.

Side note: This next one didn't happen to me. One of my teachers in high school told it to the class and I thought it was genius!

There was a girl who was having a hard time getting a date to the upcoming dance. It was girl's choice and every guy she asked already had a date. One day, as she's walking into the building, she tripped and fell. Her skirt flew up revealing, well, everything. She simply stood up, started laughing, and said, "If that doesn't get me a date, I don't know what will!"

Lastly, my mother tends to not hear what someone actually says. Especially when she's concentrating on something. One day, we were at the grocery store and they had their people with samples out on the floor. When she saw one, she said, "I wonder what they're taking samples of." Confused, I asked, "You mean giving?" Her reply? "You're Satan." To this day she doesn't know exactly why she said it, but she thinks she heard someone say "pieces of Satan." Side note: No. She will never live this down! It's possibly the greatest thing she's ever said!

I've always believed that if you can't make fun of yourself, you have no right to make fun of anyone or anything else. Even though some situations may not seem funny in the moment, we often look back and laugh.

Possibly the best song this man has done!
"Word Crimes"~ Weird Al Yankovic

I'll Pencil It In

Explosion is imminent...

A couple of weeks ago, my therapist told me something that honestly weirded me out a bit. She told me that she schedules time to worry. She told me that, during this time, she over dramatizes and forces herself to actually worry. She said she does it because worrying at work is not at all helpful, but she's a natural worrier and needs to release it so it doesn't build up. This got me thinking... What if I designated a time to cry?

I can't even remember how many times I've said or typed that I don't cry in front of people. My therapist actually called me on it once. We were talking about something and I started fighting it back, as per usual. Well, it builds and builds and comes out all at once along with the anger and sadness that I push down along with the tears. This is never a pretty sight, and it feels much worse than it looks. So maybe, just maybe, if I set a time to release all the pent up tension, this wouldn't happen.

Now comes the hard part... how exactly do I schedule that? I mean, right now I'm in a fantastic mood. Then, I'm always in a good mood when I get new music. Side note: Ships Have Sailed is an amazing band with two incredible albums! Go check em out! It's not like I can just decide to be upset any more than I can decide to get out of a funk and be happy. Then it hit me: music. I've got more music than most people even know exists. There's got to be something that can depress me enough to get it out, right? Side note: As December Falls is also an amazing band with some incredible music! Check them out, too!

So now my mission is to go through my iPod and find things that may work. If you don't hear from me within a week, call the authorities; I may have forgotten to eat. Well, that, or I just have nothing to say...

And now, I give you my new obsession...

"Midnight"~ Ships Have Sailed

A Two-fer!

I've got two things I want to address today, so this could get weird...

Point number one: watch what you say.

I've posted before about how my sister is the conductor of the judgment train, and this has been really getting to me the last couple of days. Thinking about it Monday night got me hyped up and Tuesday was far from a good day.

Now, the thing that got to me most was something she said the day she, my mom, and I went to the opera. No joke, she stepped out of her car, looked up at me, and started in on what I was wearing. "Are you really wearing that? People wear formals to this thing." Yes, yes they do, but this was a matinee and it's not like I was wearing jeans. I was wearing a nice shirt, nice skinny pants, and nice boots. My hair was done nicely, and I looked just fine according to everyone else. Now, she was also wearing pants along with her husband's tie and suit coat. Side note: if you're going to wear a waist belt at all, let alone one with tie strings that hang pretty low, don't wear a man's tie. It looks stupid. Umm... how was her outfit any better than mine? Oh yeah, because she's her, and I'm not.

I've never done anything that reaches her approval, and I never will. I can't tell if she's ridiculously narcissistic, or incredibly insecure. Either way, when she starts saying things like, "we need to get you married," or, "if you dressed a little nicer, you might attract a man," all I hear is, "you're not good enough."

I wish I could say that she was the only one whose words stab me, but the fact is, so many others who don't realize it have done the same. I had a friend who once told my boyfriend that I don't have a bathing suit because I have stretch marks. I had told her that in confidence, and she humiliated me. Another friend who I had told about my diagnosis before I really came out with it decided that it was okay to tell her husband. When I went to their house, I was completely bombarded. He was talking about it and all I could do was stand there in disbelief. Side note: if you've read my post Come Again?, (<-- that's a link), that's where I heard the, "I've never seen you be, you know, Bipolar."

Fact is, I've been torn down and betrayed by the people closest to me who are supposed to be the ones who care the most. And people wonder why I have trust issues...

"Smiling Faces Sometimes"~ The Undisputed Truth

Point number two: perpetuation of stigmas.

So many times I've talked about not blaming your mental illness for your actions, and it seems to go unnoticed. I was chatting with someone on Twitter last night and I thought I'd punch him when he said "I had a Bipolar freak out today." Are you serious?! No. You freaked out today, made people afraid of you, then blamed your circumstances instead of taking responsibility for your actions.

That's right, I just said that we need to take responsibility for our actions instead of blaming our circumstances. People are afraid of those with mental illnesses because of how we act and subsequently blame the illness.

The really irritating part is how it's addressed in the court system. Claim mental illness made you do it, get off with court mandated therapy.

Your Bipolar does not make you rude, hot tempered, or violent. That's all you. I am completely on my own, no medications at all, and I manage to not hit people. It's called decorum people; use it!

There are signs all over the classrooms I work in that say "You are responsible for you." If seven year old kids can understand this concept, it shouldn't be that difficult for adults.

"If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month." - Theodore Roosevelt