Make It Stop

I’m so beyond over this.

Story:

Since my mom had surgery, she’s not allowed to bend over, making it my job to carry in groceries. The jackass narcissist is always asked to help. He never does. Today, I let him have it.

He actually made it out to the driveway, this time, but instead of helping me carry in some heavy stuff, he decides to stare at a new scratch on my car. I’d had it. I went off with “Why are you even out here? You’re not helping!” And, oh, the response. This was pathetic, even for him. He says, and I quote, “I am helping. I’m looking at this scratch.”

Are you FREAKING kidding me?!?! How the hell is looking at a scratch even come close to helping carry things in?!?!

That was it. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore. I exploded, pointing out that he never helps. That is, unless it benefits him. Of course, he was denying it all, because a narcissist never does anything wrong.

Enter: my mother.

She’s more than happy to rant to me about things he does, and I’m expected to listen and be sympathetic. If I tell her things the jackass does, she ignores me, and defends him. Yes, silence is a defense of his behavior.

So, I’ve had it. I’m just waiting, hoping he’ll die soon. Preferably painfully, so he can understand the pain he has inflicted.

This Is Fun...

That backfired spectacularly...

In my last post, I talked about how my Seroquel dose had been lowered from 400mg to 300mg. Things have been going all right, mood wise. But then the fallout...

Monday night, I got about five or six hours of sleep. This, naturally, resulted in my inability to function like a walking, talking human. But it gets better... I have been awake since 6:00am Tuesday, was too tired to do schoolwork all day, and now I can’t get myself to sleep. 

I finished the book I’d been reading, laid in bed for 30 minutes, gave up that pipe dream, and got up. I decided to try schoolwork, thinking I’d get through about a quarter of a section. Yeah... I finished the section and the section test. And I passed! That was surprising, to be honest.

Right now, it’s 1:00am, Wednesday. I feel tired, but not. Maybe I’ll try bed again.

Experiment

Here goes the neighborhood...

About a week and a half ago, my Seroquel dose was lowered. I’m down from 400, which is the max dose, to 300. My neurologist wasn’t exactly pleased at the high dose, and when I asked my med manager about lowering it, she was all for it.

Things in the mood department have been going pretty well for quite a while, now. I was afraid of lowering the dose for that reason. I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

My dose was lowered right before my classes started. I thought all hell would break loose. I mean, I’m taking two classes that both have pretty high demands on my time and mind. I’m taking a writing class, which should be pretty easy for me, but it’s persuasive-writing. I literally have zero persuasive abilities. I’m to write a persuasive paper on a topic relating to my major. I’m majoring in European history, so I chose monarchies— England’s monarchy, specifically. Sounded like a good idea, but then I delved into it a bit more. My best argument pro-monarchy is feeble, at best, but my argument against is much more substantial. Yeah... I’m supposed to be pro-monarchy. But then, I’m American. Our country was founded on anti-monarchist beliefs. Washington refused when he was asked to be king.

Back on topic...

I’m also taking math. I hate math. I suck at math. However, after four tests, I’m 94% strong! Maybe, just maybe, I can do this.

My point was that, with school starting, being mostly stuck inside, and what’s going on with my mom (🎶mysterious music 🎶), I thought for sure I’d have to go back up to the higher dose. But things are actually getting better on the lower one.

Here’s to that continuing 👍🏻 

Retroactive Mourning

And the hits just keep on coming...

So, my mom is in the hospital for a few days, and thanks to COVID, I can’t go visit her. This leaves me home alone with my father. I’ve had to talk to him, but to be honest, it’s actually gone well. We even had a pleasant conversation at dinner tonight.

With mom in this situation, my nerves are shot. But I was dealt a blow today that put me completely out of commission for a few hours. I pulled myself together, put my mind into schoolwork (school started today, which adds to my stress, too), and though I couldn’t put it out of my mind completely, I was functioning. To some degree, anyhow.

For a couple years now, every time I typed “know” into a Facebook post, an old, dear friend of mine would pop up as an option to tag. I haven’t heard from her in years, so I thought I’d check out her profile. Somehow, we weren’t Facebook friends, which was weird. So I asked a mutual friend to see if this friend was online still, and check in to see how she’s doing. My friend came back with a punch right to my stomach. This friend had passed away more than a year ago.

I sat down, my legs buckling, and I cried. Even now, I’m crying just thinking about it. I got nauseated, and I couldn’t breathe. 

This friend and I had a very strange beginning. We were in 8th grade, the only year we were in the same school. I kept hearing things about how she was going to beat me up. Mind you, she was twice my size. 

Well, our parents were called in for a meeting with us to discuss the trouble. Turns out, she‘d been hearing all about these things I was supposedly saying behind her back. The common denominator? Her brother. He was making things up to get us to fight.

Right after the meeting, this girl who I was straight up afraid of, wrapped her arms around me, and called me her friend. And it never changed. She was instantly the kindest, most welcoming person. 

I moved schools not long into the next year, so I wouldn’t see her again until 9th grade Lagoon day. *Lagoon is our local amusement park* We took a picture together, that day. It would be the only one I’d get.

This absolutely beautiful woman had four children of her own, and several step-children when she passed. She was 32-years-old. Barely.

Kristina, though you are gone, your smile will forever brighten my days. I miss you.

Eww

There are so many illnesses and disorders. There’s no way to keep them all straight.

So, quite a while ago, I had Dr Oz on as background noise, when I heard two words: skin picking.

My first thought was, “Umm... ew.” He brought to the stage a woman who had her arms and legs fully covered. He asked if she would be comfortable showing her skin so we could see what this skin picking looks like. When she showed the camera, my thought changed to, “Oh. That’s what my arms look like.”

I’ve been picking at my arms, on and off, for years. They look absolutely awful. Open sores covered in bandages, scars at various levels of red, and the self-conscious thoughts that everyone is staring.

I did my research, and found out that this particular mental illness is associated with OCD, but no known actual cause for it. And it affects women more than men. 

Naturally, I didn’t want to add this to my already long list of diagnoses. Who would? But I couldn’t deny it anymore. I decided I was tired of looking like a leper, and even more tired of the pain. So, I tried to think of something I could do. Then it hit me: Sleeves.

Keep in mind, that I have never liked long sleeves. Even in the dead middle of winter, my sleeves are pushed up to my elbows. I just hate them. So, I thought, what about something tight? Something that I couldn’t push out of the way? So I found some light compression sleeves.

I have had these on for just four days, but holy cannoli! The redness is way down, and the open spots are actually healing! 

No, this is neither a cure, nor medical advice. But it’s a start. For me, at least. If you’re one of the not-so-blessed, I’d really suggest you try the simple, quick fix until you can get the help you need.

Read more here:

The Battle Continues

I just received this message from Cigna:

Hello Rie,

The pharmacy team has responded and states the following:

After further review of the coverage details for each medication listed, the Quetiapine 400 is the only medication with a Prior Authorization Approved, effective 1-1-20 until 1-30-21. 

All other medications, will require Prior Authorization approval. The Health Care Professional should contact the Express Scripts Coverage Review Department at 1-877-813-5595. 

I would be happy to help facilitate the authorizations if you provide me the name and phone number of the prescribing doctor(s).

This was my response:

I’m aware that they require prior authorization. The problem is that the doctor who prescribed my LIFE-SAVING inhaler, is no longer in practice, and therefore cannot request the PA. This has been explained REPEATEDLY to Cigna employees who are, as I said before, not interested in actually helping people, but simply following marching orders. If I cannot refill the Symbicort, I will have a massive asthma attack and wind up in hospital. But no... Cigna doesn’t care about that. They just care that an extremely common medication isn’t on their extremely small formulary. During this time, especially, asthma medications are paramount to keeping asthmatics healthy. What do you think will happen if I, am asthmatic, is exposed to COVID-19? There is a high possibility that I can wind up in the ICU with machines breathing for me. But again, Cigna doesn’t care about that. They just care about making people jump through as many hoops as possible. As I have said REPEATEDLY, I do have an appointment with a new doctor, but not until May 15. I made this appointment more than 3 months ago, and this was her first opening. I have exactly one week left of my LIFE-SAVING inhaler. Cigna, as a customer-based company, needs to refill it. If the new doctor wishes me to continue with Symbicort, she will request your precious prior authorization at that time. I think Cigna can afford to cover this ONE medication, this ONE time, don’t you? I will await the call from the pharmacy, telling me I have a prescription. This message will come before the weekend. I really don’t want to involve the insurance commissioner, so get on this ASAP.

Thank you

I’m in for the fight with these unhelpful automatons.

Repeating History

I’d welcome you back, but I’d really like to sleep.

Before I was properly medicated, I’d go days, sometimes weeks, without much sleep. Sometimes I’d get none at all during that time. It’s been quite some time, now, that I’ve been sleeping. How normal my schedule has been is up for debate; sometimes sleeping too much, odd hours, or surviving on just seven hours with meds that knock me out for nine or ten.

It really started last Sunday night. I woke up early Monday morning, after what my Fitbit says was seven and a half hours of sleep, and wasn’t tired at all during the day. 

Fast forward to now... 

It’s well past midnight, here, and I’m not tired. I laid in bed for round about an hour before giving up and getting up.

“You can get so much done!” Right. With two sleeping people just down the hall. That’s not going to happen.

I did do something, though. I’ll only mention it, not spending anything more than this link: 

Mystery link (this is not for this blog, but for my other blog)

So, here I am. Middle of the night, not tired, with nothing to do.

Believe it or not, just because those going through a manic episode don’t require much sleep, doesn’t make it healthy. Your body and brain need that time to reset. If you’ve been through a major manic episode, going ten or more days with little sleep, you know what happens. That’s right, folks... Hallucinations! That goes for anyone who keeps themselves awake that long, actually.

I’m tapped out of things to say. 

Are You Cursed

I sent this as an email to Cigna. If you have been cursed with what is quite possibly the world’s worst insurance company, feel free to copy and paste this (replace my name with yours) and send it to: LetUsHelpU@cigna.com. 

Add any flourishes you like.

My name is Rie. I had your company dropped in my lap without choice. Ever since you took over, I’ve been able to fill maybe 2 of my usual medications without having to beg for your grace. You are a pain to deal with, as your employees are not interested in helping, but merely following marching orders. In case you weren’t aware, when someone finds a medication that actually works, for one condition or another, it cannot simply be replaced by what you consider to be a comparable drug. Doctors prescribe a certain drug because, believe it or not, they know what they’re doing. You, as an insurance company, do not know the ins and outs of the delicate balance of chemicals needed for each person. You are, by far, the WORST company I’ve ever had to deal with. And I deal with GOVERNMENT! If you continue to decline the medications that were prescribed to me by a knowledgeable medical professional, I will be compelled to contact the insurance commissioner. Repeatedly. 

Hope that you are well,

Rie

Stupid Stigmas

Rant incoming...

Mental illness is not the same as evil. I’ve said this before, and you can bet I’ll say it again and again. I’ll shout it from every mountain top until people stop thinking they’re the same thing.

Mental illness is painful. Fact. Some illnesses create anger in its victims. How that person expresses that anger is mostly on that person. Once they figure out how to treat and control their illness, that is.

I have seen far too many horrific crimes, mostly murders, blamed on Bipolar Disorder. But I have yet to meet another person with it who is, or ever has been, violent. And I’ve met plenty of my fellow sufferers all over the world.

News media thrives on stirring up emotion. They’ll take one tiny detail, and use it to their advantage with no actual proof. 

So, this imaginary man who killed his family has suffered with Bipolar Disorder for years. True. But in this scenario, say he found out his wife was leaving him for another man, while taking the kids with. This enraged the man to the point of passion, and he kills them all. What the media won’t tell you is that this man has been medicated, stable, and not at an inpatient facility for twenty years. They do this to stir emotion. Anymore, the news outlets are nothing more than click bait.

They really don’t care that they’re perpetuating a very dangerous stigma. In today’s world, someone coming out as any of the LGBT labels is praised, while those diagnosed with even minor depression are in hiding. People are so afraid of those with mental illnesses that they’re willing to cut off lifelong friendships to escape the perceived danger.

Where are our allies? 

Where are the ones fighting for our lives? 

Where is the education about the realities of these illnesses?

Our parades? 

Our marches? 

Our flag?

Our right to be confident in public?

An Explanation

There isn’t a single word in any language to describe how I hate that sorry excuse of a human.

I’ve been waiting my whole life for the day my father dies. Hasn’t come yet. No, this is not spiteful, it’s out of self-preservation. He’s bullied and abused me my whole life, while his chosen, older child is praised for simply existing.

Older child was a druggie, smoked in high school (which got her arrested, and yes, I laughed), and was basically the kind of child every parent fears getting. No, I was not without fault or problems, but mine seemed to be fodder for his own entertainment.

I was born with Bipolar Disorder. I didn’t acquire it later in life. So, naturally, I was a difficult and angry child. My tantrums were legendary. However, instead of trying to calm me, he would make fun of me, and poke and prod until he was laughing hysterically and felt that his need for entertainment was fulfilled. And more often than not, he was the reason I was pitching a fit to begin with. Great father, eh? I can’t even tell you how many times I told him I wanted him to die. Mom always got mad when I would say it, but she didn’t understand why I did. 

Fun fact about narcissists: They pick on the empathetic people around them. The older child has as much empathy as her father, as she is also a narcissist. This kept her immune from the abuse. I’ve always been sympathetic and empathetic towards people. A narcissist isn’t born, they are made. I saw the pain in him. It was all over his face. He used this as kindling for what would become his raging fire against me. 

I haven’t said more than five words to him in over a year now. If I don’t tell him anything, he has no fuel. However, mom tells him everything, anyway. I try to not react to the crap that flows so fluently out of his mouth, but sometimes, it’s a lost cause. And his behaviors seem to have worsened in this last year, if that was even possible.

Nobody believes me when I tell them the things he’s done. They aren’t around all the time, so all they see is a funny guy. Yeah... he’s super funny. 24/7 jokes and what he considers to be clever comments. The only things he takes seriously are the perceived attacks on him. These include, but are not limited to: 

- Closing the basement door so the stench doesn’t come up.

- Mentioning, yet again, that his body odor stinks up the whole house after he exercises.

- Not laughing at every... single... joke.

- Pointing our that he has been told something before.

- (And my personal favorite) Pointing out that the basement is a mess.

Yes, he has done good things, but he’ll remind you of every single one. He worked extra overtime to buy me my beloved clarinet. This was shoved in my face for around ten years. Oh! And not to forget that I’m stuck living with my parents, and still financially dependent on them (despite my desire for independence). He said, and I quote, “Everything we buy you is a gift, and can be taken back at any time”. This statement came after I put a note on a soda saying it was mine. Mind you, he wouldn’t have drunk it anyhow. He just had to assert his perceived dominance.

So I will continue to wait for the day I am free of this (insert profanity of choice), praying it comes soon. Whether it be through death, or my ability to leave, I really don’t care at this point.

Children Are Difficult

If you have, or have had, a two-year-old, my heart goes out to you.

This child will be the death of me. Whether he gets his way, or not, he’s the biggest terror. Allow me to elaborate...

If he’s got something to say, even if you’ve told him you don’t want to hear it, he’s gonna say it. You can’t stop him. If you try, he just starts shouting until he’s finished his thought.

He has this super weird thing about keeping the door to the basement open, and if you try to close it, it’s Tantrum Town. He’ll literally stand in the doorway just so you can’t close it. 

As with most kids, he either can’t smell, or simply doesn’t care about, his own stench. 

You can’t make him do anything, unless he’s getting rewarded by the act itself. 

And oh, the messes he creates. He loves them. He revels in them. His mess is his happy place.

This two-year-old of mine is actually 74. A 74-year-old narcissistic hoarder I was forced to call “dad” for 32 years. The “dad” who made fun of me, provoked me for his own amusement, and played the victim when I finally let him have it. This is my reality. 

He doesn’t have conversations. He has monologues. If you try to say something, even in response to what he’s saying, he’ll shout over you until he’s finished.

He wants the basement door open the entire time he’s upstairs. Why? Because he will, at some point, go back downstairs. This could be anywhere between a minute and several hours. The biggest problems with this are the fact that the basement rivals the temperature of Antarctica, and it reeks. *Read on...*

The basement reeks because the man is a hoarder. A vast majority of what’s in the basement is actual, literal garbage. Newspapers that are ten or more years old, VHS tapes he can’t watch because he has no VCR, towels that have been labeled “trash” by any sane person are being used as “blankets”. Then there’s the old TV that was replaced like four years ago, and the two (yes, two) old computers that are nothing more than oversized paperweights. Don’t take my word for it. Watch the attached video.

What?

That was an adventure I’d like to never experience again.

Earthquake. Aardbeving. Daeargryn. Terremoto.

My first earthquake happened this morning. A first for many Utahns. We have tiny, almost undetectable quakes just about every day. Today hit 5.7,  with aftershocks hitting up to 4.6.

In Utah, we get the possibility of “the big one” drilled into our brains from birth. It’s well known that Utah is a ticking time bomb, and has been for centuries. But it’s always been a “what if” situation. 

My entire life, I’ve maintained that “the big one” wouldn’t happen in my lifetime. I’m now rethinking that stance. I’m no scientist, but in my mind, this could have potentially set other quakes in motion. Could “the big one” be next? Could it be soon? 

I was sound asleep when it hit. People always talk about the sound of an earthquake. I heard nothing. I just felt it. Not gonna lie, I’m thankful for my hearing loss this morning.

Loads of people had damage to their homes and businesses. The bright spot was that there were no reported fatalities or serious injuries. I’m still surprised that the only thing in my house that fell was my Luna Lovegood figure. We got off super easy at my house. 

I’ve got a friend who lived in Japan for a while (go Army!), and she was keeping me sane in my panic. Telling me what’s normal and what to expect was a massive help!

Overall, not the best day. Here’s to tomorrow.

Don’t Panic

“Coronavirus, coronavirus, COVID-19”

As you’re well aware, we’ve got a global problem. It’s all over every news outlet. Every. Single. One. That’s all we’ve heard about for at least a couple weeks now. I don’t know about you, but I’d even be happy to see an “Epstein didn’t kill himself” meme. We’re bombarded with coronavirus updates everywhere we look, and it’s getting to us.

The media has blown it up so that people are hoarding things that really aren’t necessary. I mean, come on. Are you really going to use a thousand rolls of toilet paper in two weeks? That is, assuming you even get sick. And I promise, you don’t need to buy every bit of food you see. There are other people in your city. They need food, too.

The biggest problem I’m seeing, however, is the effects on mental health. Having all this shoved in our faces, and down our throats, 24/7, tends to bring us down. Whether it be the ever-rising death toll, the closures of restaurants and other social places, or wondering how to care for your kids while schools are out, you’re getting stressed. I get that there are some serious possible ramifications, but like my friend, Anna, said, “... hope for the best, and plan for the worst.”

Live now. Today. There are so many advantages to this whole social distancing thing:

-Go to the park. Big, open spaces. 

-Text, call, Skype, or FaceTime your friends and family. Today’s technology allows us to stay close, even when we’re separated. 

-Get out those Richard Simmons DVDs we all know you have. Sweat to those oldies without judgement. 

-But the most important thing you can do: check in with yourself, often. Are you ok? Are you worrying too much? Can you talk to someone if you need to?

Don’t let this get the best of you.

Steps

One foot in front of the other...

So I spoke to an enrollment person and officially applied. My projected start date is May 8. I contacted one of the other schools I took classes at, and got my transcript sent to SNHU. Not that there’s much there, but it could maybe save me a math class.

To be honest, I’m terrified. 

One really good thing about this school is that, if you take one class per eight-week term, you’re part-time (duh). But only one class more defines you as a full-time student. I’ll obviously be doing only one class at a time. At least for now. My life is constantly changing, so there may be a time when I can take two classes. And there may be terms when I just need a break.

Feeling a little better.

I have two friends (that I know of) who did their degrees online. They both loved doing it that way. Not gonna lie though, they’re both a truck load smarter than I am, so... 

One step forward, two steps back.

I’m always thinking how far behind I am in life compared to my friends. They all have school behind them, are married, have jobs, and most have kids (not in my plans, though). But something my mom always says is “Even if it takes you ten years... in ten years, you’ll still be better off than if you didn’t” (something like that, anyhow).

One step. That’s all I need.

Here goes nothing...

Picture of the day

Conisbrough from the top of the castle keep.

Well, "SNHU" To You, Too!

Money flying out the window in 3... 2... 1...

Since junior high, my favorite subject in school has been history. European history, to be precise. Not surprising, really. My mother's family came straight from the Netherlands, and my father's side came from England. Yes, I've had a slight obsession with England since I was five, but reading or watching their history is my favorite thing. Going there in 2018 was an absolute dream come true!

Ok, back on topic...

I've attended college. Twice. Two different schools. Four different majors. None of them in history. I've done majors in Special Ed, Criminal Psychology, English, and Social Media Marketing. Obviously, none of them stuck. I've now decided to apply at Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU) and do their online European History program.

I'm nervous. I mean, everything I've tried, I've failed. Not just when it comes to school. Everything.

I called up a good friend to talk about all this, and we came to a couple conclusions:

1. Failing is a part of life and learning.
2. Maybe online school will be better since there are no people around.

So, I filled out my FAFSA, hit that "Apply" button on SNHU's website, and am now in the process of pretending to wait like a patient person.

I'll only be able to do like two or three classes per year, so even if I do happen to succeed, it'll take until I'm ninety, but at least it's doing something.

Mystery link

Picture of the day (because I said so): I took this in 2015. It's the Utah State Capitol Building.

Fed Up

The reigning narcissist is at it again!

Ok, so the house we live in is... special. It has more problems than an entire city. If someone flushes the toilet while I’m in the shower, I get burned. When they turn on the sink to wash their hands right after, it rivals liquid nitrogen. Back and forth. Super fun. Wires are put together in no particular order, and I’m pretty sure it was partially built with popsicle sticks. **Disclaimer: My parents didn’t know any of this when they bought it. The original family lied thru their teeth** 

Tonight, we had what is quite possibly our 300,000th disaster. Backstory: I found a wet spot on the carpet yesterday. No big. Then it grew... a lot. Come to find out tonight that the wet spot goes all along the cupboard. Fantastic. Best part is that, in his highness’s hoarding, we’ve had a stack of extremely heavy boxes of flooring, sitting in the spot we need to get to, for around 15 years. “I’m going to redo our kitchen floor”... said the man who won’t even paint.

Obviously, we had to move those boxes to get to where we could see the floor. He decides that the perfect place for these boxes is exactly one inch away from my beautiful, and irreplaceable, wood music stand. Awesome. I moved them a whole six inches over, so my beloved stand wouldn’t even get close to getting hit. This was unacceptable. The narcissist moved them back. Why? Because he can’t be so inconvenienced as to have to walk six inches further to look out the front window. Heaven forbid! The world may end! I mean, how else is he supposed to know exactly what the neighbors are doing? Six. Inches.

I’m done just threatening to get rid of things. Things that haven’t even been seen in years? Buh-bye! Actual garbage? See ya! And to keep with the thought process of a narcissist, if I don’t need it, it gets trashed. 

I’m done living in a landfill that requires a hazmat suit to enter.

Music Speaks

I've got a quote on my bedroom wall that reads, "Where Words Fail, Music Speaks". It's all decked out with notes and curly... stuff. ANYHOW... My point is that, music affects everyone. It can calm you down, get you pumped, and get out those feelings we all have stored deep inside.

I've got so many playlists across all the apps and devices I use for music, that it can take ten solid minutes to find just the right one. I've got one for every emotion, every type of day, and one for each of my favorite artists with their greatest hits.

More often than not, I'm blasting something through any speaker I can connect to. I search for new stuff every day. This is then posted to my other blog (shameless plug in 3... 2... 1... Rie's Views).

"So what's your favorite genre?" Yes. I'll admit that I can't stand metal, hardcore punk, or rap, but I'm open to anything else.

Music affects everyone, all over the world, in many different ways. Check out some of my latest finds below (and click HERE)

I Give

I’m done.

I have nobody to talk to. If I text anyone about something the narcissist has done, it goes ignored. If I text pretty much anyone about a bad day, it’s either ignored, or turned around on that person's bad day. If I try to talk to my mom about the narcissistic hoarder, even if she, herself, was complaining about the exact same thing just five minutes ago, she gets mad at me. If I try to use ASL with her, she nods as if she understands, yet gets maybe one word. That is, when she doesn’t look away altogether. She’s not trying to learn the language at all. I’m putting in a truckload of effort to learn Dutch for her, yet she won’t even practice the ASL alphabet. 

Best part is that I’m expected to be the sounding board for EVERYONE! You had a bad day? I’m here. If I’m not 100% sympathetic to everything someone says, they get upset. If I call out the fact that you don’t listen to me, I’m suddenly a horrible person.

Every single one of my friends has a spouse they can talk to, they have family members they can talk to, and they have me. Every single day, they have support. I have support twice a month when I see my therapist. That’s a total of ninety minutes per month that I have to really talk out my problems. I try reaching out to friends, but at best, I get the “I’m sorry you have to deal with that” response. Thanks, but, like you, I need people to actually talk to. 

I’ve never had the support system everyone else has. My only sibling is as narcissistic as her adoring sad-sack of a father, my mother (whether she believes it or not) has been conditioned by the narcissist to bow to him so as to avoid confrontation, and my friends all have their own families and circles in the states they’ve moved to. I have zero friends in my entire state. Nobody to see a movie with, go to dinner with, or simply get out to a park with. I. Have. Nothing.

“Go out and meet people!” Right. If you’re saying that, you’ve obviously never been to Utah. You’ve got 2 options: Mormon churches and bars. Both are no-go for me. And now that my hearing is going, it makes it even harder. Yes, I’ve got hearing aids, but they’re more a pain than they are a help. I can’t hear hardly anything in a crowded room. Hearing people don’t want to be bothered, and the deaf community doesn’t accept late-deafened because we’re too “hearing-minded” (who woulda thunk?).

I am alone.

Support

The wonder that is social media...

Some of you may remember that, after I returned from the UK in September 2018, I lost some of my hearing. It’s progressive nerve damage that could take 50%-70%, depending on which doctor you ask. I have hearing aids, but believe me when I say they are no substitute for actual hearing.

A couple weeks ago, I stopped in at my local Deaf center to find out when ASL classes are. The woman up front was deaf (duh!). I’m sure my very limited sign skills are a joke around the office, but I did manage to understand that classes are full until this Fall.

Not being able to hear as well has put me in a space where I’m basically alone. When I’m in a restaurant, or trying to talk to more than one person, it’s near impossible to catch everything. It feels like when you go to a foreign country and have no idea what the locals are saying. You’re outside, looking in. It’s very isolating.

I found a group on Facebook for deaf and hard of hearing (HOH), and oh my wow... They’ve got so many helpful hints and ways to deal with what’s happening! Books, tips, understanding. It’s like a whole new world has opened up!

I’m usually not a supporter of social media. It creates too many problems. This, however, is a great use of it. Creating groups where people can connect with similar people with similar experiences. A+

Fun Fact

So, for those who don't know, I have started a second blog called Rie's Views. It's a music blog. Basically, I listen to music, then tell you what I think. You may thing that it doesn't sound very interesting, but if you follow along, I can guarantee you'll find something new!

When I finally get things organized, Monday's will be a review of an album, and Thursday's will be a 10-track playlist. I will also be continuing my posts on Instagram.

LINKS
You can follow along on the blog here: riesviews.blogspot.com
Instagram here : ries_views
Facebook here: Rie's Views

I'm sure there are other platforms I could use, but that's it for now.

I'm always open to suggestions on music, and you are completely welcome to disagree. Music is subjective- everyone has their likes and dislikes. My main goal is to get you to discover something you might not have found otherwise.

Go forth and explore! And if you like something, the biggest compliment you could give is hitting that share button!

Not Sorry

Not one bit.

Ok, so you know how a memory will pop into your head at the least convenient time? And then it makes it so you can’t think of anything else for the next three hours? Well that’s me tonight.

My whole life, I’ve had to apologise to people because they can’t handle who I am. I walk on eggshells around everyone because something about me “offends” them. The way I talk, the things I say, and how I say them tend to be on the top of the list. Best part is the things people get their knickers in a twist over are typically the things they do to me without me pointing it out. You don’t like the way I told you something? Suck it up, Buttercup. We’re adults. You can be a horrible person, but I basically have to treat you like a spoiled two-year-old who hasn’t ever heard the word “no”? Not the way things work.

Then there’s the whole thing about how I’m not “allowed” to be proud of my accomplishments. When I was in high school (let’s not talk about how long ago that was), I was talking to a friend about my dance. I simply mentioned that my team wins and I have a few trophies. Oh, the horror! He lectured me for the next twenty solid minutes on pride and how I shouldn’t “boast”. Dan Smith, you are SO one to talk! Your ego couldn’t make it through an industrial-size door.

My favorite, however, is how offended people get when I give them the opinion that they asked for. If I ask for yours and don’t like it, I say “thanks” and move on with my life.

In a country so “tolerant”, there are an awful lot of intolerant people. Funny that it’s usually the ones claiming to be so tolerant. 

So how about we all work on not being so fragile? Not everything someone does “wrong” needs to be announced. Things they do “right”, however, need to be said. Even if it’s just between the two of you.

Side note: As I know some will take it this way... I am in NO WAY saying I don’t fall into the “fragile” category. We all get upset at things people do and say. It’s just super annoying when people feel the need to point out and needle at everything, instead of just accepting the person as-is and moving on.

Dear Insurance Companies

How stupid can you get?

So, thanks to Medicare and my lack of choice in my own healthcare, my prescription plan changed companies. I’ve been cursed with Cigna, and oh my holy crap they’re stupid.

I was sent a list of the meds I take that told me which ones were and weren’t covered. One is an acne cream that is covered so long as I have a “taper plan”. So, you just expect my face to clear up after a couple months use and be fine after that? Makes perfect sense 🥴

My favorite, however, is quetiapine (generic Seroquel). It’s not covered because they seem to think that there’s something else that “works the same”. So, let me get this straight... You think that one psych med is the same as another? Why, then, are there so many? If one drug worked for everyone, that would be fine, but psych meds, which are extremely delicate in their balances, are not the same in the slightest. When you’ve found the magic mix, you can’t go playing with it because you don’t want to pay thirty cents more.

Shameless political plug: Medicare for all is not going to work unless you’re willing to pay $2,000 per month (or more) for medications that aren’t covered. Good luck with that.

In closing... Cigna, may you and your employees burn in the hell you’ve created for those who have had you thrown in their laps. I did not want you, I do not like you, please remove your head from the dark place it was obviously shoved up.

No Year’s Resolutions

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

First off... HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Now, every year, people all over the world make New Year’s resolutions. “I’m going to lose 100 pounds!” “I’m going to read 1,000 books!” “I’m going to meet Mr/Ms Right and get married!”

In reality, 99% will fail to complete these extreme and unrealistic goals. This results in negative thoughts and depression. Even if we set a reasonable goal, like keeping a certain area clean, we ultimately have our habits, and changing those is stupid hard.

Yes, habits can be changed, but I’ve noticed in my own life, and the lives of friends and family, that many of our habits are for self-preservation. Personally, I find cleaning cathartic. You probably wouldn’t know that if you walked into my house, but there’s a reason behind that. I intentionally allow my space to collect garbage and such so that I have something to clean when I need it. Sound ridiculous? Yeah... it does to me, too. 

Back on point: If you make resolutions, I pray you are able to complete them to your liking, and that you have the support you need to achieve your goals. If you choose to not make them, that doesn’t mean you can’t decide on July 27th (or any other day)  to start making a change. Do you, your way. Don’t let any person, thing, or tradition tell you how to improve you.

Improvements are on your schedule.

Christmas Z’s

Words. Those are things, right.

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

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

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

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

Santa, Baby

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last Place

*Quippy opening line goes here*

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Smaller Side Of Mental Health

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

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

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

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

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

I know God trusts us.

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

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

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

You can help here

The Most Horrible Time Of The Year

One. Één. Uno. Une.

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

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

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

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

So I’m not super festive. Bite me.

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

HERE

Beware Of Resident: She Bites

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This, friends, is mania.

Kindness Is Contagious

Random acts of kindness are fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go forth and be kind!

It’s A No From Me

Picture this...

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t like this. 

I hate this.

Stress Mess

So. Much. Fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Halloween Horrors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Passing Up, Or Passing On?

Backstory:

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

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

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

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

Life Is Good

I’m almost afraid to write this...

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

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

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

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

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

Coming Up Roses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT?!?!

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

Umm...

What’s college for, again?

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

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

Example:

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

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

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

I Present: My Life

Every. Single. Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just give up.

Inconvenient

I hate my life.

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

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

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

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

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

Any advice would be helpful.

Thanks in advance!

Insignificant

Don’t mind me, I’m good on my own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Child

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


Second best.

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

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

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

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

——————-

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

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

Second child: “I got a B-.”

Parents: “You need to apply yourself more.”

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

Parents: “Well you look incredible!”

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

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

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

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

Check out my other blog 

here

New Beginnings

I started a thing.

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

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

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

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

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

Up, Down, Inside Out

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

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

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

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

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

It’s been somewhere around a month of this.

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

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

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

Memorials

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here for help

No More

0.5-1%

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

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

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


I won't even get in to that.

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

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

Not Built For This

Who can do this?!

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

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

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

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

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

Weak

Seriously... 

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

Flash forward to this morning...

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s hoping I make it home...

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

The Best Medicine

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

My Life, Ladies and Gents

One thing after another...

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

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

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

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

Some Thoughts

This could get random...

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

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

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

Maybe...?

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

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

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

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

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