A Sinking Feeling

Can someone take my shovel, please?

I feel like I just keep digging myself into a deeper hole. I'm still depressed, and as I get farther down, I get more antisocial. I haven't been talking much, and when I do, it's quiet, muffled, and sounds angry. I have no appetite. I'm ridiculously tired but I can't sleep. I feel like I'm going to cry all the time. The list goes on.

Last time I met with my therapist, I explained that it's like walking through a dense forest. You can't see much, let alone a way out, but sometimes there's a bit of sun that breaks through. It's small and fleeting, but it's there. I actually hate those bits of sun because it reminds me of how I can't feel all the time (if that makes any sense). I mean, I'll be watching Gilmore Girls, and something funny will happen. I'll smile or laugh, but then it's right back down.

I am completely on my own. I've got no medications to help. It's getting so bad that I'm actually beginning to be afraid of myself. I've had more ideation thoughts in the last three days than I've had in the last three years. I need help, but I refuse to check myself in to any of the "treatment centers" here. They do far more damage than good.

I don't know what to do.

"Help"~ Bananarama (Beatles cover)

Help!

Catharsis (and possibly self discovery) in 3... 2... 1...

I have no idea how I feel right now. It's either something completely new, or about ten thousand things all combined into my tiny head. Normally, I can explain how I feel, but not today.

I didn't sleep at all last night, which makes for a very long night. My mind was on hyper drive and I honestly couldn't sort one single thought from the others. So basically, not only do I not know how I feel, I don't know what I'm thinking. Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?

Along with it being incredibly frustrating, it's sending my anxiety off the charts. This is super fun seeing as how I can't get a coherent sentence out on the best of days. Side note: It has already taken me three times longer to write this than normal. So, I've got this whole "... try to say smart, but the dumb comes out." ("Right Girl"~ The Maine) thing going on. Wednesdays are my therapy days, and not being able to form a complete, coherent sentence is not particularly helpful.

None of this has been made better by the fact that I had to be social. I had to go to the bank, then to the dentist, then to the grocery store, then to make an idiot of myself while simultaneously getting an innocent kid searched. Long story. Don't ask. As I was driving home, I had to stop on the side of the road because I was shaking so hard that driving became dangerous. Bright side: Got a couple of pictures from the benches.

I came home and haven't said a word. I feel like crying, laughing, screaming, and about a billion other things right now. If someone knows why I feel like this, I'd love to hear.

"Let Go"~ As December Falls

Retraction & Correction

I've been meaning to talk about this for awhile, but I'm not particularly in the mood to communicate, so bear with me.

One of my most read posts is my first one, entitled, "Bipolar 101." In it, I describe the different types of Bipolar and their symptoms (to a very small extent) rather sarcastically. Since then, I have learned that the DSM-5 has changed the major criteria for the types. Not having read the DSM-IV, I'm not sure what all has changed, but I now fall under Bipolar 1 with rapid cycling.

As I was reading my original post, I was mortified. I have learned a lot since then, and I truly apologize for passing off anyone's suffering in such a sarcastic, demeaning way. Not gonna lie though, "Cop Out" and "Cop Out: The Sequel" were still funny.

I am not an expert, nor have I ever claimed to be. I've lived with this pain all my 28 years, and I'm still learning new things. This horrible thing that has been bestowed on us is more complicated and difficult to sort out than tangled Christmas lights. I'm not sure anyone has all the answers. Not even the DSM-5. We are all different, so we experience everything differently. All we can do is generalize the big things and go from there.

I've said before that I imagine "normal" as basically emotionless. I posed the question to a new Twitter friend who said that, paraphrased, it's not having to take so many pills and deal with the side effects along with the symptoms. I'd really like to hear what you think "normal" is. Please feel free to leave your comments below or email me at bipolarexpressride@gmail.com.

I'm gonna go back into my hole now, and listen to this...

"Story Of My Life"~ One Direction

50 Shades Of Purple

It's Monday...

Ever have one of those mornings where you just know the whole day is going to suck? Sometimes it gets better, sometimes it gets worse. Today was definitely a "gets worse" kind of day.

Why was it so bad? Well, To start with, I didn't sleep very well last night, which we all know makes for a hard day anyway. When I got up an hour before my alarm, I got so light-headed in the shower that I nearly fell over. Yes, it's a hilarious image to think of, but not too fun in actuality. Then, getting ready for work, my stomach decided that it didn't like what I had for breakfast (I'll spare you that image). That made me run late, and in my rush, I managed to burn part of my hair with my flat iron, trip and fall into my bed (lovely shade of purple now), and forget my watch, hat, and water bottle.

Things didn't get much (if any) better at work. It's super windy today, which makes it only about 20F outside (that's -7C for the rest of the world). When it's that cold, we keep the kids inside during recess. Easier, right? Oh so very many shades of wrong! Imagine for a minute... 30 kids in a classroom, no teacher (because she's at lunch), and allowed to play games. I think Dante may have forgotten to mention this circle of Hell.

Side note: Because of the noise and total lack of space, this sends my anxiety off the charts. I had to leave early.

I went to the library after, and as I was down looking at the bottom shelf, I got light-headed again and fell backward... right into the edge of the shelf behind. I haven't looked yet, but I bet it, too is a lovely shade of purple.

After that, I came home and turned on my Hanson playlist. I really shouldn't have gotten out of bed today...

Here's my favorite Hanson song of all-time.

"Georgia"~ Hanson

 

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

Shallow As A Shower

"If you're out on the road..."

I've been binge watching Gilmore Girls since it hit Netflix. I watched it on TV faithfully (almost) every week, bought the DVDs when they came out, and dream of being just like Loreli. Here's why...

1. Ok, can you say "awesome name"?!
2. She's incredibly quick witted.
3. She's confident in everything she does.
4. She can coherently stand up for herself when she needs to.
5. She's not afraid to just dive in.

I could go on for quite some time, but I'll spare you from my fangirl rants.

Well, as I think about how much I would love to be Loreli, I was noticing how much I'm like Luke.

1. He's antisocial.
2. He's not terribly eloquent.
3. He pushes most people away,
4. He doesn't accept that someone could actually like him.
5. He sounds angry when he talks, even when he's happy(ish).

Again, I could go on, but I'll spare you from my self-deprecating rants this time.

I have a tendency to daydream, and I'm usually imagining myself as someone just like Loreli. It makes me happy to think that I could be happy, confident, and well liked. Then I get back to the real world and realize that I'm still the same old me.

When I get asked if I like myself, the most positive thing I can respond with is, "some aspects." Sure, I've got things I like about myself, but overall, I'm not my own biggest fan. Most of the time, I can't think of the things I do like, so I'm going to put them here as a reminder for myself.

• I'm a realist.
• I'm a music encyclopedia.
• I've got fabulous hair. Shallow alert!
• I'm freakishly organized.
• I don't let outside influences alter my style.

Not gonna lie... that took 20 minutes to think of just those 5 things.

Anyway... here's the only song that came into my head while writing this...

"Curse of Curves"~ Cute Is What We Aim For

 

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

A Friend In The Eye Of The Storm

Do I have to get out of bed?

I've hit the bottom once again. I don't particularly like the mania or mixed episodes, but my absolute least favorite is the depression.

People who have never experienced a true depression (meaning, more than "I didn't get the job") don't understand that it is more than just emotional. Again, not speaking for everyone, but I get physical things as well. It most literally hurts to move, so when I do, it's much slower than usual. I talk slower, I think slower, I am slower. The worst part for me, though, is the fact that, again, it most literally hurts to even smile. I work with kids. I need to be able to smile. Even a fake one would be nice!

I haven't wanted to get out of bed for three days now, and believe it or not, forcing it makes me feel worse. This whole deal of "try a little harder" is total rubbish. Even "fake it til you make it" is just going to escalate my depression (oxymoron of the century!).

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

I tend to point out things when I'm down here, like how I only have two or three people who really talk to me. I wish I could say it was as nice as that, but I get incredibly sarcastic and a little demeaning. I've never actually said this before, not even to myself, but I do that because I'm scared. I don't want to feel like this to begin with, let alone go through it alone, but when someone asks, "what can I do?" I have no answer. I don't know how to answer it. Just knowing that someone is there is good enough for me.

I'm pretty sure I've used this song before, but I love it and it applies to those who are there.

"Rescue"~ The Summer Set

 

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

Where Do Stigmas Come From?

This is probably going to sound like I have a superiority complex...

I've been reading some things lately written by people who also have Bipolar, and the only thing I can say is, are you freaking kidding me?!

I've lost track of how many times I've said that I don't show emotion outside my house and that I like to pretend I don't have a problem. I don't want to talk about it all the time. I know I have a problem, but would you want to talk about that strange mole on your leg 24/7? I'm well aware of my shortcomings and do not need to be constantly reminded of them.

Then there are the people who are always using their mental illness as an excuse. If you're cranky, rude, or pitching a full-on fit, that's just you. Having a mental illness does not excuse anyone from having manners. I feel like the bottom of a compost heap every minute of every day, yet I manage to keep some sense of decorum. Screaming in the middle of the road while ripping your clothes off? Don't say "it's because I have Bipolar." It's not. I promise. You're just looking for a way out with the fewest repercussions.

I've seen people say they have some kind of mental illness to get out of trouble ranging from traffic tickets to that freak who shot up the theatre in Colorado. And we wonder where the stigmas come from...

If you feel like the bottom of a compost heap and need to stay home in bed, do it. There's nothing wrong with that. Don't, however, expect understanding and compassion when you act out and blame it on your brain. We are the only ones who can end the stigmas.

• Mental illness does not give you special rights.
• Mental illness is not an excuse for lack of decorum.
• Using mental illness for your own advantage is only escalating stigmas.

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

"Honestly"~ Hot Chelle Rae

I'm A Hazard To Myself

*Sigh*

So, I have finally succumbed to the fact that I cannot work enough to support myself and, without proper care, I never will. Between my mood swings (notice how I avoided "the B word" again) and ever increasing anxiety, I am doomed to part time and low income. I hate having to ask my parents for money for anything, let alone everyday living things like clothes, food, etc. I've said before how I like to pretend I don't have a problem, and believe me, I've avoided "the D word" like WalMart on clearance day, but I came out of my imaginary happy world long enough to apply for... Disability.

Just admitting that makes me feel like a lazy, entitled moron who can't be bothered to get a real job. Don't get me wrong, I've never looked down on anyone receiving disability benefits (if for the right reasons), I just have been telling myself I'm normal for so long that I actually believe it. Until I get around actual normal people, that is...

I had help from my attorney to fill out the application (actually, his office manager did it and she's awesome too), and every question about medication and job histories just felt like a knife. As I was thinking back on my job history, I felt more and more like a failure. I've had one job that has lasted more than four months. One. I've had quite a few jobs that have lasted less than a month. I had one once that lasted just one week. Since March of 2011, I've had so many jobs that I can't even remember some of them!

I actually confined myself to my room most of the day because just thinking about what a failure I am sent me into an incredibly fast spiral down to the lowest circle of Hell. Side note: I had to go to WalMart today, as well, and that just made the spiral faster. Why can't I do the things that normal people do? I want to go to work 40 hours each week and complain that I work too much to do anything fun. I want to have that one person in the office that I confide in about how much I hate the boss. I want to contribute to society. Most of all, I want to know that I'm not a burden; on my parents or the taxpayers.

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

"Don't Let Me Get Me"~ P!nk

Girl Talk

I'm crabby.

Let's be honest, ladies. Not one single woman on the planet jumps for joy at the arrival of her period each month. We all get crabby because we feel like we got hit by a truck, we have to pay a ridiculous amount for supplies to maintain something we never asked for, and those supplies are freakishly uncomfortable, but having to deal with those hormones along with what's already going on inside my head is, well, less than fun.

I can be called moody on the best of days, but during my far-too-frequent "special time," (Side note: whoever started calling it that should be shot.) being anywhere near me makes you a target. I think I should design a shirt that says:

 

WARNING:

Close proximity to occupant

may result in serious injury!

 

I used to have one that said "Caution: Does Not Play Well With Others," but I outgrew it when I was 18 (ok... I finally threw it out when I was 18 because I'd had it since I was 12 and much, much smaller). Yeah... there was no point in telling you that...

 

Anyhow... You'd think that there would be some kind of cosmic exception making it impossible to have that many mood swings. I've basically succumbed to the fact that, I will be spiraling down an emotional vortex of doom every four weeks and hide as much as I can.

 

On the bright side: I have pizza.

 

Twitter: @AROTBEblog

Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express

Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

 

This.

 



Hard Time On The Inside

Here goes...

Last night, a good friend of mine suggested that I write what it's like inside treatment hospitals. I'm not sure I'm the best person to be doing this, as I've spent less than a week between the two times I've been locked up, but I'll try.

The first time, I was 15 and admitted to the University of Utah Neuropsychiatric Institute (UNI). From what I remember, this was a good place. They had a level system, so, the more progress you made, the more perks you got. The staff was great! Nobody talked down to anyone else.

However, I was only there for one night because I'm ridiculously good at talking my way out of things.

The next time, I was 24 and put on a "blue sheet" at... not UNI (I won't say where this place is simply because I'm afraid of them coming after me for defamation). Side note: A blue sheet means you're not there voluntarily and they hold you for at least 72 hours. This was, without a doubt, the absolute worst place I could have been! The doctors were almost never around, I was forced to participate in things I either had no interest in or simply didn't want to do, and the entire staff made it very clear that everyone was there by their own fault. You're in here because of something you did. Forget the fact that you have an illness, you just did something bad.

We were treated no better than felons! Every door had to be unlocked by staff who would act like they were doing you a favor by letting you use the restroom. If you don't participate in group, you're threatened with longer incarceration. They had phones, but the staff had to dial out and you were only allowed two minutes (I actually fought them on that quite a few times. Yelling was involved, with colorful names used to describe the staff).

Not bad enough? I made nice with one of the other inmates (I refuse to say patients for this place) who was there for a rather interesting reason... She went in to the office just for a basic evaluation, as was instructed by her doctor. This place blue sheeted her because she had one passing suicidal thought seven years before.

Sadly, there's a list of things that have lead to my not wanting to seek proper care besides this prison. When I was in elementary school, the school psychologist figured that, "since you can't get along with these particular classmates, you can spend the day away from them, locked in my office." I got punished for being a victim. I've had several therapists who have done more damage than good, but this was the worst.

Yes, our system is not only broken, it's shattered, but it's not all bad. I'm in a pretty good place with all that now. I know how to judge if a particular therapist will work for me (usually if they won't let me talk my way out of it the first visit, they're good), and I know myself well enough to play with my prescribed medications to see if they will work.

I urge every single one of you to question what you're given. Don't accept that this bad therapist/medication/whatever is all there is. You are the only one who truly knows what's best for you. If it's not working or it makes you uncomfortable, get a second opinion or go somewhere else. Most of all... DO NOT LET ANYONE TRY TO CONVINCE YOU THAT ANY OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT!


"Jailhouse Rock"~ Elvis Presley

That Was A Wall...

Oww.

Have you ever changed moods so quickly that you have no clue what even triggered it and it kind of feels like you hit a brick wall? That's where I was today.

Despite my anxiety over returning to work this week, yesterday was pretty good. Today was a whole other story. It started out alright, but about half way through my whole four and a half hour shift, I plunged so low and so fast that I'm still waiting for my ears to pop!

I've spent the last few hours trying to pinpoint the dirty little factor that did this to me, and as usual, I figured it out just now as I'm typing. There's quite a bit going on at the school today. It's close to Valentine's Day, so all the classes are doing their art and party prep, there's the semi-annual book fair that all the classes got to go preview, and one class has a display that all the other classes are going to see. Worst part: The room where the book fair is, is right close to the class who has the display. This is the area I'm in all day. Too many people moving too much of the time.

The fun continued on my way home. Fun Fact: Utahns don't know how to drive properly! I swear, I could write new words to "12 Days of Christmas" to apply to how bad our drivers are.

OH! I got more of my records today. I was locked up in the absolute worst facility in the world a few years ago (long story there), and for the 41 pages of completely useless crap they sent, they want $20.50! How could anyone, in good conscience, charge that much for someone's own information?! Especially when it's useless?! That's it. I'm moving to the UK. The NHS is (mostly) a better system.

On the bright side, I got to talk to my friend in Oklahoma today! I don't get to talk to her much, so when I do, it always makes me happy. Even if only momentarily.

"Scene Change"~ The White Tie Affair (This is the best video I could find in the 30 seconds before I gave up. I normally hate fan-made lyric videos because the lyrics are usually wrong.)

Twitter: @AROTBEblog
Facebook: A Ride On The Bipolar Express
Email: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

Updates N'stuff

I've talked about my twitter, but have never actually mentioned what my handle thingy is. So, should you desire to do so, you can follow me there.

@AROTBEblog

I've also talked about the Facebook group. It's there for sufferers, family, friends, or anyone wanting to learn more. It's completely open, so feel free to join!

A Ride On The Bipolar Express

I have also set up an email. Why? Because I'd love to hear from you! I know some people who read this don't want to post comments because it's kind of difficult to leave it anonymously, so if you have a comment, question, or need to vent, you can send it to me! Sure, I'll know your name, but everything is between us.

bipolarexpressride@gmail.com

Fin.

Just Another Title

Gotta suck it up, right? No.

I've been ridiculously sick for the last week or so and have been stuck in bed with my tissues, NyQuil, and Netflix. Now, normally this would sound fun, but when I have a job, it seriously messes with me.

When I start a new job (or go back after being a walking virus), it takes me a while to get into the groove. My anxiety skyrockets and I become the reincarnation of Harry Houdini. Some jobs take more time to get used to than others. If my schedule is the same days and times every week, it's going to take me a bit longer than if it changed. It actually took me seven weeks to make all my scheduled hours at my current job.

Best part of working at a school: 2 week Christmas break.
Worst part of working at a school: 2 week Christmas break.

I haven't recovered from the break yet and it's February! So much has piled on in the last few weeks that have made me miss work that I haven't even been able to make half my hours since we came back in January! 

Right now, I'm sitting on my bed, making myself nauseous with the idea of going in today. I love my job, but my brain has other ideas.

"Xiat"~ Trevor Moran
"Trying to do normal things I used to pursue.
So fired up, but now rotting inside.
I do my hardest to break out of this shell.
Without a crack, I'm still stuck in this Hell."

On The Record

At least I'm consistent...

I've been collecting my psychiatric records, and all I can say is "really?" I don't have much in the way of super far back, but even since 2009, not much has changed. On paper, anyway.

I've said before how I like to pretend I don't have a problem. It's always been that way. When I get those questionnaires about mental status, I will always mark the things that make me look normal. My efforts are, however, in vain because the doctors' notes will always tell a different story.

I was just going through my records from the last place that did my medication management, and I got back to the initial paperwork I had to fill out before being seen. On those, I had to mark somewhere between one and four (one being "not at all" and four being "all the time"). I don't think I actually read the statements before simply choosing to mark the one box. Every now and then, though, I'd change it up and mark a two. I read all the notes from my doctor and thought, "Why do I even try to hide it?" I mean, when the notes say that there is a "markedly noticeable difference" in what I put on paper versus how I act, it's useless.

Now comes the really hard part: accepting, not only the illness, but the illness being a part of me. I've only ever posted three pictures of myself on here (none of which could be used for identification) because I hadn't fully accepted it. I've been thinking of it as its own entity, but it's not. I'm not saying that it is me, I'm just saying that it is a part of me. I may not like it, but without it, I feel like I'm not being honest with myself. So this is me. Flaws and everything. (Sorry. I'm not too big on selfies, so this is the best I have.)

Unimportant

(Insert correlating opening line)

I am not important. I never have been, I never will be. Everything I think, feel, want, need, or say will be passed off as irrelevant. It always has been, it always will be.

Not that anyone cares, but I'm going to tell you what has brought this up. I've told you about my bully, my father, my sister, and how they treat me, but it's not just them. My mother will side with whoever I happen to be arguing with, even when she knows well and good that I'm right. She'll say "I know. I talked to (whoever) after." Fan-bloody-tastic. Where were you in the moment? When I needed you most?

Wanna know something funny? I've only got two friends who have never made plans with me only to cancel minutes before for a better opportunity. One lives in Korea and the other lives in Oregon. Not exactly close.

Not sure if I've said this before, but I was engaged when I was 21. I didn't like him, let alone love him, but I was 21 and it was expected. I was settling then and I'll wind up settling if/when I do get married. I'll have no choice but to settle for someone who is only with me out of obligation because I'm just that important.

I don't expect much from people anymore. Doubt anyone will even notice when I'm gone.

"Welcome To My Life"~ Simple Plan

Who Am I?

I am me, and I'm not sorry for that.

When I was growing up, my sister made very sure that I was nothing like her. I couldn't have the same shirt, shoes, I couldn't even like the same song. She shut me out of her life completely. Side note: I never actually liked anything for the simple reason of "because my sister does."

A few years ago, she changed. A lot. She started talking to me. I thought I'd die of shock. This is great, right? Wrong. For the last 4 years or so, I've had to listen to her tell me all sorts of things that I do wrong. How I should dress more like her, do my hair like her, do my makeup like her. The list goes on and on.

When she's not on that wagon, we can have a great time! We act like children and laugh at the dumbest things. It's great! But the second I try to say anything real, she retracts into her, "you're the little sister and don't know anything because you're still six years old" phase. If she and my mom are talking about real stuff and I try to put in my two cents, I get the most ridiculously condescending look that's kind of like, "don't hurt your brain."  I feel like I should be getting a biscuit for complying.

I'm not actually expecting her to read this because, well, she's never read any of my posts. She still believes I'm not a good writer, and says she "doesn't have time" to read this. Well, in the time it has taken you to argue about it, you could have read five posts!

None of this would bother me if we weren't related. If she were just some person I knew, I'd cut her off and be fine with it. Since she's family, however, I don't have a choice. She's my only sibling, and the fact that she cannot accept me for who I am is probably the most hurtful thing in the world.

Sister, dear... I like my skinny jeans, flat hair, basic makeup, flat canvas shoes, and punk rock, country, and pop. I'm so much smarter than you give me credit for. It is not alright to attempt to change any of this. Please accept and respect that I am not you, I am me.

I'm going all-out emo today, but there's one line in here, besides the chorus, that I dedicate to my big sister. "Did you know you used to be my hero?"

"Perfect"~ Simple Plan

When It Rains, It Pours

Can I give up now?

Today has all-out sucked, but there was one thing that just irked me so badly that I have to vent.

My whole life, I've been the "not a problem" girl. The one who is always doing favors and listening to people vent. I don't really mind doing these things, but it's incredibly rare to find someone who will do anything for me.

I've got a friend who is pining for this girl who has cut him off. I hear about her every time we talk. When I start talking about something similar, the subject is quickly turned back to this girl.

I've got another friend who, whenever we talk, has to talk about something she's been dealing with for years. If I mention how I'm feeling, we can talk about it for like two minutes before she turns it back around.

It's the same with my family. I'm sitting here right now, obviously unhappy, but I get to hear all about how my cousins screwed up my mother's date with my aunts and uncle.

I always do whatever is asked of me, I always listen, but nobody seems to feel the need to do the same for me. In fact, most people actually try to guilt trip me for stating an opinion or speaking my mind.

I almost got into a wreck today because some idiot decided she needed to make the world's slowest left turn right in front of me. I wanted so badly to just hit her. I just want this to end. I hurt, but nobody seems to notice because I'm never given a chance to talk.

"Heard It All Before"~ As December Falls

Oh, The Humanity!

Don't make me go!

So, today, I have to go to a funeral. Do you know what is at a funeral? People. Scarier yet, family.

Side note: I don't consider this a particularly sad funeral because my aunt lived a long life. It's a reprieve for her.

Anyway, I've told you before that I'm socially inept, and well, it gets worse around extended family. But I was thinking to myself, I said, "Self, why are you so socially stupid?" and you know what I figured out? I'm just overwhelmed with social anxiety.

I saw this link on Facebook this morning, and while collegehumor.com makes it funny, it's also very, very true. This is exactly how I feel in every situation. Check it out!

www.collegehumor.com/post/7009222/what-the-world-looks-like-with-sicial-anxiety

I've been posting a lot lately, and I'm sorry about that. I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now.

My connection

 I talked about my connection to photography  in my post "Disconnecting the dots" and thought I'd share some of my favourites. I'm technologically impaired, so the formatting may not be the best, but the pics are still there! The first two, I didn't actually take (duh!), but loads of my friends love them. Yes... that's me, and yes... I'm a dork.


Is the Doctor in there?

I couldn't resist :)

Perspective is everything



Southern Utah

Southern Utah... again



Montana

I have a thing with bees



So many things going on here...

This kind of looks fake

I also have a thing with fences

This was the first time I had actually seen the ocean

 

See? Fence... and flowers

Looks like a postcard

The absolutely beautiful city of San Diego, California 

Too cliché?

Yep. Cliché.

Ooh! River!

One of my best friends on her wedding day

Tetons

I love contrast!

Almost looks like a Bob Ross

Some lake in Wyoming

Apparently I like cliché.

I'm running out of captions...

Pretty

Imagine... I took this with a super crappy camera.

Another of my best friends on her wedding day

I swear the carpet was blue! Love how it turned black, though!

This is my city?

Hidden treasures

Somewhere in Oregon.  I love that state!

&$@* &$@ &$#@&

It had to be said.

I am painfully blunt at times. Those times are generally when someone is being, let's face it, stupid or careless. I've never been an optimist or a pessimist; I'm a realist. I don't see the best or worst outcome, I see things how they are (unless it has to do with me, but that's another story).

It does take me awhile to get annoyed enough to actually say what I think. Good thing, right? Wrong. By that point, I'm so beyond annoyed that it comes out like a slap in the face. This, as you can imagine, people don't really appreciate. But seriously, who wants to hear that they're narcissistic or that their kid is a brat, even in the nicest of tones?

But the really funny thing about all this bluntness is that I can't say, oh so very many things. These things contain, but are not limited to:
* I love you
*Thank you (when applied to a compliment)
I can obviously type these, but actually saying them... no.

Side note: I got a new shirt over the weekend forgetting that I've gained 5 lbs. It's bugging me, so you get to hear about it.

Well, once again, I come to a close with an entirely unlinked song running through my head (mostly because it's playing now, but still). Ok, maybe it has merit...

Just Give Me A Reason~ P!nk

Socially inept

Nope.

This morning, I went to the dentist because my teeth suck and I'm about ready to rip them out. Well, it was really just one tooth, but it really hurt! I was there for about an hour while he took x-rays and checked to see if it was a simple fix (it was!). This normally doesn't bother me, but this is a dental school and there are loads of people there! I don't do social very well.

After the dentist, I stopped to say hi to my sister for a minute before heading home to fill out an application for a second part-time job (grammatically correct run-on sentence #3). I went to drop it off and had every intention of going to work after, but my brain had other ideas.

That much social exposure is never a good thing for me. I always try to fight it, but I always wind up overloaded and unable to function. See, in my head, I'm a social butterfly who is the life of the party. Actuality is a whole other story. I'm really just the girl who sits in the back, keeps her mouth shut, and wishes she had stayed home. I don't know why I do this to myself. I know I shouldn't do something, but I want to believe I'm just like everyone else who can do it.

I daydream. A lot. I like thinking about how things would be if my brain could handle more social situations. I mean, as much as I like denying it, I'm quite clever and quick witted, but hardly anyone knows because I can't talk like normal when there are loads of people around. Even if there are just a few, unfamiliar people I can't do much. It's like my brain says "ALERT! ALERT! Too many people! Retreat! RETREAT!"

Times like this are when I need Nick Santino. So here's one of my favorites.

"Back to Where I'm From"~ Nick Santino

Disconnecting the dots

"You seem... disconnected."

It's no secret that I'm not as connected to people as most others are, but there is one thing I can connect with even on the worst of days: photography.

Now, I'm not a professional, and I sure don't have a fancy camera, but it's something I actually believe I'm good at. I absolutely love cemeteries, especially the older ones. I haven't had the chance to go there since Halloween, but let's face it, autumn leaves make a cemetery better.

Some people ask me why I'm so disconnected and socially awkward, and I never actually say, but anyone who was severely bullied in school can commiserate. I tend to be very suspicious when someone tries to befriend me because I'm used to people using me, either for their own gain, or their twisted endeavors. My whole life, people have been more than willing to let me do all the work or take the fall.

Fun story: I was in a kind of sorority a few years back. We used classrooms to meet in, so we had to rearrange the room to fit our needs, then put everything back when we were finished. Well, one time, I got there and nobody was in the room, but 2 of our girls were out in the hallway doing homework. I went in and started setting things up. I moved all the tables and all the chairs. In the middle of all this, one of the other girls came in, saw what I was doing, and left. After I had everything set up, someone came in and told me we weren't using that room that day... and left. Of the 4 people who knew exactly what I was doing, not one offered to help. I didn't hang around for the meeting/activity.

I've been rejected for so long that, somewhere along the line, I started folding in on myself and not letting anyone even try to get in. I've got friends I've known for years that I'm starting to shut out, and I have no idea how to stop that. I'm always saying how I'm so alone, but it's really my own fault. I push people away before they can hurt me.

"My Own Worst Enemy"~ Lit

You rock!

I just wanted to take a second to tell you all about some fabulous updates! That, and I'm bored, but have nothing to actually say.

So, I think I mentioned that my blog now has a Twitter. (I'm really in charge, but don't tell the blog that. It's rather sensitive.) So you can now follow me on Twitter @AROTBEblog. There is also still the group on Facebook, also called "A Ride on the Bipolar Express." Although, I'll be honest... I don't really pay much attention to that one. I started it mostly as a safe place for discussion. You can still sign up for email notifications, as well. I haven't really been able to post these to Facebook lately, and Twitter is more moody than I am, so email notifications can be a good thing.

Also, welcome back France! #JeSuisCharlie. My heart goes out to you. May you all find peace and solace soon.

A big "HELLO" to Turkey! Not actually sure where your country is on the map, but I'll find out!

And returning are Germany, Japan, and of course, my heart... the UK.

I'm loving that my words are reaching so far and wide! This is amazing to me! I got my very first comment from someone I don't actually know! And I have a follower! I never in a million, billion years expected any of this! Thank you all! You're Amazing!

"You're Amazing"~ Josh Kelley

ur adorbs

This is why my teeth suck...

Ever have one of those days where you literally clench or grind your teeth out of frustration? Well that was my day today. I have two kids I work with that test my patience every day, but today, it's like they joined forces to see just how much I can take. Exactly how much can I take? I left early. That's how much. Only 10 minutes, but I was seriously going to punch one of those little (insert plural expletive).

So, after I left, I went to my happy place, often referred to as a "library" to just check out the new building (well... newish). I decided that, while I was there, I'd check and see if they had a copy of the DSM-V (that's a 5, not just a v). Not one single person there had even heard of it. To further my frustration, one person couldn't quite grasp the concept that, just because it has a 5, doesn't mean it's the version that came out in 2015. So no, the 4th edition did not come out in 2014.

You know what? While I'm in the mood to rant, I'm going to rant about my biggest pet peeve: grammar!

I have recently made a Twitter for my blog, and so far, I've gotten a great response! But the internet in general is full of idiots who shouldn't have been released from 1st grade! "Tryna" is not a word. I believe what you're looking for is "trying to." Not to mention, when you say "stand up for child abuse," you are, in fact, condoning the act. Not condemning it. Punctuation is a thing. I promise. And when are people going to realize that when they say, "That's frills, totes adorbs," they sound like complete morons? And friends, U, R, C, and B are letters, not words.

I'm not a Grammar Nazi, but I'm definitely on the Grammar Police squad. We all make mistakes. Fact of life. I can't, however, bypass a blatant disregard for the English language.

Now that my teeth are completely ground down...

Word Crimes~ "Weird" Al Yankovic

Uncontrollable

How old am I?!

So, today, I had to go to the dentist to get a hole the size of China's "Supercave" filled. Not even joking, the dentist (well, dental student) almost called in reinforcements. All I can say is that Nitrous is my best friend.

So now I'm sitting on my bed instead of going to work because, as I just posted on Facebook, "my tooth has a heartbeat."

Wait, what? Have I reverted to my prepubescent self? Hold on... nope... yep... no, oh wait, yes... Everything is where it should be, so why am I being so incredibly immature? It's a freaking tooth, for crying out loud!

Oh yeah... there's the teeny, tiny fact that my brain has full control over me. If I don't get enough sleep, if I don't eat enough, if I eat too much, and heaven forbid I ever stop thinking about whatever it is I'm feeling. Any number of things can let my thoughts and emotions completely overtake me.

Not to let slide the overwhelming anxiety of going to the dentist. Yay uncontrollable feeling... (insert less-than-amused face).

Well this has been entirely pointless, but that's alright, because I get to share yet another song that I adore.

"Uncontrollable"~ Stereos

It's Awfully Windy

Can I just tell you how much I love my job?

So, here, school has been out for two solid weeks for the Christmas and New Year holidays. Needless to say, I haven't been at work during that time. I probably would have gone, but getting arrested on a break and enter isn't really all that appealing to me.

Anyway... The second I walked into that classroom, I was attacked by tiny humans (often referred to as "children"). I'm in a weird mood. Just go with it. It was hugs and attention grabbing all around! I even got to pull recess duty! I know that doesn't sound like too much fun, but I actually like it. It gives me a chance to interact with kids that I don't normally get to see.

"Wait, why are you so... complacent?" Ok, since you asked... I've come full circle and have landed back into the hellish, and dreaded, "mixed state." I feel pretty good (most of the time), but I'm gonna tell you right now... the "voluntary Cinderella" is on strike. This started three days ago and already my room is nearing uninhabitable. Yes, I'm a girl. Yes, I'm a slob. No, I don't care.

Super quick here, I want to thank those of you who share, comment on, or simply read my posts. It is not unnoticed, and, as much as it may not seem like it, you are very much appreciated! And a big HELLO to the UK and Ireland who have joined me on my unpredictable ride!

Back on track... So basically, I love my job! Those kids are my reason for getting out of bed every morning. I've been searching for so long for something to give meaning to my life, and I have finally found it. Not sure why it took this long to realize it, tho...

It may be cheesy, but it's a great song and totally applicable.

"Wind Beneath My Wings"~ Bette Midler

As December Falls... Again

One. Two.

I had just one friend share my last post. Just that one meant the world to me. Thanks. I know there are quite a few of my friends and family who read every post faithfully, some just like what I have to say, others say it's educational, but think about it... if it's educational to you, don't you think that maybe, just maybe, someone else may as well? Grammatically correct run on sentence #2. Just a thought. And I got two viewers from Australia (I actually had to spell-check that... genius)! That's a first! Welcome, mates!


SO! Happy freaking new year! There are a lot of things that come along with January 1st (one of my best friend's birthday, for one), and they all suck, if you ask me. Here's why...

"New year, new you!"~ Ok... why do I need a new me and why can't I decide to change the things I don't like in June? I am a work in progress and I refuse to try to make it faster just because the number on my calendar changed.

"What's your New Year's resolution?"~ I've tried these before. Lose weight, eat healthier, they never come to be. So this year, I've decided that I'm going to read two whole books. Yep. That's it. Setting a resolution simply sets you up for failure.

"50% off clearance!"~ Might as well take my house and car now. Who's with me?

But one good thing about a new year, I was introduced to some new music! This band followed me on Twitter, and I'm glad they did! I had never heard of them and I really like them! Their name is As December Falls, and their whole album is great! Check it out on YouTube!


"A Home Inside Your Head"~ As December Falls

Solo

I'm tired.

I'm tired of having to fight for everything I feel because nobody else seems to care. I'm tired of having to hold everything in because, apparently, my needs aren't as desperate as everyone else's. I'm tired of coming last in everyone's lives.

Would anyone even notice if I disappeared one day? Some say yes, but honestly, how would they? I don't hear from most of them on even a weekly basis. I'm just the one they notice when I start talking like, well, this.

I am so completely alone. I can't.

Is what I do here even doing any good? Every post I put on Facebook, I ask that it get shared. I guess it's not good enough to warrant 2 seconds to hit the share button. So, this will be the last post unless someone can show me it's worth it.

Voluntary Cinderella

What now?

Cleaning has always been extremely cathartic for me. Every time I clean up or organize something, I always feel better than I did when I began. With the holidays here resulting in so many days off from work, I've found myself going a bit mad.

I've never been one to sit still and do nothing. My mother tells me that I never walked... I ran. I'm always doing something, whether it be cleaning, working out to my Richard Simmons DVDs (judge me, but they work!), or dancing, I never sit still. I would annoy everyone in class because I was a knee bouncer/foot tapper. Basically, I just had loads of energy. I still do when I'm manic, and cleaning became my way of releasing it.

What I didn't expect, however, is the emotional release that cleaning could have. I was thinking the other day about how I do feel better when I clean, and came to the conclusion that cleaning and organizing the house, and especially my room, was organizing the mess inside my head as well. So, when I'm off work too long and have too much time to think, or when I'm agitated, I clean.

I work at a school. School is out for 2 whole weeks. Needless to say... the entire house has gotten organized and a lot of it has been scrubbed down. ** Side note: It's super annoying that my computer keeps changing the 's' to a 'z' in organise.**

Since everything is clean, I'm now starting to move my entire room around.

The only song I can think of that is about cleaning is the Barney one, and I'd punch myself for putting it here, so this is what I've had playing while I've been cleaning.


"Stuttering"~ The Friday Night Boys

Warning: politics

I'm going to do something I absolutely hate and get a little political (backfire in 3...2...1...)

Yesterday, I watched a video of a young man "coming out of the closet." This was incredibly difficult for him, and honestly, I don't doubt for one second that it was nearly impossible. Coming out with any secret that defines or marks you as different is the most difficult thing anyone could do in our society.

It's not just the gay and lesbian community, though. There are countless rape recovery centres who have adverts alongside freeways, on the tele, and on the radio. I applaud anyone who has the courage to step up and admit they need that kind of help and the fact that we need that many centres breaks my heart.

What really irks me about coming out as gay, getting help as a rape victim, or what have you, is that there is endless support for these courageous people, yet coming out with a mental illness basically makes you a leper.

Trying to find a support group for those with Bipolar Disorder (around here, at least) is like a headless chicken seeking food. I have just Googled "rape recovery centres" and "LGBT support" and countless things popped up, but when I searched "Bipolar Disorder support groups," I got sent to a site that sent me to another site that was absolutely useless. I narrowed my search to include "Utah" and got articles from web magazines about the apparent Utah epidemic.

I am not now, nor have I ever dismissed the plights of rape victims or those struggling with identity, I just wish that there was less fear about and more help for mental illness.


Toby Keith~ I Wanna Talk About Me

My Lips Are Sealed

Anyone got a hammer?

If people, especially my family, knew how much I bite my tongue, they'd be shocked. I keep my mouth shut most of the time because, let's face it, my brain wants to be angry way more than I do. The thing is, though, nobody seems to appreciate, or even acknowledge this. They are, however, more than willing to point out and/or escalate the issue.

(I'm kind of overdoing the comma thing today...)

I try my best to not get angry and bite at every little thing. I try to be positive and understanding despite my brain and body screaming at me to "slap the stupid off their face." But no matter how hard I'm trying, I can't hold all of it in. On certain days, much like today, there are just too many annoyances and I can't bite my tongue anymore.

Nobody seems to care that I'm trying all day, every day. From the second I wake up to the second I fall asleep, I am on guard. I'm watching what I say, how I move, what faces I make, and taking incredibly detailed mental notes about how I feel.

Anyway... this should be Utah's theme song.
Hush Hush- Pistol Annies

Nightmares before Christmas

I need my teddy bear!

No, really. I've been holding on to my teddy bear the last few nights because I've been having nothing but nightmares. I've always had them, it just gets worse every now and then and I can't pinpoint what causes it.

I'm not sure if I've told you lovely people about this before, but I've had a recurring nightmare since I was 6 years old. I have it at least once a week, and yes, I wake up trying to scream every time. I dream that I'm in a public bathroom, and when I look up, there's a dead woman hanging over the divider. And people wonder why I hate public bathrooms...

I won't give you all the details of my nightmares, because, well, the amazing writers at Criminal Minds couldn't think of anything that bad... But a couple of night ago, I dreamt that the darkness was alive, and if it touched you, you would become part of it. If you've seen I Am Legend, it's kind of like that. It scared me so bad that I actually jolted myself awake.

But it's not just night terrors, it's the dreams that are so vivid, I actually think they're real. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've woken up and smacked my wall trying to get up because I dreamt that I had moved my bed. Those dreams are, in a way, worse for me because I don't get restful sleep so I'm tired all day. Not to say I get restful sleep while I'm trying to run from the darkness...

Well, today, I was reading one of my books on Bipolar management (if I could remember which one, I'd love to tell you), and came across a part that said that vivid and violent dreams are common among people with the disorder. It was just a basic fact, but knowing that took a whole load off my mind! It's normal! Sound the trumpets! Join the chorus!

So, I know that knowing these dreams are normal doesn't stop them, but it makes me feel a little less weird.

This song doesn't really have anything to do with this, but it's called Rescue, so it has merit.