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

Just make it stop!

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

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

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

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

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

Up To Here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't be Lucy.

I Was Right

Why do I attract narcissists?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I KNOW!

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You don't. 

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

Next Up

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

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

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

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

Things I couldn't focus on tonight:

- TV

- Music

- Books

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

- Walking

- Applying lotion (don't ask)

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

- Conversation (which is a majority of my job)

- Tying my shoes (funny and painful)

- Thinking

- Breathing

- Sitting

- Standing

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

I hate this. 

Hot Mess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't be that caller.

Hard Times

Cry. Laugh. Repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe...

Maybe. Maybe not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Experiment concluded.

On You

In case you were wondering...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

America has an EVIL problem, and an ignorance  problem.  

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

Remove head from butt, then speak.

Flying Monkey

I give up. I am alone in this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And The Hits Just Keep On Coming

Punch to the gut.

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

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

Kind

Giving

Caring 

Bright

Loving

Beautiful (inside and out)

Outgoing

Happy

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

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

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

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

Next Please

Is it over, yet?

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

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

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

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

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

Here's to a better tomorrow.

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

Learn Something New Every Day

That was eye opening.

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

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

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

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

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

I Get It

I didn't fail. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Different Is Not Always Bad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Brain Is Crying

More than a case of the Mondays.

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

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

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

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

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

Karma Chameleon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here We Go

Let's see if this works.

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

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

Back to the overtime thing...

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

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

Short post.

Hum-bugged

Don't wear hearing aids. Stare at food. Don't punch anyone.

Happy Christmas to all of my lovely readers! Hoping you all have a wonderful day.

My Christmas is a disaster. I mentioned a while ago how my "sister" and her husband swindled my mom out of two thousand dollars for an unnecessarily extravagant laptop. I've mentioned a few times exactly how much I really don't like them. I'm pretty sure you're all tired of hearing about the useless narcissist I was forced to call "dad". Having all these... beings... in one place is going to drive me off a cliff.

Mr and Mrs Swindle are talking about how "We were going to do this, but didn't want to be creepy." Sooo.... instead of being helpful to someone in need, you decide to care more about your appearance, and what someone might think about you?

King Henry VIII told a story about a Jeep pulling its Ford out of some mud, and it emphasizes how IT wanted to give that driver a medal. This may not seem like much, but it's one very large piece of the narcissistic puzzle. 

The best part of this torture is the ego stroking. It absolutely FLIES back and forth between the three of them. Add on the fact that the two... males... both keep talking, at the same freaking time, because neither will concede control of the one-sided "conversation".

I can't deal with this. I can't stand these... beings... at the best of times. Get them together and my nerves are shot, my teeth are all ground down, and I'm ready to spit fire.

I grew up being told to stand up for myself, unless it's standing up to "sister" or "father". All I ever heard was, "Be nice" and "You need to apologize". Yeah... Where are the apologies from these two... things? Where's the validation that I'm not, in fact, their doormat?

If you've got someone who treats you like you're unimportant trash, never believe them when they say they'll change. They won't. They've been treating you like trash for years, and promises to change are empty. There's always the "honeymoon" phase, where they're nice and good, then the ball drops, and they double down on what they're doing to you. Abusers of all kinds are entirely incapable of treating you any other way. Remove them from your life. It'll hurt, thanks to them making you believe you need them, but realize you're worth so much more.

They won't change.

They can't change.

They don't care.

They can't care.

It's just who they are.

Time

Be here. Do this. Take that.

It's been said a million times, and I'll just add to it: there isn't enough time in the day. Between full-time work (going on six whole months, now!), doctor appointments, errands, and the extremely limited "me" time, I'm just done. 

A few weeks back, I lowered my Seroquel from 400mg to 350mg. There were a couple of really bad days, but overall, it's not bad. Weirdest part is that I'm sleeping better now. Anyhow, my moods are pretty level, considering the time since I lowered it, but I still get this awful feeling at the end of the day. Like, full-blown depression, with a smattering of "I'd like to punch you in the face" anger. Unfortunately, this lovely concoction of emotions pops its ugly head out at some inconvenient times. My poor mom is getting the force of it.

Today was odd, and tomorrow will be very similar. I took the morning off for a doctor appointment, and worked the six hours from noon unti, well, 6:00 PM. The darker the sky got, the darker my mood got. Bad enough that work was nonstop busy, but between people being people, and this foul mood of mine, I'm sure a few unsuspecting souls got a taste of it.

I'm trying desperately to lower my Seroquel to the lowest tolerable level, because I was recently diagnosed with insulin resistance, and Seroquel is known to have an effect on that. I've started to change the way I eat (being without a constant supply of Cheetos isn't helping my mood 😡), and I'm exercising more, but there's a long way to go. I'm round. I look like, if you took a bouncy ball, stuck toothpicks in for arms and legs, and added a Cocoa Puff for the head. A large part of that is genetic, but that won't stop me from trying my hardest to change it. 

I haven't written in a while, because I'm so done after work, that I simply don't want to. However, this blog is my catharsis. Talking about these things and emotions is helpful in treating them. I very much encourage everyone to have a catharsis. Write, clean, rant, sing... Just do something to get it out in a constructive way. I've got a whole list of "my life sucks" songs, if you find yourself in need. 

That's all.

Thank you for your time.

You may now continue scrolling.

It's A Thing- Go With It

Some days, you just need a pool noodle.

Today can go away, and never return. But that's the great thing about todays- they always go away, never to return. Even when you're suffocating, trying to get just one sigh of relief, today will be gone tomorrow.

It's stormy, today. Normally, this wouldn't mean a thing. Today, it means my depression has turned on me, keeping me from really doing much of anything. I can't even smile. It's annoying.

One of my coworkers simultaneously made me laugh and feel a bit better, if only for a minute. She told me I sounded cheerful. That's the last word I'd use to describe me, today, but I guess sounding cheerful is a good step in keeping me from a total breakdown. It was just a nice thing to say.

Then, after stupid people did lots of stupid people things, I get a text from a friend, informing me that she found me a pool noodle. Yes, there's an explanation. No, I don't feel like explaining it. Let it be a mystery.

That seemingly small thing let me know that today will, in fact, end. Tomorrow will come, erasing today from my mind.

As this wonderful friend says... "The moral of the story" is you never know what can make your day. It could be something you always do, or something so small that you'd never think of.

Good friends should be everyone's go-to. Find your happy place in good people. You deserve it.

Second Thoughts

Big red flags...

So, last week, I did intake for a new therapist. I didn't do this with my actual therapist, but with some rando who does it. That was red flag number one. 

During this intake, there was an intern, who was simply observing. That's fine. Everyone has to learn their profession, sometime, right? Red flag number two  was when I was "advised" with things like, "don't talk about that, during therapy" and "don't say that during therapy". So... what's the point of therapy, if I can't talk about why I'm there?

Literally the only reason I'm keeping the appointment with this therapist, is to find out if she's any better than the company she works for. I've been in and out of  therapy since I was, like, twelve. Over they years, I've learned to read the warning signs for a bad therapist. I had one who didn't accept my interests or choices, and actually met with my mom, concerned about my desire to get into criminology. I had another who, during our first appointment, was twisting words, trying to make me say that I didn't work, because it's not important to me (which is 100% false). Still the worst, by far, was when I was locked up in the world's worst inpatient facility. She drilled it through the heads of all the women there, that we were there because we did something wrong, not because we had illnesses.

There's a shortage of therapists, in general, so finding a good one is about as easy as finding a snowball in Yuma, Arizona.

I have my first appointment with this new one, next Thursday. To be honest, I'm not holding my breath, but we shall see...

OK, I'm finally gonna say it.  

I have an aunt who needs a smack to the head, in hopes that she'll learn a thing or two. I don’t like her-- I never have, and I never will. (Well, I have two aunts I can't stand, but this is just for one.)

This woman felt that she had the right, throughout my childhood, to dictate how I kept my bedroom. Every time she'd come in from out of town, she'd go into my room, and act like bloody Hitler, to "clean". No. That's not your right. You are not my mother. You do not live here. You do not get a say. Yes, my bedroom made disaster zones look organized, back then, but you had ZERO right to do that.

She's one of those narcissistic jerks who thinks she's the center of attention, and if you don't acknowledge her in the way she thinks you should, she needles you until you do. Yes, she has some serious narcissistic tendencies. She should know that, too. I mean, she has a degree in psychology, which we are all aware of, because somehow it makes her better...?

I've bitten my tongue for thirty years, when it comes to her, but I'm done. I sincerely hope she's reading this, because I will not be acknowledging her existence again. I'm fed up, and today was the final straw.

She and my uncle are in town, again. They came to the house to pick up my mom and the other narc, to go do some super boring stuff. They're on the porch, chatting, and I open the door, to find out where I need to move my car. I get a "hello" and a smile from my uncle. That's it, because he's the normal one. Then the aunt... she says hello, right about the same time uncle does. I wave, because I'm me. She then proceeds to say "hello" again, like I've done her some great injustice. My mom tells her I'm antisocial, because, well... I am. What aunt said next, had my blood boiling. She says, "I don't care! I'm her aunt!" and tries to push past my mom, to get to me.

Yeah, I heard that. Hearing aids are wonderful inventions. They're great to be able to hear, and even better is taking them out when you don't want to listen to someone. 

Aunt... no. You may be my aunt, but that gives you exactly ZERO right to invade my space, my privacy, and it sure as ever loving HELL does NOT give you the right to touch me. That psychology degree is absolutely useless if you can't grasp basic "touch me and die" or "I don't wanna talk to you" body language.

You aren't the center of the universe. You aren't special. You're factory-standard. If someone acknowledges you like the queen you think you are, it's probably because they want to avoid your theatrics.

Stop. 

Now. 

You don't get to dictate other people's lives. 

You're not God. 

Bye!

Epitome

So done.

As anyone who takes psych meds knows, it's a ride. I'd say it's a roller-coaster, but if an roller-coaster was built to mimic this, it'd kill people. Sharp corners, sudden drop-offs, rises so sharp that it'd just crash...

I've been seriously agitated, lately, so I took a small amount extra (yes, prescribed by my wonderfully knowledgeable med manager). I took half the extra dose, but it still punched me. All day, I've been tired, drained, uninterested, and now, I'm crying for no reason at all.

I barely got through this workday. Thankfully, my load was light, but I still just wanted to go back to bed. My brain was so foggy, and the dystonia-- typically contained in my left foot-- made it's usual, drug-induced appearance in my mouth. Suddenly, if a word had a B in it, my mouth decided it didn't want to open up for a solid two seconds. Yes, I timed it.

I went to dinner with a friend, who was visiting from out of town. That was nice. Didn't really notice anything wrong. But... then I came home, and it all hit me, again. 

Around 9:00, my brain decided I needed to cry. No reason. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular. When that stopped, I just about fell flat, I was so tired. Here I am, thirty-seven minutes later, and all I want is to disappear. 

I hate this.

Friday the 13th

Die.

I have never been superstitious. Friday the 13th isn't a thing. All it is is people being overly cautious, looking straight ahead, so as to miss the telephone pole in front of them. They missed walking into the pole, but got smashed from the side by something they were too busy thinking wasn't going to happen. This particular day has no super powers. It's no different than any other day. Then today happened...

I've never said what my job is, or with which company. I do this so I can say things, like I'm about to say, without getting fired.

Today started off stellar. I didn't sleep well, thanks to my body fighting an elusive illness, which I won't explain. When I could finally drag myself up, I couldn't eat anything. Because sick.

I logged on, an hour early, to make up for some time I missed this week, because I've been, you got it, sick. Only half the programs I use actually came up correctly. The others taking a solid fifteen minutes to decide to grace me with their presence. 

The day had been going relatively well, but super slow. Then I got the email...

Something to the effect of, "Sorry, but this isn't excused because, if you're not prepared, just take a break". To which I responded, something to the effect of, "It's not that I wasn't prepared to work, it's that I wasn't prepared to do this totally new thing, which I had never done, and have zero idea how to do".

I was bombarded with something new, which I wasn't supposed to be doing until next week, and it's not excused?!?! Management didn't bother to check what was happening, and I'm the one at fault?!?! No. Management's fault. 100%. **Ammendment: It was finally excused**

Here's the kicker... I was so wrapped up in defending this thing to management that, when I clocked out for lunch, I forgot to set my availability as "Hey! I'm not here! Get someone else!" Thus creating the exact same problem that I'd been fighting, before. 

Other things that have happened include:

*Bashed my toes while walking around the house.

*Split my heel open by stepping on a freaking magazine.

*Splashed soda up my nose... twice.

*Published this post to the wrong blog. Obviously that was fixed.

**UPDATE (1:17 pm): I got new glasses from mail-order, today. They're wrong. My day continues to sink even lower.

**UPDATE NUMBER TWO (3:34 pm): I slammed my knee directly into the corner of my desk's leg. I can no longer feel my big toe 

**UPDATE THREE (3:42 pm): The cords that keep my work computers, ya know, on, have now decided they're done.

It's only 1:00. Here's hoping this day ends with all my limbs still attached.

No Better

So many types of toxic people, so few nerves left intact.

I've written, before, about not begging for attention from those who obviously don't want to be in your life. I'm finally taking my own words to heart. 

I've got friends, then I've got Facebook friends. People who do nothing more than hold a place, and make me seem more popular than I really am. People don't like me. I accepted this a long time ago, and I frankly don't care. I've got the best, most amazing real friends, so I tend not to notice others. But those others who feel the need to "unfollow" me, just to spare my feelings by not deleting me, those are the worst.

Some of these are blatantly ignoring me, and others choose to stay out of my life, completely.

I've got some people who I used to be super close to, who are now FB placeholders. The vast majority of them unfollowed me for the most petty of the twenty-first century reasons: politics. Super adult-ing, there, folks. 

Welp, I'm not going to keep placeholders, anymore. I deserve better. I deserve real friends. Friends are involved with each other's lives. Friendship isn't a one-way street.

So, for all my FB placeholders, this is your last chance to show you're still the person who was my friend. For any reasons you may have for walking out of my life that abruptly, you've got one last chance. Be a friend, or go your own way.

Dear readers, I implore you, do not allow yourself to be taken in by people who don't cherish you, just as much as you cherish the! You're worth much more!

ISO: Big-Girl Pants

Nope, nope, nope.

Today marks something in my life that has literally never happened before. I have officially been working forty hours per week, for a month! Major milestone, here! Of course, working at home definitely helps. No traffic, no weather, no special work clothes. It's wonderful!

I'm plugging along, enjoying life, when I'm punched in the face with an upcoming "retreat". I got an email asking for ideas on where to go, and where to eat. There was definitely panic involved.

I'm not big on socializing, in general. Add in loud, busy places, and I'm gonna have to take the next three weeks off, just to recover from that.

It's nothing against my coworkers or manager, at all. Everyone is great! I simply can't do everything normal people do. Add in the whole "I'm deaf" thing, and it'll wind up being me sitting awkwardly, while everyone else talks. That is, if the places are loud. Not even the best hearing aids help when there's a ridiculous amount of background noise.

By the time I was seven, I was a pro at talking my way out of things. Sure, some of them are awkward, and leave people entirely confused, but I still did it. And every single time, I made things up. "I've got a family thing that night", or "So sorry, but I've got something I've got to do", or "My mom called, and something terrible has happened" type things. 

I've worked very hard to stop lying to get out of things. It doesn't help my cause, and it definitely isn't easy keeping all those fibs straight. But, as we all know, the truth is much harder to say. "I'm super anxious, here, and need to leave" is perfectly fine to say, and people usually understand, but saying it is near impossible. 

I've now got to stand up, put on my big-girl pants, and explain that I simply don't do well in social situations. Or, on the flip side, I could put on my big-girl pants, and expose myself to something that seems impossible, but may actually turn out well. Either way, I've got to find a way to do this.

Umm... Not Ok.

Beyond pathetic. Absolutely inexcusable.

As some of you may know, I started a new job last month. In fact, tomorrow marks one month! And this isn't necessarily just a job. There's a very real possibility that it could turn into a career! Full time, benefitted, the works.

With this new job, comes new health insurance. Yes, I pay through the nose for it, as well as for the co-pays, but at least I'm earning my care, now!

The only plan I was able to really afford, happened to be the only plan my therapist of three-or-so years did not accept. I let her know in advance. Plenty of time to wrap things up. Or, so I thought.

I wanted to be sure she'd canceled my future appointments, so I sent her a text. Her response? Nothing. Zip. Thumb-tied. She ghosted me faster than a blind date would ghost a raw-organic-vegan (which I totally got stuck with, one time).

As a professional, that's not OK. As a therapist, that's dangerous. You don't ghost someone with a delicate mental state. Thankfully, I'm pretty good on my own. But it does make me wonder if she's done this to others who weren't OK. 

No, I'm not going to tell you her name, or where she's located. But I will tell you that she'd not ever really helped me. It was always just shooting the breeze, or ranting about one thing or another. No actual work has been done in the more than three years I'd been seeing her. I'm sure that works for some, but it definitely doesn't work for me.

So, farewell, old therapist. Great person, and definitely helps many others! But I'm glad to be moving on.

It Just Never Ends

My body is bound and determined to stop me from reaching my weight loss goal.

For those not in the know, I was born with the bones in my legs and arms twisted. This includes the bones in my feet and hands. All of which have varying degrees of rotation. I had one leg fixed, and that's all that's ever gonna happen. I hope. I also deal with Dystonia in my left foot. Because why not? 

Welp, thanks to this lovely deformity, I tend to injure myself quite easily. My wrists are useless, both with chronic tendinitis, and playing the cello is interesting, as my fingers aren't straight-on, but sideways. But the worst is the rotation plus the Dystonia, in my left leg, have combined to just about kill me.

My Dystonia forces my foot forward, making my knee go to an uncomfortable degree inward. Last October, I managed to injure something in the back of my knee, which is supposed to be impossible to injure. Since it's impossible, two doctors had no idea how to treat it. "Rest and ice" is what I got. Yes, that time it did help. Not this time. 

It doesn't stop there, no... 

Today, I officially overworked the tendon on the top of my right foot, to the point of actual tears (as in legit crying). It frickin hurts! How did this happen? Twisted tarsals, and lots of walking.

Since I re-injured my knee, I haven't been able to use my bike, or my snazzy new sitting elliptical, so I've been walking (carefully) while work is slow. I was super proud of myself, yesterday, when I got over 10,000 steps! I've been getting, like, 2,000, so this was awesome! I'm paying for that, now, after getting over 8,000, today.

I guess my body decided that a three pound loss was enough, and just shut down.

Bright side: I'm still three pounds down! In just three weeks, too! That hasn't happened since I was eighteen and still dancing!

Should Have Known

Urge to stab...

The evening of July 4th, our air conditioner kicked the bucket. Couldn't find anyone to come out until the 7th. It got up to 88° inside. 

On the 7th, we had a new stove delivered, after our seventeen-year-old one died, a few weeks before. The guys couldn't install it, because the wall has the wrong kind of outlet.

Also on the 7th, in the evening, the thermostat for the air conditioner decided to finally stop working. Once again, it got up to 88° inside.

Here we are, today...

The air works, thanks to a friend of a friend, who came out to install the new thermostat. It would have been fine, if the thing would have fixed it a year ago, when the thermostat started having issues. But what does it care? It's got the nice cool basement to escape to.

We still have no stove. Why? Because it canceled the appointment for the electrician, who was supposed to come this coming Thursday. But, you know, what does it care? It's not the one who has to cook.

I've said it for a long time, and I'll say it again: This house is a dump, and it's 100% the narc's fault. It doesn't believe in updating a house. Most of the carpet and paint, here, is circa 1970-something. Original to the house. Any updates have been paid for by mom. Usually after a lengthy debate about how she doesn't want to live in a dump, and it throwing a tantrum, because it doesn't want to do it, let alone help.

It broke its toilet, in the basement, a couple months ago, but won't fix it. We got so many generous donations to fix the kitchen floor, but won't allow anyone to come in to do that, insisting that it can do it, but we all know it won't do it  (yes, that money is still put away for that purpose).

It's father was a hoarder, and it had to clean out the apartment when he died. It's not just the garbage, it's the damage done because of that garbage. Now it's placing that on me. But, as we all know, narcissists don't give a single crap about anyone else, and hoarders literally have panic attacks when actual garbage is chucked. So, mom and I live in a dump, because Herr Henry VIII (yes, that's a reference to 2 people) won't allow anything to get fixed.

Ladies and gents... my life.

Growing More Cranky

My life. My reality.

OK, you know what? I'm so close to being done with you. Literally anything I say, these days, gets an angry response. Everything. My existence, alone, seems to set you off. You whine and complain about anything and everything, but if I ask how you are, I get either a huge sigh, an annoyed grunt, or a combo of the two.

Yeah, I complain. Everyone does. Get over it. Not everything I say needs to be greeted with distain, because, believe it or not, you complain a crap load more than I do! Just listen to yourself!

You're growing into one of those cranky old women that nobody wants to talk to, and will have customer service people making notes in your file, so as to avoid taking your call. And 99% of your anger and irritation is aimed at me, when I'm not the one creating those feelings in you. 

It's not fair. I have to prance on broken glass, and pray I don't have the "wrong" tone, or ask the "wrong" question.

Mom, you've been my only source of sanity, in this hell created by the monster you married, and now I've not even got you. You defend that monster's behaviors, and get mad at me, not it, when it starts a fight! Do you not see the idiocy in that???

I don't even know who you are, anymore. Since you retired, you went from mom to cranky old woman, in less than three months. And you're just getting worse.

I beg you... DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS! Go to therapy, if you think that'll help control your moods. Or, here's a crazy idea... Aim your anger and irritation at those causing those feelings, instead of piling it all on me!

Once that's taken care of, you can start trying to make me a priority when we're together, instead of your elder child or something on your phone. I sit there, in silence, as it's made crystal freaking clear that you don't really want to be stuck with me.

34 years of narcissistic abuse has set me on the edge of the roof. Don't be the wind that finishes it.

So Loved

I literally have the best friends in the world. Hands down. Your argument is invalid.

I have successfully completed two whole weeks of training for the new job that has turned out to be so much more complicated than I'd imagined. It's been a bit like trying to fit a soccer ball into the hole of a needle, and I'm pretty sure my brain has escaped through my ears to find shelter.

Anyhow, I put on Facebook how I finally feel like a real adult, and how I can actually have some pride in myself. No surprise, my friends were 110% supportive. So many likes, loves, and comments, telling me that I've got a network of amazing people!

We all have friends, especially on Facebook, who we don't really talk to, but we all still support each other. We don't always come across each other's posts, or react to them, but we all know they're still there. Just because you don't talk every single day, doesn't mean you don't care. That's what the "delete" button is for.

Anyhow, I was thinking, late last night, how these wonderful humans have always supported all my major life decisions and changes. Every time I got the job, got accepted into a college, or simply made a big jump in my mental health, they're there. Every time something has failed, they're there. 

I've been blessed with a spider web of fantastic friends who catch me when I fall, and help me get back up. 

Nobody can get anywhere, alone. We all need good people with us, encouraging us to be our best, and empathic when we need a pick-me-up. If you don't have those types of people, you're hanging with the wrong crowd, because you deserve to have people challenging you to be your best self. You deserve to be around people who love you, and who you can love and support.

YOU ARE WORTH IT! And don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

Fed Up

Worse... and worse... and worse...

I'm at the end of my rope. It's now a "me or it" situation. It's getting worse. It's more childish, more demanding, and more forgetful. It's upping its game, tenfold, and I simply can't handle it, anymore.

That's all.

Hate

There has never been such a hatred, than an abused child for their abuser parent. 

The day it dies, will be the best day of my life. All I can do is pray that its death is incredibly painful and soon. Maybe colon cancer, or an Anne Boleyn-style decapitation. No matter how it happens, it needs to feel every ounce of pain it has inflicted on me, tenfold.

I have prayed, almost every single day of my life, that it would die. Even on the "good" days, it still had nothing nice to say about me. It literally told me that, the way my mind works "isn't attractive", it told me, "everything I give you, is a gift, and can be taken back at any time". Yes, really. It told me that I'm no use to it, because I don't enjoy the same things it does. It has yelled at me for its shortcomings; threatened and carried out physical harm, many times; it continues to do the latter, on at least a weekly basis. It has backed me into a corner, while I'm sitting, and unable to move, and it sees no problems with its behavior.

If I say literally anything against it, it comes back with what a six-year-old would do. If I say something like,"go away", it'll come back with, "you go away". Yes, really.

I've only ever really wanted three things in my life:

*A trip to England, which was achieved

*To be able to work full time, which is in the works

*The death of the mixed reincarnation of Henry VIII and Atilla the Hun

I am so done. It's gonna get to a point where I resort to physical defense mechanisms. Next time it backs me into a corner, it's getting punched right in the face. That, friends, is self-defense.

I ask all you lovely readers to join forced, and help me pray for an incredibly quick release from this monster. Whether it be through me being able to leave, or it's painful death, I couldn't care less. I just need to get away from this disgusting, sad excuse for a human, before I have to use even more force in self-defense.

Classics

So fun!

Fun fact: Classic car shows are way fun! Old cars, yes, but there's so much more to it, than that! There's a vibe with car show people. Laid back, summer evening chill. Add in the classic music, and it's a perfect way to spend an hour or two.

Tonight, there was a show right down the street from me, and my mom and I went down to see. So many fun cars, great music, and that atmosphere that makes me just... happy.

I was singing along with some of the songs, but when "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" came on, mom joined in, and we were in our own little world. There was one of the car owners who was watching us, totally amused. 

It's how I always imagine evenings in small towns. It's idyllic. I love it.

Anyhow, enjoy these pictures of some awesome cars!

Unequal

Parents do not love their children equally. You'll never convince me otherwise.

When I have a problem, and I call my mom, 99.9% of the time I'll be able to talk for no more than two minutes, before I get an overly annoyed, "I don't know what to tell you. I gotta go". 

Mom's older child calls with a problem, and mom listens for as long as it takes, is sympathetic, and gives ideas and advice. Keep in mind, older child loves the sound of her own voice, so this is never less than fifteen minutes.

I pointed this out to mom, just now, and she got ridiculously defensive, and gave me yet another overly annoyed, "Well, I never know what to tell you". Ok... but does that warrant a quick, annoyed cutoff? I'm having a problem, and you don't even try to hear me out? You don't bother to get the details, listen to literally anything I have to say, and you're straight up rude when you cut me off. Nice.

I guess mom will be last on the list of people I call when I have a problem, now. The one person in my biological family who I don't wanna punch in the face, and she's really pushing that line. Jackass always comes first, then princess, then lazy BIL, then her church thingy, then her office friends, then, way down at the very end... me. 

I feel like Dr Gant in ER season three...

Done. I'm just done.

Starting Something New-ish

I've lost count of how many times I've tried this, but I'm hoping beyond hope that it works out, this time...

Pee in a cup: ✔

I-9: ✔

ID photo: ✔

Office chair: ✔

Chair mat thingy: ✔

Desk: Ordered

That's right, ladies and gents, I have a job! A real job. Full time, benefits, work at home, real job! I will be working for one of the biggest and best companies in Utah!

I'm entirely terrified that I'll, as usual, not be able to handle it, but there are some good things about this, and I hope they help me. Being able to work at home, there's no possibility of the, "I don't wanna deal with traffic, today" excuse, or the, "My work clothes aren't clean" excuse, or the worst one: the, "I can't be around people, today" excuse. Yes, I am in a customer service position, but it's on the phones, and not in-person (which has proven to be career-fatal every single time). 

I'll be starting toward the end of the month, so I've got some time to prepare. And then there's two to three months of training, so I'm not just thrown to the badgers. 

The absolute best part of this is: I can move out of state, while keeping my job! I'm limited on which states, but at least it'll be out of this... well, I'll let you call it as you like.

Pray, cross your fingers, and grab your rabbit's foot. This is happening... again.

Fine, Do Your Thing

Just don't expect me to follow your lead.

Today is the last day I try to get my mom to stand up for herself. She never will, and trying to get her to, just irritates her. So, I give. 

My mom is the epitome of abused wife. She's been abused so long that she can't say anything, anymore. The narc gets its way, every single time, because mom has been conditioned to fear its wrath. 

Now, this started long ago. This isn't something that happens suddenly. It most likely started with something like:

Narc: I want this here.

Mom: OK. Doesn't bother me.

After forty years, she is so afraid to piss off the asshole that literally anything it wants, she permits. She has given in so much, that she has zero rights. 

A friend if mine posted a picture, reading, "You can't keep getting angry at someone for sucking the life out of you, if you keep giving them the straw". But give it the straw, she does.

One of the biggest problems I have with Mormonism is their views on marriage. They believe that, if they're married in a special building, with very specific words said, that it's for all eternity. If someone, like a narcissist, should be abusive, or if he has an affair, they have to petition their church to get a "temple divorce", like it matters. Fun fact: In the afterlife, God will not force people to be together, despite these unforgivable actions, just because they were married in a special building. Divorce is divorce. But, as mom is a faithful member of that church, she believes otherwise. It's her right to believe that way, but she's just harming herself.

She is so conditioned to obey the narc, that if she does get slightly annoyed, it'll say, "What's your problem?!" Her response? To bury it deep, eat her feelings and needs, and conceed to what it needs or wants.

So, mom, I will stop trying to coax you into standing up for yourself, and that waste of space will continue to push you lower and lower, until you are literally nothing. I can't help you, anymore. I, however, will continue to fight off the abuse, and set boundaries. Yes, it'll throw fits over literally everything, but that's not going to be my problem. I didn't create this monster. Neither did you, but you sure as hell helped make it as bad as it is, today. And by continuing to indulge the asshole's demands, you continue to make its reactions worse. Good luck with that.

Making it angry will actually help show that it's not God, despite what it believes it is. I know it's uncomfortable for you, but what's worse: Dealing with 20 minutes of anger, or living the rest of your life with a proverbial gun to your head, being made to cater to it out of fear?

Your choice.

Antsy

I'm not a patient person...

OK, readers... Once again, I have applied for an absolutely wonderful job, and I'm awaiting their answer. I got the first interview, the second interview, and the request for my references (again, thanks Kappas!), and I'm going nuts, waiting on a phone call.

The seriously lucky people who will be offered positions, will hear between May 24 (which has passed), and June 7. Two solid weeks of nail-biting anxiety, going back and forth from, "I screwed it up, as usual," to "I think I have a chance!" Not a fun place to be.

Understand that this is an absolutely incredible opportunity, with an incredible company! So, the more time that passes, the more nervous I get. This has created problems.

I haven't been sleeping well, I've been more attached to my phone than a teenager trying to get Tik Tok famous, and despite my exercise routine, I've gained weight, thanks to all the junk food I shove in my mouth. 

Did I mention that this is an absolutely incredible opportunity???

I haven't been this nervous about a potential job in... well, ever. It would completely change my life, in the best ways possible! 

On the bright side, I've been working on a story I've been writing. 99.9% sure it'll never get published, but I'm entertained by it! I've also been advancing on both piano and cello, and my Dutch, Welsh, Irish, and Greek are all coming along nicely. All because of my nervous energy. Put that energy to good use, if you find yourself with an excess of it. You'd be surprised what you can do!

Repeated... Again

I'm sensing an overly obvious pattern...

My June 15, 2020 post, Enough Is Enough, maps out yet another narcissistic blow-up, where it causes the problem, but when I defend myself, suddenly I'm the one with the problem. It "apologized", and gave the usual empty words, "This won't happen again. I promise."

Wanna guess what this post is going to be about? Thats right, folks! There was yet another narcissistic fight. It poked and prodded, giving first grade level comebacks to anything I said, and it wound up with me throwing a bottle of mayonnaise (because, close) at the useless waste of space, and it getting in my face. It was about six inches away from my face. Mind you, I was stuck in a chair, with nowhere to go. Big man, it is... Had it not moved, I'd have kicked it in its obviously microscopic junk. Or in its knee, which would have broken it. Either way, I wouldn't have lost a second of sleep.

Let's take a step back to the first grade level comebacks. I don't remember most of them, but there was one that perfectly showed the emotional maturity of a narcissist. I said how we were going back to elementary comebacks, and it legit said, "I don't think you even know what a school is". Yes, really. 

This waste of space, air, and energy, deserves a special place in hell, where it's constantly needled with the crap it puts on others. The condescension, the manipulation, the "my way, no highway" ways, the whole flying-off-the-handle-because-it-wasn't-done-my-way crap... The list goes on. And on. And on. And on...

The day it finally dies, I will praise God, like I've never praised Him before! It will be the best day of my life! Unfortunately, the only thing I can do is continue to pray to God, asking that the narc's end comes quickly, and with pain equal to that which it has inflicted.

A Quick Notice

Hey readers!

In case you hadn't heard, Blogger is discontinuing the option for email subscriptions. You won't be able to subscribe, and if you are a current subscriber, you will no longer receive those emails. This is planned to happen at the end of July, 2021. 

As I know that some of you rely on those emails, I invite you to join our Facebook Community where I post each blog. It's also a place to learn about, support, and get support for mental health. Not many people post, but it's definitely encouraged!

I wish this didn't have to happen, but I've no control over it. Maybe enough people will complain, and it'll get turned around. Who knows?

No More Excuses

Stop. Now.

Far too often, people will blame their disability, ranging from hardly noticeable to life altering, for bad behavior. Even more often are the excuses made by someone who thinks they're being genuine. Neither are helpful.

As I'm sure most of you have heard, there was a 4-year-old boy who bought over $2,600 worth of popsicles. He's getting all sorts of attention, people think it's cute, and all the brat has learned is that, if he does something bad, he gets rewarded. But there are so many clueless morons out there who believe he shouldn't be punished based on his age and, apparently, because he's "on the spectrum". 

People always assume that autism is an excuse for literally anything that person does. The idea that autism keeps people from knowing right from wrong, purple from blue, or up from down, is the most idiotic thing. I've been blessed enough to work with some beautiful souls, while I was working in a special education room. Some of these beautiful souls were autistic, and you will never convince me that autism is equal to stupidity or ignorance. I had one who could beat me at math, puzzles, and Uno. I had another, who didn't speak much, but was the best artist I'd seen. But my biggest argument is... When these kids broke rules, they were corrected, and they learned! 

People make excuses for anything. Here, in Salt Lake City, back in the 80's or 90's, there were two schizophrenics who decided to shoot up buildings. One at the Triad Center, and the other at the LDS church's Family History Library. Both ended with body counts. People actually tried the "They didn't know what they were doing" bull. At least one of the two had the mind to plan it out. They knew exactly what they were doing. It wasn't the illness-- it was the person.

I'm so bloody tired of people making excuses, therefore creating more fear, and/or less understanding. 

So, by the logic of people like this, I, a redhead, have no soul. Or that my twisted legs make it so I can't understand how it feels to be free. Or because I have green eyes, I'm evil. 

This needs to stop, but it never will. Especially these days, when "diversity" reigns, instead of facts.

One Thing After Another

I'm done with today. Maybe tomorrow, too.

Have you ever had something irritating happen, then everything that happens after that just follows the same path? That's me, today.

I went with my mom to go to the car wash, and grab something at McDonald's. While I was using the vacuum at the car wash, I bashed my head while getting into the car. This, in turn, made me absurdly aware of the ice pick trying to come out of my ear.

These two things had me beyond frustrated and annoyed. Then... When we got home, I dropped the McDonald's bag, spilling some fries. Since today is the day Henry decides to finally lift a finger and vacuum the dining room, I couldn't get to the trash bin. He wouldn't move, so I threw the fries in the general direction of the bin, silently praying it interfered with his moment of helpfulness. 

Things that followed were far too infuriating for how minor they were. My phone slid off the couch, I got yet another eyelash in my eye, the soundbar cuts the sound when I change the volume... The list goes on. And on. Aaaaaaannnnnnnd on.

I call times like these my "mini manic moments", because the way I feel, and the way I react to these chains of disasters, is 100% mania. There's no precursor, the irritant only lasts an hour or two, but it is full. blown. mania. 

I'm not in a manic state. My meds are usually just fine. I just get these mini manic moments, every now and then. It doesn't mean I need to up my dose. I simply have to step back, take a breath, take myself out of my own way, and chill. 

It took me years to recognize that this happens, and years more to figure out how to fix myself during these. It's nice to have more control over myself, my feelings, and my actions. 

Blasted Phones

Irritating. No... infuriating.

You know when you go literally anywhere, and you see teenagers "hanging out" with each one with their nose buried in their phone? That's my life with my mom. 

A solid 90% of the day, you can catch her with her nose buried in her phone. When I try to show her something, or, heaven forbid, talk to her, I get a half angry, half sigh, "What?!" What is she doing the other 10% of the day? Word searches, which get me the same reactions. 

Mom, I get that you're retired. I get that you can read or do other things while the TV is on. But do you really have to bury your nose so far into these things, where literally anything I do or say is an annoyance to you? When you were working at the office, you'd get annoyed at Henry (as in Henry VIII, notorious tyrant) in the evening, because he'd talk and talk and talk. Then you justified it with "He doesn't have anyone to talk to during the day". Fun fact: Neither do I! You're it! I can text my friends, but they all have lives, families, jobs, and are between 50 and 2,000 miles away. I'm not attention whore, but it would be nice to actually have a conversation that isn't interrupted by something on your phone.

I know you'll say something to the effect of, "You're on yours, too", but guess what... It's because I have nothing to do! And even at that, I'm on it a solid 75% less than you are!

I'm gonna make you a bet. You can choose to accept, or decide to continue blocking out the real world, like today's teenagers do. Your choice. I bet that you can't go one whole day without Facebook, news, or anything online. Text and phone calls, only.

One. Whole. Day.

24 hours.

No internet.

No Facebook.

Nothing.