tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75910502218464827172024-03-13T00:42:01.224-07:00I have Bipolar IIOceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-17238331897031542852016-06-07T15:48:00.003-07:002016-06-07T15:48:43.303-07:00PowerlessI shout to an empty room. My words fall on deaf ears.<br />
No one is listening.<br />
Can you blame them?<br />
When so little laughter is heard and so many tears are shed?<br />
Who is there left to listen?<br />
Who wants to listen?<br />
But I write.<br />
I share.<br />
I cry at the emptiness.<br />
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<br />
_______________<br />
I am uncertain what I need. But I am falling apart.<br />
I cannot point out what is causing this, other than my mind slowly destroying me.<br />
Many say mental illness should be talked about.<br />
But how?<br />
I am uncertain as to why I reach out, only to share that I have once again started journaling.<br />
These entries are windows into my soul.<br />
I don't expect answers.<br />
And hardly do I expect much of anything out of them.<br />
But the words are mine and I want you to know they are there to help you see where I am.<br />
<br />
I sit "silently" in my home.<br />
My mind plaguing me with hate, anxiety, uncertainty, and toying with death.<br />
Yes. Death.<br />
I won't hide from it anymore.<br />
I will most likely find myself back in the hospital because of it.<br />
It is almost inevitable, similar to any other chronic illness that flairs up and can't be controlled any other way.<br />
<br />
You see me smile. When you see me. There is joy there.<br />
What is missed is what takes place behind closed doors.<br />
The waterfall of tears.<br />
The body aches longing for relief and understanding.<br />
Please read my entries.<br />
Please reach out.<br />
Please be patient with my slow responses.<br />
It's hard to leave the house.<br />
It's hard to let people in.<br />
Everything is more difficult.<br />
I don't know what you see.<br />
I don't know what you think.<br />
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<br />
___________________________<br />
<br />
This tight anxiety in my chest to which I wake every morning to.<br />
This pain is unyielding and never ending.<br />
I do not know how to make this pain pass.<br />
It is inexplicable to me.<br />
I try to recall all of those that love me.<br />
There are a good many, so I think.<br />
And yet, I am convinced they all deserve better than me.<br />
I am unworthy of their love.<br />
<br />
I am safe in my circle.<br />
I am safe surrounded by those who love me.<br />
I do not feel safe.<br />
I feel suicidal.<br />
I should go home.<br />
I have to keep my promises.<br />
Maybe I will leave earlier.<br />
I do not know how to ask for the help I need.<br />
I DO NOT KNOW WHAT HELP IT IS I NEED! FUCK!!!<br />
<br />
I am blessed. We are blessed.<br />
My meds kicked in. I am calmer now.<br />
I hate my meds.<br />
I guess I need them first thing in the morning just to stave off the morning attacks.<br />
Wake and bake on a new level.<br />
I could fight this.<br />
I could struggle against what I feel I hate so much.<br />
Or I can try to embrace the help around me.<br />
The medications.<br />
The herbs.<br />
The fresh air.<br />
Friendship.<br />
My cats.<br />
My home.<br />
My lovers.<br />
My family.<br />
There is good in this world.<br />
The hard part is pushing out the negative and not letting it engulf me.<br />
I write these words.<br />
"Youth springs eternal."<br />
But there is good still left in this world,<br />
Now only if I could train my mind to focus more on that and less on the negative,<br />
Which I hold no control over.<br />
This worls if ull of ugly and hate.<br />
My moods show such things.<br />
I'm empathic that way.<br />
Learning to separate between what I can and cannot control is the difficult task at hand.<br />
The ups and downs come nd go.<br />
I must remember that.<br />
When I hit rock bottom the only place left to go is up.<br />
Although sometimes its just easier to lay on the bottom and let all the sorrow and saddness seep in.<br />
Is it ok to just let myself linger there for a while?<br />
To really feel those lows.<br />
To explore them, know them, identify them for what they are.<br />
_____________________________________________<br />
<br />
I cannot stop crying.<br />
Everything makes me cry.<br />
I want to curl up and die.<br />
I have little to no motivation right now.<br />
Nothing has worth.<br />
My life has no purpose.<br />
I stay for others, but not for myself.<br />
There is this rude selfishness of others to insist that I stick around.<br />
To stay for them defeats the point of life life for oneself.<br />
I am the one that wakes every morning in emotional agony.<br />
The minutes pass so slowly for me and my reasons to hang on hang by a thread.<br />
Harm.<br />
I just want to fee and be in control fo that feel.<br />
Self-harm fits this.<br />
Pain is real.<br />
Pain is a reminder that life is real.<br />
I feel so numb at times that pain is the only way to break out of it.<br />
FUCK THIS SHIT!<br />
FUCK!<br />
FUCK!<br />
FUCK!<br />
I thought I was ok this morning.<br />
I guess I was wrong.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-57294843039682435992016-06-05T14:13:00.003-07:002016-06-05T14:13:42.230-07:00Where am I going?I'm feeling a bit better today. Although I admit to being heavily medicated and I don't like it. Day in and day out, the same old shit.<br />
I am uncertain who takes me seriously anymore.<br />
I'm sharing my entries.<br />
I blogged yesterday's entry today. Uncertain who will see it, much less read it and maybe even start a conversation about it.<br />
<br />
I cannot help but feel that if I keep myself closed in about death and suicide, I am only writing my own future.<br />
And if I write about where I am in my mind about death, should the time come where I do take my own life I will at least have left behind documents to help the world better understand how it came to that.<br />
I'm on the verge of tears.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<i>It's nice sitting outside. </i>I guess it is something I should really start doing more of.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesson Learned: Nature is good for me.</b><br />
Chickens. Cats. Tress. Plants. Grass. Evening fires. Gaming. Reading.<br />
<br />
Can I be content not contributing financially to my family unit?<br />
This is a constant struggle and concern of mine.<br />
Am I even able to hold a job?<br />
A job that will work with me with my mental illness?<br />
What am I now truly qualified to do?<br />
Nothing.<br />
I color.<br />
I self-care, a lot!<br />
I'm finally taking better care of my cats.<br />
<br />
My sad life: Talking Cats<br />
<br />
I hate mornings. Moreover, I hate ho I normally feel when I wake up in the mornings.<br />
It makes me sad.<br />
My dreams fade.<br />
I lose track of me and where I am.<br />
I forget me.<br />
And then I remember and the tears come back and my gut wrenches and my heart aches.<br />
<br />
These trips are supposed to be fun, DAMNNIT!<br />
WHAT THE FUCK?!<br />
Can I not have this time to just enjoy myself and family?<br />
____________________<br />
<br />
I went to the Salt Lake City LGBTQ+ Pride Parade with my BIL and the two Littles. We had a good time. We did a lot of walking and shouting.<br />
I am now utterly spent.<br />
My social quota is beyond gone.<br />
I hate that.<br />
I utterly and completely despise it.<br />
The little walked that parage and are now outside playing. It amazes me the energy they have.<br />
I once had that.<br />
What happened?<br />
<br />
<u>Old Normal v New Normal</u><br />
This is hard to adjust to, and it's difficult to explain, not only to myself but to those around me.<br />
I can't even fully explain it to my therapist.<br />
Who am I?<br />
What am I?<br />
What is my purpose?<br />
Why do I continue to live each day?<br />
What is the point?<br />
The point.<br />
Please tell me the point.<br />
I ask these questions to an empty room.<br />
I ask these questions to a full capacity auditorium.<br />
The answer is the same.<br />
Silence.<br />
Silence is the answer, as who has the answer?<br />
Better yet, who is brave enough to stand and answer?<br />
Who am I?<br />
What am I?<br />
What is my purpose?<br />
<u>Why do I continue?!</u><br />
To continue to live each day?<br />
The ultimate question: What is the point?<br />
<br />
<b><i><u>I Want A Do Over</u></i></b><br />
Fuck this.<br />
Fuck this shit.<br />
Fuck my heart. My feelings. My thoughts.<br />
Fuck my tears.<br />
Fuck my fears.<br />
Fuck this life.<br />
Fuck this world.<br />
The hate can be so strong and so crippling.<br />
It's hate within myself.<br />
I have no desire to hurt others.<br />
Only myself.<br />
Does that bother you?<br />
Where does my anger come from?<br />
So many mistakes.<br />
So many lost chances?<br />
This life lived for someone else.<br />
That someone else is gone and I still find myself wanting her to live vicariously through me.<br />
My life's purpose...gone.<br />
Now, six years later, what do I do?Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-11986547470017724842016-06-04T14:07:00.000-07:002016-06-04T14:07:56.972-07:00Lost in my mindTime. It is such a waste. I feel so lost. The tears fall. The anxiety builds and no end is in sight for relief. I want to die.<br />
I just want this pain to end. I don't know what to do to help ease this feeling. I just know it's there and is very real.<br />
Will I see next year? Will next year see me? How?<br />
Am I doomed to no longer go to social events? Is it my lot to sit and attempt to administer self-care while at home with just my cats for company?<br />
Am I trying too hard? Not enough?<br />
Who do I tell? What do I tell? How much do I tell?<br />
I am lost in my own mind. Big dreams crushed by fear of reality.<br />
I have a camera, I should learn to use it.<br />
I should start walking.<br />
I should...<br />
I should...<br />
I should...<br />
I don't.<br />
I most likely won't.<br />
My intentions mean well.<br />
I'm a major disappointment.<br />
I don't know why I am loved. I doubt I deserve it.<br />
Jordan deserves so much better than me. Everyone does.<br />
I am lost in a field of my own thoughts and emotions.<br />
Mostly emotions.<br />
Feelings I cannot explain, but cause such great anxiety it's almost paralyzing.<br />
I am told I am needed That I am wanted. But I am uncertain if I want or need myself.<br />
I am once again poor.<br />
Some say there is light at the end of the tunnel.<br />
I rarely see it.<br />
Sometimes a glimpse is enough to give e hope and push through just one more day.<br />
Just one more day.<br />
Just one more day.<br />
But how does one continue to live this way?<br />
Just one more day.<br />
One more day of what?!<br />
Crippling anxiety? Endless tears? Paralyzing fear of everything?<br />
And this is what I live "just one more day" for?!<br />
How?<br />
Why?<br />
To what end?<br />
<i><u>I am dying here and no one can help me!!!!!</u></i><br />
<i><u><br /></u></i>
I don't know what to say to people.<br />
I want them to know. They NEED to know.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I showered and put on clean clothes.<br />
I bought a pack of smokes on my way out to Utah.<br />
I don't know if it is helping or hurting.<br />
It gives me something to do and replaces my want for herb.<br />
(So much for my tolerance break.)<br />
It feels good having my hear wet and down, drying in the breeze.<br />
(I'm sitting on the front porch.)<br />
<br />
I'm thinking of moving my desk down into the den. Maybe if I move out of the bedroom things will be "easier" on me?<br />
Maybe, just maybe, I'll keep things clean better that way.<br />
Although I like my privacy that my room gives me.<br />
Change for simply changes sake may not be the best of ideas.<br />
If the desk wasn't such a pain to move I might be more eager to try it.<br />
I just really don't know what to do anymore.<br />
<br />
Day in and day out nothing changes, nothing but the increasing of my anxiety and a great desire to just disappear.<br />
To no longer exist.<br />
To vanish.<br />
To take a long walk in the woods and never come back.<br />
Maybe I'll go live with the bears.<br />
<br />
But really, let's talk about death.<br />
What is it?<br />
What is it, really?<br />
Death is the end of this life.<br />
But it is also the beginning of something new.<br />
The catch?<br />
We travel that journey alone.<br />
There are choices.<br />
At anytime I can choose to take that solo journey into the unknown.<br />
(Jordan says I'm do some good day soon. I hope he's right.)<br />
I can always wait.<br />
Wait.<br />
Wait.<br />
Just one more day.<br />
Just one more day.<br />
<br />
<i>I guess I want to be in control. </i><br />
<i>I want to be in control of something in my life and right now it feels that the only thing that I have control over is to go one more day.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Angela says I can't go.<br />
Her kids (my minions) vie me as their 2nd mom.<br />
They need me around just as much as they need their folks.<br />
<br />
I want to hurt myself.<br />
At least then I'd have something worthy to cry about.<br />
Maybe then this emotional pain can have a physical pain outlet.<br />
<br />
I stopped blogging.<br />
I stopped writing.<br />
I stopped reading.<br />
And in some ways I stopped caring, mainly about myself.<br />
I matter not.<br />
That's what my mind tells me.<br />
My mind tells me things would be simpler if I were gone.<br />
I am told I shouldn't let these thoughts linger.<br />
It is claimed to be unhealthy.<br />
But my thoughts are real and I don't know what else to do about them.<br />
Too long have I let them simply dance in my head.<br />
I do not know how to evict them.<br />
Maybe writing this down will help.<br />
Maybe blogging and sharing the real will help.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Everything is "maybe".<br />
Maybe moving my desk will help.<br />
Maybe walking will help.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Maybe I should look into pet sitting.<br />
I could get lucky and I like pets.<br />
Animals are better than humans.<br />
__________________________<br />
<br />
the lights flash.<br />
The thoughts wander.<br />
A slow drag on one more cigarette.<br />
One more cider before I throw in the towel.<br />
The guy across the street hides behind his fence while trying to skateboard.<br />
The dog wants in on the action.<br />
Or maybe the dog just want some love and attention.<br />
<br />
I just want love and attention.<br />
It sounds funny, and it makes little sense.<br />
I get plenty of love and attention.<br />
I am loved.<br />
I know this.<br />
I am told this.<br />
I am shown this.<br />
It should be enough.<br />
It's all I've ever wanted, and yet...<br />
Yet I am haunted by intangible memories.<br />
Triggers with no solid founding.<br />
Flashbacks filled purely with emotion, no actual events to grasp on to and attempt to process.<br />
How do I work through these "issues" without a better understanding of what they are?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-84759408684292851202015-11-10T14:39:00.003-08:002018-09-04T07:56:33.279-07:00I Was Raised In A Cult<div style="text-align: justify;">
I want to write about all the positive and sexy. I want to cover up the unpleasant things. I know I shouldn't. I know that hiding from those truths makes it harder for me to truly express my full self (and prevents you from better understanding who I am). How can I show you all of me if I keep hidden such an impacting force that has plagued my life and "helped" define who I am today. Please bear with me as I step lightly and honestly through my past. I am only now beginning to understand my true self.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am defined by my genetics. I am defined by my upbringing. I am defined by the places I have lived and the events that have happened to me. I am made up of the people that have crossed my journey. I am made up of the stories that have touched my life so profoundly that I became a changed person. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc72jMVg9sVRsn-f-TrOyMMvzP4rDoatFnTNne1uBZqfPZnRIbleFrHlKpykCHgmdgaM6Ob4rv05uNolEXFLvsi8UiNVV9smpmhqg0cdPnzpT5kE3RbWCJ55IbV35XkbGCPbzDWXXPR2Q/s1600/father1980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc72jMVg9sVRsn-f-TrOyMMvzP4rDoatFnTNne1uBZqfPZnRIbleFrHlKpykCHgmdgaM6Ob4rv05uNolEXFLvsi8UiNVV9smpmhqg0cdPnzpT5kE3RbWCJ55IbV35XkbGCPbzDWXXPR2Q/s200/father1980.jpg" width="165" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my father, 1980, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuydynr4Xq5oDhl_AnOGP8GC7IxQ5Vg4LajJDrD71N5ca75ySA1kIp5P-zvmOOIQuvMuOH0m0-02mi7M0Z08M-z0TPe_5BHnJIsJkiFXPQgiZzLG97TTePVenPPjHhN1tlxPaTVXymGE/s1600/mom1980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuydynr4Xq5oDhl_AnOGP8GC7IxQ5Vg4LajJDrD71N5ca75ySA1kIp5P-zvmOOIQuvMuOH0m0-02mi7M0Z08M-z0TPe_5BHnJIsJkiFXPQgiZzLG97TTePVenPPjHhN1tlxPaTVXymGE/s200/mom1980.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Mom, 1980, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am scarred by misunderstanding. I'm marked by a narcissistic father and a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.781018106719.2224246.42809521&type=1&l=ea8c99b34e" target="_blank">mother</a> who grew up in a world surrounded by hate, verbal, physical and sexual abuse. I'm misguided by the cult I was raised in. I'm greatly affected by the emotions/feelings of those around me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The cards were stacked against me from the beginning.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is my curse. This is my blessing. This is my gift. This is my undoing. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Mental.Illness.Is.Not.Contagious" target="_blank">This is my design</a>. This is my journey.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Since I was a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/geminifaerie/media_set?set=a.507653152279.2008455.42809521&type=3" target="_blank">child</a> I have questioned who I am, where I come from and, ultimately, why am I me? Why am I here, in this body, in this life, in this time? Why aren't I the kid down the street, sleeping soundly in bed? Why am I me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Recent revelation has shown that I also have been suffering from <a href="http://www.medicaldaily.com/sleep-paralysis-and-demons-bed-358854" target="_blank">sleep paralysis</a> since I was at least 7 years old. I've only recently been made aware that's what it was/still is. It's frightening to find myself paralyzed in bed. Unable to move. The deafening sound of my silent screams. Is this real? Is this my imagination playing tricks on me? Is this normal? Who do I tell? How do I explain it? I told no one. I could not explain it to myself. Who would believe me? </div>
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I've been accused of being a liar since I was old enough to know what a lie is. I have always felt guilty, even when I know I have done nothing wrong. This accusation was further ingrained as I got older. </div>
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I would cry often (still do). Many times for no apparent reason. Emotions would just flood me and the only way my mind could cope was by shedding tears, letting that energy go (as I would later come to understand it). As a child I had no means of understanding and explaining these events. (I now know that I am empathic.)</div>
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My mother would ask, "Why are you crying?" </div>
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"I don't know."</div>
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"You have to have a reason for crying. Why are you crying?!"</div>
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"I don't know."</div>
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"Why won't you just tell me why you're crying?!"</div>
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"I don't know why I'm crying!"</div>
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"Now you're just lying."</div>
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To this day I feel guilty when I try to voice my emotional state. I feel like I'm lying because it's so ingrained in me to believe that the words which flow from my mouth are not true. That I do not know my own mind, my own feelings, my own thoughts. In my mind's eye I am still a child and those around me are the adults and they will always know better than me. </div>
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My early childhood is very foggy. I fear learning of the things I have repressed. My nightmares haunt me of events not fully understood. Why does the phrase "You little shit!" leave such a sour taste in my mouth? Why does the thought of being alone with my father send chills down my spine? Why can't I remember much of my life until I was 11 years old? Why am I afraid to go out alone? Why do I fear making my own choices?</div>
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Recent enlightenments have shown me that the <a href="http://lds.org/" target="_blank">LDS</a> religion (read - <a href="http://cesletter.com/#trailer" target="_blank">cult</a>) has played an overwhelming role in the choices that I have made, or have failed to make. </div>
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I used to proudly carry around a pamphlet titled <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/youth/strength_youth.html" target="_blank">"For the Strength of Youth"</a>. My youth revolved around this. The standards and expectations were placed before me. As young woman I dreamed of graduating high school, <a href="https://www.lds.org/manual/gospel-principles/chapter-38-eternal-marriage?lang=eng" target="_blank">marrying</a> a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missionary_(LDS_Church)#Returned_missionaries" target="_blank">Returned Missionary</a> (RM) in the temple for all <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celestial_marriage" target="_blank">time and eternity</a>, being a loyal housewife, and bearing many children (to "go forth and multiply"). </div>
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My mother clung to these notions. She desired so strongly for me to have everything she did not. I would later discover that she was attempting to live vicariously through me. By my Junior year of High School, she was buying bridal magazines and gathering wedding package information from Disney World (she was obsessed with all things Disney). </div>
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Modesty was drilled into me. Modestly by TSCC (The So Called Church, AKA LDS) standards. Shorts below the knees. No bare shoulders. Minimal makeup. No one-on-one dating. Beware of the devil in your worldly desires. Be ashamed and repress your sexual urges, they too are of the devil. </div>
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From "For the Strength of Youth":</div>
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You are not just ordinary young men and women. You are choice spirits who have been held in reserve to come forth in this day when the <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/basic/doctrines/temptation_eom.htm" style="color: #3b46c2;">temptations</a>, responsibilities, and opportunities are the very greatest. You are at a critical time in your lives. This is a time for you not only to live righteously but also to set an example for your peers. As you seek to live the standards of the Church, you will be able to reach out and lift and build your brothers and sisters.</div>
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God loves you as He loves each and every one of His children. His desire, purpose, and glory is to have you return to Him pure and undefiled, having proven yourselves worthy of an eternity of joy in His presence.</div>
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Your Father in Heaven is mindful of you. He has given you <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/basic/doctrines/commandments_eom.htm" style="color: #3b46c2;">commandments</a> to guide you, to discipline you. He has also given you your agency--freedom of choice--"to see if [you] will do all things whatsoever [He] shall command" (Abraham 3:25). <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/basic/doctrines/agency_eom.htm" style="color: #3b46c2;">Freedom of choice</a> is a God-given, eternal principle that carries with it <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/basic/doctrines/accountability_eom.htm" style="color: #3b46c2;">moral responsibilities</a> for the choices made.</div>
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We counsel you to choose to live a morally clean life. The prophet <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/book_of_mormon/people/alma_2.html" style="color: #3b46c2;">Alma</a> declared, "Wickedness never was happiness" (Alma 41:10). Truer words were never spoken!</div>
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You cannot do wrong and feel right. It is impossible! Years of happiness can be lost in the foolish gratification of a momentary desire for pleasure. Satan would have you believe that happiness comes only as you surrender to his enticement to self-indulgence. We need only to look at the shattered of those who violate God's laws to know why Satan is called the "father of all lies" (2 Nephi 2:18).</div>
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<i><b>You can avoid the burden of guilt and sin and all of attending heartaches if you will but heed the standards provided you through the teachings of the Lord and His servants.</b></i> (See <a href="http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/priesthood/prophets/index.html" style="color: #3b46c2;">Following the Prophets</a> home page)</div>
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We were the chosen ones. I had a lot to live up to. I had unrealistic expectations placed before me. The ultimate goal to be perfect in all things. Every "sinful" thought was to be fought with repentance, prayer, scripture study, paying tithing and attending all church functions. To avoid temptation my circle of acceptable friends and activities was very limited. </div>
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Example: I was so moved by my 3 week trip to Utah in the summer of 1995 (15 years old), that upon my return I phoned my boyfriend, CJ, and asked his opinion on having sex. "If it happens, it happens," was his response. I could not abide by such loose standards. I was shocked and appalled. How could someone have such low standards to something so sacred as sex? I promptly dumped him without a second thought. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gBRmEuKXGPBWAlB1AkD_b4SPTsrsVZn2CzkMlL7yX8joU6F3rMmSXyMYnF2ib-8bzQPYFkhqiuJUPqBingAtJqWi4YFK78AxI8WiKA-ZVoNpEBAXK5fNWSGHC4ttkJ32ckmc-C88-KM/s1600/judgenot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gBRmEuKXGPBWAlB1AkD_b4SPTsrsVZn2CzkMlL7yX8joU6F3rMmSXyMYnF2ib-8bzQPYFkhqiuJUPqBingAtJqWi4YFK78AxI8WiKA-ZVoNpEBAXK5fNWSGHC4ttkJ32ckmc-C88-KM/s320/judgenot.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oh, I was very much a hypocrite. This was the same guy that I used to make-out with behind the C building before and after school (sometimes during lunch as well). Yep, I was a "heavy petter". I relished the feelings and then hated myself afterwards. </div>
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As an LDS youth I was taught that we were, in fact, better than everyone else. We belonged to the one and only true church in the world. We had modern-day revelation. As TBMs (True Blue Mormons) we had all the answers, to life, death and the hereafter. We were systematically taught not to question (<i>"Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters—my dear friends—please, first <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/come-join-with-us?lang=eng">doubt your doubts</a> before you doubt your faith. We must never allow doubt to hold us prisoner and keep us from the divine love, peace, and gifts that come through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."</i>). <br />
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These teachings were the foundation by which I built my expectations of my future. Should I falter even but a step from these "truths" I would be outcast and shunned. Ultimately I would spend all of eternity in "Outer Darkness" (AKA Hell). I would be called to <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2011/10/the-divine-gift-of-repentance?lang=eng" target="_blank">repentance</a> and told to beg for forgiveness, which could only be given to me through confession to my Bishop. The steps towards forgiveness would include denial of certain practices, such as partaking of sacrament on Sundays, (everyone saw when you simply passed the sacramental trays to the person next to you without taking for yourself), and saying prayer in public, (a scarlet letter might as well be pinned to your chest when you must admit that you "cannot" offer up a prayer at the opening or closing of a meeting). Church callings would also be revoked and worthiness to enter the temple would be suspended.</div>
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I know all of these shames. I have cried before my church leaders as a young woman, declaring my sins, naming them and asking god, through them, for forgiveness. I freely offered up a willingness to do whatever was required of me in order to be seen as spotless before the lord once more. My parents encouraged this. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7Xqf4o5FRTxjI81gXjkQAfK8o400IJE19p4Rr50GVzP36PcpMJ8VKaUMAnylpw5tpwHeE6xGlHFyZNlbcGARNVJFikJ45Du8vGFRvqiQzB4wekT3NbVBC9JeFxICFRBkyX5O-RXEP8Q/s1600/p43-milan-confession.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7Xqf4o5FRTxjI81gXjkQAfK8o400IJE19p4Rr50GVzP36PcpMJ8VKaUMAnylpw5tpwHeE6xGlHFyZNlbcGARNVJFikJ45Du8vGFRvqiQzB4wekT3NbVBC9JeFxICFRBkyX5O-RXEP8Q/s320/p43-milan-confession.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Confessions being kept anonymous</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HCn9eHDCXOBnPtglz2Y17vTS8UIYW6rodTbJAYp7he0mXme4BsP86lEFA_3D2TFlBsBBt-YfSRPLJfm2pIBsxg1HHeaLMojSYOL7huB6T78aonwtTbuLK8IPzE-FuhIAKnCuT4erZbI/s1600/bishop-interview1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HCn9eHDCXOBnPtglz2Y17vTS8UIYW6rodTbJAYp7he0mXme4BsP86lEFA_3D2TFlBsBBt-YfSRPLJfm2pIBsxg1HHeaLMojSYOL7huB6T78aonwtTbuLK8IPzE-FuhIAKnCuT4erZbI/s320/bishop-interview1.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What confessing looks like to the LDS</td></tr>
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As a teenager I would dress in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10100171054507619&l=a2d592fedf" target="_blank">my Sunday best</a> and sit alone with my Bishop in his office and tell of my sexual transgressions, what greater sin was there for the Latter-Day youth? Yes, alone. I, a teenage female, would tell a grown married man about my <a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1975/04/a-self-inflicted-purging?lang=eng" target="_blank">sexual thoughts and deeds, including masterbation</a>. (Thoughts are just as damning as actions.) I would be pressed for details in order for my transgressions to be truly weighed and to determine how long my repentance period should last. Sometimes these meetings were held with the whole Bishopric (three men: the Bishop and his first and second councilors). </div>
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This was the foundation by which my perception of sexuality was built. I believed it. I preached it. I testified of it. I judged others based upon it. I condemned even myself because of it. Even now, at 35 years of age, I am still breaking free of this indoctrination I was subjected to. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[There is a lot here I have shared. I have read and re-read my words. I have provided links to help build a better understanding of where I come from and the expectations by which I was raised. I, by no means, expect the sources I have provided to be read in full.] </span></div>
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Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-73382719132539455792015-01-13T12:52:00.000-08:002015-01-13T12:52:04.995-08:00My Father (To See or Not To See?)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwcsxS3CyDgExtH3FXCkmu1z8E0eQfB7T6N1o3X2vYnDAIM7Pl3K4jU1d-ijCMMX9l25TTa2sMfwd7isZoL3s17y8T6oWB1Wlo3KVyC4gwqfk8yam5KrfO1vupFM1zSVGK7og7MiZ1b_s/s1600/February1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwcsxS3CyDgExtH3FXCkmu1z8E0eQfB7T6N1o3X2vYnDAIM7Pl3K4jU1d-ijCMMX9l25TTa2sMfwd7isZoL3s17y8T6oWB1Wlo3KVyC4gwqfk8yam5KrfO1vupFM1zSVGK7og7MiZ1b_s/s1600/February1997.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
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(Waimea, Kauai, Hawaii Feb. 1997)</div>
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I am my father's first child. Growing up in the Navy he wasn't around as much. We constantly butted heads as I got older. We are/were so much alike. I've seen him cry over my struggles with my parents authority. I've heard him tell me that he loves me. </div>
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Years ago, before my mom died my parents had a huge struggle with their marriage. I found myself in the middle of that horrible wave of events. It affected me personally and physically and I found myself siding with my mom, for the most part. </div>
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I won't go into details of the nasty struggle it was to see my father go through his long mid-life crisis and behave like such a juvenile. It was just as rough to hear the nasty words that would flow from my mom's mouth when I refused to go buy her alcohol to numb her emotional pain. It was 2007. </div>
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(San Diego, CA 1981?)</div>
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My 3rd marriage had fallen apart. I was in the midst of graduating college with my English degree. I had plans (already paid for) to go to Ireland for 3 weeks as a graduation gift to myself. I never made it to the airport, much less to Ireland. I had to go care for my mom who found herself alone on 10 acres of property my parents had just bought. (They were getting closer and closer to their dream goals.) The property was in the middle of no where, which is nice; however, she had no car and it was 6 miles to the nearest town. I was in Mississippi at the time. My brother was in Hawaii, to far away to help physically. My sister was busy enough with her own family of 4 going on 5 in Utah. As the eldest and closest to my mom, my brother sent me money and I packed up my life and moved out to care for my mom. </div>
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I blame my lost dream trip, and $1000, on my father. I know he'll never be able to repay me. I know it was 8 years ago. But during that time my father and I drifted further and further apart. </div>
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Despite our differences and frustration with each other, as I constantly made the same mistakes over and over again in my young adult life, every time I returned home, I could always look forward to at least one private ride in the car with my father where we truly talked and opened up to each other. It was those moments I looked forward to when I returned home. It was a reminder that underneath it all there was still great love and compassion between us. </div>
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(1980)</div>
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After a large struggle between my folks, I decided I could no longer live under their roof anymore. I was an adult and it was truly time for me to grow up and not going rushing "home" every time my life fell apart. I moved to Colorado in mid-July. </div>
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I visited my folks home twice since my move. The first was to collect my things and cats to move it all to Colorado. I was so looking forward to that car ride. To that private moment where all guards were down between my father and I. It never came. In fact, as we packed the last of my belongings in the trailer and car and were setting out for the 12 hour drive back to Colorado and everyone was saying goodbye, hugs and all. My mom and brother with his wife and son standing around outside, giving hugs and well wishes. My father stood to the side. In my minds eye I felt it was as though he didn't even recognize me as his daughter and first born. For the first time, that I can recall, I had to ask him for a hug. It felt as though he was content to stand there and watch us drive away without saying a word. With no emotion and no love for me. It broke my heart and the true rift between he and I had suddenly grown so large I was uncertain any bridge could be built that large to close the gap. </div>
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About a year later I was at a Dead (what was left of the band The Grateful Dead) concert and thought to share this awesome moment with my father. I felt it was something he'd be excited about for me. So I sent him a text telling him where I was and the band I was about to hear play. The text I received from him was "Who is this?". Apparently he had gotten a new phone and failed to put my number in it... It was the last straw for me. </div>
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(1980)</div>
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My last trip out there was a few days after my mom had died, March 10, 2010. On that road trip, somewhere along the way, our cars passed each other as he headed to Utah to collect her ashes and I headed "home" to be with my brother. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> (San Antonio, TX?1991)</span></div>
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He remarried on March 17, 2011. I didn't know. I knew he was planning on getting married, but I was never told when it had actually happened. At this point I felt he had abandoned his biological family for a new one. </div>
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We have sent texts a few times. I saw him once as he was on the road between my sister's home and his own. I met his soon to be wife (?) and her two children, a teenager and a toddler. I had offered my home for them to stay at and dreamed of making them a great breakfast the following morning to show just how much I had changed and grown. ... They stayed at a hotel instead. It's the last time I saw him. (2011?) He gave me my mom's ashes, as he "didn't know what to do with it". </div>
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Again, there were no car rides, or even any private moments. I do not recall if he told me he loved me. I do not recall if any hugs were involved as my partner and I prepared to leave them at the hotel they were staying at for the night. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> (San Antonio, TX 1993)</span></div>
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Since then we have not spoken to each other. Texts have been sent from time to time. Mainly major holidays and if I'm lucky and he remembers, my birthday as well. The rift between us has grown even larger and it hurts me deeply. I miss the man and dad he once was. </div>
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Now to the point of this long story. I have an opportunity to see him again this Summer. He and his now adopted son (my sister informed me of the adoption) are going out to visit my sister. </div>
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At first I quickly asked my sister if it would ok with her if I went out to visit at the same time and then bring my youngest niece home with me for a visit. She said yes. I promised not to cause trouble. I don't want fights. We Crawford's are good at pretending the past is gone and to not talk about it any longer. </div>
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I now question if this is still a good idea. With my #anxiety and #depression can I truly emotionally handle such a meeting at this stage in my life? How many times has my father driven down the highway passing the many exits to my town and not stopped? Does it matter? How important am I to him truly? </div>
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(Laie, Oahu, Hawaii 2003)</div>
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My first instinct was to go and with luck move forward, make amends and try to salvage what is left so that he too can share in my joys and triumphs. And later, as I think about it, I start to get overly protective of my "minions" (my sister's children). I feel this overwhelming need to protect them, to be there and be one more eye on them to keep them safe. Why on earth do I feel such a need as that, to protect them from my father? They should grow up knowing their Pappy, as I did not know my grandfather. </div>
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This trip is months away. In the present it all feels reasonable and a good move in the right direction. To reach out an olive branch, if you will. Will I be strong enough then to do this? Is it safe? Will he accept my drinking? My choice of using marijuana as a medicinal to help with my anxiety? To hide my true self to him would be going against my own values. Love me as I am or not at all? </div>
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What do I do?</div>
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<br />Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-31834526809081211742015-01-08T11:57:00.000-08:002015-01-08T11:57:11.312-08:00New Year, New PossibiliesDespite my #depression I have managed to be somewhat productive today. This week has been rough. Getting out of bed has been a struggle everyday.<br />
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On a better note I now have #HealthInsurance and can start getting the #MentalHealthCare I need. This is a privilege that not all #bipolar and #mentallyIll individuals have.<br />
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Finding supportive communities and discounted care for something as still unknown as depression and all the variations that are associated with the mind is difficult to find.<br />
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From April until Jan 1, 2015 I had no insurance, my medical bills are huge and cause me great anxiety. I am blessed with a partner that is willing and able to help reduce my stress/ #anxiety levels when it comes to these things. But, given my nature and "#psychosis" I still have extreme anxiety about it and almost every other aspect of my life.<br />
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On a brighter note I have taken up photography as an amature hobbie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqBegDD3HfqK-k0u5_j_4rSvpJDo6nPP5epKxxDNuwfavOVz2NpX9uiIzOHgdDJImT0qOYYVuiDX7abCPfTcS85TfgOd2n-aN9Sj6BBCJpl-Hr_wsPtmMXGCWRBxXVv-zVl4G2oQqhTs/s1600/2014-12-01+Test+Pictures+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqBegDD3HfqK-k0u5_j_4rSvpJDo6nPP5epKxxDNuwfavOVz2NpX9uiIzOHgdDJImT0qOYYVuiDX7abCPfTcS85TfgOd2n-aN9Sj6BBCJpl-Hr_wsPtmMXGCWRBxXVv-zVl4G2oQqhTs/s1600/2014-12-01+Test+Pictures+005.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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Taking pictures with the SLR camera my sister is letting me borrow has helped me bring out my artistic side and to show the world through my eyes. </div>
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The little things are still my big achievements of any given day. </div>
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As always, I tend to update my #Facebook page more often than I blog: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988" target="_blank">I Have Bipolar II</a> </div>
<br />Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-84504898255891813232014-12-18T09:46:00.000-08:002014-12-18T09:46:06.660-08:00Why do we scream?Seriously though, I watch movies and shows and people just start #screaming, what happened to fight for flight? No, let's just stand there and #scream as the killer/attacker/accident takes place. I understand being frozen in fear, but screaming too?<br />
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What causes us to scream instead of running away or fighting? Screaming accomplishes little to nothing...<br />
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And it appears to be males and females alike, although more females than males? Are we going back to our ancestral nature to call for help in a time where words didn't exist as we know them today? The mate calling for help?<br />
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Just weird thoughts in my head. I know about "screaming" #therapy, is it a similar thing? Some people just instinctively scream instead of protecting themselves?<br />
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Of course these questions come from watching too many TV shows and movies, I'm sure. And maybe it's all to pull the viewer into suspense? Or is it something that we truly do in real life based on some primal level of our own selves?Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-49813079300572931832014-12-12T12:38:00.001-08:002014-12-12T12:38:26.999-08:00Day to day; week to week<div>This week has been rough, with a few exceptions. </div><div><br></div><div>Today started out slow, but I decided to spend some time downstairs. </div><div><br></div><div>That, of course, lead to watering all the plants. Unloading, loading, running and unloading again the dishwasher. </div><div><br></div><div>The holiday music is playing and for the moment I feel pretty good. </div><div><br></div><div>I have to latch onto these moments so that when the #depression comes barreling down on me I can try to remember all the #good.</div>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-74581741647435730602014-10-23T11:08:00.001-07:002014-10-23T11:08:01.916-07:00Sailing - Christopher Cross<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7khQNR7s1Ho" width="459"></iframe>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-39353501191325179222014-10-15T11:21:00.000-07:002014-10-15T11:21:25.666-07:00Emotional Release<div style="text-align: center;">
I am participating in #<a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">NaNoWriMo</a> again this year.</div>
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I'm going about it differently. I'm combining my reaction to my mother's death 4 and a half years ago and my recent diagnosis.<br />
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Combing over old journal entries. Retracing the steps of my past. Has difficult as this is I can only hope that it will help in my grieving process and my personal growth.<br />
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I have never "won" NaNoWriMo, I simply try each year to write that novel/story/memoir that I know is trapped in my mind.<br />
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I write in hopes to discovering myself. In hopes of truly telling my story. With the desire to share with the world that they are not alone.<br />
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This will not be an easy journey. This path I'm about to walk down will be full of grief, confusion, frustration and deep sorrow for things lost that can never be retrieved again.<br />
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You can follow my progress at: <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/participants/geminifaerie">http://nanowrimo.org/participants/geminifaerie</a>.<br />
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Here I go. Here I walk down a path I do not know where it will lead nor do I know who I will be when all is done.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-35275370753791425362014-10-05T14:50:00.001-07:002014-10-05T17:15:36.293-07:00Thoughts that linger<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">I am lost in a sea of emotions. </p>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-53691060632060792142014-09-25T14:07:00.001-07:002014-09-25T14:07:54.423-07:00Poem. Lost thoughts.<div>I sit here, reading and bored. Why do we keep going on as we do? I want to cry. I want to throw up. I want to run away from myself. I am sad. I have lost so much and gained so much and lost again.</div><div><br></div><div>I want to go home and not leave the house. Stay curled up in bed. Waiting. </div><div><br></div><div>Waiting for time to pass. Waiting to be held. Waiting to understand myself. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1hfu552SQU9DwkZwJ0j-VZ_pCBkGeLgCCcWHtQ0tBVZ1x-834EDL9SPvI8hOUQxlTyUmbuVq3Gp6bbFSfhdkkO9ngUU4c5UBEiu9YKUtVbfySSEWl6HQmTGUBcIvE8Gh9gaGaAhUMqA/s640/blogger-image--779848386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1hfu552SQU9DwkZwJ0j-VZ_pCBkGeLgCCcWHtQ0tBVZ1x-834EDL9SPvI8hOUQxlTyUmbuVq3Gp6bbFSfhdkkO9ngUU4c5UBEiu9YKUtVbfySSEWl6HQmTGUBcIvE8Gh9gaGaAhUMqA/s640/blogger-image--779848386.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>How long will that take? How much money have we lost? How much pain have I caused? </div><div><br></div><div>Where am I going? What do I want? I want love and even a small understanding of my confusion. </div><div><br></div><div>I spin. I drum. I sing. I cry. I sleep. Sometimes I eat. Sometimes I dance. I move back and forth between two places. Everything else scares me. </div><div><br></div><div>I fear judgement. I fear being declared a fake. Am I? Have I taken advantage of my position? Have I lost track of my journey that I no longer know where I am going or who with? </div><div><br></div><div>How easy is it to forget me? </div><div><br></div><div>I am cold. I am always cold. I do not hunger. I ache. The answer is within me and I cannot find it. Any idea is a good idea. Is anyone listening? </div><div><br></div><div>I cannot share these things with others. If I do then I have laid my burden before them and in a way asked them to carry it. For me? With me? I do not know. But no one should have to carry my burden. No matter how small or big. I am lost and cannot be found. </div><div><br></div><div>How long before the new is no longer exciting and I grow old of it? How long before others grow old of me? How much longer must I deal with myself? The anxiety builds. I find so little pleasure in so few things. </div><div><br></div><div>That which I once loved I care little for. That which I once dreamed I have forgotten. Where am I? Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? Why is it so hard for me to be happy? </div><div><br></div>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-28901315807629313932014-08-14T12:06:00.000-07:002014-08-14T12:06:06.047-07:00Robin Williams and Depression and Sucide<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">I have spent my waking hours today crying over </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/robinwilliams" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;">#RobinWilliams</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">. I have spent the last few days crying over his death and </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/suicide" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;">#suicide</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">. I never realized just how much he played such a pivotal role in my life. I believe he lived his life for as lo</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">ng as he could making people laugh to hide his pain. Sadly his <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/depression" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#depression</a>got the better of him. The laughter he was hiding behind was no longer enough. It was not a selfish act. His suicide was his choice to make the pain he was hiding from go away. The laughter was no longer enough. He is/was loved the world over and although we mourn such an amazing man and feel so strongly of this tragedy, one can only hope that through this selfless act that <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/depressionawareness" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#depressionAwareness</a> will become more prevalent. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczgi0VHioEqc69FVEKrcibEMiavBDT30haXMC3vSu5UxuSlRrLYQy8p2IljN_gdewnfPiGEneyPY0E9pFVXo8Z3kv1C1Zf9_tqqeDGkrHYGiYf4uAKD4M78Dqu7cIehP_6K15vtvJAiU/s1600/RobinWilliams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczgi0VHioEqc69FVEKrcibEMiavBDT30haXMC3vSu5UxuSlRrLYQy8p2IljN_gdewnfPiGEneyPY0E9pFVXo8Z3kv1C1Zf9_tqqeDGkrHYGiYf4uAKD4M78Dqu7cIehP_6K15vtvJAiU/s1600/RobinWilliams.jpg" height="321" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">That <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/mentalilness" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#mentalIlness</a>will be finally acknowledged for the disease it is. And a better understanding of how there is so little known about this disease and more needs to be done to acknowledge it and help do something about. We run for Breast Cancer and the like. Why can't we form a foundation that support the research on better understanding the human mind and causes mental illness and how we can at least find better ways to address it head-on. All of those that suffer from #depression and have multiple thoughts of <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/suidice" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#suidice</a> each day and have sought help, all that is done is pushing one pill after another hoping something will work. I think I'm on medications 10 and 11. And they aren't working. What is left? </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Robin held on for so long. He hid is much longer than I was able to. At 33 I broke. At 33 I was admitted into a mental ward that did little for me, but keep me on a 72 hour hold. I took my meds. Slept and from time to time participated in group sessions. There was no individual counseling. There was no guidance once I left the facility. It became obvious that this facility showed more emphases on children/young adults than they did about adults suffering from alcohol abuse, manic episodes, hearing voices (talking to god/Jesus) and those just dopes up on too many drugs. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIJMnhA93ROhrxW4WMH7JHWavEMFh9V_NkWhVjm5-8Z06Kf-OggFrKdPtp4Fhlj_3_Lvh3Z12_6uH6VdKUf1XV0tLlmvi0RZ4Vj4DhWYhVZhFJO0vrkbAKMSVa4r5wUuR2qGq5zYrxvE/s1600/nicki+and+mom+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIJMnhA93ROhrxW4WMH7JHWavEMFh9V_NkWhVjm5-8Z06Kf-OggFrKdPtp4Fhlj_3_Lvh3Z12_6uH6VdKUf1XV0tLlmvi0RZ4Vj4DhWYhVZhFJO0vrkbAKMSVa4r5wUuR2qGq5zYrxvE/s1600/nicki+and+mom+(2).jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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The picture at the end of the video is the last known picture of my mom.</div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/cmlKXqxtGCI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">She showed so much happiness. Although her death is seen due to illness. Truly it was a slow form of suicide as she refused to seek medical help for something that was most likely very treatable. </span></div>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Can I manage this debilitating disease for another 20 years? 30? I just don't know anymore. </span><br />
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Should I leave this world of my own choosing, it won't be because those around me didn't try hard enough to "make me better". It won't be because I know how much they love and care about me. It will be because I can no longer fight the monster within me that I just can't seem to control anymore.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-51182745740421138382014-08-06T11:54:00.001-07:002014-08-06T12:01:55.899-07:00Anxiety and dealing with things no one else can do but me.Memory getting worse. I have to constantly remind myself what day it is. And not in the typical way either. I think I tell myself at least 10 times a day what day it is.<br />
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I had therapy yesterday. Got home and couldn't really remember it. I kept wanting to look at my partner and ask if we went. And the only thing that kept reminding me that we did was that it was Tuesday and it was on the calendar.<br />
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I've done well at keeping the litter boxes clean everyday for over 2 weeks now. And the kitchen isn't in a total disarray. So I at least have that going for me.<br />
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I've deactivated my personal FaceBook account. It's been that way for at least 2-3 weeks now. It's nice. My Bipolar II page is still active though: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988</a>, although I haven't posted on there since July 22 or so.<br />
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I'm currently reading Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, <a href="http://annerice.com/Bookshelf-AllBooksInOrder.html" target="_blank">http://annerice.com/Bookshelf-AllBooksInOrder.html</a> not the glittery stuff. I've read most of them before, but it was ages ago. It is escapism, but on the bright side it keeps me off the computer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigybP2J3bO_F60sE244fnuAFyJWj41wtwswSZ76kz7p4ylDTDVzxSDIWuaVO3QI8o6M14oBoGm1hE763O6dLW96RNnjfXlQv5cBDZhJJGwT4C3IKn5FOFHwOKNs4_AbCx2dKrNDMF18ns/s1600/VampireLestat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigybP2J3bO_F60sE244fnuAFyJWj41wtwswSZ76kz7p4ylDTDVzxSDIWuaVO3QI8o6M14oBoGm1hE763O6dLW96RNnjfXlQv5cBDZhJJGwT4C3IKn5FOFHwOKNs4_AbCx2dKrNDMF18ns/s1600/VampireLestat.jpg" height="320" width="196" /></a></div>
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I'm in the process of trying to deal with my student loans in regards to my disability. All of this is very stressful for me, but I know that I'm the only one that can take care of it. There are a lot of things my partner can do for me, set up doctor appointments, buy groceries, cook meals, take me to my appointments, pick up my medication and the like. But he can't deal with my student loans.<br />
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I used to be in charge of our finances. I'm finding it harder and harder to deal with. All of our bills are now on auto-pay, as I can no longer remember what day things are due and for how much. We have a shared calendar with this information, but it's not enough anymore. Again, I don't know what day of the week it is, much less the date. Thank goodness for this new age era where I no longer have to physically balance my checkbook and I can see real-time bank transactions and fix things as problems arise (mind you it's under medication that makes me tired and sometimes still isn't enough).<br />
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I shake a lot now when I'm anxious/nervous. We had to replace the fishtank stand last week. I was a mess. I found out the water filter was leaking down the back (outside) of the tank and it had completely soaked the stand. The shelf was completely bowed where the tank sat. It was the perfect breeding environment for flies (which the area I leave has a problem with anyway). I sobbed when I saw the stand. I then panicked when I saw all the tiny flies everywhere. More sobbing. Sitting on the floor completely at a loss as to what to do. I text my partner and he had to tell me what to do for the time being. (I used to be great at dealing with situations like this.) My partner told me to I empty the tank about half way to lighten the load. He came home early from work and we went to the pet store to get a new (and proper) stand. I felt horrible that I hadn't noticed the problem sooner, so I was already upset. And I just stood in the pet store shaking and attempting to help my partner find a reasonably priced stand, as well as a new water filter. On the one bright side I knew we'd need cat food soon, so we picked that up too. The day was saved, no thanks to my panic. (I text quite a few pictures to attempt to show my partner how severe the problem was.) I asked him if I was being paranoid. And yes, I was to a point. The new stand is nice and everything is now in it's proper order once again.<br />
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Having deactivating my FaceBook account life has gotten really quiet. I sent texts to certain people to let them know what was going on and how they could still get ahold of me (phone #, text message and email). Still no word. I'm guessing if it isn't convenient then it's not important.<br />
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Trying to find the silver lining, I did get a text message last week out of the blue from a dear friend reminding me that I was loved and that I was being thought of. It was nice. I found it difficult on how to reply, but I didn't want her to think that I didn't care or that I hadn't gotten the text. The best I came up with was "Thank you." Lame.<br />
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I feel my mental problems getting worse rather than better, despite my medication and regular therapy.<br />
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I can't believe it's already August. All of this has been going on for almost a year now. I hope to have insurance sometime next month. Then we'll play the medication game once more of what might work and what doesn't. It's the one part I'm not looking forward to.<br />
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I miss my mom more than ever. At times I can't fathom that she's gone. I just want her to hold me. I just want to understand what's going on with me. I just want her to know that she's wasn't alone in her sorrow and confused depression. Yes it left a huge mark on me, but it's also genetic. She couldn't have known she would pass her depression on to her children. It's not her fault.<br />
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I find myself hating me. For allowing this to get ahold of me as it has. And it's so difficult to accept the fact that it's a mental <i>illness. </i>There is very little I could have done to stop it. I've held it back since I was 11 or 12. At 33-34 and living in the same place for 7 years now, it shouldn't be so surprising that my mental state finally caught up with me.<br />
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It's hard. I try everyday to do something positive and I feel so guilty and bad for the "pressure" I've put on my partner. It does make one think of death as a way to fix everything. I'm torn between rational about why death isn't an option and just all of this to stop and go away. All the things I used to enjoy, and now I can't leave the property. Sure, I go outside to care for the chickens, take out the dumpings from the litter boxes and to check the mail (thank goodness that box is right next to our property). But to find the strength to get into the car and go somewhere, that's a different story altogether. I had to go pick up my anti-anxiety meds last Thursday (my partner and his girls had just left that morning to go camping). I walked down the row looking for an aisle that was empty, as I feared having to interact with someone. I used to be loud when I talked. When I got to the pharmacy counter I was almost as quiet as a mouse and was shaking all over. It didn't help that there were people behind me. I somehow managed, but it reminded me, if I can't handle something that simple in an almost empty grocery store, there's no way I could handle a real job. Interaction with other people is damned near impossible. Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-37222625189717466802014-07-21T11:33:00.001-07:002014-07-21T11:33:15.334-07:00Pills of the day<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YSsY9o9tQYr8X_x8wLJ1EExA1vVdByQIFvTuRLD4QD1c9YsNfwqrmDiY_JtcE6J0RI5cwKaijVMdBS3_-yCUEaDjFp-9waz2fhzxIcF3GGbQ2rOPev60z2G2xU99XRvQDFUma7myFuk/s640/blogger-image--168864776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YSsY9o9tQYr8X_x8wLJ1EExA1vVdByQIFvTuRLD4QD1c9YsNfwqrmDiY_JtcE6J0RI5cwKaijVMdBS3_-yCUEaDjFp-9waz2fhzxIcF3GGbQ2rOPev60z2G2xU99XRvQDFUma7myFuk/s640/blogger-image--168864776.jpg"></a></div>I take pills in the morning. I take pills at noon. I take pills at 3pm and I take pills at bedtime. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBezbSX3ms1aLCMIX6P3jQqYvg9DLwke6RQv8-4bSqX5FxAv-I4i6ZjFXN3Mj-teS7TwtuLJcsoFIrT_F5bx0KCrrEuo7wCJqtoIYf10kkn63T-LcKVrkU7NqOkxmv5tGx8KA2oZoxzS0/s640/blogger-image--2052712151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBezbSX3ms1aLCMIX6P3jQqYvg9DLwke6RQv8-4bSqX5FxAv-I4i6ZjFXN3Mj-teS7TwtuLJcsoFIrT_F5bx0KCrrEuo7wCJqtoIYf10kkn63T-LcKVrkU7NqOkxmv5tGx8KA2oZoxzS0/s640/blogger-image--2052712151.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I also take meds to help with my anxiety, which can manifest it's self at any time for any reason. Thank the Green Man I live in Colorado! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuJxBjqjcoPfw5vcfaTMYHfaAZkKRbspVpPEUSBiiwh95B8ZhiSgNf0B0G-i0B0HXyqBj1mkEPQGKkpoBlRNKLzaMP708Y03CF8tYMzsgW1BZyz9AHIB2O8zCJgYkrMsF7E9AScs876g/s640/blogger-image-1148531374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuJxBjqjcoPfw5vcfaTMYHfaAZkKRbspVpPEUSBiiwh95B8ZhiSgNf0B0G-i0B0HXyqBj1mkEPQGKkpoBlRNKLzaMP708Y03CF8tYMzsgW1BZyz9AHIB2O8zCJgYkrMsF7E9AScs876g/s640/blogger-image-1148531374.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiah5WurWu6trmJ2kuy5GIFAtgwdAtY4d0f_9tmj5-50VLt2MSej7PDyUOU53_6nVArNu3hC304jilVSdyQ2dm4HhiHj3_aS49DngeRPP0EElyDBpoAEqTOBWK5Msltoov1HWcixDe7at4/s640/blogger-image-1416776283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiah5WurWu6trmJ2kuy5GIFAtgwdAtY4d0f_9tmj5-50VLt2MSej7PDyUOU53_6nVArNu3hC304jilVSdyQ2dm4HhiHj3_aS49DngeRPP0EElyDBpoAEqTOBWK5Msltoov1HWcixDe7at4/s640/blogger-image-1416776283.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I know I've talked about my meds before. It just seems the list grows longer. My alarm goes off all the time to remind me to take my meds. I've managed to follow that regimen regularly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'll be seeing a new psychiatrist soon. Which means we'll most likely play with the meds I'm taking now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm scared what that will so to me. The with drawl, the possibility that things will get worse, not better. Or, for me, the utter most embarrassment that I'll have to be on some major psychotropic meds. As it is I'm on anti-psychotic meds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is going to be an up hill battle and honestly it scares the living shit out of me. </div><br></div>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-4258144323541814252014-07-21T10:15:00.001-07:002014-07-21T11:33:58.748-07:00Mad World by Tears For Fears Original HQ 1983<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/SFsHSHE-iJQ" width="459"></iframe><br>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">All around me are familiar faces</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Worn out places</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Worn out faces</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Bright and early for their daily races</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Going nowhere</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Going nowhere</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Their tears are filling up their glasses</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No expression</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No expression</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No tomorrow</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No tomorrow</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And I find it kind of funny</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it kind of sad</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it hard to tell you</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it hard to take</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">When people run in circles it's a very very</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Children waiting for the day they feel good</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Happy birthday</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Happy birthday</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And to feel the way that every child should</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Sit and listen</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Sit and listen</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Went to school and I was very nervous</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No one knew me</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">No one knew me</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Look right through me</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Look right through me</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And I find it kind of funny</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it kind of sad</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it hard to tell you</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">'Cos I find it hard to take</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">When people run in circles it's a very very</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad World</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And I find it kind of funny</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it kind of sad</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">I find it hard to tell you</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">'Cos I find it hard to take</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">When people run in circles it's a very very</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Halargian world</span><br style="border: 0px none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mad world</span></i></span></div>
Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-54490531884998077702014-07-21T09:04:00.001-07:002014-07-21T09:04:47.270-07:00MusicMusic is a large part of my life. It always has been, even when I was a little girl. I loved to sing at church and I loved singing along to the radio, the latest album my parents bought. Every Christmas my mom's mother would send me a soundtrack to some movie I'd fallen in love with that year.<br />
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Last night Skin by Madonna came on randomly and it felt like something I needed to hear.<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Do I know you from somewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do you leave me wanting more</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do all the things I say</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Sound like the stupid things I've said before</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Kiss me, I'm dying</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin I</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">close my eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I need to make a connection I</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">'m walking on a thin line</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I close my eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I close my eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Do I know you from somewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do you leave me wanting more</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do all the things I say</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Sound like the stupid things I've said before</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">(Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss me)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Touch me, I'm trying</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">To see inside of your soul I've got this thing</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I want to make a connection</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">You've got this thing</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">You've got this thing</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Do I know you from somewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do you leave me wanting more</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do all the things I say</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Sound like the stupid things I've said before</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Kiss me, I'm dying</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I close my eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I need to have your protection</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I close my eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I close your eyes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">(Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss me)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Do I know you from somewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do you leave me wanting more</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do all the things I say</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Sound like the stupid things I've said before</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Do I know you from somewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do you leave me wanting more</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Why do all the things I say</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Sound like the stupid things I've said before</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Kiss me, I'm dying</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Touch me, I'm trying, ohhhh</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Touch me, I'm trying, ohhhh</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">(kiss, kiss,...)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">(kiss, kiss,...)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">I'm not like this all the time</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">(kiss, kiss, kiss me...)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: start;">Put your hand on my skin</span></i></div>
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It has been difficult getting affection as my partner isn't certain what will/won't set me off and my mood swings are so irregular it makes intimacy difficult at times. Really, I want to be loved. I have to remind myself that I am loved and then I have to make myself believe it. And I have to work really hard at acknowledging my partner's efforts and not kill them where they stand. </div>
Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-21459174066370532812014-07-19T12:03:00.000-07:002014-07-19T12:03:01.648-07:00Social MediaI have closed my FaceCrack account. As nice as it is getting instant updates from people all over the world. It's really turned into sharing "inspirational" words with some pretty background. (Hell, I know I've posted at least one here.) But it makes me feel like I need to hurry up and get over myself.<br />
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I shall repeat again: I have Bipolar II and sever anxiety, including social. This is not something one simply gets over.<br />
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Rumor has it can be managed. Assuming you have insurance and money and blah blah blah. (All the stuff I've already bitched about here.)<br />
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For now, my "social media updates" will be done here. My day to day struggles.<br />
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This week has been rough. I've been excessively tired for no reason. Very little got done around the house this week because of it.<br />
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I verbally lashed out at my SO this morning. I feel so alone and unwanted. I'm told I brought that upon myself. I'll buy that, to a certain point and no further. I will not suffer to be lied to. And I know that if I return to the group I belonged to that I will be lied to. It will be directly to my face. I know that I will be told that "It's so great to see you!" "It's so great to have you back!" Some will mean it. Some will not. And the one that I need to mean it the most will not. This one person will lie to my face about such things. So I stay away. And by doing so I alienate myself from everyone I know.<br />
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That's the easy picture. The harder part, the one that isn't so easy to get over is that I struggle every day to get out of bed. That stepping out my door and going somewhere will cause an anxiety attack. I am unable to defend myself. And thus I will break down in tears, words will fail me and I'll be lost in the attempt to understand what is going on around me.<br />
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My memory has gotten worse. It's short term memory loss. I've been told it's whole conversations I've forgotten. This scares me the most. I fear forgetting something.<br />
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I've put all my bills on auto pay to ensure that I don't forget to get them paid on time. It's only because of this that I am able to "manage" money. I can't. I just don't go out. If I don't spend money then all the bills get paid and I don't have to worry about it.<br />
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Today, after my SO left for a day trip to Denver with his girls, and after my lashing out at him. I had great remorse for my actions. It's difficult when you're told that your SO doesn't feel comfortable in our room. It's heart wrenching really. So I hid under the covers and cried as they left. After I'd accused my SO of not loving me and just not wanting to say it. After I told him that I'd just move to my sister's. And I cried because I hated every word that came out of my mouth. Because I was doing this to him, to us.<br />
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And, in my typical fashion, manic is what they would clinically call it, I cleaned the house. I cleaned the kitchen. I finally put away the clothes that had been sorted and waiting to be put away for weeks now. I vacuumed the master bedroom, the living room and dining room along with the den, upstairs hallway and even the stairs themselves. I put things away that should have been done so weeks ago, and in some cases several months ago. The laundry is still going and will be all day.<br />
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I went and picked up my medication yesterday, really I needed cat litter because I'd let the litter boxes go for WAY too long and the smell was overwhelming (how disgusting is that?). Safeway had litter on sale and that's where I pick up my meds. Easy peasy, right? I found the litter. Simple enough. I then waited to pick up my meds. I should have taken a Clonazepam before I left. There were issues with my meds. One of them wasn't filled. So I to wait for that. More anxiety creeping in. Thankfully there was no one behind me waiting to be helped. It was then noted that I didn't have anymore refills. My old Psychiatrist hadn't faxed my prescriptions to my PCP. Hopefully that will get taken care of before it's time for another refill.<br />
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In the mean time my SO and I are going to couples therapy once a week. I hate going, despite the fact that our therapist is a kind woman and I like her (nothing like my old one). We're still in the stage of getting to know each other.<br />
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So the house is kinda clean, a huge chunk of the clothes have been put away. The cats sleep happily where they please. I need to keep them happy.<br />
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<b><i>Goal:</i></b> if it's the only thing I do each day I will clean out all three litter boxes.<br />
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My cuts are almost gone. I watch movies to keep my mind from attacking me and I've started reading <i>Lord of the Rings. </i><br />
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I just found out that one of my favorite book series <a href="http://terrybrooks.net/2014/07/mtv-officially-orders-first-season-of-the-shannara-series/" target="_blank"><i>Shanara </i>by Terry Brooks is being made into a 10 episode series through MTV</a>. They aren't starting with the first 2 books (technically the 1st is a prequel).<br />
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Now if I could only figure out what to do with myself. How to be happy and have a healthy and happy relationship. I miss what we had. Some things change just due to time, that I can accept as normal. But the things that have changed recently are due to me and my illness and I hate that I've brought this burden upon my Life Partner.<br />
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<br />Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-23246355618856260022014-07-11T18:36:00.001-07:002014-07-11T18:38:16.412-07:00Pain<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">Ah, the dramas queen. Let's write shit on ourselves. That'll get us some attention! ~End sarcasm</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC6QS2g_a1j0g3RoTVb2Bvi-SJIFycM3a9Cz4392xUN3H8zUgxmVCFKjObcuXEhHPWykk0SI_nWhxxhwjJbwVTAgubgSHfs6cbBm_cAX9zfq7UmZS4vxW_zaY4QzygSqzZji2-oCF10s/s640/blogger-image-1748594328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHC6QS2g_a1j0g3RoTVb2Bvi-SJIFycM3a9Cz4392xUN3H8zUgxmVCFKjObcuXEhHPWykk0SI_nWhxxhwjJbwVTAgubgSHfs6cbBm_cAX9zfq7UmZS4vxW_zaY4QzygSqzZji2-oCF10s/s640/blogger-image-1748594328.jpg"></a></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">The truth of the matter is that's why I struggle with it everyday. I'm sick. It's rough getting medical help much less mental health care. </p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">I'm trying. No one sees it because I hide it. Because who wants to listen to yet another depressed situation someone is going through. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Yes, I feel like a pitty party. I'm in physical and mental pain now. My right thigh won't stop cramping/aching. My right foot likes to go to it's tingly sleep for no reason. I'm exhausted and for no reason. Oh, wait! I'm depressed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I feel like being a real asshole right now. Me protecting myself from myself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I hope and I pray that the pain will go away and I won't be forced to the ER. Followed by another stay at the Psych Ward. </div><p></p>Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-34199034104993578962014-06-27T13:23:00.001-07:002014-06-29T12:05:43.203-07:00Very Lost and Very AfraidI only leave my bedroom to get coffee, feed the fish and take care of the chickens. I am safest here. But even then I am still afraid of myself.<br />
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The coping skills are for show.<br />
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The hope has vanished.<br />
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The motivation is gone.<br />
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Death is constantly knocking on my door. For some reason I believe that if I stay in my room Death can't find me here.<br />
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I cut myself up yesterday. Both arms and both legs. Things I shouldn't tell my therapist as then she'd be obligated to admit me to a hospital due to self harm. Things I'm afraid to tell my partner, as it only causes him more worry.<br />
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I've had depression all my life, but nothing like this. Nothing so horrible that everyday I think of how I could end it all.<br />
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To try and keep my thoughts off things I watch movies and play WoW.<br />
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I know I should be writing, really writing, but I'm not. I should be out there taking pictures as the hail rains down on us and how the leaves look so green.<br />
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Even the beauty of nature has lost it's color for me. I see things in black and white. My partner tries his hardest to understand and do the best he can for me.<br />
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I don't eat much. I drink coffee all day. I listen to music all the time. It's on random, 20gig iPod (old) full of music, on shuffle, I never know what I'll hear next. It keeps me from choosing an artists/album to listen to. I don't have to make a choice when it is this way.<br />
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I don't want to make choices.<br />
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What if I'm just going through the motions because I feel like I have to?<br />
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To be this way, this tore up inside. What if I don't want to wake up from this nightmare? What if I feel as though nothing on this earth will fix this shit in my head?<br />
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What is love?Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-65621857341289114512014-06-19T13:16:00.001-07:002014-06-29T12:06:26.193-07:00Highs and LowsI've been wavering between highs and lows.<br />
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Mostly lows. They are ugly. Mostly mentally ugly. I never knew how cruel my mind could be to me. Suicide. Ideas on how to do it. Thoughts of my uselessness. It is difficult to do a lot of things that should be simple. </div>
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I am luckily to shower once a week, except on that rare occasion when someone is visiting me or I am going out to see people. Which again is rare. </div>
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I understand my own body smell. So I tend to avoid the truly ick that could surround me. </div>
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Of course if it weren't for my partner I most likely wouldn't eat at all and lords know what my living space would look like. </div>
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You should see how often I bother to change my clothes. I hide this from the few guests I get or if I must fo out. </div>
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Last week I went through more "paper work" for Social Security. It was heart wrenching. The questions that were asked of me. The most buzzar was if I was a righty or lefty. Both I and my Rep were uncertain why. But other questions were invasive, simply reminding me just how fucked my head is. Needless to say, after that phone call everything was off. </div>
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Sometime last week I was in such a horrible place that my partner came home from work to be there for me. I am grateful that he can work from home fr time to time. </div>
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My manic also came out last week. It was evening. The laundry was piled high, the kitchen was a mess. While my partner was out that evening I went nuts. I put away 3 loads of laundry and started a 4th. I also cleaned the kitchen. Not just the dishes but the counters, stove top and the mess the coffee maker makes now. It was nuts. I think I might have cleaned the fish tank too. </div>
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Today, right now, I'm at a 5 out of 10. 10 being extremely suicidal and 1/0 being just fine. Today has been more anxious than depressed. But again, that could change for no reason at all.<br />
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Last week I also ordered a book that was highly recommended by my old psychiatrist, <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0609800140/ref=oh_details_o00_s00_i00?ie=UTF8&psc=1" target="_blank">The Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing</a></u> by Caroline Myss.<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><br />
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Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-16877998672945963862014-06-10T11:44:00.002-07:002014-06-29T12:06:44.196-07:00The difference from one day to the next.Yesterday was one of those days from hell, if you believe in such things. I admitted on my FB page that I was suicidal. It was rough. I knew it wasn't the right thing, but my mind...the thoughts...the ugly, ugly thoughts that ran through my head.<br />
I have no purpose.<br />
I don't know what to do with my life, so what's the point.<br />
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It's easy to do.<br />
Just take that bottle of pills.<br />
There are so many to choose from.<br />
You'd fall asleep and just never wake up.<br />
No mess, no fuss.<br />
Sure, you'd be missed, but they'd all get over it soon enough and life for them would carry on and your existence would just be a flicker in time.<br />
<br />
These were the thoughts that plagued my mind.<br />
I soaked in the tub.<br />
I tried to read.<br />
I tried watching something, anything to get my mind off my shitty thoughts.<br />
I tried coloring mandalas.<br />
I tried finding the "right" music.<br />
I took my med like I'm supposed to.<br />
I tried finding a therapist for couples therapy through my partners insurance. (It just confused the fuck out of me.)<br />
I tried playing World of Warcraft (it's so different now with the new expansion, it's like playing a whole new game).<br />
Nothing worked.<br />
<br />
Today I woke up to find that my plans for the evening have been canceled. :( Despite my anxiety, there are few people that I can handle seeing without it blowing up in my face. It's groups that can be dangerous, or old friends that I just don't know what to say to them and they seem frightened of saying the wrong thing to me.<br />
<br />
This morning was better. (After I got over my disappointment of plans being canceled.)<br />
My partner is working from home today. He suggested we get a start on the garden bed that has been ignored for quite some time and was overgrown with weeds and we had no idea what has survived over the winter. Plus we had 2 potted plants that needed to go into the garden.<br />
<br />
So while he worked I got busy pulling weeds. Filled one of those industrial garbage cans with weeds. I worked faster than he thought. By the time I was done he was heading out to help me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnj2N-JUWVBSWkFPkLLciyTySjeard6RmmthoE2SXdBVa5zuhTyKbLfo9A8aYupIEUz5qNetnkSNN7XVDTM1ZUbpOA1gqmmNPD_Ft8jR-pqGIlz5chBH0Q2sM88OWV_13gK8JzQAPnb60/s1600/2014-06-10+12.04.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnj2N-JUWVBSWkFPkLLciyTySjeard6RmmthoE2SXdBVa5zuhTyKbLfo9A8aYupIEUz5qNetnkSNN7XVDTM1ZUbpOA1gqmmNPD_Ft8jR-pqGIlz5chBH0Q2sM88OWV_13gK8JzQAPnb60/s1600/2014-06-10+12.04.36.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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That's sage in the corner and rhubarb in the front and mint in the back. The mint we planted last year. It's taken over a large section of our garden bed. But hey, Mojitos in training as some might say. ;)</div>
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Rhubarb again in the middle on the right and mint on the top wrapping around and again in the top middle. We are uncertain what that plant is that's growing between the mint. It could be a weed, but we're letting it grow for now to see what it turns out to me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ry0L0YQ18YljxdWZuK9KvtFnFoYZW9FRUPLv-7e5DBluF4RTrUGExwusG3UlcrwAIGrHP9WYKKoq75UqoiFNvohOWayG8nKGodDjVCN_ewBvx9AaLZeowiv6VMGg3eHZARs4aSuNVQs/s1600/2014-06-10+12.04.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ry0L0YQ18YljxdWZuK9KvtFnFoYZW9FRUPLv-7e5DBluF4RTrUGExwusG3UlcrwAIGrHP9WYKKoq75UqoiFNvohOWayG8nKGodDjVCN_ewBvx9AaLZeowiv6VMGg3eHZARs4aSuNVQs/s1600/2014-06-10+12.04.44.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mint again in the upper right, English Thyme on the "bottom" right and chives in the top middle. I'm uncertain what that is growing next to it, unless it's that similar plant that <i>might</i> be a weed. Time will tell.</div>
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That green loopy thing is part of an onion plant. (see below) We also planted potatoes between the chives and thyme, two on either side.</div>
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Here are more onions, and again potatoes planted between the two rows of onions.</div>
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The onions amaze me. They've been left to the local elements in Norther Colorado for a winter, and they just flourished this Spring. Those are flower head on the tips. It'll be interesting to see the bloom.</div>
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So there you have it. I went from I want to die (quite literally) to, I can't wait to see what this garden will do next. Oh, and I showered and am out of my PJs. </div>
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<br />Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-43689779882643452162014-06-06T10:11:00.000-07:002014-06-06T10:11:23.385-07:00Social SecurityToday the paperwork was filled out and submitted to SSI to see if I qualify. I can't help but cry. I'm 34 years old. This shouldn't be happening. And as much as I don't want it to, it is, and I'm finding it /very/ hard to make the tears stop. Along with the embarrassment of it all.<br />
I can't believe how wore out I am after that phone call. It started at 9am and ended around 10:30am. I'm exhausted. I did it, that's a plus. But mentally it's draining. I'm fighting the desire to go back to bed.<br />
<br />
I get to do it all over again next Friday, I think the call should be shorter. I'm grateful for an advocator group that actually fills out all the paperwork for me and files it. And should I be denied they will work on changing that denial.<br />
<br />
This week has been rough and maybe now it will get a bit better. I managed every day to take care of the chickens, but I've neglected everything else in the house.<br />
<br />
After the phone call it has become apparent that I cannot work in a clerical environment again. I used to be so good at it. And now all it brings is panic, uncertainty, and instability.<br />
<br />
Between my medication and fear of stepping out my own front door, how on earth can I possibly go on a job interview, much less learn to multi-task again. With my memory problems I have found that multitasking is very difficult for me now. One of the few positive things I had going for me work wise.<br />
<br />
Time will eventually tell where my path is truly headed. We are trying to find options. And I'm trying to find the strength to follow through with those options.<br />
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Here's to hope.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-72347425996164044682014-06-05T14:24:00.001-07:002014-06-05T16:39:15.538-07:00InsuranceHave we talked about insurance yet?<br />
<br />
I hate insurance. Not dislike. Not on the fence about it. I HATE insurance.<br />
<br />
Let's be honest, having one's income cut by 40% sucks. It makes it harder to make ends meet. But we've managed.<br />
<br />
When I was on FMLA and Short-Term disability I still had insurance through my "employer". But then, as soon as I was approved for Long-Term disability I was laid off and instantly lost my insurance. Great...<br />
<br />
This Health Care Act sucks. There shouldn't be any enrollment dates. The enrollment date should be as soon as I need it. Fine, charge me a fee for not enrolling during the "enrollment dates". But since I can't what am I supposed to do until November?!<br />
<br />
I need therapy at least once a week. I need to see my PCP on a regular basis. I need to see a psychiatrist at least once a month. I need my meds adjusted or added or changed in some way.<br />
<br />
The program I was going through I can only use once a year. It only covers 10 therapy visits at a very cheap price and 4 visits with a psychiatrist. It was nice having it while I did. But that's gone now. Their suggestion, apply for medicaid.<br />
<br />
I did. As embarrassing as it is, I did. I receive $63 too much to qualify. I'm a single person with no children. I don't qualify for shit.<br />
<br />
I need medical help. I can't afford it out of pocket. $100 once a week to see a therapist out of pocket, and that's the low end. $150 to see a psychiatrist once a month or so. Plus medication and $130 a pop to see my PCP. That's $5,200 a year for a therapist. That's $1,800 per year to see a psychiatrist once a month. And an estimated $780 for my meds per year (assuming nothing is added to it and nothing changes). That's $1,560 to see my PCP annually. That's a grand annual total of $9,340, or $788.33 per month. That's roughly 58% of my income.<br />
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I have to wait until the 1st or 2nd week of Sept. to get on my life partner's insurance. I need something to cover me from now until then, and options seem slim.<br />
<br />
We're looking at couples therapy through his insurance. To be honest we need it. He's been my caretaker for far too long and the lover side of him has dwindled since all of this started and it's my fault. I try not to beat myself up about it, but it's the truth. Maybe, just maybe, with that and paying full price to see a psychiatrist once a month or every other month, we'll be ok until I have "real" insurance. (And maybe my long-term insurance company will be satisfied with just that for now. Thankfully my PCP's nurse calls and checks in on me from time to time, and that doesn't cost me. Sometimes even my PCP herself will call, and that's always nice to know that I'm not forgotten and it's understood that I don't have insurance at the moment.<br />
<br />
But insurance sucks, whether you have it or not. I need more health care options than what's out there for the mentally ill and are broke. Broke to the bone.<br />
<br />
I'll be told by my partner not to worry about it. We'll make it work. It's so hard to hold onto any hope when it feels as though everything is lost and hopeless. Maybe this is how Aragorn felt when he stood in front of the gates of Mount Doom facing an army he knew he couldn't beat.<br />
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Hoping and praying that Frodo was inside and would destroy the ring. I stand with bated breath waiting for good news. For all that's good and worthwhile I need good news, good lasting news.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591050221846482717.post-23657206327024965002014-06-05T13:38:00.000-07:002014-06-05T13:38:51.366-07:00PainIt's so difficult not to cut.<br />
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This is an old image. But the thing is, I struggle everyday not to do it again. This was the early stage. I ended up cutting up both hands. Nothing deep enough to draw blood and leave a scare.<br />
<br />
The pain I feel inside is so immense that it hurts even more that no one can see it. How do I explain this? This need to have an outward showing of the pain that I carry inside me.<br />
<br />
I've ignored the kitchen all week. I wake up take my pills, feed the chickens and go back to bed. Sleep until noon and then contemplate if I want to get out of bed.<br />
<br />
This has been one of my toughest weeks. The laundry hasn't been touched in a week or more. One load sits on my couch folded and ready to be put away. Another load sits in the basket on said couch and yet another load sits clean in the dryer. And the clothes keep mounting up and I just don't care.<br />
<br />
This is manic in the opposite direction. I go from doing ok, sometimes even pretty good, to being so down that all I want to do is die.<br />
<br />
Everywhere I turn there is something stopping me from helping me get better. I feel lost and alone.<br />
<br />
I've made a new friend. That's a good thing. I should focus on that, but instead I focus on all the other little stupid shot surrounding it.<br />
<br />
I want drive up to the reservoir and drive my car off the road into the water. If I'm lucky I'll die before I drown. I want to swallow a bottle of pills just to make the pain go away. I want to be comfortably numb.<br />
<br />
I want to be taken seriously on how much my illness hurts, every fucking day. I'll stop and suddenly I'll cry over my other partner deciding it was time to move on. I thought I was past that, but I'm not.<br />
<br />
I am so bless to have a life partner that puts up with my shit. That feeds me dinner, because left to my own devices I'd hardly eat at all.<br />
<br />
I'm writing these things in hopes that they will go away in my head. I write these things in hopes that others will know they aren't alone in their internal pain that no one can see and people refuse to understand.Oceanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617883980781295481noreply@blogger.com0