I Was Raised In A Cult

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.

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. 

Me and my father, 1980, CA

Me and Mom, 1980, CA

I am scarred by misunderstanding. I'm marked by a narcissistic father and a mother 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.

The cards were stacked against me from the beginning.

This is my curse. This is my blessing. This is my gift. This is my undoing. This is my design. This is my journey.

Since I was a child 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. 

Recent revelation has shown that I also have been suffering from sleep paralysis 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? 

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. 

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.)

My mother would ask, "Why are you crying?" 

"I don't know."

"You have to have a reason for crying. Why are you crying?!"

"I don't know."

"Why won't you just tell me why you're crying?!"

"I don't know why I'm crying!"

"Now you're just lying."

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. 

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?

Recent enlightenments have shown me that the LDS religion (read - cult) has played an overwhelming role in the choices that I have made, or have failed to make. 

I used to proudly carry around a pamphlet titled "For the Strength of Youth". My youth revolved around this. The standards and expectations were placed before me. As young woman I dreamed of graduating high school, marrying a Returned Missionary (RM) in the temple for all time and eternity, being a loyal housewife, and bearing many children (to "go forth and multiply"). 

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). 

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. 

From "For the Strength of Youth":

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 temptations, 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.

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.

Your Father in Heaven is mindful of you. He has given you commandments 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). Freedom of choice is a God-given, eternal principle that carries with it moral responsibilities for the choices made.

We counsel you to choose to live a morally clean life. The prophet Alma declared, "Wickedness never was happiness" (Alma 41:10). Truer words were never spoken!

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).

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. (See Following the Prophets home page)

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. 

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. 

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. 

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 ("Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters—my dear friends—please, first doubt your doubts 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.").

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 repentance 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.

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. 

Confessions being kept anonymous

What confessing looks like to the LDS

As a teenager I would dress in my Sunday best 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 sexual thoughts and deeds, including masterbation. (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). 

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. 

[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.] 

New Year, New Possibilies

Despite my #depression I have managed to be somewhat productive today. This week has been rough. Getting out of bed has been a struggle everyday.

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.

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.

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.

On a brighter note I have taken up photography as an amature hobbie.

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. 

The little things are still my big achievements of any given day. 

As always, I tend to update my #Facebook page more often than I blog: I Have Bipolar II 

Anxiety 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.

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.

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.

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: https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988, although I haven't posted on there since July 22 or so.

I'm currently reading Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, http://annerice.com/Bookshelf-AllBooksInOrder.html 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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

I feel my mental problems getting worse rather than better, despite my medication and regular therapy.

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.

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.

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 illness. 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.

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.

Pills of the day

I take pills in the morning. I take pills at noon. I take pills at 3pm and I take pills at bedtime. 

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! 

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. 

I'll be seeing a new psychiatrist soon. Which means we'll most likely play with the meds I'm taking now. 

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. 

This is going to be an up hill battle and honestly it scares the living shit out of me. 

Mad World by Tears For Fears Original HQ 1983

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression
No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow
No tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
And to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen
Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me
No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me
Look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad World
Mad world
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Halargian world
Mad world

Social Media

I 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.

I shall repeat again: I have Bipolar II and sever anxiety, including social. This is not something one simply gets over.

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.)

For now, my "social media updates" will be done here. My day to day struggles.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Goal: if it's the only thing I do each day I will clean out all three litter boxes.

My cuts are almost gone. I watch movies to keep my mind from attacking me and I've started reading Lord of the Rings. 

I just found out that one of my favorite book series Shanara by Terry Brooks is being made into a 10 episode series through MTV. They aren't starting with the first 2 books (technically the 1st is a prequel).

 

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.

Very Lost and Very Afraid

I 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.

The coping skills are for show.

The hope has vanished.

The motivation is gone.

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.

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.

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.

To try and keep my thoughts off things I watch movies and play WoW.

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.

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.

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.

I don't want to make choices.

What if I'm just going through the motions because I feel like I have to?

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?

What is love?

Highs and Lows

I've been wavering between highs and lows.

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. 

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. 

I understand my own body smell. So I tend to avoid the truly ick that could surround me. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

Last week I also ordered a book that was highly recommended by my old psychiatrist, The Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing by Caroline Myss. 

The 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.
I have no purpose.
I don't know what to do with my life, so what's the point.

It's easy to do.
Just take that bottle of pills.
There are so many to choose from.
You'd fall asleep and just never wake up.
No mess, no fuss.
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.

These were the thoughts that plagued my mind.
I soaked in the tub.
I tried to read.
I tried watching something, anything to get my mind off my shitty thoughts.
I tried coloring mandalas.
I tried finding the "right" music.
I took my med like I'm supposed to.
I tried finding a therapist for couples therapy through my partners insurance. (It just confused the fuck out of me.)
I tried playing World of Warcraft (it's so different now with the new expansion, it's like playing a whole new game).
Nothing worked.

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.

This morning was better. (After I got over my disappointment of plans being canceled.)
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.

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.

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. ;)

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.

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 might be a weed. Time will tell.

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.

Here are more onions, and again potatoes planted between the two rows of onions.

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.

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. 

Social Security

Today 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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Here's to hope.

Insurance

Have we talked about insurance yet?

I hate insurance. Not dislike. Not on the fence about it. I HATE insurance.

Let's be honest, having one's income cut by 40% sucks. It makes it harder to make ends meet. But we've managed.

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...

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?!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Pain

It's so difficult not to cut.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Everywhere I turn there is something stopping me from helping me get better. I feel lost and alone.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We need to talk...

Let's not talk about what's real! Let's not talk about the taboo. Let's pretend that it's all in my head so that no one else has to worry about it. Let's ignore it and maybe, just maybe it will go away. 

New flash! It's here. It's real. And I can't make it go away. I can't ignore it until it goes away. That's not how it works. 

I've held it in for years. Believing I'd got it all under control. What happened? 

It exploded out of left field, it hit me and knocked the wind out of me knocking me down, like I'd been punched for unknown reasons. 

I can barely stand. Punch after punch. It won't stop. Over and over and over again. One hit, two hits, three. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. And I can't make it stop. 

And no one wants to talk about it. Everyone wants to believe it's not there. It is not their problem so what does it matter to them? 

If I had a life threatening disease you'd care. The truth is, I do. I struggle with myself to stay alive each and every fucking day. 

Some days are with it more than others.

What you see and what is reality

It seems so easy. To go out in public. To interact with people. It's easy to see my interactions and assume that I'm doing better.

What people don't see is the tears I shed after making a phone call. A painless, easy phone call.
What people don't see is the pounding of my heart and the shaking of my body as I try to keep the tears at bay. As I try to remind myself that what I did was good and something that was needed to be done.

I went to a wonderful gather a few weekends ago. Good people. Good food. And when my part of the night was through, a safe and comfortable bed to sleep in.
What people didn't see is the frantic me as I ran through the house shaking, packing my bag for the night. Questioning if this was a good idea. My partner reminding me at every turn that this is good for me and that he supported me to go.
That Sunday, I was invited to the Hot Springs with my wonderful Host and Hostess, along with 2 other great friends.
What people didn't see was my heart pounding in my chest.
What people didn't see was my mind second guessing itself.
What people didn't see was my worry that my partner hadn't responded to my texts and I worried about what he thought about my going. (Even though I knew he'd tell me to go and have a good time. Even though I knew that his schedule was full that day and it wouldn't matter if I was at home or elsewhere.)
What people don't see is my need to have permission.
What people don't know is that I'm still learning how to be my own person and how to make my own choices.

My partner was gone this long weekend past. He was camping. Most people there wished I had been there. (Upon hearing about the weather, I'm glad I wasn't.) I kinda went off grid myself.
I didn't post much on Facebook. I didn't blog.
I played World of Warcraft with my family in another state.
I watched more Deep Space Nine (DS9).
I cried.
I took care of the animals.
It rained a lot.
The grass grew too tall, so did the weeds. So I mowed the lawn to avoid a fine from the city.
I anxiously awaited my birthday gift from my long-distance partner whom I've known for over 20 years. (He is my oldest friend.)
Monday I anxiously waited in the evening for my partner to come home. I watched from the living room window and jumped every time a car drove by. Anxiety surrounded me even then.
Anxiety is the scariest things for me. It is something I am unfamiliar with and I do not know how to handle. I'm uncertain if anyone learns how to handle it.
What I do know is that for me, anxiety is crippling. And due to my lack of control over it, I cry and cry, because I can't stop it. Because despite the good I do, it is still overwhelming.

It's Embarrassing...

It's embarrassing to tell people that I'm on disability.
It's embarrassing that the company who is paying my long term disability is working on the paperwork for me to apply Social Security Disability Insurance.
It's embarrassing that I question everything I do. I questioned the entire time I was at Beltania if I should be there or not.
It was embarrassing that I couldn't push past the anxiety to play a nymph at the Pan Ritual, despite my bringing everything I needed.
It's embarrassing that after I go and do something good that's difficult (something as simple as buying pet food across town) that I cry all the way home repeating to myself that "I did good."
It's embarrassing that I can't remember my social security number and have to try three times before getting it right.
It's embarrassing that I can't handle going places alone and when I do go with someone somewhere I get overwhelmed by the people.
It's embarrassing that I find my triumphs in daily things that shouldn't be difficult, like loading and unloading the dishwasher, like doing laundry, keeping the house clean, dragging my ass out of bed every morning to feed the chickens.
It's embarrassing that I'm in tears as I write these words.
It's embarrassing...

Post Beltania Festival

Beltania was an interesting event this year. Not my best, but I did what I could when I could. The weather was great until the last day, when everything had to be packed away. It rained, it slushed, it hailed and it snowed, and quite honestly the weather wasn't sure what it wanted to do, but the sun couldn't break through and so everything was packed wet. My partner spent 2 extra days there. I packed our site with some help of a few friends. And I drove the Turtle, with a trailer (first time) all the way home (3+ hour drive) in the wet. I got lucky and missed the accidents that clogged traffic. I spent most of Beltania sitting in the car reading so I wouldn't sleep the days away. When I wasn't in the car I was tending fire for a sweat. I did venture to the "Center of the Universe" a few times to see some people I hadn't seen in ages and others that live in my home town that I just haven't had the strength to go visit with.

After that (Monday morning), I unloaded as much as I could, mainly just the Turtle, almost everything in the trailer was too heavy for me to life. I then spent the rest of the week sleeping in bed. I took my meds, I tried to read, I failed to drink any coffee and I just slept. There are a number of reasons why I did this. But I won't go into it, it's all speculation. I found it odd for me to be exhausted when I really didn't do much at the event expect bust my ass breaking down camp. But I slept nonetheless. Time became confusing. I had a date on Wed evening and woke up the next morning with no memory of it. :( It scared me. I'd lost track of time and days. My partner went back to the Beltania site Wed morning with just the Turtle and came home with another trailer.

Saturday I made breakfast, made coffee, drank half a cup got my partner and his two girls fed, when my other partner came over to say that he felt our intimate relationship should end. I cried. I understood. But it hurt nonetheless. In defiance of that news I decided to go to a party 2 hours from home on my own. I'm glad I went. I had a wonderful time. (I also learned that I really need to eat before I drink and that cigars are not my friend.) I stayed the night and the next day we went to the hot springs. It was wonderful. I am blessed to have such wonderful people in my life that treat me like there is nothing "wrong" with me and encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone and welcome me with open arms. It truly is a blessing.

I busted my butt this morning. Due to the rain a lot of the camping gear had to be taken out and dried. Mainly the tents and the blankets from the lodge. We use approximately 30 blankets and have back ups as well. So the blankets are drying and so are the tents. I do these things for my partner. I am home and he is not. I have to push myself to keep the house in order. (Still need to unpack suitcases and put clean clothes away and wash the dirty ones.

After all my hard work this morning I realized that I need to go pick up my meds. I'm paralyzed by the thought. This is absurd. I have things I need to return to friends and I can't even make myself leave the house. I canceled a coffee date for Thursday with someone I've been wanting to sit down and talk with for years now. The hardest thing to admit is that I'm afraid to leave the house.  (At least I could blame finances for not meeting for coffee, but honestly, it's a cop out, a poor excuse to pass up a wonderful opportunity. Update: He's driving all the way up here to treat me to coffee on my birthday! Still nervous as hell. But it causes me to have no reasonable excuses and I'll be in a place I'm comfortable with.) This is how crippling I can be sometimes. I'm trying to live. I'm trying to be happy with the blessings I've been given, I find it hard and difficult though.

Little things. Step by step. One day at a time. But I was productive today and that's saying something. I will have to fight myself hard and go and pick up my meds before the pharmacy closes. I need to make sure the blankets are not blowing into the street.

Beltania

Tomorrow my partner and I head out to volunteer at the Beltania Festival. The Turtle (my wonderful SUV) is almost loaded (waiting for the morning to load the coolers and put them in there, along with last minute items that we'll need tonight) and the trailer we borrowed from a friend is loaded.

This evening I make a ton of cookies (over 100) to take, as they are yummy, fun to share with others, and a good pick me up between meals.

I'm about to go and push my limits of my social anxiety. I am the fire tender for 6 sweats for the Sweat Lodge my partner and I run at the festival. I have my coping bag packed with things to help me focus and plenty of people know through my partner to give me space and be a bit more gentle.

I am torn between wanting to go and wanting to just stay at home. I've never felt this way about the Festival before. We've been doing this for 5 years now (I think) and I've always enjoyed going and have always been excited. This year, not so much. Every year is better than the last. I will be doing my best to enjoy myself, and if nothing else, enjoy the outdoors.

Here's to my coping skills and to listening to myself and not allowing things to overwhelm me. As my partner says, "We've got this."

Recreational/Medicinal

I live in Colorado. It is legal to obtain marijuana (MJ) for medicinal purposes, and just recently it has become legal on the recreational level as well.

Sadly medicinal MJ can only be obtain in CO by having what is called a Red Card, and from what I understand one can only obtain a Red Card due to chronic pain, cancer and that sort of thing, depression and anxiety are not covered under medicinal law. This is bad news for me, as MJ helps greatly for anxiety, and the right strains of MJ can also help with depression. (http://www.hightimes.com/read/10-illnesses-helped-pot)

Well, today I decided to bite the bullet and check out the first "recreational" MJ dispensary in town. Anxiety all the way there (I'd forgotten to grab the directions and thus had to go by what I remembered from looking up the information the day before and had written down). The anxiety stemmed from going so far out of my comfort zone, physically, the place is clear across town. I found it, without any problems. The big hang up once I got there was that someone who makes me extremely uncomfortable to be near was standing by the front door. I hadn't see this guy in ages and I had no desire to do so now. So I calmly parked across from the shop and waited for him to leave. All the while my anxiety is wanting to show it's ugly head and run. But I know that I need this. MJ is much better on my body than these bloody anxiety pills.

I finally went in, looking way confused. The shop (Choice Organic) provides for both medicinal and now recreational. I finally figured out that I needed to get my name on a list and they'd call me when someone was ready to assist me. It was about a 20 minute wait. I refused to play with my phone (so many people with their heads down and playing some game or who knows what). I listened and breathed. Did all that I could do to keep the anxiety at bay. I had stopped on the way there and gotten cash, which was a good idea, because I found out they only take cash. My name was finally called and I was let into the actual shop area. Talked to a great guy about what I was looking for and he helped me find the right blend that will help keep my anxiety at bay and lift me up.

All in all it was a pleasant experience. And now that I've done it once I know I can do it again, I'll still have to fight the anxiety, driving that far across town and not knowing who might be sitting in the waiting room with me. But this time I did it.

I've been having a lot of ups and downs. Very short ups and rather rotten downs.

I officially have no insurance. I cannot afford Cobra. I'm hoping soon my partner will be able to add me to his insurance. Thankfully my meds have plenty of refills and I don't need insurance to get them.

Things could be better. Things could be a lot worse.

Friendships

I struggle with friendships, I always have. There are many reasons for this, I am sure. The first that comes to mind is that I grew up as a Navy Brat. We moved every two years, and this was before the internet age. Staying in touch was always difficult. Long distance phone calls cost 10 cents per minute. Postage stamps were much cheaper, but it's hard to write to old friends when you're busy trying to fit in to the new place you've found yourself dropped.

Even as an adult I moved, a lot, probably the same pattern as when I was a child, every two years. I never had to deal with the struggles of true friendship. I acted like a kid and I wrote people off when I moved. It was easier that way. I didn't have to face/deal with troublesome friendships. I never learned to stand up for myself when I was wronged, and I never learned to apologize when I had wronged another.

Now I find myself in a different way of life. I don't get the choice of running (ok, I have that choice, but I choose not to, I have found home, finally). But what that means is that when a friendship gets shaky I have to learn to "deal with it"/handle it. Possibly fix it. Possibly find a way to let bygones be bygones. Thankfully, the first guy I dated here doesn't run in the same circles as I do, so when our relationship ended, I didn't have to deal with seeing him anywhere I went. I just finally let him go and life went on.

But now, now, with my long list of emotional problems I've found that I've said things without thinking them through to ensure that my thoughts were conveyed properly. I have apologized for those wrongs when they were pointed out to me. I was pained that I had caused another pain in such a way. However, the problem keeps creeping up. The issue won't die. I do not know how to handle it anymore. My fight or flight instinct is kicking in and I find myself straddling the fence. The circles we mix in are too close. Way too close.

Now I find myself having to decide how do I handle this issue, and an issue that is bound to happen in the future in some fashion with some other person. I am not a confrontational person. Infact it makes me quite uncomfortable and I do everything I can to avoid them. (Possibly something I need to get over, but that's for later.)

How do I make an issue die that I do not believe is still a standing issue? I am torn between "bowing" to this person's request and standing by my own convictions that this "confrontation" is unwarranted, useless and unneeded.

I do not know how to handle friendships. When things go too far wrong I write them off. I have learned to not wish them any ill-will. I have learned to not speak poorly about them to others. I have found that if I suddenly find myself in the same room/at the same function, that I become very insecure and very reserved. My anxiety increases and I do my best to simply avoid the person, as that is how I protect myself.

I will not go into details about this specific situation, as this blog is not meant to be a place where I drop my trash and speak ill of anyone, much less name them or make it obvious who they are. Not on a personal level at least.

So I struggle with deciding if I accept to meet with this person in order to discuss "things". Or do I stand by what I think is the right and healthy thing for me to do and not meet as I feel there is nothing to "discuss". We both have our lives and our circles overlap and if we're true adults than we simply acknowledge each other's presence and move on.

It is wrong of me to allow one person, of all the people that populate this planet, to control me such a manner. I wish I could find the switch that turns off the anxiety and turn on the one that can simply let this be. The conflict with this is that it's not just me, it's this other person as well. As long as either one of use keeps bringing it up, it will never go away. And I personally have found that there is no reason to continue bringing it up.

At this time I am not in a position to try to rekindle this friendship. At this time I can hardly keep myself together, much less deal with someone else who is also suffering from similar emotional problems as myself. But in doing nothing, it affects my private, intimate, personal relationships, and quite frankly, that's wrong and sad.

I want to choose flight, and I would, if it didn't mean losing someone else that is very dear to me. I will not allow anyone to have that much control over my life and my choices.

So I vent here, as calmly as I can. I try to find my inner peace and that quiet spot within myself, that right now is very tiny which I'm working on growing.

I'm tired of rehashing old shit. I'm tired of the past affecting my present so much. But I also know that I am in no state to stand up for myself, at least not in person. I wish I was that person, and someday I will learn how to do so in an intelligent fashion. Today is not that day.

I don't need this drama. I care not for this drama. I care not for stirring the pot. I care not for reopening old wounds. And I hate that those I love have been caught in the middle of it all.