Lost in my mind

Time. 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.
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.
Will I see next year? Will next year see me? How?
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?
Am I trying too hard? Not enough?
Who do I tell? What do I tell? How much do I tell?
I am lost in my own mind. Big dreams crushed by fear of reality.
I have a camera, I should learn to use it.
I should start walking.
I should...
I should...
I should...
I don't.
I most likely won't.
My intentions mean well.
I'm a major disappointment.
I don't know why I am loved. I doubt I deserve it.
Jordan deserves so much better than me. Everyone does.
I am lost in a field of my own thoughts and emotions.
Mostly emotions.
Feelings I cannot explain, but cause such great anxiety it's almost paralyzing.
I am told I am needed That I am wanted. But I am uncertain if I want or need myself.
I am once again poor.
Some say there is light at the end of the tunnel.
I rarely see it.
Sometimes a glimpse is enough to give e hope and push through just one more day.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
But how does one continue to live this way?
Just one more day.
One more day of what?!
Crippling anxiety? Endless tears? Paralyzing fear of everything?
And this is what I live "just one more day" for?!
How?
Why?
To what end?
I am dying here and no one can help me!!!!!

I don't know what to say to people.
I want them to know. They NEED to know.

I showered and put on clean clothes.
I bought a pack of smokes on my way out to Utah.
I don't know if it is helping or hurting.
It gives me something to do and replaces my want for herb.
(So much for my tolerance break.)
It feels good having my hear wet and down, drying in the breeze.
(I'm sitting on the front porch.)

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?
Maybe, just maybe, I'll keep things clean better that way.
Although I like my privacy that my room gives me.
Change for simply changes sake may not be the best of ideas.
If the desk wasn't such a pain to move I might be more eager to try it.
I just really don't know what to do anymore.

Day in and day out nothing changes, nothing but the increasing of my anxiety and a great desire to just disappear.
To no longer exist.
To vanish.
To take a long walk in the woods and never come back.
Maybe I'll go live with the bears.

But really, let's talk about death.
What is it?
What is it, really?
Death is the end of this life.
But it is also the beginning of something new.
The catch?
We travel that journey alone.
There are choices.
At anytime I can choose to take that solo journey into the unknown.
(Jordan says I'm do some good day soon. I hope he's right.)
I can always wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.

I guess I want to be in control. 
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.

Angela says I can't go.
Her kids (my minions) vie me as their 2nd mom.
They need me around just as much as they need their folks.

I want to hurt myself.
At least then I'd have something worthy to cry about.
Maybe then this emotional pain can have a physical pain outlet.

I stopped blogging.
I stopped writing.
I stopped reading.
And in some ways I stopped caring, mainly about myself.
I matter not.
That's what my mind tells me.
My mind tells me things would be simpler if I were gone.
I am told I shouldn't let these thoughts linger.
It is claimed to be unhealthy.
But my thoughts are real and I don't know what else to do about them.
Too long have I let them simply dance in my head.
I do not know how to evict them.
Maybe writing this down will help.
Maybe blogging and sharing the real will help.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Everything is "maybe".
Maybe moving my desk will help.
Maybe walking will help.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe I should look into pet sitting.
I could get lucky and I like pets.
Animals are better than humans.
__________________________

the lights flash.
The thoughts wander.
A slow drag on one more cigarette.
One more cider before I throw in the towel.
The guy across the street hides behind his fence while trying to skateboard.
The dog wants in on the action.
Or maybe the dog just want some love and attention.

I just want love and attention.
It sounds funny, and it makes little sense.
I get plenty of love and attention.
I am loved.
I know this.
I am told this.
I am shown this.
It should be enough.
It's all I've ever wanted, and yet...
Yet I am haunted by intangible memories.
Triggers with no solid founding.
Flashbacks filled purely with emotion, no actual events to grasp on to and attempt to process.
How do I work through these "issues" without a better understanding of what they are?

My Father (To See or Not To See?)

(Waimea, Kauai, Hawaii Feb. 1997)

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. 

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. 

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. 

(San Diego, CA 1981?)

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. 

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. 

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. 

                                     (1980)

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. 

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. 

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. 

                                   (1980)

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. 

                  (San Antonio, TX?1991)

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. 

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". 

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. 

                    (San Antonio, TX 1993)

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. 

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. 

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. 

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? 

(Laie, Oahu, Hawaii 2003)

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. 

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? 

What do I do?

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?

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.

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.

Mandalas

When I left the hospital many months ago I started coloring mandalas. It brought me strength and something to focus on and keep myself from letting my mind to wander into places unwanted. 

For quite sometime I have stopped this form of meditation. 

I now find myself returning to this form of meditation. 

I find that this is a form of meditation that I practice when I find myself going deep within myself. This is a dark place, but I hope with the colors and hope of better things to come, despite my sorrow and uncertainty of where life is taking me.