Bipolar Musings

Doing What Makes ME Happy!

2011-10-23T02:31:00.002-07:00

For a long time, I just went along with whatever other people wanted to do. If my friends wanted to stay up and party til the sun came up even though I was tired and wanted to sleep, ok! If everyone wanted to stay in even though I wanted to go out, ok! If someone wanted me to take them somewhere and I didn't feel like going anywhere, I would do it anyway!

So recently, I decided to do the things that I wanted. Instead of pushing aside MY wants and needs, I have been respecting myself enough to say no when I want to say no and say yes when I want to say yes. The problem is a few of my friends have had a hard time with this transition. They think I don't like them anymore just cause I am tired and decide to go home instead of staying out til the wee-morning hours. They think I only hang around for food or some stupid thing like that because I say I don't feel like doing something or going somewhere. Frankly, it is frustrating!

But I realize it is a transition. No one is used to me looking out for me. They are used to me looking out for everyone else. So here is this blog post - a note to those who think I am not happy with them, don't want to hang out with them, don't want to be their friend, or anything else completely silly like that. Guess what. I still like you. I'm not going anywhere. I will still support my friends no matter what. Deal with it.

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Silent Suffering is so Damn Sexy!

2011-10-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

I am so tired of this! For the last 3 weeks, it has been a near constant onslaught of pain, illness, or discomfort. I've had rheumatic flares, some sort of stomach virus, migraines, depression, random sharp pains, and now my stomach is pissed off...again! I get the right amount of sleep, but I am exhausted just hours after I wake up and feel like I need a nap. School starts again in just a couple days and I have no motivation to accomplish anything.

Perhaps the worst part is that no one knows what I am going through right now because I have this ridiculous belief in my head that I need to be the tough one. I can't show my pain and sadness. I take care of everyone else when they are sick or hurting and I suffer in silence because I don't want to be a burden on anyone. And I know several of my friends will read this and then I will get chastised for not saying anything, but I can't ever seem to say the words out loud. I need help. Just a shoulder. Just a support. And blogging is as close as I ever seem to come to sharing my struggles with the world.

All I want to do is lay in bed, nurse my aches and pains, and cry. It would be nice to have someone just hold me and comfort me, but my husband is 950 miles away. Can I just put life on pause for a few days so I can try to get some relief and comfort? But that is not possible. And in the time it has taken me to write this blog post, it is now time for me to get to work once again. There are classes to observe and homework to be done. Here is to another day of putting off being weak.

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Coping with Bipolar

2011-08-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing that a bipolar person struggles with on a daily basis, it is how to cope with the inevitable ups and downs. For many years, I fought the roller coaster tooth and nail. I would refuse to admit I was going into a depression or a hypomanic episode. I would continue with the things I had to do no matter what, until eventually I completely crashed. Finally one of these crashes landed me in partial inpatient program.

I was forced to use FMLA time at work to cut my hours in half while I recovered. Three days a week, I spent half my day at the program (IOP) and the other half the day at work. The other two days, I took the morning for myself and spent the afternoon at work. This lasted for nearly two months.

At first, I hated going to IOP. I felt like a failure. I was failing my job, my boss, my family, my friends, my psychiatrist, and anyone else who ever tried to help me manage my bipolar. How could I possibly have let myself get so bad? But that is just the thing. I didn't let myself get that depressed. It is a chemical reaction in my brain that I can't completely control. I can mess with it a little through medication and lifestyle choices (a regular schedule, plenty of sleep, exercise, etc.), but even when I do everything exactly right, I will still have episodes. It is hard to see that when you are in the midst of a deep depression though. At that moment in time, I was convinced I could have controlled it and I failed. I was worthless because I couldn't control my own emotions.

As I continued this program, which is really like an intense therapy program, I grew to appreciate it. I had weekly contact with my psychiatrist for quick med adjustments, I had daily contact with multiple therapists, but most importantly, I learned a huge number of new coping skills to replace the unhealthy ones and the ones that stopped working all together. These coping skills help me prevent a return to IOP. And now I want to share some of these tips and tricks with you. For the next couple days or weeks (depending on how often I post), I will pull out a coping skill from my stash to highlight. Learn it. Practice it. Love it. Add them to your arsenal. Then come back here and let me know how it worked for you. *

Focused Breathing*

For today, we will start simple with focused breathing. This is a very simple coping tool, but it is very effective for some people. This technique works best with your eyes closed.

Try your best to block out the sounds and noises around you and focus only on the sound of your breath. Listen closely as you inhale deeply, hold your breath for a few seconds, and then exhale slowly.

Now inhale again while counting to 5, focusing on the sound and feel of your breath. Hold your breath for a count of 5. Now exhale while counting to 10, focusing on the feel as you release the air from your lungs.

Again, inhale, really filling those lungs, feeling your chest expand in all directions, for 1-2-3-4-5. Hold for 1-2-3-4-5. Now exhale slowly and revel in the release for 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.

Repeat this process, focusing more and more on your breath until you feel relaxed. Always remember to take longer to exhale than inhale. This will prevent hyperventilation.

Once you are relaxed, you have two choices according to how you feel. You can continue what you were doing before you became overwhelmed, or you can take a break completely and do something else that makes you happy. If you simply cannot complete the task, it is ok! Hand it off to someone else or put it off til tomorrow (or another time you are feeling more stable). There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. You don't have to be Superman/Superwoman. Chances are whatever it is will not be the cause life or death (unless you are a surgeon or something, then finish the surgery. hehe.).

*Note: I feel like I need to put a disclaimer of some sort. I am NOT a doctor of any sort. I am a bipolar patient merely sharing tools that help me cope. If you have concerns about anything I post, please consult with your psychiatrist or primary care doctor first!

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Case of the Blahs

2011-08-18T17:46:00.000-07:00

For the last 6 weeks, I have lived in San Francisco with my husband. In two weeks I return to Tucson for school. If you are confused about this, read about me Living in Two States. Got it? Good.

During these 6 weeks in San Francisco, I have learned several things.

1) I am totally into living where I don't have to have a car.
2) I am totally digging this cute little town we settled in.
3) My body totally does not dig the cold weather (high of 65 in August? really?).
4) My mind totally does not dig the frequently overcast skies.
5) Meter maids are ridiculously on time.
6) I love my living room! Seriously, it is adorably awesome.
7) There is so much to do when you don't have a television.
8) There is so little to do when you hurt too much (mentally or physically) to go anywhere or do anything.

And now that I only have 2 weeks left before I leave again, I am increasingly frustrated with my mind and body. I wanted these last two weeks with my husband to be amazing where I am the fun and energetic woman he met 4 1/2 years ago. But that is proving to be a challenge. 2 of the last 3 days, I have been totally blah. I've had a headache that won't go away and next to no appetite. Whether it is the symptoms bringing me down emotionally or the blah-ness (yes, that is a word in my dictionary) causing the symptoms doesn't matter. All that matters is that it is screwing up my plans!

Now I know some of you may be thinking that it is only 2 days, but when you only have 14 left, that 2 can grow into 10 quickly and easily. And rarely do I pull out of a blah episode in a mere 2 days. Add onto this situation by throwing in some joint pain after 2 weeks nearly pain free and I am utterly blah-ed out. Is it too much to ask for my body and mind to work with me for a change? All I am asking is for 12 freakin days! At least I feel like I have made the most of the time that has already passed. I may not be able to play the role of the perfect, fun, energetic wife right now, but its the thought that counts...right?

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How Many Spoons Do YOU Have Today?

2011-08-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again where someone say something or a I read an article that reminds me of The Spoon Theory. If you, or anyone you know has what we like to call "an invisible illness," you can understand the frustration when someone doesn't look sick even though they are. The Spoon Theory is an excellent analogy to describe what it is like to live with "an invisible illness" every second of every day. I know it looks long, but trust me, it is worth the read. And now I share it with you, courtesy of ButYouDontLookSick.com.

The Spoon Theory, by Christine Miserandino

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.

As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?

I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.

As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.

At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.

Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.

She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?

I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.

I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.

When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.

I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.

After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.

Living in Two States

2011-08-14T22:44:00.000-07:00

So if you are close to me, you know I am living my life in two states right now -- Arizona and California. If you are not close to me, you are probably asking why. See, my husband and I had been living together in Arizona for the last year or so because he got a job with Sony Online Entertainment, his dream job (making computer games), in Tucson. Unfortunately, after about a year and a half of employment, Sony shut down the Tucson office and laid off just about everyone. This led to a job hunt which netted results in San Francisco.

When he took the new job, we had some decisions to make. I was and still am in school to become a teacher. If I were to transfer my schooling to California, it would add 2-3 years onto my completion date. Seeing as I was only about a year and a half out at the time, that just seemed silly. Why pour more time and money into something that can be done quicker and risk having to move again and add more time on should another unforeseen circumstance come up? And so came our decision to split our household.

At this time, 98% of our belongings are in our beautiful 2 bed, 2 bath duplex in San Francisco with my husband, including the 2 cats and 1 dog. I usually reside in Tucson in a studio apartment with nothing but a bed, a dresser, a TV, a few select kitchen items, and a bookshelf I adopted after the move. Oh! I adopted some chairs too. Can't forget the chairs. You know, the plastic patio chairs? Yea, those.

Anyway, so usually I live in Tucson. It is very lonely. Yes, I have friends there and they keep me distracted from my loneliness as much as possible, but when I lay in bed at night, I miss being wrapped up in my husband's arms. I miss the good night kisses and the good morning smiles. The plan is to have me fly back to San Francisco every couple months for a long weekend or a short week to visit. Even better, I managed to work my school schedule around so I have been able to reside in San Francisco for the last 6 weeks! Oh how nice to live with my husband again!

But now my time in San Francisco is drawing to an end. In two weeks (and 12 hours), my bags will be packed and I will be headed back to Tucson until the holidays. I look forward to the warmth of Arizona (San Francisco is too damn cold!) and I look forward to seeing my friends. I look forward to getting back to school on campus instead of online, and I look forward to swimming. But once again, I will be living on my own. I will miss my husband madly. I will probably cry when I leave and I will probably bury myself in distractions once I get "home" while I adjust again. I will probably cry myself to sleep a few nights as well. But we love each other and we know we can make it through this as long as we support each other. We also know this way will work out better in the long run than any of the other options.

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My Latest "Great" Idea

2011-08-04T13:20:00.001-07:00

So I came across this wonderful article today about the writing process and how it is a journey of trial and error, blood, sweat, and tears. It was written so well that I was inspired to revisit an old idea of mine. I have played with this idea for years. It has lingered in the back of my mind, just waiting for the right time to come bursting out onto paper...or the keyboard.

The idea? Oh, its a book.

In the past, I have pushed the idea back into its dark hole, convincing myself it would be a horrible idea. I mean, first of all, we all know how sucky of a writer I am (yea right). Second, I get writer's block so easily with academic papers, what makes me think I could come up with enough to fill an entire book? Obviously, not possible. Third, the book I am thinking of writing is all about me, which we know would be boring as hell. Fourth, it would focus on my journey through health issues and life in general as, what I like to call, a Bipolar Survivor. Who the hell would want to read that crap? And finally, it would require me opening up and sharing deep, dark, personal secrets and thoughts for all the world to read.

Yep. Totally a horrible idea. What the hell was I thinking. I should abandon this quest line immediately.

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Nothing Says Sexy Like a Speedo and Roller Skates

2011-07-31T14:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my husband and I decided to spend the day seeing the city (San Francisco). We are in Oakland so it isn't like it is a long trip for us. The day started innocent enough. We went to his office since I still hadn't seen it yet and ended up having lunch with one of his co-workers at the Westfield Mall. Nice guy.

After lunch, the plan was to kind of wind our way down to Fisherman's Wharf and find this clam chowder place I have fond memories of. The weather was beautiful even with the wind blowing through the city. Along the way, we found this beautiful little park!

Naturally, we had to take some time in this little piece of serenity found in the city.

Can you tell who my hubby wanted to focus on?

After we got done playing fancy photographer, we found our way to the start of the Wharf. This is where we got a lesson in sexiness. We are innocently walking along, complaining about how the clouds are starting to roll in and the wind is getting chilly when something catches my eye. As this man exited the crowd, I regretted noticing his presence for he was on roller skates, which in and by itself is no big deal, but when you combine it with the wardrobe choice he made, it should be punishable by at least 10 lashes. While speeding down the wharf in his old-school, 4-wheeled roller skates, this man chose to wear nothing but a Speedo. His only saving grace was that it was a square-bottomed Speedo and he obviously did weight-lifting. The guy was ripped, but he was so buff that it didn't even look good. His pecs were so big that it looked like someone implanted half a basketball on each side of his chest. So, imagine this if you will. A man with muscles unnaturally large, making a kind of deformed look:

wearing these:

and these:

Yea baby. Now that's what I call sexy.

What world or life altering events are happening today?

2011-07-28T14:21:00.000-07:00

A sadness pervades my being today. It's not so much that I feel sad, but more like the sadness you feel when you see a funeral procession going by or you hear about a dear friend's loss. Technically, nothing has happened to make you sad, but you are sad for the other people you cross paths with in life because of whatever circumstances they are in. Its like a weight bearing down on your shoulders because those who received the weight can't bear it alone. It is sad, heavy, and gloomy, yet I look out the window and the sun is shining and life is moving on.

In the past, I have been told that I sense things sometimes. It isn't frequent and I don't even come close to believing that I am clairvoyant or anything silly like that, but I definitely have felt when something was wrong with someone I am close to. Honestly, I believe all people can do this. Only some choose to ignore these energy connections we make with people or society as a whole. The point is, when I feel something like this, something that isn't my normal depression, the sadness or alarm that comes from outside myself and not inside, I take notice. Usually, I can tell if it is focused from one person (a close family member or friend), or if it is from a group of people/world event. This feels like something bigger than an individual person. Like a dark cloud has descended on part of the world today.

The problem - I don't know what or where it is from.

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Sneaky Hate Spiral

2011-07-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

A wonderful friend of mine linked one of my favorite blogs about the Sneaky Hate Spiral and that was sooooo my day yesterday. And as I was telling her about what exactly happened, that got me to that OH. MY. GOD. EVERYTHING MUST DIE!!!! moment, it occurred to me -- this is exactly the kind of stuff people blog about!!!! And by "people" I mean everyone but me because I am a horrible blogger and I never think I have anything interesting to write about.

So, first, go read about the Sneaky Hate Spiral and then read about my day!

Back? Ok.

So that was totally me today! It all started with the cat playing with a toy - you know, the ones that have little bells in them to make them more fun for the cat and more annoying for the human? Yea, that one. No, I don't know why I bought it. I just know I likely though "OH! They will LUV playing with that!" Of course, it never occured to me they would love to play with it at ungodly hours and wake me up an hour before my alarm.

After I ~~threw the toy across the room~~ ~~took the toy away~~ hid the toy, then the neighbor was up and about upstairs and had unusually heavy feet today. Since it was obvious I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, I proceeded to lay in bed and hope for sleep. Yea. Didn't happen.

Suddenly, I heard the garbage truck and thought "OH NO! I forgot to take the cans out last night!" So there I go, bounding out of the house with my hair all askew in my pajamas (which consist of very short, thin shorts and barely an excuse for a tank top) with my boobs flopping this way and that because I had no bra on, just to pull the cans to the curb before the garbage man drives away and I am stuck with stinky, full cans for the next week. Yea, that had to have been a sight.

Then, for the life of me, I could not find my damn keys in any less than 15 minutes. When I finally got them and turned the car on, the the car radio was BLASTING only God knows what cause I hit that power button so fast I broke a nail which was quickly followed by a very unladylike word.

At this point, I am already 10 minutes late leaving the house so naturally, I hit every, single red light between home and my destination, only to realize I had the wrong destination. Yep. The stupid address in the stupid GPS was wrong. Totally NOT my fault. So I fix the GPS's screwup, cause again, not my fault, and I proceed to once again hit every,single red light between my false destination and my REAL destination. The traffic light gods hate me.

I am now 20 minutes late for my appointment and I find every single parking spot on the street was taken except one. Upon actually parking the car and exiting the vehicle, I find out that the stupid parking meter is broken. Grumbling, I move the car to another spot that happened to free itself of its previous vehicular occupant and this one had an electronic parking meter...across the street. Naturally, this is a busy street and there were lots of cars so I had to wait for the walk signal at the light. We already know how traffic lights feel about me today.

After sitting there for forever, I get across the stupid street to the meter and the thing didn't have the values of the buttons marked. Since I am already irritated and horribly late, I just push a bunch of them until it says I have paid the maximum amount, a mere 30 freaking minutes. Then wait at the evil light again to go back to the car to put the validation on the dash. Upon placing my parking validation on the dash, locking and closing the door, and turning around to look at the light, I realized I would have to wait...again...to go back to the other side of the street where my actual destination was. My head exploded inside.

I unlocked my car, got inside, shut the door, and screamed bloody murder and beat on my steering wheel for about 2 minutes straight.

Hate Spiral - 1. Alicia - 0.

Drugs, Money, and Rock & Roll - Part 3

2011-07-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, I promise I am going to finish this time. The problem is it has now been sooooooo long that all the details have flown out of my head. Sorry about that.

So I ended with us having to get the house moved in something like 10 days from Tucson, AZ to good old San Francisco. Why you ask? Well, the answer is quite simple. D's work wanted him to start that soon. YAY! D has a job! Boo, I have to do all this moving crap.

Let's see, so I start calling around looking for moving quotes and find that most of the companies are WAY too friggin expensive. Therefore, I reserve a U-haul and start signing friends up to help us. Later, I will end up changing my mind and hiring a moving company anyway. Next step is finding a place to live and getting the house packed and moved, all in 10 days. Did I mention the movers pick up 3-4 days before your desired delivery date? So that is 6-7 days to find a place to live and pack the whole house. Keep in mind, I am still recovering from my nose surgery during all this.

Next, I start figuring out transferring my schooling to California. I am thinking this should be easy since I am attending University of Phoenix. Guess what. It isn't. See, California has more stringent requirements for their teachers. Something about needing a Master's Degree or something like that. I forget the details now. The part I DO remember is that I can transfer just fine. Only problem is instead of finishing in 1 1/2 years, it will now take 3 1/2 to 4 years?!?! Oh. Hell. No. Because you know I don't already have enough stress on my plate. Naturally, I start spinning in my head til I get to talk to D about it.

When I finally get to talk to D, the solution seemed simple enough. I stay in Tucson to finish school while he goes to San Francisco to work and we just fly back and forth to visit each other. Awesome. It is silly to keep a 2-bedroom apartment for just one of me, so I rent a studio, choose the items to stay with me (futon, dresser, TV, and some kitchenware. That's it), and continue on my merry little way packing everything else. I get it all planned out that I will spend the next 3-4 months in Tucson getting all my observation hours out of the way, then spend 6 months in SF with the hubby, then spend the remaining 6-8 months in Tucson finishing up my program and student teaching. And then the scrambling begins all while trying to coordinate a 1000-mile move.

So we have 6-7 days. We hop in the car, drive straight through to Sacramento (14 hours in case you were wondering), and crash for 6 hours at my brother's house. We then spend the next 48 hours looking at more than a dozen potential places to live in the San Francisco area. Guess which one we picked. Yup! The second to last place. (It's awesome by the way). By the time we finish in SF and get back to Tucson (driving straight through again), we have 3 days to pack before the movers get there. Somehow we get it done with the help of friends, but I'm exhausted, my nose hurts, my body hurts, and I did I mention, I'm exhausted?

So, the movers arrive the day after we finish packing. They get everything loaded. They say 2-3 days for delivery. Cool. So we can take our time a little on the way back to SF to meet them at the new house. We load up the animals and head off to mom and dad's in Sacramento. Oh, I forgot, we brought the dog out to stay with my brother the previous weekend when we were house-hunting. He kept her for the move, thank goodness. Can you imagine trying to keep track of a 75-lb boxer/lab during all this? Yea, right.

We drive straight through...again. We sleep when we get there. The cats are freaked out as expected. We are exhausted and all we want is sleep, but no, we have to go back into the city to sign the lease on the new place and pay our rent. Then we go back to mom and dad's and have them feed us that night. The next day, we head to our new home and set up shop to wait for the movers...who don't show up for an extra 2 days. That's right. 5 days to get our stuff. All I have to say is thank goodness we brought the air mattress and I booked my flight home through Southwest Air so I could change my return flight easily.

With no time to unpack or anything, we get the boxes and furniture in the house somewhat how we want it, do the move-in inspection, make a list for the landlord and Alicia has to run away to catch her plane. Leaving D with boxes everywhere sucked. Then my flight was delayed and my ride could no longer get me. This is about the time when I start asking "why me?!?!" Luckily, another friends said she could get me so I didn't have to pay for a cab ride home. Thank you! Finally got home and to bed at 2am with class the following night and no homework done. Awesome.

Which brings us back to the school issue. Remember how I was going to do 3-4 months in Tucson to get all my observation out of the way and then spend 6 months in Cali? Yea, later I figure out I planned that out totally wrong because, guess what. Those 3-4 months fall during summer break. No classes to observe. Crap. I then have to figure out how to work it out so I can actually get some time with my husband. The solution:

June - Tucson
July and August - SF (8 weeks online classes)
September through December - Tucson, but home for holidays
End of December through Beginning of January - SF (2 weeks)
Mid-January through May - Tucson
June and July - hopefully SF but that may change
August through November - Tucson
December - home to SF for good. Merry Christmas!

Can we say stressful? Yea. Welcome to my life.

But guess what! I survived! I am still alive and kicking! And I didn't kill anyone! I totally rocked this move.

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Drugs, Money, and Rock and Roll - Part 2

2011-06-22T20:44:00.000-07:00

Check it out! I finally got around to creating Part 2 of this saga! Only problem is I didn't take notes or anything, so this might be kinda short. And most of you probably know this part anyway.

So after I finally get to a fully functional, fairly drug-free state after my nose was ~~broken~~ fixed, I get to start dealing with the next adventure. April 1st, my husband's company announces massive layoffs and office closures. April Fools? Nope. It wasn't that surprising. We knew there was a change coming, we just didn't think it was coming so soon and we didn't think it was going to be in the form of the unemployment line.

Positive - D was already interviewing with many companies.
Negative - We knew we were going to have to move. Again. And likely to some place cold. *cry*

Naturally, the hubby has a hard time deciphering paperwork like Cobra benefits, severance packages, etc. Luckily, my head was fairly fog-free so I could help with that. I spent the next week (or was it two?), living day to day, ~~worrying~~ wondering where we would end up living, taking D back and forth to the airport to fly places for interviews, and trying to figure out what the hell I am going to do about school. Then D got a job! One he was excited about too! Bonus! The destination? San Francisco.

Positive - Close to my family again and good friends. Finally, fresh, fantastic sushi, and clam chowder!
Negative - It's FREAKING COLD! And cloudy. And windy. And COLD. This oughta be fun.

Awesome. So then we started to contemplate the upcoming changes and where we wanted to live in the San Francisco area. Time to rock and roll and get this house moved! In 10 days. Wait. WHAT?!?! 10 day?!?! Aw hell. I hate having to rush things...

...to be continued in Part 3!

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The Model of a Life Well-Lived

2011-05-30T14:19:00.001-07:00

Today, I said goodbye to a person very dear to me. I laughed and I cried. If you knew him, you would understand why. A father-figure, a friend, a family member, a brother, a father, a confident, a roll model, and a husband. Gary Granico. He touched the hearts of many and he enriched the lives of so many more. He lived life to the fullest and never backed down. He was the first with a wise-crack and never left your side. He showed me the model of a well-lived life.

I met Gary through my brother playing baseball. Gary's son and my brother ended up on the same little league baseball team. Gary and my dad bonded instantly. I believe I was about 10 at the time. From there, it grew into a blending of families involving baseball, fudgesicles, nights at Straw Hat Pizza, and BBQs, just to be followed by ties that bind as strong as blood, camping and houseboat trips, nights on the town, and family parties. Yes, our families became close. To my brother and I, a second father. To my dad, a brother.

A long-time vet of the Airforce, we fittingly said goodbye to Gary on this Memorial Day. May he rest in peace.


Gary "the Snake" Granico

August 28, 1951 - May 24, 2011

Born August 28, 1951 in Sacramento to Tony and Jean Granico. Gary passed away on May 24th surrounded by his loving family. He is survived by Debbie, his devoted wife of 29 years, his son John, and his daughter Jeana. He was the brother of Linda and Toni, the uncle of Zack, Cason, and Shawn, and the brother in law of Jeri and Mike. Gary served in the USAF for 4 years and retired after 40 years of service from the Dept. of Defense. His greatest passions besides his family were fishing and coaching more little leaguers than we can count. He was blessed with many lifelong friends that will miss him dearly.

To help you get a feeling for how special this guy is, here are some words from friends who wrote in the guest book:

May 27, 2011
Debbie, John, Jeana, Linda, Toni Lynn & Family.
Gary was my cousin and my friend. He had a gift that if you were his friend you were his family. There was always 7 steps to Gary. I admired that he would color outside the lines, because that's who he was and he was endeared for being himself. He was a giver and his lust for life was contagious. I have so many fond memories of being in Chester with Gary and the rest of our cousins.
He will be missed by all. The world has lost a ray of sunshine.
Your Loving Cousin,
Joan

May 27, 2011
rest in peace Gary.
~
don babcock,
sutter creek, California

May 27, 2011
Gary, you will be truly missed. It was a pleasure knowing, working, and playing with you. I have many fond memories of you and will truly miss you. R.I.P. my brother.
~
Michael Foley,
a.k.a. Foo Foo,
Salida, California

May 27, 2011
Gary was my sons little league coach in Rosemont. He was a great guy and had a great passion for coaching all of our kids. I will miss seeing him at that the local pizza parlor (straw hat). As they say " only the good die young". Gary will be missed by a lot of people in the Rosemont area.
~
The Cobb family.

May 27, 2011
We love you Gary and will miss your contagious laugh and your humongous smile! Life will not be the same without you but we know you are now at peace and out of pain. Love Jon, Kylie, and Abigail
~
Kylie Villalva (Latimer),
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Please accept my most heartfelt sympathies for your loss. My thoughts and prayers are with your family during this difficult time.
~
Alissa Morotti,
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Debbie, John, Jeana and the Granico & Cheek families,My heart is filled with sadness at the loss of Gary. He really was a remarkable person. You are all in my thoughts and prayers.
~
Denise Pellerin-Johnson,
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Toni and Linda and family. I'm so sorry for your loss. In my teenage years I received the name " Baby Stowe" from Gary. He made a big impact in my life. He was a big brother figure to me, gave me advice and let me know I did matter in this world, he made me fill special. He opened his home to me when I needed a place to live, and eat and sleep. I have lots of good, fun and crazy memories with Gary that will always make me laugh, especially rafting trips down the American River. He was good man. God Bless you and your family. You are all in my Thoughts.
~
Lisa Gentry ( Baby Stowe)

May 27, 2011
Gary the things i learned from you and the good talks we had i will never forget. Spring training, Chester and most of all coaching. we had some great times. Thank you for everything.
~
Sid Lucero,
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Gary was not only every young man who went through Rosemont Little League's mentor and coach but like a father as well. He touched many lives and left a mark and a place in their heart.

"The coach's main job is 20 percent technical and 80 percent inspirational."
~Franz Stampfl

God Bless you Debbie, John and Jeana for sharing Gary (dad) with us all!
~
Teresa and J.P. Savage,
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
We are sorry to hear about your loss. Our hearts, thoughts and prayers are with your family during this difficult time. God is now taking care of Gary for he was a good father, husband, and a friend to all he met.
Winnie, Jeni, Maria, Susan and Tere
~
Winnie Cooper,
Rocklin, California

May 27, 2011
Gary was my cousin and my friend. Anyone who was his friend they became his family. He was a wonderful husband and caring Dad. He appreciated all the colors this world had to offer. Debbie, John, Jeana, Linda, Toni, & Family, wishing you comfort and love during this sad time.
~
Your Cousin Joan

May 27, 2011
Dear Toni and Linda --- I am so sorry to hear about Gary's passing. He will be missed. He was always one of my favorite childhood friends. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this time.
~
Love, Sharon Dorsey
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Hey Bud - We are so glad our paths crossed with yours in this life! You were definitely one in a million and we think you knew at least a milliion people! You will be missed by them all. There's one thing that has to be said, it was always amazing how the tenor of a room, the garage, the golf course or where ever you were, changed when you showed up. Thanks for being our friend Gary and having us in your life...you will never be fogotten. God bless you and your family. Rest in peace my friend! Mike and Susan Levitt

May 27, 2011
Granico Family, I am so sorry for your loss. Gary was an inspiration to many young kids who were a part of Rosemont Little League. He always made my son Justin laugh and gave him more confidence than any other baseball coach. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
~
Debbie Smith,
Sacramento, California

May 27, 2011
Gary

I will miss you old friend, I truly enjoyed our days at Hiram Johnson (Class of '69). R.I.P.
~
Pat Dowden,
Loomis, California

May 27, 2011
Debbie, John, Jeana, Gary was not only the best Husband, Father and Family man, he was also a great friend. He is now with God and others we have lost recently. My heart and prayers go out to all of your family. We will truely miss him in our lives.
~
Kathy, Keith Jouganatos

May 27, 2011
Our heartfelt condolences go out to the entire Granico family. We will all miss Gary and his fun ways deeply. He was a great, friend, mentor and coach to a lot of us. We had many fun adventures coaching baseball and having post games talks over a brew or two (most likely more…lol). The Chester fishing trips to Lake Almanor were the best. I still remember Gary’s face when Kenny Rogers, Rodney and I pulled up to his gasless boat on the lake with fuel. Priceless! Thanks Gary for all the fun times!
~
Stefan OConnor,
Rosemont, California

May 27, 2011
I was shocked when my mom called to tell me about Gary. I hope you are all doing as well as can be expected at time like this. One of my first thoughts were of Larry, he would have been heart broken to have experienced this loss. Hopefully he and Gary are somewhere starting their on Fantasy Football League, smokin' a cigars and talkin' sports!!! My heart aches for all of you. Gary was a great guy, always a joy to be around. Hold on to your memories they will keep you strong.
~
Paula Alvarado Smith.

May 28, 2011
Granico Family,
Our deepest symapthy for your loss. My God bless you and your family during this sad time. Our thoughts and prayers are with you!
~
Rico & Antoinette Morotti,
Gold River, California

May 28, 2011
Debbie,John,Jeana,Linda,Toni Lyn,I am So sorry for the loss of Gary. I have fond memories of Gary's younger days. He was loving and a delite to be with. The memories of Chester will always be with me.He will be missed.
Love and God Bless. We will meet again Gary.
~
Love you, Aunt Jo

May 28, 2011
I am very saddened to hear about Gary's passing. It has been so many years since I last saw him as I moved out of the area but I always think about him. Gary was a great friend and an inspiring teammate. Not only was he a great coach and teacher of the game but a tremendous player. He was a big part of our "Express" Softball family. We had so much fun together and I will always remember his smile, his laugh and his gold glove. I miss you "Snake" and will always cherish the great times we had. May God Bless you, watch over you and give you peace!
~
TC Martin,
Green Bay, Wisconsin

May 28, 2011
It's raining in seattle! The yankees are in town! I never saw anyone play third base or shortstop, better than Gary! What a glove. lucky
~
larry pirch,
seattle, Washington

May 28, 2011
MAY YOUR SOUL REST IN ETERNAL PEACE
~
ED JONES,
SACRAMENTO, California

May 28, 2011
My heart is broken but I know you are free and not in pain any more. Thank you for always being there for me...good times and bad. I know you and Doug have a line in the water and a beer in your hand. Love you my brother.....Shorty
~
Shorty

May 28, 2011
I knew when I first saw Gary and signed up for Baseball that this guy was a special guy. What I didn't know, was how much Gary would touch me and my Family.
It has been said that you are fortunate if, in a lifetime, you can meet enough great people to count on one hand. In my lifetime I have had the opportunity to meet alot of people both business and leisure.I also think I am fortunate to have many friends, but Gary Granico was my "One Hander". He stands as one of those men you can count on one hand.
As Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet " He was a man. Take him for all and all. We shall not look upon his like again."
Rest in peace my Brother you will be thought of every day.
~
Mike Hamburg

May 29, 2011
Peace to you Gary, you are so sweet.
~
Laura Bishop,
Roseville, California

May 29, 2011
the world will stop spinning!
i'm a little lost for words this morning!
but i thought of this..
god will blink.. the world will stop spinning and baseball will bow their heads and tip their hats...
ug
~
USAF gonnella,
scottsdale, Arizona

May 29, 2011
hello im eric gunnarson gary/ snake and i were best friends back in the day my heart is very sad i cried i havent seen or will ever c gary again 4 30 years we all had nick names mine was trout im sorry i or we never had time to get together i only know in my heart he was a great man i remember the times we had as friends and i will cherish those times im sorry 4 your lose i dont know u but in my heart i feel your pain thats the wrong word i feel your lose only know we were friends u can ask others of me miles and time seperate friends the last time i saw gary it was as if we had never been apart 30 years ago i loved him as my brother and we were we just went different ways in life to his family i say im sorry and if u wish u can call me id like that 778 886 6029 im in canada GOD bless u all garys friend gunnar
~
eric gunnarson,
blaine, Washington

May 29, 2011
Our time shared as baseball dads was much appreciated by me and will always be remembered. Your and Debbie's kindnesses toward Steven are not forgotten. You are missed.
~
Glenn Thompson

May 30, 2011
Gary was there for the lives and deaths of my Great Grandfather, Great grandmother and Great Uncle. He will always be remembered, by me, as a kind, worm hearted Man, who was always there in a time of need.
Thank you for all you've ever done for my Family, Gary. You will be missed by many. We love you.
~
Kayla Kardokus,
Rancho Cordova, California

May 30, 2011
My prayers go out to the family and friends of Gary. I was in Turkey with Gary and played ball with him. Very sad to hear he is gone. God bless him.
~
Dennis Avery,
Litchfield, Michigan

May 30, 2011
Gary, thanks for the memories. The many nights at Crabshaw listening to the 'Skins' will stay with me always.....
~
Norm Longtin,
Omo Ranch, California

.

Drugs, Money, and Rock and Roll - Part 1

2011-05-13T16:38:00.000-07:00

Yea, yea, yea. I know it has been over a month since I posted but I was busy! So now I am posting because I promised...and I don't break promises. But, since a LOT of shit has been going on, this is going to come in several parts.

Let's start with the "Drugs" part of this. If you recall, I was scheduled to have sinus surgery. Specifically, they were doing a septoplasty and a sinus drainage. What is a septoplasty you ask? Essentially it is where you PAY someone to BREAK. YOUR. NOSE. Yes, I paid someone to break my nose. Why? Because the inside was more crooked than Lombard Street in San Francisco and I couldn't breathe properly. The only way to fix it is to break it and reset it. Let me just say...Not. Fun.

Then there was the sinus drainage. I had a horrible sinus infection that was not going away no matter what drugs they gave me so they scraped it out. Doesn't that sound lovely? How would you like to have someone scrape your sinuses clean? Again...Not. Fun.

Now you may be asking yourself, what does a person look like after they have had this ~~torture~~ procedure done? Well, wonder no more!

I swear if someone doesn't turn off the lights, I am stabbing them with a rusty fork.

Yes, that means you.

There ya have it. Two hours after surgery when you are home and laying on the couch, the lights are really, really bright. If you have ever had a migraine, then you can relate to this kind of light sensitivity. Hence the sunglasses. Also note the bright orange earplugs. Yup, sound sensitivity. But my favorite part about this whole thing was definitely the face tampon under my nose. I had to keep that on until my nose "stopped leaking." Yes, that is the technical term. I thought it was totally sexy and I just might start a new fashion line with it! We will even throw in the free goal post drawing on your forehead!

And then came recovery. Though the pain was not as bad as I expected, it still hurt pretty bad. But I had this wonderful prescription called Vicodin. So I spent 4 days in a drug-induced haze where I slept 16-18 hours a day. I am also told I tried to sort out some school stuff while drugged up, I tried cooking, and some various other things I do not recall. What I DO recall is the nausea, dizziness, and pain. But we will move past that to the point where I ditched the vicodin and its ~~crappy~~ uncomfortable side effects.

Next came functioning in the world WITHOUT the face tampon!

Yes, that is a swollen nose and black eye forming.

Oh wait! You were wondering about that black thing coming out of my nose.

That black thing would be the end of my stitches which are taped to my face. Don't I look HAWT!!!!

Now when I say I functioned in the world without a face tampon, I use the term "function" loosely. Essentially it meant sitting up on the couch instead of laying down and occasionally walking around the apartment complex because I was getting cabin fever. It never ended up more than that because my balance was still off and the dizziness came and went without any warning. Finally, about a week after surgery, the dizziness and balance issues started resolving. ~~Shitty~~ Perfect timing considering the next adventure I needed to start dealing with...

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Learning Who My Real Friends Are

2011-04-06T14:16:00.001-07:00

Ever thought you knew someone, and then one day you find out they totally aren't who you thought they were? Ever thought you could count on someone and then when you really needed them, they weren't there? That was my night last night. I needed a friend, and I chose to take a chance and call on someone and they weren't there. Then when they finally showed up, well, lets just say I was disappointed. A very dear friend is dying and I get to hear about how parts of my life are screwed up. Yea. Helpful. Oh if they only knew all the shit I did for them and the crap I went through.

Today, I have a migraine, so I went back to bed to take a little nap and I am woken up by a text message from this same person essentially saying I screwed up somehow and I am now written out of their life forever. Do you think they tell me what it was I did? No. Do you think they give me a chance to refute whatever accusation is going on here? No. Do you think they respond when I ask what the hell I did this time? No.

Well guess what. I don't give a damn anymore. I do not have the mental or emotional energy to deal with this kind of childish bull shit anymore. I have more important things in my life to deal with. I have a husband who was laid off and is looking for a new job. I have school that is kicking my ass because I am taking double classes right now. I am having sinus surgery in a week. I have rheumatoid arthritis that I have to manage without one of my medications because of that surgery. I have a dear family friend, someone who is family despite the lack of blood relation, who I have known since I was 8, who is dying of lung cancer and may be leaving this world any day now. I have a best friend who I fear is on the verge of collapse because of all the shit she has going on in her life. I have my own insecurities and esteem issues to deal with. So you wanna write me off without telling me what I did? Fine. Good riddance. Have a nice life, cause I don't give a good God damn anymore.

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Spotlight: Mental Illness

2011-03-24T18:35:00.001-07:00

So I came here to write a new post and found out this post, that I wrote 3 weeks ago, never got published. How the hell did I manage that? Oh well. Now you get to see it...three week late...

We all know that my spotlight is always on mental illness and bipolar disorder, but today, one of my favorite blogs is spotlighting mental illness for the entire month of march. That's right, Aiming Low is shedding light on Mental Illness. So please take a moment to visit their site. So far they have addressed many things from depression to schizophrenia.

While you are at it, if you have a hard time understanding illness you can’t see, be it mental illness or something else like Celiac Disease or even cancer, visit this wonderful website and read about “The Spoon Theory.” It is one of the best explanations I have ever seen and it has brought me closer to both family and friends through its story.

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What I Have Learned as a Nanny

2011-02-24T11:24:00.001-07:00

So as you may or may not know, I am a nanny. I take care of this wonderful, adorable toddler who just lights up my day. I know all the textbook stuff about kids and I even babysat for the longest time, but I had never cared for a child continuously for such long periods nearly every day of the week. It has been A-MAZ-ING! Every day I get to watch this little guy discover things I take for granted. He gets this look on his face like "O.M.G. Miss Alicia!! Did you see THAT?!?! That was SO COOL!!!!"

I have always loved kids and I have always wanted at least three of my own. Now I am going to school to become a teacher while considering fertility treatments after more than 2 years of trying to get pregnant to no avail. After this nanny experience, I have learned several things are likely to happen when I become a teacher and parent:

1) Patience is a virtue
2) There is nothing more precious in the world than when "the lightbulb" turns on
3) The quickest way to go from a bad/sad mood to a great mood is to get a smile and hug from a precious child
4) The quickest way to go from a good mood to a bad mood is to have a chunk of flesh bitten off by that same child
5) I will get every single little illness the children get and it will be twice as bad as they experienced
6) Their favorite food for the last 6 months can suddenly hold no interest for no apparent reason
7) They don't care if your RA is acting up - they still need you to be on top of your game
8) They grow up waaaaay too fast

And you know what? I wouldn't trade this experience or my future experiences as a teacher and parent for anything in the world.

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Sand and Sea

2011-02-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever just been sitting there and suddenly a slew of words pop into your head that you just have to write down? It has been a long time since that happened to me. I used to write all the time. Poetry, short stories, etc. I never thought much of it was any good, but that's ok. It feels good to write something.

So today, as I sit here playing with the baby I watch, a slew of words pop into my head. And for some strange reason, I feel like embarrassing myself by sharing this latest one with you. Be nice. My feelings get hurt easily. ;)

Sand and Sea, February 17, 2011

My world is crashing down around me

It's laying at my feet

Little grains of sand washing out from under me

The more I try to hold it tight

The quicker my world flees

Like water through my fingertips

Or wind blowing the leaves

But even as my world seems

to fall into the sea

It don't fear the future

As long as you're by me

Valentine's Day - Don't Be Lazy Big Spender

2011-02-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Today is Valentine's Day. Florists, confectioners, and gift companies make millions of dollars on this day - all in the name of love. And you know what? I hate it.

I know most people who don't like Valentine's Day are single people. I used to be that single person who hated Valentine's Day and swore the only reason it existed was so people in relationships could rub it in the face of single people, but now I am married to one of the most caring, understanding men I have ever met. And guess what...I still don't like Valentine's Day. Want to know why? If you don't, then go away. Otherwise, read on! hehe.

Now, let me begin by saying I fully support the idea behind Valentine's Day as a day to celebrate love, but the intentions are not always so good now. I could say the main reason I don't like Valentine's Day is because of what corporate America has done to the holiday. What was once a celebration of love is now an excuse for retailers to try and steal our wallets and pummel us with what they think Valentine's Day should look like - filled with expensive jewelry and chocolate.

Like I said, I could say that was the main reason I don't like today. But my dislike goes to a more emotional level. Blame it on the Pisces in me. My great dislike for this day actually goes to the celebration of love and relationships. Yes, yes. I can hear you now. "But Alicia, you just said you fully support the idea behind Valentine's Day as a day to celebrate love." That is correct, I do. However, this day has made us lazy. Now that there is an "official" day to show you love someone, we seem to forget we should show we care all year long.

We all do the obligatory "I love you" as we walk out the door for work or errands or whatever, but how often do you stop and really say it like you mean it? How often do you look the person in the eye and say it the way you really feel it? How often do you buy your significant other a card that says you care? How often do you bring them even a single flower? And how many women believe that it is all the responsibility of the man to do this stuff? Guess what girls. You Are WRONG!! That's right, guys like to know you really care too. Sure, a card or flower might seem cheesy to give to a guy, but if you do it in private, even the "manliest" man will appreciate the intention behind it.

And while we are going down this path, there is one more thing. Who the hell said that showing you cared required spending money? Does the guy who gives a $500 necklace really love his woman more than the guy who just makes breakfast in bed or prepares a nice home-cooked dinner by candlelight because that is all they can afford? Hell no. In fact, I think that says way more than some damn necklace. Something that has some thought put into it that you couldn't just pick up at the store on the way home is much nicer.

So what did we learn today?

Valentine's Day shouldn't be a once a year deal. Show how much you care all throughout the year.
You don't have to spend money to say I love you and make your significant other feel all warm and fuzzy.
Girls - It's not all about you! Guys need to know you care too! Pull the stick out of your ass.

And to my Valentine, my family, and my friends, I love you with every fiber of my being. Thank you for being mine.

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It's Not Our Fault You Make Us Crazy

2011-02-10T14:37:00.002-07:00

My dear husband sent me a link to a text picture today. I wonder if it was just supposed to be amusing or if he was trying to tell me something indirectly.

My conclusion: He is trying to tell me that I over think things too much.

My advice to him and all other men out there: If you just tell us you missed the 2 foot putt and can't figure out why, we might not act quite so crazy. No guarantees though.

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Blessings

2011-02-04T14:22:00.001-07:00

Every now and then, something happens that reminds you exactly how blessed you are. The last week has been such a moment for me. See, I live in Arizona. Wonderful, warm, dry Arizona where my joints don't ache as often and my depressions are fewer in between. However, the last week, we have experienced record low temperatures and freaking freezing winds...literally. The lows for the last two nights were 18 degrees and 15 degrees (depending on what part of Tucson you live in). Windchill hovered close to 0 degrees. Well, Tucson just isn't used to this so it seems like every building has a busted water pipe or two. Businesses have been closed due to lack of water and tens of thousands of people no longer have heat because of a natural gas shortage.

And yet I still consider myself blessed. Why? First, because I have a home that I can hide from the cold in. Second, I am not one of the tens of thousands without heat. Third, I am not one of the many with busted water pipes. Fourth, my bed is oh so warm. Fifth, my rheumatoid is only just now starting to scream at me (I expected it days ago). And last but certainly not least, I won't be digging out of snow and ice for the next two weeks like the rest of the nation. Bwahahahaha! :P

Please know that even though I count my blessings, I pray for all those who don't have food, shelter, heat, etc., and I pray that all those who have to deal with the snow and ice stay safe and warm.

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Pieces of Me and You

2011-02-02T13:11:00.000-07:00

Ever thought you knew someone, then something happened that made you question that friendship? You want to believe, and in a way you do, but then there is that doubt stuck in the back of your mind that you just can't shake.

That's where I am at right now. I don't know what to believe anymore. All I know is my feelings are hurt, my heart aches, and my spirit feels broken. See, I don't call people friends lightly. If you are a friend, I care about you, and your words can hurt me easily. If you are an acquaintance, I wouldn't give a second thought to this crap. And yet, I still want to believe, but to believe would mean two opposite realities exist. So someone is lying, I don't know who, and it's breaking my heart because the only thing that hurts worse than being honest with me and hurting my feelings, is being lied to and not trusting me to forgive.

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Words can harm and words can save. What will your words do today?

2011-01-31T19:55:00.000-07:00

The last 4 or 5 days have been a crazy roller coaster. Many words were exchanged and now they are all circling through my head, cycling around and around. My family calls it spinning. See, we are good at getting something stuck in our head and then spinning it out of control. We are the only ones I know that can make a stubbed toe turn into homelessness and death for ourselves and the ones we love. I could explain the logic, but that is another post.

The point is that it's this crazy snowball effect that we really have no control over. So there have been words I have said that have caused hurt, pain, and confusion, but I have also said words that calm, heal, and bring happiness and laughter. I have received the same in return. Some words said to me (or around me) have caused hurt or confusion, and others have caused gratefulness and happiness.

The problem is too often we all say words without completely thinking the thoughts through. We don't think about what our words can do to a person. And now I sit here, spinning in my head, asking myself questions that I don't have answers for. Worrying, wondering, even if I did have the answers, what words would I choose to express them?

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Coming Out

2011-01-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

If you have followed my blog for any significant amount of time or you have gone through the past posts, you know the main purpose of this blog is to help erase the negative stigma associated with mental illness and Bipolar in particular. However, there is another message that is incredibly important.

If you are experiencing depression, anxiety, mania, or anything else that just doesn't feel right mentally and emotionally, there is absolutely no shame in getting help. Speak up. Speak out. As Jenny, The Bloggess, reminded me this morning as I read through one of her most recent posts (I got behind), your friends and family would rather have a broken, bed-ridden you than no you at all. "Your friends and family want you…broken or not. Don’t leave. Speak out. Be honest about your condition to let others know that they can be honest with theirs. Together we’ll get through it."

So for those who love you, read Jenny's post, then *speak out* because you're wanted in their life.

For Jenny, and Lori (a wonderful lady in Jenny's post), and for everyone else who suffers in silence:

Can One Letter Really Make a Difference? Uh...yea.

2011-01-25T15:29:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I've posted so I figured now is as good a time as any, and what better topic than boobs! That's right, boobs. Even better, I am going to talk about my boobs! Or rather, bitch about them. Why you ask? Simple. Because they have made my life more difficult lately.

See, I am a fairly well-endowed woman. No, you don't get to see pictures. For the last, oh, I dunno, decade I have been a DD cup. Also known as Double-Dang boobs. For a long time, I hated them. With a passion. They get in the way, they cause horrible back pain, shopping for shirts is a royal pain, and bathing suits? Forget it. People and objects run into them and people stare at them. I swore if I ever had the money, I would get a reduction. Then somewhere in the last 3 or 4 years, my attitude shifted.

Now I love my boobs...usually...because there are so many women out there who wish they had boobs like mine. I figured rather than hate them, I should be thankful for what I have. Embrace them. Nurture them. And find clothes and bathing suits that flatter them. No easy task, mind you. But I had adapted and grown to love them. Yes, I now LOVE my boobs. My big, beautiful boobs.

But now, I am a little irritated with them again. Why? Because apparently they decided to grow again over the last several months. That's right. I am now a DDD. Fan-freaking-tastic. The thought really didn't bother me at first because I figured I dealt with them before, I can deal with them now. Until I went bra shopping.

See, bra shopping was always an adventure because there is always a very limited selection of DD bras in my favorite stores. I discovered when I went in search of DDD bras that none of my favorite stores carry any of that size in store. N.O.N.E. Queue long list of swear words. Even Victoria's Secret failed me!!! Just when I was about to blow a gasket, I called my mother who always has the answers. She told me to check the higher end department stores like Macy's. Ugh, I hate that place. But guess what. As usual, mom was right...again.

While their selection wasn't anything to throw a party over, I was able to find several bras that fit properly and didn't look like my grandmother should be wearing them. So now my beautiful, big, fantastic boobs have limited me to one, single store for bra shopping...or online. Bra shopping online just doesn't seem right.

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Most People with Mental Illness are NOT Violent

2011-01-14T12:48:00.000-07:00

I received a message from a friend today about a statement that the U.S. Psychiatric Rehabilitation Association (USPRA) supposedly issued. While I cannot confirm the statement came from them (it is not listed in their Press Releases on the website), I believe it is good for everyone to read because it is so very true.

If you know me in more than passing or you read this blog, you know that I have bipolar disorder. I am not ashamed of it and I don't try to hide it from people. In fact, I try to spread awareness of mental illness because I fight a negative stigma of mental illness every day. No matter who wrote this statement, I hope it makes at least one or two people think twice before immediately passing judgment on someone they find out has a mental illness.

I highlighted my favorite parts. Here is the message:

USPRA Issues Statement on Tucson Shooting January 13, 2011

The US Psychiatric Rehabilitation Association released the following statement in reaction to Saturday’s Tucson shooting in Arizona:

In wake of Tucson’s tragic shooting that shook America over the past weekend, we wish Congresswoman Giffords and the 13 other wounded indivi...duals a speedy recovery, and our thoughts and prayers go out to all of those whose lives were impacted by this act of horrific violence.

With such senseless acts, we often search for someone or something to blame. The assassination attempt on Congresswoman Giffords has generated considerable speculation around the mental condition of the suspected shooter, which has heightened the stigma associated with mental illness. We must remember that there is a weak link between mental illness and violence. According to SAHMSA, nearly five percent of the US population suffers from a mental illness resulting in serious functional impairment, but only a very small group of individuals with mental health issues shows any violent behavior. Most people with mental illnesses are not violent, and most people who are violent are not mentally ill.

While we have no way of knowing whether or not our nation’s mental health system failed this individual, the Tucson tragedy should spotlight mental health policy & the provision of mental health services as a national priority. The best strategy to providing individuals with mental illnesses the assistance they need is to have an accessible system of care that is easy to use. However, because the majority of mental health services are delivered through public systems, these are usually the first programs to be cut in a state budget when money runs short. More socially accepted diseases like diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure and other physical illnesses don’t experience the same inconsistencies, yet funding for mental health programs seems to fall to the cutting room floor year after year.

In light of the Tucson shooting, we must also increase awareness of the need for mental health services within schools and colleges. The Mental Health on Campus Improvement Act attempted to increase accessibility to a range of mental and behavioral health services for students—including a focus on prevention, identification and treatment of students in college and university settings—but failed to gain any traction in the last two Congresses. We must realize that only by providing resources for prevention and outreach programs, can we ensure that students can obtain the support they need in order to recover and re-establish themselves in the community.

USPRA hopes that this tragic event brings the essential mental health system reforms that we so need in our nation and we will continue our responsibility to urge legislators to effectively address the needs of individuals with mental illness.

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And You Thought Writing Your Name in the Snow Was Fun...

2011-01-11T11:12:00.001-07:00

Remember when you parents told you not to eat yellow snow? Guys, do you remember writing your name in the snow when you had to pee? Well, if you never lived in a place that snowed enough for you to enjoy this distinct pleasure, you may have the chance to play games while you pee sooner rather than later. My question is, what does the female version look like?

Better Living Through Chemistry

2011-01-07T13:12:00.001-07:00

< Disclaimer: This turned into a huge post. And it probably rambles because I didn't proof it. Feel free to skip it if you want. >

It never fails to amaze me how much pain and sickness the human body, my body, can take. It never fails to amaze me how much you get used to the pain so you don't realize how bad it is - that is, until it is gone.

People keep asking me how my Christmas was. I usually tell them it was great! I got to see my family, had lots of laughs, played games, and got to eat tons of delicious food. All of that is true and I am so glad and thankful for the experience. I usually leave out that 6 out of the 7 days I was in California, I spent most of my time staying still, and when I did move, I walked around like a stiff old lady because my rheumatic joints hurt so bad.

I leave out the physical pain because either they prefer hearing the happy stuff or I prefer thinking of the happy stuff. And then at some point, the pain becomes part of you. You know you hurt. It has hurt for a while. But you can still function when you need to. You may not be able to function easily, but the fact remains you can. You just have to adapt. Don't be weak and give in to nature being a bitch. Just get your stuff done and if it gets worse, call the doctor.

The process is so gradual, you don't even see yourself slipping. What started as a little mole hill has turned into a big mountain, but you don't feel like there has been any change. Next thing you know, you are rolling down that ginormous mountain at 1,000 MPH wondering how you let it get this bad.

That was me last week. I didn't see the mountain until I was sitting at home at the end of my Christmas vacation in tears because, once again, I couldn't turn a door handle or button my own pants. In tears because I know there is no cure for rheumatoid arthritis. In tears because I know it is a degenerative disease. In tears because I couldn't even form a cohesive thought through my pain and misery. My brain was a fog. But even worse, there were tears from a depression that I still couldn't see behind the mountain. It took the doctor telling me I was depressed for me to see that part of this equation, and that almost never happens with me anymore. Usually I am so in tune with my bipolar that I know I am slipping into a depression long before I show outward symptoms of it.

So I finally called my Rheumatologist. Out til next month. Boo. So I called the PCP. Saw him Monday. We talked about all my physical problems. The final conclusion was major RA flareup (well DUH) and severe depression. The question, which came first? I told him it didn't matter because they feed off each other anyway and he agreed. The treatment? Double the antidepressant (which put me at a whole 50 mg of Zoloft - something most people laugh at) and call in Guido (Prednisone - a steroid) for the RA.

Now, I have taken Prednisone before. I have an "as needed" prescription for these flare ups. I start hurting, I take 5 mg for a few days and then I am right as rain...usually. This time around, I had taken that dose for 10 days with no effect, so I was skeptical of this second round of Prednisone. Then he told me how much. 60 freaking mg. SIXTY! 60 for 3 days, 40 for 3 days, 20 for 3 days, 10 for 3 days. Holy hell. That is more than just calling in Guido. That is calling in the whole freakin mafia.

The good news was I didn't care. I just wanted relief. I figured getting rid of the pain would help my depression a little and I would be able to function at work. What I knew was Prednisone is fast acting. It would start working within 24 to 36 hours and my pain would start subsiding. Zoloft takes longer. It would be about 2 weeks before I had significant depression relief, but the lack of pain would help the depression a little bit in the meantime. I figured it was something like 80% real depression and 20% pain-induced depression. Oh baby was I WRONG!!! 24 hours after my first dose of Prednisone I discovered my pain was my depression. 24 hours after starting that damn steroid, I felt emotionally normal and my pain level was well on its way to leaving the building.

I have always known that I have a much higher pain tolerance than the average person. What most people would consider a 6 or 7 on the pain scale, I frequently call a 3, maybe a 4. Why? Because I am used to it and know how to adapt to it. For me to say my pain is 7 or higher, I have to be damn near crippled. I don't always remember that though. Then the pain goes away and I am left asking myself, how the hell did I function through that? How could I not realize it was that bad?

The only answer I can come up with:

Cause I'm ~~stubborn~~ ~~in denial~~ ~~an idiot~~ one tough cookie.

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Out With the Old, In With the New

2010-12-31T21:04:00.000-07:00

2010 was an awesome year for me. It came with some challenges and I met them well. I beat even my best expectations for myself and then made some new ones that are going even better. Here is a brief recap of the last 365 days:

In January, I hired and trained my replacement at University of the Pacific. It was heart-breaking to say goodbye to all my friends and co-workers I had met over the previous 5 years, but I felt the most awesome opportunities lay ahead of me in Arizona where my husband had started working at his dream job.

In February, I made the final trek to our new home in Tucson, AZ. Though I was excited about the changes, I was scared. Would I be successful? Would I survive away from the friends and family I had been with for the last 10 years? Time would tell.

Once in Tucson, I wanted to make sure to continue my journey to better health and happiness. To do so, I joined a gym and got a new personal trainer since I had to leave my my favorite trainers behind in Stockton (Lance and Denny with CBPT).
Once everything was finally situated in Tucson, I signed up to get back to the school books! I finally have the chance to focus 100% on school and get this teaching degree DONE!

I started school and found I loved the program at University of Phoenix. Admittedly, I don't always like the fact I have to work in teams, but I at least understand the concept behind it. After moving to a bigger apartment, I finally started meeting some people who would turn out to be great friends. Seeing as making friends was one of my biggest concerns, this was a huge feat for me.

As time would go on, I would learn more of the city, learn more things to do, get involved in my community through volunteer work, meet wonderful people who offered superb opportunities, make great friends, and learn I am a much stronger person than I gave myself credit for. Even as my health issues have piled up in the last month or two, I am still holding strong with the support of those around me who love me.

To each and every one of you who had supported me at one time or another, thank you. It is because of you that I am who I am today and I can accomplish my dreams.

And what exactly are my dreams for 2011? To buy a house, to start a family, to get my rheumatoid arthritis back under control, and to blog more! But above all those dreams, I truly only have two New Year's Resolutions: Make time for what makes me happiest and say goodbye to the things that don't. May 2011 be my happiest year yet. :)

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The Brothers Mario

2010-12-16T23:05:00.001-07:00

All I have to say is I totally wanna see this movie!

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A Little Christmas Spirit

2010-12-08T20:44:00.001-07:00

Whether you are Christian or not, I believe everyone can appreciate the sentiment of love, family, friends, and good nature that is supposed to come with Christmas. For this reason, I offer you a little Christmas spirit with a video of a very talented person playing wine glasses.

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On To a Better Day...And Maybe a Better Title??

2010-12-07T14:42:00.000-07:00

It is always a challenge when things don't go quite right and external factors affect your best laid plans. It is even more difficult when the unfortunate events involve emotions that can damage friendships you thought were strong, and make you question things you thought you knew about yourself.

The last few days have been a time of learning for me. If you know anything about me at all, you should know how I hate, hate, HATE drama. You should also know how I try to avoid conflict like the plague. Yes, I am one of those people who prefers to stick their head in the sand and wait for it to go away rather than deal with a problem head on. You can now imagine why I had so many problems with relationships in the past.

So when a conflict began to develop between a group I am part of, my automated response is pretend nothing is wrong. Maybe say a couple things that wouldn't ruffle too many feathers, gloss over the situation til we get over this hump, and hope for the best going forward. Unfortunately, this just caused things to steam, simmer, boil, then basically explode. Way to go Alicia. Your method of dealing with conflict is soooooooooo effective.

Then, because of my conflict adverse nature, all the pressure was put on a good friend to solve everything. I felt horribly bad about it, still do, because she has her own crap to deal with. I know I should have a better backbone than I do, but unless it is through typed words, I just plain suck at dealing with confrontation. On paper or through email, I kick ass at it. In person or on the phone, I fold like a piece of tin foil. Lesson one: Just how bad I am at conflict resolution in person.

Another thing you should know about me - stress is a HUGE bipolar trigger for me. This whole situation caused an incredible amount of emotional stress on me. On top of that, it is winter, my worst season of the bipolar year. Add the drama to the winter blues I have been fighting and it results in an emotionally unstable Alicia. I should have put up a sign on my door that says "CAUTION: Unstable environment. Downpours of tears and floods may occur." This may have prevented my neighbor from getting cranky, irritated looks from me yesterday, and it may have prevented another friend from being caught off guard with tears. Follow that with my hubby being pulled over for a registration issue that was supposed to be taken care of...yea...complete meltdown. Lesson two: My mask doesn't work as well when I am being overwhelmed with multiple things going wrong at once.

But then I found comfort in an unexpected place. When I went to apologize for blubbering all over my friend, I was instead reassured I had no reason to apologize. Life was just throwing crap at me like it does to everyone occasionally and I was just doing the best I could to deal with it. After a long talk and a few more tears, I was more comfortable with the situation. I was reminded of something that I know in my head but frequently forget - if these friendships are supposed to last, we will make it through this rough patch. If they aren't meant to last, I need to accept it and move forward because there are others out there I am missing out on by dwelling on things I can't control anymore. Either way, there is nothing I can do at this moment. Only time will tell. Lesson three: I have some really awesome people in my life. Lesson four: I have a really, really crappy memory...or maybe that should be Reminder One for my next post?

The important part of this though, I will survive and today is a new day...and so far, a better day too!

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Just Cruisin' Under the Surface

2010-12-03T14:35:00.000-07:00

When I first started this blog, I had intended to share all the funny and amusing things that I come across in my life as well as promote the understanding of bipolar disorder. The strange part is that I never seem to remember I have a blog at those points in time. Instead, I post about being thankful for the wonderful things in life, regular events, and my various feelings and moods. In a way, this blog has become more of a personal journal than the amusement I had planning. Is this such a bad thing? I don't think so. See, this is still serving my original purpose. I have bipolar disorder and I want to promote understanding of it. By posting here, you get a very small glimpse into the thought processes of this bipolar mind. Don't you feel special?

The challenge now is spreading understanding of what is going on with me to those I interact with every day in my life. Many of the people I spend time with here in Tucson met me when I was in a bit of a mania. They are used to the fun, smiley, energetic, flirty, party girl. We would go out to the bar and drink and dance and have a good old time or play poker or any number of other things. Now I am hanging out in the slightly depressed area. Not badly depressed, just a little bit -- like a 2 or 3 out of 10 (with 10 as the worst) -- just enough to make it so I don't want to go out and when I do, that I don't get quite as much enjoyment out of things that I normally would. But that is the bipolar roller coaster ride and they will have to learn to love both parts of me...that is if I can take off the mask of everything is fine and stop making excuses for why I can't do something...

*hint: I'm really not as busy as I make myself out to be...

So, can you love both parts of me?

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Yea baby, that pie-laden butt is SEXY!

2010-11-25T20:06:00.000-07:00

It's that day of the year where U.S. Americans around the world gather together to give thanks for all they have and all they will have in the future. Since the first of November, I have been posting something I am thankful for nearly every day on Facebook, and then a new friend posted a comment that caught my attention.

"Today is about being thankful for what you have the ability to offer others as well. Not just what you've received. Appreciate yourself and how you effect the lives of people around you..."

Suddenly I realized something had been missing the last 25 days. Now I try hard to remember that, despite popular belief, the world does NOT revolve around me. *shocking gasp* I know, I know. It is hard to believe, but it is true. So the last 3 1/2 weeks I have been giving thanks for all the great things in my life, which is very important, but I have forgotten about how we give back. I have forgotten how thankful I am that I can support friends when shit hits the fan, that I can help classmates understand class material, that I get to teach a sweet little boy about the big, beautiful world, that I am able to volunteer for a wonderful organization through Goodwill and provide mentoring to troubled teens, and most of all, I am able to support my friends and family in all their endeavors. Kinda strange how that sounds like it is all about me still. *snickers*

So as you sit at your desk, laptop, phone, iPad, or other electronic device digesting the poultry you have recently gobbled *snort*, remember, you make someone else's life better and special. Now think about the mess in the kitchen that someone has to clean up and get up off your overstuffed, pie laden butt and offer a hand. Because it will give someone one more reason to be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, my fantastic readers who make my life better and special. ;)

Nice To Meet You

2010-11-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

In many ways, I consider myself truly blessed. I have a wonderful family, a secure and comfortable life, reasonably good health despite some aches and pains, an incredibly flexible and fulfilling job, and friends who truly love me. But now the holidays are approaching and while this is my absolutely favorite time of year and I simply cannot wait to celebrate, I. Am. Freaking Out.

Holidays are a time for smiles and hugs, greetings and celebrations, fun and laughter, games and cheer. Trust me, I will have all of those. It is the part leading up to it that gets my undies in a bunch, especially this year.

See, my mother-in-law is arriving tonight. 8:30pm. And she will be here through Thanksgiving.

Maybe I should rephrase that. Don't get me wrong. I love my mom-in-law. We get along great and she is one of the sweetest ladies you will ever meet, but she has never been to my home before. The first time I met her, was at her home in Canada. Her turf. The second time I saw her for an extended period was when we visited her in Hong Kong for two weeks. Again, her turf. On her turf, the only thing I have to worry about is me and my actions/appearance. But now, this is going to be at my home...on my turf.

This, in theory, should actually make things more comfortable for me, right? Oh hell no. If anything, it makes it more stressful because now it isn't just about me. It is now my home, my food, my habits, my animals, etc. Now it is my entire life, and though I know better...really I do...I feel like everything I am is now under scrutiny. Did I scrub that toilet well enough? Do I have the food she likes to eat? Do I have enough entertainment things for her? Will she think I corrupted her son somehow? What if she doesn't like our pets? Is our home too cluttered? And because I can always find one more thing to stress about, the dishwasher is now broken. Have I mentioned I hate washing dishes by hand?

And that doesn't even touch on all the possible mishaps for Thanksgiving dinner that I have running through my head.

So yea, in all honesty, she will probably just be thrilled to see her son again for the first time in over a year (hard to visit when she lives on the other side of the world), but this is who I am. I am Alicia and my middle name is Worry. Nice to meet you.

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And Then He Makes Me Smile

2010-11-12T14:17:00.000-07:00

While debating a particularly difficult choice, what kind of pizza to order, I look to my husband for help. This is what I get.

Me: I'm stuck in indecision honey.

Derek: And then, silently, amber liquid seeped slowly into the room. It slid under door cracks, through the air ducts - no crevice, however small, did not ooze the liquid. By the time the unsuspecting Alicia noticed and tried to decide how to escape, it was too late. She was paralyzed by the indecision honey - and despite the door just a few feet away, she could not use it. No, she COULD use it, if she could just decide to do so.

My life is anything but boring with him around. :)

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Cherish every day

2010-11-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

Some people come quietly into our lives and leave just as quietly, leaving little memory of them behind. There are no strong emotions and no teary goodbyes. Some people enter and change you more dramatically. They leave or heal a scar, and you know you will remember their presence forever, but there is only a slight sadness or relief when they move on. Then there are those who not only enter our lives, but they enter our hearts. Attachments are formed, traditions, and love. They become family. Shit hits the fan in your life or theirs, and the other comes running to help clean up the mess.

And then the day comes where the shit can't be cleaned off the walls anymore. The broken pieces can no longer be put back together. But you will try. Your family will run to their family and you will scrub and scrape like mad because life stinks sometimes and you hate the smell, but it remains.

A brother to my father. A second father to my brother. Family to us all. We may not be blood, but our two families are forever entwined. How do you stop scraping long enough to enjoy the short time you have left with them? How do you ignore the stink long enough to smile, laugh, and be thankful for the time you had with them? Now, how do you do this from 1200 miles away?

Stage 4.

6 months.

May the Lord bless us all and give our families comfort and joy.

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For my Oma

2010-11-10T17:55:00.001-07:00

For my Oma, Ingeborg,

Two years ago today, I had to say good-bye to my grandmother, my Oma. For those of you who have never heard me speak of her before, Oma is German for grandma.

When we were young, she took care of my brother and I when we were too sick to go to school. She often took us to our baseball and softball events after school. During the summer, we would spend a lot of time at her house. I met wonderful friends through her and swam in the neighbor's pool. My first time riding the "light rail" was with her, as well as my first time on a bus that broke down. A boy in her neighborhood gave me my first kiss, and oh did that cause problems. Hehe. My brother and I would make forts out of blankets, chairs, and other furniture throughout her house. This was all before we moved to Texas for high school.

When we returned to California after high school, older, and supposedly wiser, I lived with her for a short time. I broke her heart for a bit when I moved out. I didn't spend as much time with her as I should have. It was inconvenient and visiting with her was so boring. She always wanted to pry into my life and know all the little details and it drove me crazy. I don't blame her. It isn't like I made an effort to tell her much. I didn't see or understand how much pleasure she got out of just having us stop by to say "hi."

Then I grew up a bit more and I moved an hour away. Suddenly, it wasn't such an inconvenience to see her when I was in town. I began to notice how she enjoyed just the little things my brother and I did. We would go to her house and eat this horrible little microwave pizzas she would keep in the freezer because she thought we loved them. We weren't particularly fond of them, but it made her happy.

In the last few years, we made it a point to take her out to eat because we couldn't be sure she was eating enough at home. Leatherby's. Crab sandwiches and chocolate shakes. Macaroni grill. Grilled salmon and asparagus. Oh how that woman loved her salmon. Strings. Italian deliciousness. And of course, champagne brunch...with wasabi...a story for another time.

But all things must come to an end. She lost some weight...and then she lost some more weight. Then she stopped traveling and we knew something was up. She lost more weight, and ended up in the hospital. She came out of the hospital just to go right back in a short time later. Then we got the news she wouldn't be with us much longer. We took shifts, my parents, my brother and I. We all had work and my brother and I had school on top of it. My job was so kind. I took almost a week off work with no hassles.

She was unconscious. Infection raged through her system. I sat with her and watched football while doing homework, talking to her about school and my husband who sat with me most of the time too. At first we switched off, taking turns to go home and sleep. The last couple days, I refused to leave. I didn't want to miss "it." Sometimes I wish I had.

And `then she started to move. My mom and husband were with me. We thought she might be in pain, but the nurse just told us it was close. We called in dad and my brother. We tried not to cry. We didn't want her to worry about us. We held her hands as she took her last breath. The nurse checked her heart and told us she was gone...and then the tears came.

We were sad to see her go, but we were glad she was happier now that she could be with Opa again. I was sad she couldn't stay to see her future grandchildren, but I am glad she got to meet my wonderful husband. We are sad she doesn't get to join us at the holidays anymore, but she left us with wonderful memories of fighting over the thermostat. I am sad she isn't here to see what I am doing with my life, but I know she would be proud of who I am today.

Oma, I love you and I hope you are resting in peace with Opa at your side and I know I will see you again one day.

Love always, your granddaughter,
Alicia

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You're an addict

2010-11-04T11:58:00.001-07:00

We have all heard of drug addicts and alcohol addicts. You can be addicted to caffeine, cigarettes, and even sugar. More recently we have heard of addictions like tanning, plastic surgery, adrenaline rushes, and even running.

Well apparently there is one more thing we can be addicted to now: Carbohydrates.

Now I know what you are thinking - Duh. The shock is not in the fact you can be addicted to carbs because frankly, you can be addicted to ANYTHING. The part that threw me off guard is it is now an official condition...
Meaning you can be diagnosed with it...
And treated for it...
They have a freaking medication for it...

Meaning, naturally, I was just diagnosed with it yesterday.

Screw medication or Carb-a-holics Anonymous.

I <3 my addiction.

The higher they fly...

2010-10-19T10:33:00.001-07:00

...the faster they fall. The same is true for the distance they fall, and I am falling pretty fast without knowing where I will stop.

A couple weeks ago I posted about my fun little roller coaster ride of bipolar hypo-mania. Well, that was the upside of the coaster, and now I am on the down-side. The problem is I don't know how my "new" friends here in Tucson will take it. I am blessed to have true friends who love and care for me all over the country. No matter what stupid ass thing I do, I know you will always be there, waiting to help me pick my stupid ass up off the ground. Luckily, I also feel like I have built some great relationships with some people here, but much of them were forged in "happy, happy, joy, joy, everything is freaking awesome and perfect and I can rule the world" Alicia. Now "I am sad and pathetic and not worth anyone's time and everyone is only friends with me cause they pity me and FML" Alicia has emerged. As you can imagine, the first version is a lot easier to be friends with than the second version. So what is the first thing I do when the latter Alicia comes around? I push people away naturally! Makes complete sense, right? DUH! Sigh.

So now these "new" friends are hearing go away, leave me alone, I'm not interested and even as I say this stuff, I think in my head, WTF are you doing Alicia? It's like word vomit - an uncontrollable spewing of words despite what the speaker actually wants to say. Word vomit is inevitably followed by seclusion because you can't believe what you just did and you can't take it back because then you just look fickle and indecisive or like you are playing games with people. Then I come here to spew word vomit all over my blog because it is the only place I seem to be able to speak even semi-coherently. Don't you feel special? You should, after all, I am actually helping you. See, I screw shit up so you know what NOT to do. I sacrifice for you, my blessed reader.

Now, what is the lesson here class? I hope you know because I'm not really sure. I just wonder whether these people know me well enough in such a short time to take what I say with a grain of salt while I am down, or if these newly formed relationships can survive the crap I am bound to put them through as I try to dig my way out of this darkness.

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Twitter...The New Police Tool

2010-10-15T09:16:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I knew that Twitter could be really super awesome if I ever had the time to spend on it. Hell, all I have to do is follow @TheBloggess and I am guaranteed to know all the important events I need to be aware of like the recent Zombie Apocalypse #za or when it is time to be #furiouslyhappy. But apparently Twitter has outdone itself in Europe.

http://thenextweb.com/uk/2010/10/14/police-force-tweets-emergency-calls-scores-twitter-hit/

For those of you who don't want to click the link (lazy asses):

A UK police force has scored a major hit today by tweeting every single 999 emergency call it receives over a 24-hour period. Greater Manchester Police‘s move has seen an overwhelming response among UK Twitter users today as over one hundred tweets per hour are published, reporting everything from real emergencies like thefts and potential accidents to non-emergencies like Threatening messages on Facebook and a man asleep on a toilet in a theatre.

Why is the force doing this? As Inside the M60 reports today, GMP is currently faced with having to make budget cuts of up to £7 million. Chief Constable Peter Fahy has opted to use social media to show how much work the police has to deal with and how cuts stretch resources, saying a lot of police work “is not recognised in league tables and measurements – yet is a huge part of what we do.”

The tweets, spread out over three accounts in order to get around Twitter’s API limits on account usage (even on its own website), have captured the public’s imagination with two spoof accounts being set up. This one is arguably producing the most humorous results, which the other was reprimanded by the police for using their official crest logo. That said, sometimes real life is funnier than parody. See this example: “Call 384 report of man holding baby over bridge – police immediately attended and it was man carrying dog that doesn’t like bridges”.

Meanwhile, we hear that open data enthusiasts are already working on code to analyse data from the calls. It’s fair to say that social media agency Gabba has hit on something with this seemingly simple campaign. The public has got to see the sheer range of calls, some appropriate, some not, that the police has to deal with, generating lots of word-of-mouth discussion and media coverage. Whether it will have any lasting effect beyond public awareness of stretched police resources remains to be seen, but it’s still a bold move that’s paid off.

You can follow Greater Manchester Police’s tweets at their three accounts here, here and here or via the hashtag #gmp24 The ‘experiment’ ends at 5am on 15 October, British Summer Time.

Oh. Hell. Yes!

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Semi-Wordless Wednesday

2010-10-13T11:37:00.002-07:00

Was there really any doubt?

Where have I been?

2010-10-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

Riding a nice high, that's where. I've been on the upswing of this bipolar roller coaster and honestly, I have enjoyed every minute of it. For those intimately familiar with bipolar mania, no, not that high. I have been skirting along somewhere toward the upper end of hypo-mania. For those not so intimately familiar with bipolar mania (or hypomania), let me attempt to explain.

Mania is a condition of extreme euphoria. As I understand it, and I am no doctor, everything is in excess and often puts yourself at risk physically, financially, legally, etc. Sometimes it presents with psychosis, where reality and fiction get blurred (ie. you may think you can fly or you are super strong and can stop a moving vehicle). Frequently a manic episode ends with inpatient hospitalization for someone "acting crazy" according to some layperson in the victim's life. I say victim because the patient is a victim to their own chemistry. Some more familiar cases of mania include sober, naked people running down the street, people attacking random strangers, and someone jumping in front of a subway train in New York. I have never experienced a true mania...that I know of. I quantify that because mania is also accompanied with memory loss occasionally and well, if you know me, I already have a shitty memory.

Hypomania is a lesser form of mania. Hypo = less than. Connect the dots. You still have an overwhelming sense of happiness and euphoria and do things in excess, but typically the risks you take are much more mild. Usually your life is not threatened and there is definitely no psychosis and you are fully aware of your actions. For example, you don't sleep for days on end, you spend hundreds of dollars on a drop of a hat though you know you shouldn't, you go through multiple sexual partners in a week or even a night. All these things carry risks, but not as immediately threatening as mania. The bad part is hypomania can very easily turn to mania and the victim/patient has no idea.

My last four weeks or so have been full of sleepless, drunken nights, spending sprees, irrational thinking, etc. The only good part is I recognized it a week or two in and I limited the possible damage by handing over my debit and credit cards and cash to my husband. I essentially have an allowance until I level out. Then it all came to a screeching halt four days ago with this damn, God-awful flu. UGH! Knocked me on my ass enough to get me to go see the shrink. No more anti-depressant for me! Duh. Bye bye Zoloft. But now that the flu is subsiding and I am recovering (praise the Lord!), it remains to be seen if the hypomania has passed, or if we are going to have some more fun! ;) It's been 10 years since I had a good upswing. In a way, I figure if I am smart about it and I keep myself limited in the damage I can cause (and my hubby has the shrink's number), then why can't I live for a little bit like the college kid I never got to be? I like bars...and I like dancing on them....

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Never Forget

2010-09-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

In the words of a relative "9 years ago today American's were humbled. We had our innocence, arrogance, invincibility, naivety, security stripped from us but most filled the void with faith and pride. All Americans came together....something we desperately need to do again."

I know every blogger out there will be posting a similar blog posting today, but you know what? I don't care. I don't write this post to follow the crowd and I don't avoid writing this to be different. I write this because my life was changed 9 years ago. All our lives were changed 9 years ago. I write this for all the people who died that day, but I also write this for everyone who has died before and after that day at the hands of hate.

When it happened, I was driving to work. The radio station cut off the song it was playing and the DJ came on and said a plane crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. They didn't know if it was an accident or not yet.

As I pulled into the parking lot at work, a co-worker was there crying. Another plane hit the second tower. Not an accident. Someone was attacking us, our nation, our values, our soul.

We sat at work watching the news, comforting each other. We sat in shock when we learned of the Pentagon. We panicked together when we heard a hijacked plane was headed for Dallas, then breathed deeply when it was corrected to Dulles, for though we knew we were safe, we had fear for those who weren't.

I joined two dear friends that afternoon. We tried to function normally, going to the grocery store, making meals, but it was all a facade. We watched the towers fall together. We watched the Pentagon and a Pennsylvania field burn. We mourned together, and then we stood strong together. Our nation stood strong together.

And then we started to forget...

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Nothing's right. I'm torn.

2010-09-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, I got great news. Someone who has traveled the TTC path with me found out she was pregnant. She had been pregnant before, but sadly it ended in miscarriage, so I was very excited to hear when she got pregnant again. With the wonderful news though, there is always the worry that "it" will happen again. Yesterday, I found "it" did. It broke my heart to read the message. Tears came to my eyes and I wished with all my might I could be there to hug her and reassure her that she would get through this.

See, I love this group of TTC girls like they were my own sisters because we all get it. Simply put, infertility sucks. Miscarriages suck. Having to take drugs and hormones to try to get pregnant and then have it not work sucks. Yet, after the initial sadness of her heart-breaking news, I found myself thinking about my situation and I pondered a single question...

Would I rather go through the pain of never being able to conceive in the first place, or would I rather go through the joy of even just a few days with a life inside me, only to lose it a short time later?

My conclusion - they both suck giant monkey balls.

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It's definitely you, not me.

2010-09-07T11:43:00.000-07:00

Of all the things that come rolling through Facebook that are opinionated and possibly controversial, one of them really gets me riled up. How often do I talk about politics? Not often. I don't like arguing politics with anyone because far too many people are ignorant of the events and base their opinions solely on media coverage which is undoubtedly biased (Sorry Fox, "fair and balanced" my ass). Every now and then, something really strikes a nerve with me that causes me to throw caution to the wind and speak up despite whatever ignorant flak I might catch.

Today and tomorrow (or whenever I get my next post out), it is all about Muslims. Several weeks ago, this whole thing blipped onto my radar with posts and groups against a particular mosque being built in New York:

"If you think that putting up a mosque 600 ft. from ground zero and have the inauguration, on the anniversary of 9/11 in 2011, is immoral, inhuman and a complete lack of respect for the memories, of all that perished there, on that day and their survivors. That politicians are...doing a grave injustice to the fallen heroes, their families and all the people of New York City and America, THEN PLEASE COPY AND REPOST."

Seriously?!?! Are you freaking kidding me? This post being spread around is full of misinformation and an elitist, better than thou attitude. First of all, by saying 600 ft, whoever started the post intends to make it sound like this place is practically being built on Ground Zero itself, which is not true. This "600 ft" actually equates to nearly 2 1/2 full blocks away from the outer most edge of the World Trade Center site. Close, yes, but not the shock and awe close that was intended. Second, this proposed project is not just a mosque. Yes, a mosque will be included, but the plan also includes a community center with both Islamic and interfaith programming, a performing arts center, a gym, and a swimming pool. This complex is to be very similar to one already built on the upper east side of Manhattan.

Finally, there is just the attitude behind these posts that lights my fire. If this was a proposed Catholic or Mormon church, no one would be claiming it was "immoral, inhuman" and disrespectful. So why is this claimed of the Muslim religion? Last time I checked, terrorists do not include each and every person of the Muslim community. In fact, many terrorists have been varying branches of Christianity or Atheist. One cannot group the entire Muslim community into the terror category. Yes, there are some Muslims that are terrorists, but there are also Christians that are terrorists, Jews,... etc.

Beyond that, innocent Muslims died in those buildings too. No one ever thinks of that. If they want to build a mosque there, I say go right ahead. I honestly do not have a problem with it. For all anyone knows, they could be doing this to remember their own fallen family members who were innocent victims as well. Perhaps they are trying to build better interfaith relationships. Just because a person or group of people make a choice that would be different from what you make or prefer does not give you the right to criticize and accuse. That makes us no different than those who are out to kill us and bring us down. Try seeing things from another point of view.

As for the supposed opening day on 9/11/11, the construction hasn't even freaking begun yet. If you have any experience with construction, you know that it never goes to plan and it never ends on time. But even if it did and they did have an inauguration on 9/11, yea, it might make some people uncomfortable, but it is far from immoral and inhumane. Again, for all we know, they could be holding it on 9/11 to remember their own people who fell in those towers. Again, no one ever thought of that, did they? Let's all just assume that everything any Muslim does is for evil purposes. Yea, that will fix things.

So here is the deal. When you see these things, instead of allowing yourself to have a knee-jerk response and forwarding posts that only promote more intolerance and hate, try to look at it from another angle and try to verify some of the facts. I don't want to have to break up with you. It's not me, it's you.

Some sources to explore:

http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2011400,00.html

http://articles.cnn.com/2010-07-14/us/new.york.ground.zero.mosque_1_landmark-status-landmark-preservation-commission-mosque?_s=PM:US

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/guestvoices/2010/08 /mosque_near_ground_zero_its_about_the_community_stupid.html

http://www.minnpost.com/worldcsm/2010/09/07/21191/muslims_tread_carefully_around_proposed_mosque_near_ground_zero

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What is Friendship?

2010-09-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

So I recently moved to Tucson, AZ from California and by recently I mean about 7 months ago. The transition has been challenging to say the least but the overall experience has been good. I feel healthier and happier than I have in more than a decade. I can move freely with little to no pain from my rheumatoid arthritis, my allergies are manageable, and I have no recurring bouts of kidney stones, ovarian cysts, sinus infections, etc, etc. I no longer have to work full-time, though I choose to work part time and go to school to keep my mind active and thinking. I am getting to pursue my dream of becoming a teacher and I am finding the path more rewarding every day. Yet there is something still plaguing me.

Friendship. When I left California, though I did not have many friends (I can count them on one hand), I left behind the best friends that have ever entered my life (well technically, one left me first *ahem* Missy *cough*). They taught me how to laugh and live again after my divorce. They taught me what it truly means to be alive and the value of life and love. I could count on them for anything. Day or night, if I needed them, they were there. Now I am almost 1,000 miles away from them and while they are still there for me by phone and email and I love them dearly, it just isn't the same. They will always remain my family, but I can't just get up and go say hi to them when I feel like it.

To fill that lack of human connection, I actively started trying to meet people here in Tucson. There are several people who I like to think will become good friends, but as some of the relationships build, I find myself asking "What is friendship"? To me, friendship is calling or texting each other on the phone just to say hi, popping by to see what is new in each other's lives, and asking for and offering help to one another. A friend is someone you can ask for an onion and not feel uncomfortable about it because you know they will ask for a potato later. A friend is someone who will gladly take you in when you just don't feel like being alone. A friend is someone you miss if you haven't seen or talked to them in several days. A friend is someone who will give you a ride someplace because you have no way to comfortably get there.

So tell me then, you who I consider a friend (you know who you are, though I won't call you out by name because that is just rude and something a friend would NOT do), why won't you let me help you? Ever? Why do you find it surprising when I miss you? Why do you find it strange that I want to take care of you when you don't feel well? I like to think of us as friends, but perhaps you don't? Should I even try? Should I just give up on this friendship? I really don't want to.

So can you tell me what friendship is to you?

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Yea, I'm behind. Deal with it.

2010-08-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

I would say that the last two weeks have been crazy busy, but if you are on my Facebook, you know I have posted "I'm bored" far too many times to rightfully claim the Busy Lady title. Instead, I will go with limbo. I have been in limbo the last couple weeks. I am caught in this weird oscillation between feeling good and being kinda down, but not really depressed.

More like I feel alone - alone in this big city and no one to really hang out with on a regular basis. Yes, I have been meeting people and spending time with them, getting to know them, but it isn't anything regular. You see, I have this problem. I am not an outgoing person. I have a really, really hard time going to someone's house, knocking on the door, uninvited, and saying "HEY! Wanna hang out?" I have a hard time calling someone up who I am not really close to and saying "HEY! Wanna go do something?" That's not who I am. I fear the rejection. I fear the person thinking I am too pushy or rude. I fear the person thinking I am too clingy or needy. I let what other people think of me matter far too much. Or rather, I let what I think other people think of me matter too much.

And that doesn't even start to touch on my speaking issue. My brain always seems to move far too slow when it counts so 10 minutes later I think "that's what I should have said!" Or I will plan out this whole conversation, then I knock on the door or get to the restaurant where we are meeting and POOF! Everything is gone out of my head and I am officially idiot material. Welcome to my world.

A friend who I have known for years online, but only met once in person and talked a couple times on the phone asked me, "How can you not make friends? You are so cute!" Well, I guess even if I am cute, I don't have the smile or personality that says "Talk to me because I don't know how to start a conversation and keep it going!" On the internet though, through email, IM, chat, blog, Facebook, and all those other online modes of communication, I freakin rock! Maybe it is because I can delete something before putting it out there. You can't really delete words that are already spoken aloud. Maybe because I have more time to think before responding. A quick wit is highly valued in spoken conversations and I just get too nervous with newer relationships to think wittily. Too busy with the "what ifs."

So yea, if you are a newer friend and you happen to read my blog, there's the deal. There is my downfall. So do a new friend a good deed and invite me out, cause I'm too chicken-shit to ask.

Who's idea what this whole "humans being social creatures" thing anyway? They are so fired.

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Have you see my mask today?

2010-08-14T10:35:00.000-07:00

Depression. Those who have had it understand its pain and frustration. Those who haven't can only imagine what it must be like. They wonder what we mean by "pain"? How can depression be painful? And really all we can tell them is "It just is."

It isn't your normal kind of pain like if you burn yourself on the stove or you smash your thumb with a hammer. No. This is an internal pain. Sometimes it is like someone is twisting your insides around, your blood is burning, or you feel like you have to vomit, and other times, it's just a generalized pain that you can't even begin to describe. To top things off, rarely is there a good reason to be down. Often it just happens out of the blue. Heaven forbid you should actually be sick when the depression hits because it makes it spiral down even faster.

And then we have the public. Our friends. Our family. Our coworkers and clients. Too often we can't afford to be down and we certainly can't let anyone know. We develop masks -- masks to hide the pain. We plaster a smile on our face and pretend everything is okay. We laugh when we are supposed to and we function as best we can. We hide in bathrooms when it gets too overwhelming and fake a migraine when we just can't recover anymore and need to hide in our room. And on the few occasions when we just have to be in public and we don't have the energy or perseverance in us to maintain that mask showing "everything is just fine," someone inevitably asks what's wrong and we simply say we don't feel well. We have a stomach ache or we ate a bad lunch.

No one ever bothers to inquire deeper than that. We don't want them to. This is why we choose our excuses so carefully. We have an arsenal full of them. You will never know them all and we come up with acceptable new ones every day. All you can hope for is that one day, you will know us well enough that we will trust you not to cause more hurt if we take our mask off in front of you. And if that day comes, we hope you will be empathetic enough to hold us when we cry.

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I'm all by myself

2010-08-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

Today is Wednesday, August 4. The day my husband leaves me for his first out-of-town work thing for his job. It is a weird feeling. Usually it is me that is doing the traveling. See, for 4 1/2 years, I worked for a university where I traveled 5 times a year. Granted, they were only overnight trips, but they were still out-of-town. On top of that, if we aren't traveling together, it is usually me traveling to see my parents or friends. I usually plan these trips to be too long and end up missing my husband terribly by the end of it. But since I finally got to join my husband in February after two months apart (a story for another time), we have only been apart twice and that was to help/visit family.

Now my husband is leaving me for 4 days and I feel pathetic that I already feel lost without him. Usually, he comes home from work and we catch up on the day, have dinner together, play a game or two, then I do homework. Even on nights when I have school, I get home, we catch up on the day, and have a snack together before bed. I get to sleep next to him at night and get fabulous cuddles, and I get to wake up to his cuddles in the morning. For the next 4 days, I will get none of that. He may have time to call me to catch up on the day, but that is not guaranteed. No cuddles. No dinner together. And at least until tomorrow night, the house will be horribly or blessedly quiet (I haven't decided which yet) because our roommate is out of town too.

Well, at least I have plenty of homework to distract me...

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Weekly Wrap-up

2010-07-31T09:56:00.001-07:00

Well, it has been one of those weeks. You know, the kind that seem to take forever and things keep happening where you think the world is going to come to an end, but then you get to the end of the week and look back, thinking, why was that such a big deal at the time? Yea. It was that kind of week.

If you follow me on Facebook, then you know that I have been having issues with my team in class and things finally blew up, literally, on Monday night. Nothing like a good ol' fashion screaming match almost turned throw down in the middle of class to wake you up. Ultimately, the problem child was removed from our team and replaced with someone else who seems to get along with us much better. At the time though, I seriously hoped that the earth would just open up and swallow me so I wouldn't have to deal with the drama.

Then came the medical issues. I finally got to have the MRI done that was supposed to find the cause of my neuropathy that I had over two weeks ago. Guess what. No herniated disks, no pinched nerves. A whole lotta nothing. Well, except for the crapload of arthritis that has invaded my back apparently. Yippee skippy! So now I need a follow up with the Rheumatologist. Anyway, I am attributing the "whole lotta nothing" to the fact that the Chiropractor I have been seeing has made all the pain go away so obviously whatever is wrong is no longer "wrong." Ha! Right.

Then came the all mighty, all powerful MIGRAINE. Oh freaking Lord. Three days of head throbbing, light blinding, murderous pain. Ever had to wear sunglasses at night? Like had to wear them. Yea, that was me. By the time it finally went away yesterday afternoon, I was ready to throttle someone.

But there was one really interesting part of the whole week. Aside from Monday's blowup with Mr. Fantastical Douche Canoe in class, the week really wasn't that bad. Usually I was in a pretty good mood. I mean, why shouldn't I be? I can get out of bed every morning on my own. I can drive myself to my appointments. I can shower myself and feed myself. I can breathe, feel, and function. And every night, I get to lay down next to the man of my dreams. How can anything be truly horrible when I have all that?

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Back away from the cream cheese

2010-07-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a roommate before? And I don't mean your husband or wife. I mean someone whom you do not have any romantic interest with, whether a stranger or a friend. I have had a roommate a few times now. Whether by choice or by necessity, you never know what you are going to get when entering a roommate situation. Even if you have known the person for years and years, you may be surprised with how they live once you move in together.

Over the years, I have found there are several different types of roommates. The seemingly neat and organized person at school or work could be a total slob in their own house (my first roommate). Sometimes worse than a slob, they could be even more of a perfectionist when they get home. Like OCD perfection. God forbid you should move their coaster half an inch to the left (my second roommate). Then you have what I call "The Cave Dweller." This is the one who may or may not be perfectly sociable in public, but once they come home, they go in their room, shut the door, and you don't see them again until they leave for work the next day. Again, this could be good or bad. Then you have what I call "The Clingon." This is the person who simply cannot get enough of you. Perhaps they are needy for human interaction, perhaps they are just bored, but whatever the reason, they find it necessary to talk to you incessantly until you want to stab your eardrums with a dull pencil. Then there is the roommate that is perfectly fit for you (my beloved third roommate). Yes, this creature really does exist, though it is rare. Usually they come in the form of a best friend, or the former roommate of a best friend.

My current roommate really doesn't fit into any of the categories above. He is some kind of mix between "The Cave Dweller" and "The Clingon." I guess it depends on his mood. Some days, he will hide in his room all day watching TV, only emerging for food and the restroom. Other days, he needs someone to talk to almost incessantly. Of course, I can be the same way sometimes. Then there are the days that he is trying to navigate the web in an effort to find a job. Bless his heart, he is a sweet man and tries not to ask me too many questions. He really has improved his internet skills. However, there is one aspect that is new in this roommate experience.

In all my previous roommate experiences, for one reason or another, my roommate and I have kept separate food. I cook for myself (and my husband since I have been married), and my roommate cooks their own food. We shopped separately, we ate separately, we stored food separately. With this current roommate, we decided it would be easier to combine all this since my husband and I almost always cook too much food. Shopping and cooking-wise, it makes complete sense. Logistically, it doesn't always work out. There is nothing worse than having a plan for dinner, already have the mouth watering, then go to make it and an ingredient is missing. Talk about a let down. Luckily, it hasn't happened with any of the "important" stuff yet. So the roomie and I had to sit down and have a little talk to prevent the next World War from happening. I recommended to him, as a health safety measure, that he never, ever drink the last of the orange juice, drink the last of the red wine, or eat the last of the popcorn. These three items are evictable offenses and body harm may occur. Anything else, I can deal with. There might be some disappointment or even a little crabbiness over the absence of cream cheese for my freshly toasted bagel or the last of the ice cream missing for the midnight snack, but overall, it is something I will get over fairly quickly - especially if I can replace that feeling with the love of my orange juice, red wine, or popcorn.

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What are you thankful for?

2010-07-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

What was your first thought getting out of bed this morning? Was it something like "Ugh, time to get the kids ready for school." or was it something like "Awesome! I woke up to another day! Let's see what fun it brings?"

After a conversation with my mom last night, I got to wondering how many of us wallow in the mundane or bad things in our life. I know I used to only see the bad. When you have as many medical issues as I do, with more coming up every day, sometimes it can be hard to see past the pain, discomfort, and disability. Every day I would wake up thinking how much it sucked that I had to go to work that day, or how horrible my body ached from my RA. Before my husband, I might think how much I wanted and deserved to have a good guy laying in bed next to me every morning. Waking up alone sucked. And when the bipolar gripped me in a major depression, I would curse that fact that I even woke up at all.

But then a few wonderful things happened to me. I met my husband. He lit up my world. The problems didn't go away, in fact some of them got worse, but he always made me laugh no matter how bad I hurt (mentally and physically). The negative mornings became fewer, but even then I still had days where I would wake up looking at only the bad things, though it happened less often.

Then another person came into my life. Or rather, became a part of my life since I had already been working with her for several years. We became close friends when her husband ended up in ICU and was in the hospital for months. She changed my perspective as I watched her always have hope while her husband teetered on the edge of life and death. No matter how scared or frightened she was, she always had hope. And then there was the joy and love when he finally got to go home. Going through that experience with her, being there for her and with her, changed me. It taught me to value life more. It taught me to value every day, every moment I have on this earth because it could all come to an end unexpectedly.

Now when I wake up in the morning, it is rarely with disappointment or a negative thought. I am by no means perfect and do still have my cranky mornings, but they are now few and far between and usually only when severe physical pain is involved.

This morning my first thought as I felt my arm throbbing in pain was "I am so lucky that I have a husband and roommate that are supporting me through this painful time." They help me accomplish the daily tasks and chores that need to be done and they make me laugh. This morning, I was truly grateful to be alive.

So tell me, what are you thankful for today?

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If only I could make my kitchen into a bedroom.

2010-07-06T21:51:00.002-07:00

So a friend of mine sent me an interesting YouTube video the other day. It is about an apartment in Hong Kong.

Really, the concept is pretty cool. I mean, who really wants to have a large, sprawling house when you can turn your kitchen into a bedroom with a simple slide of a wall. Certainly not any U.S. American I know. *snickers* But what is really interesting to me is the storage possibilities. Can you imagine how many ~~bodies~~ zombies you could fit into a closet behind one of those panels?

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Learning to Accept Help

2010-07-03T20:45:00.000-07:00

In November, I was just starting to get into the blog-o-shere. I stepped into the shallow end of the pool by reading just one blog, who still remains my favorite, The Bloggess. I know I talk about her all the time, but I immediately fell in love because she shared my sarcastic, witty, and sometimes demented sense of humor. It wasn't long before she had me reading all her blogs, including her advice column and satirical sex blog. Every now and then, my beloved Jenny posts something serious though, and that is how I was introduced to a beautiful family who had gone through so much misfortune, the Mayhews.

She may not know it, but Anissa and her husband, Peter, have somewhat become idols for me. For me, it started on their Hope For Peyton blog that turned into a quasi "Hope for Anissa" blog when she had two massive strokes in November. Jenny had posted the event on her blog and I have been following the Mayhews ever since. Their strength and love as a family gripped me, and though I never comment much, I love hearing their story because it gives me hope when I am in the pits of mine. It is because of Peter that I decided to start my own blog. He needed somewhere he could put his thoughts down and reach out to people as he waited for news on Anissa. I needed a place to put my thoughts down as I wait for bouts of depression, anxiety, and rheumatoid arthritis to pass. His words inspired me in the beginning, and now his wife inspires me today.

As I sit here, unable to use my right arm due to extreme pain from RA and feeling useless and handicapped, I pull up Anissa's Blog and I think, if this amazing woman can come back from two major strokes that should have killed her (according to doctors), and still get up every day for the last 4 months to take care of her three beautiful kids and keep pushing every day to get better, then who the hell am I to sit here and feel sorry for myself because I have been down and non-functional for a whole 3 freaking days.

But this is the worst flareup I have ever had and I thought I knew some of Anissa's frustration from my past health issues. Not exactly, but I thought I could understand some of it. Boy was I wrong. The pain of the last 3 days have brought on a whole new meaning for me of handicapped and useless. As I have had to ask my husband to open the milk for me, refill my water bottle, wash my hair, or turn a doorknob because I couldn't grasp it, a new meaning formed. As I lost use of my right arm because any movement at all, even typing, cause too much pain, a new meaning formed. As I spend hours typing with one hand, and then lay completely still in bed watching reruns because it's the only thing I can do where I am semi-comfortable, a new meaning formed. As I burst into tears because I was stupid enough to try reaching behind me to unclasp my own bra, a new meaning formed. And with this new, deeper meaning of what it is feel handicapped and useless, I bet I still don't even scratch the surface of what so many others go through.

So I will stop feeling sorry for myself, but I will accept my limitations right now. I can never heal if I don't give my body the break it wants/needs. I will ask for help unclasping my bra, turning on the shower, washing my hair, and making breakfast. I will ask for help picking up the laptop so I can write my next blog one-handed or surf Facebook. But what I most recently learned from Anissa, I will ask for comfort when the reality of the situation overwhelms me and I feel like my world is crashing down. I will reach out to my friends and family and ask for that gentle hug and "poor baby" to get me through the next minute, hour, or day. Because sometimes, comfort is the most important help you need.

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Evil Has Wings...and a Black, Shiny Shell

2010-06-28T13:35:00.001-07:00

So every night, just before bed, I take the dogs out to do their business. Usually this ends up being somewhere between 11pm and midnight. Well last night, I had the dickens scared out of me, not that I know what "dickens" are. As we walk down the stairs from the third floor, I see this huge black spot on the wall of the second floor walkway. Sara, one of the dogs, saw it too and naturally wanted to try to eat it or play with it. Upon slightly closer inspection, I saw it was this freaking ginormous bug! Fearing it might carry my dog away into the night with its hunormous wings, we quickly walked away from it to the dog park for them to do their business.

After we got back inside, I quickly grabbed my camera, hoping the monster was still there so I could capture its soul. Now mind you, I lived in Texas for 5 years, so you would think I was used to huge bugs. I have seen cicadas that are the size of a golf ball, ants the size of my big toe, and crickets the size of my thumb, but never in my life had I seen a bug this large or this black.

Oh. My. GOD! It's huge, it's jet black, it looks like it has this massive armored shell, and I sure as hell bet it can fly. Oh Lord please don't let it fly in my face as I try to take this picture. Or this picture:

But then I got to thinking that these pictures won't do it justice as to how big this thing is. Oh Lord, please don't let this thing bite my hand off even though it is like a mile away from the bug:

This thing is seriously half the size of my hand, if not more. It could probably eat my thumb in one bite. This is freaking unnatural. And then my husband, who followed me out to look at it, was so kind to tell me that this thing would crawl in our window if we left it open at night. What. The. Hell.

And if that does happen, it will be my husband who gets sacrificed to the evil, demon beetle from hell. After all, he is the one who ensured I had nightmares about it last night.

P.S. If you want to know what kind of bug it is, after much Google searching and photo comparison, I have decided it is a Paloverde Root Borer. Apparently they are very common here in Tucson as the monsoons approach. And here you will see someone in the third picture who is crazy enough to actually hold this creepy ass thing.

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Battle With the Sandman. Ouch. I Lost....Again.

2010-06-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

So the last couple of weeks I have been fighting insomnia. I am told it is something that often accompanies bipolar disorder. It is a fact of my life. It comes and goes. Right now, it has returned for a visit and is showing no signs of returning from whence it came. At first, it was just a matter of pride as I lay there thinking "I refuse to get up because I am not asleep yet. I don't care if I have been laying here for three hours. I. Will. Not. Get. Up." And so I would lay there in bed, staring at the wall or the back of my eyelids, trying to make my mind go blank so I can bore myself to sleep until finally, somewhere around 5 or 6 am, I dose off, only to be woken a couple hours later by my husband's alarm clock saying it's 8am.

"That's ok," I think. "I can sleep in a little." After all, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right? Yea. Right. Just when I start to dose off again (8:45-ish), my husband comes in and kisses me goodbye because he knows I freak out if I don't know when he is leaving. I am now awake again and have to start this process all over. At some point I dose off...again...and I sleep 'til around 10 when I wake up because the dog scratched herself and made her tags jingle. I feel a little guilty because it already starts to feel like I am sleeping too late, but I talk myself into trying to go back to sleep because, again, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right?

Usually by this point I am exhausted so I fall asleep again almost immediately. I wake up again around 11:30 or 11:45, and now I panic. Holy crap. I can't believe I let myself sleep half the day away! What was I thinking?! I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO!!! And this is the point where I attempt to "spring" out of bed but it really ends up being this awkward stumbling in an attempt to get my legs functioning while not stepping on the dog and everything is a little fuzzy and hazy because I only got maybe 3 hours of truly restful, rejuvenating sleep. I then spend the rest of the day vaguely attempting to complete the tasks that seem so numerous, yet I usually only manage to get one, maaaaaaaybe two done.

Rinse, repeat.

Before you say anything about going to the doctor for help, yes, I have a prescription sleep aid that actually works really, really well. The problem is that at some point this process went from pride to stubbornness. As you may or may not know, my husband and I are trying to get pregnant. We have been trying for quite some time actually. In this process, I have either cut back or cut out any medication I can possible live without, without causing too much discomfort, ok, pain, in my life. This includes the sleep aid. So when I went from pride to stubbornness, my mind thinks, "Screw you insomnia! I will not have you screw up my future child just because you don't feel like letting me sleep. SCREW. YOU!" But you see, insomnia doesn't have feeeeeelings. It doesn't care when you yell at it. It is relentless. It is this mindless, feelingless thing that doesn't care what you say or do. If conditions are not just right, forget it. You aren't sleeping.

Well finally the sleepless nights built on each other for so long that I finally broke down and took the damn sleep aid. OH. MY. GOD. I slept so well that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. The next day, that "spring" out of bed, really was a spring and I had the most productive day in a couple weeks. But then the night came again. I decided one more night of sleep aid can't be too horrible, so I popped another and once again, slept like a baby.

Now it has been 3 nights of sleep aid and the figurative voice in my head is starting to get to me. I know tonight is going to be another sleepless night. I can feel it. I should probably take another pill since these bouts usually last 2 or 3 weeks for me. Yet, the voice keeps chastising me. How could you put your possibly future child at risk like this? Then the other side argues back how a mother who is not healthy or rested is no good to her child anyway. Then the voice again - but what about side effects it could have on the child? Then the other side - you have been told this sleep aid doesn't have huge risks like others. Yes, there are risks, but not like really, really, bad and highly likely ones.

And so the argument continues, but I know what side will ultimately win. I will go to bed in hopes that the sandman will be kind to me tonight but knowing he will not. I will lay in bed awake while my husband sleeps peacefully next to me. Finally, 2 or 3 will roll around and I will give in and take a pill because I have appointments I have to actually be functional for. But tomorrow night, I will deny myself the help simply because I will not have any appointments and after all, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right?

Yea.

Right.

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"My diaper is full"

2010-06-11T11:55:00.000-07:00

So the hubby and I are watching TV last night, live TV, which is unusual for us because I hate, hate, HATE watching commercials. Why do I had commercials? Become you inevitably come across ones like this that make you think...WHAT. THE. HELL?

Like....wow...."I poo in blue." I feel sorry for the guy who had to read those lines. But just in case you think they are totally cool and frequently let your child run around without pants, here is the official webpage for more information on these "limited edition" diapers. Enjoy...I think...

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When Life Gives You Oranges...

2010-06-06T12:29:00.001-07:00

...then life is pretty darn sweet right now cause you can make lots of orange juice! Ok, cheesy, but whatever.

So I have been scarce in posting lately but the words just have not been coming to me. I started school a couple weeks ago so by the time I finish homework, I want to spend time with the hubby and animals. By the time I finish spending time with the hubby and animals, my brain is fried and cannot come up with comprehensible sentences.

Lucky for me though, I don't have to have comprehensible sentences in order to see that life is pretty freaking good for me right now. In the last month or so, I have managed to make it back to Cali to visit all my sorely missed friends and family, finished getting myself established with new doctors here in Arizona, moved from a 1 bedroom to a 2 bedroom, and finally started school. We had one little setback when the cat decided to go on a hunger strike, but she is over it now and eating like a champ. My hubby is still in love with his job and getting some nice perks we didn't know about and we are well on our way to saving up a down payment for a house. All in all, I had to find my shades cause life is looking pretty bright.

The only thing that could possibly make life any better right this second, is if I could figure out how to juice these damn oranges without a juicer.

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Why My Husband Can NEVER Be An Actor...Or A Game Character...Or In A Comic Book...

2010-05-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

So thanks to DVR, we are weeks behind on many of our favorite shows, many of which have already had their season finales. Tonight we decided to watch one of those shows - Grey's Anatomy. This finale was WAY better than last season's finale.

But back to the purpose of this post. After watching the season finale, where Shepard gets shot, D and I had quite the interesting conversation as he showered and I peed that resulted in him always having to be a girl.

Me: Don't ever get shot, ok?

D: Ok. Not even in a TV show?

Me: No. Not even in a TV show.

D: What about in a video game?

Me: No, not in a video game either.

D: But then how am I supposed to finish playing "Mass Effect 2" then? That game is all about getting shot.

Me: That's ok because the character doesn't look like you.

D: So let me get this straight. I am not allowed to get shot, even in pretend, unless it doesn't look like me?

Me: Right.

D: So do I always have to play girl characters in games now?

Me: You already do.

D: True.

My husband, the pixelated cross-dresser.

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You are worth it.

2010-05-26T23:21:00.002-07:00

I read a blog post today that really spoke to me. It was a post that made me question some of the things I think about myself, and then it made me wonder how others feel about themselves. It was a post that made me shed a few tears and made me long for something beautiful, fluffy, sparkly, and RED! It was a post by my Favorite. Blogger. Ever. I highly encourage you to read the most recent post by The Bloggess too.

You see, I deal with bouts of depression on a fairly regular basis. She and her red dress got me thinking about all the times in my life where I thought how I was just a waste of space and time. Why would anyone want to deal with me? I am nothing. At least that is what this disease tells me. Lies. It is all lies. But then I started thinking about all the other people in the world who don't have someone to remind them that these thoughts are lies. Whether they are planted by mental illness, abuse, or anything else, they are all lies. Every person has a purpose. Every person has at least one person who loves them. If you were to disappear one day, someone would miss you, and you might not even realize who that person is. It could be the neighbor across the street that misses you because you smile at her every day when you pick up the newspaper. It could be the barista at the coffee shop because he knows, without a doubt, that at the very least, you will make him laugh today.

So you see, no matter where your thoughts lead you, just think of this beautiful, fluffy, sparkly, red dress and remember...you are worth it too.

As for me, well, I would die to wear that dress, but alas, I am way too shy to even consider going to Blogher so instead, I just might buy a sparkly red dress of my own...because I am worth it too.

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REMINDER: Psych Week on Discovery Channel

2010-05-01T19:25:00.002-07:00

One of the reasons that I established this blog was to help bring awareness to Bipolar Disorder. It just so happens tonight that I can also help bring awareness to other mental health issues.

Any kind of mental health issue has a stigma attached to it. In reality, most people have had to deal with some sort of mental health issue in their life whether they know it or not. It could have been they went through a depression and didn't know it, didn't care, or denied it. It could be they are friends with someone who has a disorder and have seen and experienced these symptoms, yet this friend hasn't confided in them because they are afraid of being rejected or they are still in denial themselves.

Too often, all we, the mental health patients, need, is just a friend to talk to us, yet many of us, especially the newly diagnosed, are so scared to talk to anyone that we don't get the help we need. Our first choice is usually either denial or hatred of ourselves. Both are destructive but it is really fear that fuels us. Fear of rejection due to our condition. Fear of treatment. Fear of stereotypes. Fear of being the thing that we already fear the most.

So what can you do when someone is having a hard time? Don't accuse, don't ask if they have a mental health issue, as that will just make them defensive. Instead, just ask if we want to talk. Show us you intend to be in our lives despite our quirks, then one day we will confide in you, and you just might save our lives by just listening.

In a few weeks, the Discovery Health channel is going to be starting a week-long series on just this topic - psychological issues. This week is going to be about awareness, understanding, and bring about change. Please take the time to either watch the series or DVR it because I can almost guarantee that someone you love has a mental health issue, whether it is diagnosed or not.

http://health.discovery.com/tv/psych-week/

And You Thought U.S. Ads Had Too Much Sexuality In Them...

2010-04-30T12:26:00.000-07:00

So I was floundering in my search for something to blog about when my email dinged at me. Like an answer from God, my husband saves me again with something he found incredibly amusing. Somehow he stumbled upon a blog talking about PSP advertisements in Japan. I am guessing it had something to do with coming up with game ideas since he designs computer games for work. Anyway, I will link the article at the end because I don't want you to read ahead. Ha! Here you will see the first picture is totally non-threatening:

If you have ever watched anime, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Cartoon characters with big boobs and short skirts. Big deal. But wait...are those skirts...real?

The author, Brian Ashcraft assures us that yes, they are. And the text actually invites us to look under the skirts? Welcome to Japan marketing. And you thought the ads in the U.S. were too sexy. What's under the skirt, you ask? Well, you will just have to visit Brian's blog to find out now, won't you. ;)

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Too tired to come up with a witty blog title.

2010-04-24T16:50:00.001-07:00

I'm tired. I know it has been a while since I posted, so here I am. The problem is that I am so tired that my poor little brain cannot come up with the sarcastic and witty remarks I would normally include in a post. I have several things saved in emails and pictures that I want to blog about, but at this juncture, I know my words could not possibly do them justice. And so they sit...and wait...for me to recover from whatever has drained all my energy.

And herein lies the question: Why on earth am I so exhausted?? I don't think it is depression because it feels different than normal. I still want to do things, I just literally don't have the energy. I feel like I could sleep all day and still not be rested. Could it be pain induced? I have had this same damn headache for 3 days straight now and my rheumatic hands aren't exactly thrilled with me (I blame that on the latest rain storm that came through). Could it be stress?

Despite not working (I quit my part-time, 12-hour a week, minimum wage job LOL), there are still things in my life that have my mind racing. I have a decision to make, and I just can't do it. Maybe you can help me. Help someone out by moving into a place with a roommate (I despise the thought of moving all our crap), or go with my level of comfort and figure out a way to tell a nice person, sorry, but no, we won't help you out? Take a gamble on being miserable with a roommate, or make myself feel miserable for not helping someone in need? See? Sucks either way. This causes me stress.

So my solution for now? Sit on the couch and nap while watching movies all day long. It works similar to an ostrich poking its head into the ground. If I ignore it, it's not there and will eventually go away on its own.

Well, back to the movie, and hopefully in a couple days I will be able to tell you an amazing story about The Trustworthiness of Beards or some other equally amusing thing I find.

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Psych Week on the Discovery Health Channel

2010-04-16T20:33:00.001-07:00

I had a miraculous egg to show you...and then my cat stole it.

2010-04-15T22:43:00.001-07:00

So last night I decided to make a cake. Isn't it pretty?

See, we are having company over tonight for dinner and I thought we should have something available for desert should someone so choose to have a sweet tooth. As I am adding the eggs, an incredible thing happened. The last egg cracked perfectly around the center line with no additional radiating cracks. It. Was. Amazing. I showed it to my husband who so gallantly pointed out to me that this is exactly the type of thing you blog about! "If it is cool enough to show someone, then it is cool enough to blog about." See, being new to blogging, I don't always catch these things so he helps me along.

Anyway, so I put the two perfectly halved shells on a plate to the side so I could finish making the cake and then take a picture later. One problem with that plan. By the time I was ready to take the picture, half the shell was gone!! Knowing the cat likes to steal cool stuff of mine (hair ties, paperclips, lids to bottles, my shoes), I determine she must be the culprit. Upon questioning the suspect on the whereabouts of my stolen treasure, this is the reaction I got:

Just like her to try to play coy with me. I figure if I find the evidence, then she can't deny the act because I could run DNA testing on the cat saliva I was bound to find on the stolen treasure. So I enlisted the help of my gallant husband who them found the second part of my perfectly halved egg shell crushed...CRUSHED...under the shoe rack by the door. My miracle...destroyed. It was a dark time in my life.

Now I know what you might be thinking. If my husband found the crushed shell, perhaps he planted it and crushed it himself. I suppose if he was the malicious type that would be a rather fitting way of crushing my blogging dreams, but given the fact he is the one who suggested the blogging idea to begin with, I doubt he would do such a heinous act. It is much more likely that the cat did this as part of her devious plan to rule the world. Now to confront the accused with the evidence:

How Sad.

And the other half is so perfect...so straight...like they both used to be.

Not even a crack anywhere else.

How do you think the defense will plead? My guess: Meow.

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Things I Learned Today At Work

2010-04-08T22:12:00.006-07:00

As many of you know, I started a new part time job today. At minimum wage for a mere 12 hours a week, I am gonna be stinking rich! LOL. Guess it is a good thing I am doing this more to keep myself busy until school starts than anything. So, for today's edition, I thought I would make a list of some of the wonderful things I experienced and learned today.

Top Ten First Day At Work Events

10) There are a lot of stairs to get to the "cave office"...well...really anywhere at this place. It is built into a mountain ya'll.

9) I have to do a LOT of driving in circles.

8) A seasonal "wash" (aka. stream/river) that runs for only 3 weeks can wipe out an entire road.

7) Minivans are really not built to travel dirt roads filled with pot holes.

6) There are way too many freaking gate codes to remember.

5) My "boss" reminds me a sweet, wonderful, little grandma.

4) The "Bear Paw" office, aka. my boss's house, is freaking ginormous and gorgeous.

3) The person who had this position before me thinks in ways I will never understand (ie. shouldn't membership invoices and/or bills be in the folder labeled "invoices?" No. They are in "renewals").

2) I get to have kitties sleep on my lap while I work. :D :D :D :D

and finally...

1) The Mac "Microsoft Office" programs are the bane of my existence and may lead me to stabbing people with rusty forks. Grrrr.

Lesson Learned: If you were raised on PCs, do not buy a Mac for office work, especially if you are already homicidal.

P.S. Who the hell at Apple thought it would be a good idea to change the setup of the 10-key section of the keyboard? The * is where the - should be and the / is where the * should be and the - is where the + should be and the + is moved further down. What...the...hell....

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We are the Borg. You will be assimilated.

2010-04-07T20:03:00.004-07:00

Last night, this very nice young man came to our house. I already forget his name, but it was something like Brad or Brian. So he shows up with this huge, hard plastic suitcase thing.

"Miss Chin?" he asks when I answer the door.

"That's me."

"I am here to get you all set up for the night."

Here is where my mind starts doing all kinds of wandering. Exactly what does this man have in mind for me? And then my memory returns. I had scheduled an appointment with this young man's company for tonight. I guess I had told my husband this guy was coming because he didn't blink an eye when I was asked to change into my pajamas. After I was changed and was all "set up" for the night, this is what I looked like:

I posted the picture on Facebook before creating this blog entry because I wanted to see what kind of messed up things my friends would think I was doing. Boy did they come up with some interesting things.

Well, here is what is going on. Last night I got to undergo a wonderful thing called a sleep study. I know, I know. It isn't nearly as exciting as becoming a cyborg or building a machine to tweet every time you fart, but the doc wanted it to rule out any sleep issues before he breaks my nose. No, I wasn't a bad patient. I just have a severely deviated septum which impairs my breathing and leads to chronic sinus infections.

What a sleep study pretty much amounts to, is being hooked up to 15 bajillion wires and monitors, having a camera faced at your bed, and a microphone in your room so they can measure your movements, brain activity, and hear any talking you might do in your sleep. Basically, it resulted in an absolutely horrible night's sleep. The next morning, they tell you congratulations! You have completed the sleep study! Have fun trying to function on 3 hours of sleep...crappy sleep at that.

Oh yea, here is what they did to my head.

What is that white stuff in my hair holding the electrode sensors to my head? Yea, that's a type of medical cement. Cement ya'll! Oh, but don't worry, it rinses right out with water so when you shower, it will be gone in no time! That is, if you count 20 minutes of washing and rewashing your hair as "no time." I think I still have some of that gunk attached to my scalp. Made me feel like Batty from "Ferngully:"

Note the wires coming from his head. If you haven't seen the movie, here is his "Batty Rap" for you.

Resistance is Futile.

The Small Stuff

2010-04-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

It has been a few days since I posted, which I guess is nothing too unusual in the blogging world, but I feel disconnected now. Things have just been a bit busy until today, yet last night and today serve as reminders to me that yes, sometimes the "small stuff" really does matter.

First, I was reminded last night to cherish the small stuff. I have been feeling a bit stir-crazy the last couple days despite being "busy" running errands and attending various doctor and gym appointments. The funny thing about those things is that I just don't feel fulfilled when those are completed. Maybe it is because I don't have anything solid that I can hold in my hands afterwards except for a recommendation to have my nose broken to correct a deviated septum. Maybe it is because it doesn't feel like any of it really affects the world as a whole like working did. Either way, I was left feeling unaccomplished.

My solution, informing my husband last minute that it was going to be date night. hehe. As you can imagine, his reaction was a tentative "um....ok?" The impromptu date turned out fabulous and here we get back to how I was reminded to cherish the small stuff. Dinner was great of course (greek food...so yummy), but it was the after dinner party that was so great. We spent the next 3 hours playing ping pong and board/card games. Cheap, yes, but so much more fulfilling then paying $20+ for a movie or something equally uninvolved. I have not experienced anything in the last few weeks that was more fulfilling then running around a small room, running into walls, and collapsing on the floor in laughter with a paddle and ping pong ball, all in an attempt to look like I actually know what I am doing to my husband who has his own freaking custom ping pong paddle. It was a blast. It was a small thing in the scope of life, but it was so big to rejuvenating my spirit.

Second, I was reminded today how sweating the small stuff ahead of time leads to less stress later. How, you ask? Quite simple. It was a bad arthritis day. Stiff, painful joints + extreme fatigue = a day of sitting on the couch attempting not to move. The never-ending question is always was triggered it this time? I am used to cause and affect and still grasping the fact that sometimes, RA will flare with no cause at all. Annoying. Yet I had accomplished my "small stuff" earlier in the week so I didn't feel like the house was going to shambles because I spent a day on the couch. There is a reason I sweat the small stuff when I am up and able-bodied -- so that I can relax when my body needs me to without worries.

So while in some people's lives "Don't sweat the small stuff" is an excellent motto, sometimes, just the opposite is most effective.

Seize the Weeny!

2010-03-31T15:51:00.003-07:00

Ok, how many of you actually remember the names of all the games you played as a child? How many of you made up games as a child? How many of those games were slightly inappropriate? Methinks The Bloggess is on to something in her most recent post...or on something...one or the other. As always though, her commentors make the situation just that much more hilarious.

Seriously though, who actually played a game called "Steal the Bacon" as a child? As I child, I would have interpreted that as stealing my mom's ATM card. It was bad enough when she responded to our request for money one day with "Do I look like an ATM?" and we poked her five times and put out our hand for cash. She definitely would have lost it had we truly decided to "steal the bacon."

So don't let conformists hold you back Jenny! I think your final answer is totally on track and iHop needs to make their children's menus more age appropriate. Seize the weeny, Jenny. SEIZE THE WEENY!

The Difference Between "I" and "II"

2010-03-29T17:26:00.001-07:00

So I met my new psychiatrist today. He seems like a great guy. He's got energy and is amusing. The appointment went well over all. I always have to laugh at the required psychiatric questions they have to ask though. "Other than my voice and your voice, are you hearing any other voices." LOL. That one always makes me laugh.

Sometimes I wish I did hear other voices. Then at least I could have a conversation with someone when I was all alone. Other times, I think they would be quite entertaining. I always picture Jan Brady in the Brady Bunch movie with her voices going back and forth. I can almost imagine what it might be like to have them fighting back and forth in my head. Hehe. I think it would be rather entertaining...unless I am trying to sleep. Then my husband would just look at me funny when I yell at myself to shut up.

Then there are the ever popular medical history questions. The problem with those forms is they always ask "Do you have or have you ever had:" and then there is this whole list of issues, yet they don't have you differentiate between past and present. So I have all these things marked and the guy was all surprised by how many things were going on and I had to sit there and go through the list again with him, clarifying what was past and what was present. Stupid forms. Just make one column of check boxes for past and one for present. There. Problem solved. You're welcome.

Ok. So I really am not blogging to complain about forms or to entertain myself with thoughts of voices in my head. The biggest reason is for the diagnosis change I had when leaving the office. As you know from following this blog, I have Bipolar Disorder. For the last 12 years, it has always been Bipolar II. For those not familiar with the different designations of bipolar, Bipolar II is often perceived as a milder form of bipolar, characterized with more downs than ups, and the ups never get to full blown "mania" stage. Instead they linger just below that in a state called "hypomania." Bipolar I is often perceived as the more severe form with both full blown manias and deep depressions. Sometimes, Bipolar I can be couple with Psychosis which will involved hearing things (yes, those voices I was chuckling about), seeing things, or basically being out of touch with reality. There is also another form of rapid cycling bipolar but we won't get into that now. I was always content with the Bipolar II diagnosis since I had a much more difficult time with the depressions than the hypo/manias.

Well the news I received today is that I have been upgraded, in a way, to Bipolar I. I didn't think much of it at first. Bipolar is bipolar and it will have the same stigma no matter what category you fall into. It isn't like Bipolar I is similar to paralysis while Bipolar II is a stubbed toe. No. The stigma goes, you have bipolar, you are a crazy, psychotic, lunatic who is either going to kill us all or yourself. But then on the drive home, it hit me more and more that this could possible mean something. Either 1) the doc doesn't know what he is talking about, 2) the other docs didn't know that they were talking about, or 3) I have changed. I no longer know what to think now. Do I really have a bigger problem with depression or do I actually have a problem with mania too and I didn't realize it?

It is funny how the simple subtraction of a Roman Numeral "I" can feel so different. And then you start to question yourself and everything you thought you knew about yourself. But should I really be questioning that? Blue is still blue whether seen in bright or dim lighting, but blue is not blue when you add yellow to it. So now I find myself spinning in circles in my head, wondering how I can comes to terms with this one, tiny, small change. How can one single number change so much in my head? Or maybe that is all this is? Just change, something I already don't deal with well. Damn I hate change.

You Are Never Alone

2010-03-26T21:20:00.001-07:00

In my constant battle to bring awareness and education about bipolar disorder, I thought I would share an email between a friend and I after she read my first blog post. Whether you have bipolar or depression, or you know someone who does, there is lots of good stuff in here that is important for everyone to know. Actually, this is important for you to know even if you have no experience with it at all. Anyway, enough of my babbling. Time to let the emails talk (identity information has been edited out to protect the guilty :P). Oh yea, and this could get long.

On Thu, Mar 25, 2010 at 12:34 AM, Vanguard's Duchess wrote:

My dear Alicia,

I know I've told you that I was once diagnosed as being "mild bipolar." I just read that post on your blog "travels in my bipolar world," and I SO GET IT (maybe not to the extremes of yours, but I get a LOT of it - even the crying in the shower... I've done that although not to the extreme that you did). Mine was at its worst when I had post-partum along with it. And for me, a lot of what I had going on personally also didn't help (found out that my son's dad was telling some women he met in the game we played at the time that he was single and lived in navy barracks....). Anyway -- the doctor who diagnosed me gave me this one medication (Neurontin), that basically turned me into a zombie. I went back to him, and asked to be taken off it and put back on Zoloft, which is the only thing that has ever gotten the depression back so I could get things under control... Neurontin made me a zombie so I had no highs and no lows... may as well as given me a lobotomy for the way it made me feel... but Zoloft took care of the lows and took the top edge off the highs, which was just perfect. Then I went off it altogether because I got pregnant, although the baby-doc said zoloft in the small amount I was taking wouldn't hurt the baby, but I felt so good pregnant that I didn't seem to need it (and I didn't).

I've battled with depression for a long time, probably since I was first married (I'm thinking earlier in my life but I didn't notice it as much until I was married the first time). After I married him he changed. All of a sudden he was so serious and, even though he wasn't that way all the time, being a grown up and married was serious business and there wasn't much room for goofyness (according to him).... and you know me and how that doesn't sit well with me (lol). But... I felt very trapped. I was raised you get married - ONCE - and stay married, no matter what. I was also afraid that my extended family (aunts uncles cousins, etc.) would look askance at me or think less of me because my marriage didn't work. I was afraid - of everything really.

But... I do know something about myself where all of this is concerned (I see patterns which is why I think some of the following is true for me). While I know that bi-polar and depression is actually a physical thing (that lack of the chemical that helps us feel good and be happy - i forget what it's called...), mine was always much worse when I felt trapped like there was no way out - it was almost like the hopelessness I felt translated itself into NOT producing the chemical my body needed. I had no trouble with the highs of bipolar. Being mild the highs don't get out of control - except where my mind won't turn off or I talk too fast, and then I just pick up a good book and read until I'm sleepy... but you know that I'm a goofball and when I'm high it can be a lot of fun... over the last several years, I think I've balanced all that out... or mostly anyway. When I'm down, I don't get THAT down - or if I do, eventually I figure out what is what, and push through it (I know not everyone can do this... I think I am lucky because I've been teaching myself how over the last 10 years give or take - although this doesn't always work either)....

In a way, even though I didn't go through as deep a thing as you did, since the middle of last summer's school term, I have felt very lost, and questioned what I am doing in school - which has pushed me towards the downward stuff into being mildly depressed because it's so hard to know how to handle things when I am not sure where the hell I'm going with my life (that is the worst thing in the world for me!) What the hell do I think I am doing trying to get in to that career at my age, etc., etc.

Add to this my self-esteem being in the toilet... I wasn't taking care of myself and I felt like the real me was completely trapped in the overweight body. I was lucky if i got in the shower twice a week - I only got there once a week because every week I would get to a point where it bothered me (I have a sensitive nose LOL).... For a time, the only thing that kept me moving forward was the fact that I have Kenny and I MUST provide for him. Oddly enough that doesn't affect me the same way that feeling trapped with no way out does. Maybe that has something to do with how much I love him and would do anything for him and how blessed I feel to have him as my son! But I digress.... So I struggled and struggled through the last several terms... add to that the financial pressure of no money and then my car was repo'd Dec 31st. Weird as it may sound, that happening was a good thing because I when that happened it loosed a floodgate of changes - some out of necessity, and some purely because I was relieved that I didn't have that financial burden any more and could just plain old start over, financially... and some, surprisingly wonderful things started happening as a result.

So the financial pressure was off after I talked to my bankruptcy attorney (all my income is untouchable by the credit card and car payment companies because it is unemployment and child support)... and my "new" pre-owned car is untouchable by the bankruptcy because its value is under $3000. My aunt and uncle bought me that car (I owe them but they said to pretend like I don't owe them a thing 'till I'm through with school and can pay them).... Then I ran into that friend who had lost all that weight and she got me going on that (to date I have lost 27.6# Yay!) So there have been some new good changes and they have been going well.... but back to January and the lack of a "life partner" .... and me out there in no man's land and lonely, etc.

So I'm on my way to school one morning in January, and I'm sitting in traffic listening to the sappy romantic music on my iPod that I listen to when I'm by myself (I'm an EXTREME romantic at heart...)... and I just started crying my heart out.... In the midst of this I found myself talking out loud in my car to God. Yes I'm a crazy woman! and this next part is paraphrased because I cant remember exactly what I said but...it went something like this: "I am so tired of being alone and lonely, God... please send me whoever it is I'm supposed to be with for the rest of my life... It's time, damnit...." That last part I yelled.... yes I yelled and swore at God.... (I swear when I talk to God sometimes but it's what my mom calls "classy" swear words like Damn not the more vulgar ones so I think he doesn't mind LOL).

Then about a week later (give or take, I don't remember the date),a few of us are all joking and talking, and someone starts talking about a friend of his who is talking about spending $20k to get a "bride from asia" and he says, "i'm tired of looking, that's starting to sound good..." and this other friend says, "what the hell would you want to do something like that when I know a perfectly good lady who lives in our country, who could use the money...." Alarm bells go off and I think, "uh oh....." and he starts going over all the things he thinks about me, "... You've got someone right here in the US. She's beautiful, smart, funny, intelligent, a great mom, and wicked sexy to boot and I've met her in person so I can say all of that truthfully - and she's going to college and can use that money rather than you giving it to someone's family over in asia... although I suppose they could use the money too but let your friend get the mail order bride...." and he went on and on like that and I was saying, when I could get a word in edgewise, "stop it... knock it off...." (I'm sure my face was red).... And towards the end of that stuff from my friend I get a text from the guy who started the convo saying, "I gotta get me some o dat...."

I ask him, "I thought you had a girlfriend."

He says, "What girlfriend?"

I ask, "well the other day we were talking about something with so and so, and you said something about your girlfriend...."

He says, "no that's when you came back and you caught the tail end of what we were talking about - but I was talking about my ex-girlfriend..."

I said, "oh well you said girlfriend so I thought that meant you had one... I don't flirt with guys who are married or have girlfriends.... otherwise I would have flirted with you more..."

He laughs and says, "well... flirt away - there's nobody else but lil ole me here..."

So we all start talking... and next thing you know he's planning on coming out to see me (first weekend in August!!!! tentative date)... texting me every morning, every noon, when he gets home from work its "honey I'm home *walks up behind you and wraps arms around you tightly and gives you big hugs and kisses you*...." and before he goes to bed, "nite honey *hugs and kisses* gonna nap on the couch - wake me when it's time for bed" or "nite hon - *snugglz with you* that sort of thing....

I had to pull a quote from the end of the IOP stuff... I can identify so totally with this quote, especially in light of what I wrote above about sort of understanding what you went through and go through:

"I look at my dog and smile, knowing that she loves me no matter what. I check my text messages every morning and smile that I have a wonderful man who says good morning to me every day. For the first time in a very, very long time, I feel alive and I feel content."

Replace the dog with my son and that is totally me at this moment - only thing marring it is that my boyfriend is in Ohio and not here - but you know all about distance too since you and your husband started as a long distance relationship...

*hugs* I can so totally identify with you... totally. I love you sis!

Love, Vanguard's Duchess

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On Thu, Mar 25, 2010 at 3:12 PM, Alicia wrote:

I have taken a while to respond to this mainly because I really don't know what else to say. You know much of my story, just as I know much of yours. There are times I believe I don't have bipolar, just depression, and others where it is very clear it is bipolar. There is something my therapist and psychiatrist had both told me though: Figuring out cause and effect of bipolar episodes or depression is like trying to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg? In fact, it really doesn't matter which came first. The fact remains that the events and circumstances in our lives can feed the depression or mania we already have, and that same depression or mania can push us to keep choosing the events or situations that are hurting us. It is a viscous cycle that is not easily broken.

Depression and bipolar are liars. They try to make us believe untrue things so that we stay in the unhappiness we currently have. It makes us question everything in our lives, even the things that we had previously thought we were sure about. Just 6 months ago, you were telling me how you loved what you were going to school for. Now, you are questioning it. Could it be that you are seeing more of the industry than you had seen before and that is making you question your resolve, or is it the depression lying to you, telling you you aren't good enough, strong enough, committed enough, smart enough? Maybe it isn't telling you those things, but maybe it is limiting what you see as possibilities for your degree. If you get this degree, you will only be able to do X. It blocks out the view of C, F, M, Y, and G possibilities which could be so much more appealing (recall our convo about using your degree to get a job with Sony as a game artist).

I know you are aware of many of these things already and my intent is not to just tell you what you already know. My intent is to remind you of these things because we seem to forget them when we are in the throws of sorrow or ecstasy. Sometimes, just hearing someone else say them (or type them) helps us to clear out the fog in our minds, if only for a moment. And we both know sometimes, that one moment is all it takes.

As you go on, first, actively look for the good things in life. It sounds like you already are which is a good sign. Second, do not make any major decisions until you are back at an even keel, or as much of one as possible. I know you are questioning your path of study, but to change now would be a major decision. You don't have to tell me all the excuses why now would be the time to change if you were going to change because I have heard them all before from my own lips. You will just have to trust me on this. ;) And third and finally, always remember you are not alone. There are others out there, me included, who know exactly what you are going through. We have been there, done that, and got the T-shirt, held on to it just long enough to burn it, then start all over again. It is not a shame to ask for help, but a shame not to, for you asking for help can actually help another find their way.

So much for not knowing what to say, huh?

Always here for you,

Alicia
P.S. Would you mind if I blogged this? I just think this is good stuff for people to know.

You Be the Judge

2010-03-23T20:17:00.003-07:00

So this weekend we had a friend in town for 4 days. We knew the weekend was destined for greatness right from the start. How, you ask? Well we received a sign from the gods of course...in the form of magical sushi boobies:

Naturally, when coming upon this fabulous boobies of sushi, it made me think of my favorite blog ever, Jenny, The Bloggess. If you are not familiar with her awesome scribing abilities, you may want to familiarize yourself with it, but in the interest of time, it is this post on mushroom boobs that my boobie sushi made me think of. So, of course, I had to share my delight with the fabulous Bloggess. The problem is that she didn't quite see things the same way I did. You be the judge.

As of yet, I have not received a response. Perhaps she is in awe of my shockingly awesome boobies too...and no, you don't get to see them.

.

Maybe I have been reading too many of these child development books

2010-03-17T13:11:00.002-07:00

So last night the hubby had game night with the guys after work. What is this you ask? Well first, keep in might that D works for Sony Online Entertainment. Yes, he makes computer games for a living. This also means that he works with a bunch of other gamers. Computer nerds unite!!! Oh how I wish I could work there too. LOL.

Anyway, they had decided that after work last night, they would play a Magic tournament. That is all fine and dandy with me. They also sometimes stay after to play other games too. Card games, LAN parties, yea, they are gamers. Totally sweetheart gamers too.

So yesterday I was thinking I would do something sweet and make D the crabcakes he has been craving and bring them to him for dinner along with cookies or something for the other guys. Went to the store, got all the stuff, got home, then promptly got sucked into the internet and TV. Next thing I know it's 5:30pm and I haven't even started yet. Well, I thought if nothing else, I could throw together the crab cakes for him real quick and bring at least those anyway, cause you know, I love my man and all.

So I message him explaining how I planned to feed him and how time got away from me and I ask would you still like me to make them for you and bring them? His response: "I brought dinner so I'm fine. Make them tomorrow." Ok, he obviously didn't understand the meaning and the feeling behind what I was planning on doing for him, but that's ok because he is a guy and I am not going to argue with him while he is at work. Instead, I decide to try to forget it, feed myself, and find something distracting to do until he is ready to be picked up after the game.

Apparently the distracting thing didn't work so well because this is how the conversation went on the way home:

Me: Did you have fun?

D: Yep.

Me: Did you have enough to eat for dinner?

D: Yep.

Me: Sorry I didn't have the crabcakes ready for you.

D: That's ok. I told you I brought food anyway. We can have them tomorrow.

Me: You don't understand.

D: Ummm...apparently not.

Me: Don't you know that all I wanted was to feel included, needed, and like I belonged?

D: ...

Me: Hmm...That sounds like something from the positive discipline book I just finished reading for school.

D: ... (yes my husband is a man of few words. it's frustrating sometimes)

Me: Anyway, I just kinda thought I would be all awesome-like and walk in with crabcakes for you and cookies for the guys and everyone would think how you have such an awesome wife and I could have significance and belonging for a little bit.

D: *chuckles*

Me: What?! Is it wrong for me to want to feel included?

D: No.

Me: ...

D: ...

Me: Well, maybe you actually did me a favor.

D: Oh?

Me: Yea, cause I have never made crab cakes before, so you were actually protecting me!

D: Uh huh?

Me: Well, how embarrassing for me would that be had I come in, dropped off what seemed like delicious treats, and then you bit into a crab cake just to spit it out because it tasted awful! See, you were protecting me. You are so good to me honey. I love you. *big grin*

D: I love you too.

Why do I feel like I need to feed people to feel accepted? I think I need therapy.

To Be a Mother

2010-03-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

One of the things in life that has been on my mind lately is becoming a mother. It has been quite a journey so far. For those that are interested, my husband and I have been trying to conceive for over a year now and it has been an interesting journey that carries many emotions. This is a tale of those emotions.

It is always hard to know when, where, and to whom I should talk about this journey because the gamet of reactions from a person can be so vast. Often when discussed with those who conceived their children so easily or "by accident," the reaction is to just relax, stop worrying, and it will happen when it happens. Please, if you know of anyone who is having a hard time conceiving, DO NOT SAY THIS TO THEM! There is nothing that can be more frustrating, disheartening, and upsetting. Beyond that, in that one phrase that was meant to be helpful, and yes, we know you are "just trying to help," you just convinced us you are not a person to talk to about this journey.

When in high school, and for some of us in junior high, it was drilled into our heads over and over again about "how easy" it is to become pregnant and how "it only takes once" to make a baby. Well, guess what Ms. Sex Ed teacher, that's not true for everyone. In fact, finding that out now is incredibly frustrating, especially when you see and hear of people every day who are getting pregnant while on drugs or drinking, those who know they are pregnant and don't take care of themselves, those who use and abuse others, and those who never wanted a child to begin with. Somehow, someway, nature has deemed these people to be fit parents, while my financially stable and loving husband and I are not. If this is meant to be a joke, nature has a messed up sense of humor. However, believe it or not, I have moved past the stage of anger and frustration with the world and nature. I know I will have children one day, whether they be natural, fostered, or adopted. It is just a matter of when the powers-that-be deem it time. Until then, practice makes perfect, right? Not to mention "practicing" is a whole lotta fun! Hehe.

In the meantime, as I take classes at the community college to fill up credits, I decided to take several on Child Development. I have found each and every one of them incredibly enlightening. While I think my parents did a freaking fantabulous job raising my brother and I, (afterall, I am pretty damn awesome aren't I?) I can only imagine how much more awesome we would be if they had known so many of the things I have learned in the last 9 months. My favorite class so far is about "Positive Discipline." Yes, discipline can be positive.

The book we have been using can be found here: http://tinyurl.com/positivediscipline. I encourage you to read it if you have children or work with children. It has been an enlightening read and opened my eyes to so many different ways of thinking when it comes to teaching our children right from wrong, good from bad. It has changed my opinion of using punishment of any sort, be it physical, verbal, or emotional. While some who read this blog may not agree, I now believe that punishment can be avoided all together with patience, training, and positive discipline. Can I be a positive disciplining parent all the time? No. I am human, I will make mistakes. But mistakes can be a wonderful chance for learning and I look forward to the day that I get to make and learn from my mistakes. I know I won't be a perfect parent, there is no such thing, but I hope that I can be as good as my parents were, just with different techniques.

~ Fate's Mistress

Travels in My Bipolar World

2010-03-12T23:06:00.000-07:00

For those of you who know about my bipolar, thank you for being there for me. For those who didn't know until this blog, I pray that you can be understanding or at least patient with anyone who may have a mental illness.

See, there is this nasty stigma that is stuck to the phrase "mental illness." People hear "mental illness" or you tell them "Hi! I'm bipolar!" and they ever so slightly tense up or back away like all of a sudden you are going to go homicidal or suicidal on them. There have been some people that I had considered friends tell me they just couldn't handle it and left my life after "the revelation." Then there are some that have stuck by my side through the nightmare that occasionally rears its ugly head. If you are one of those people who stuck by me, and you know who you are, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, from the depth of my soul.

So, what is the point of this blog? Well, more to get it on "paper" what I have experienced in the past more than anything. And for those who are interested, to try to explain in some minute way what it is like to "have an episode." While this particular accounting happened several years ago now (Winter 2007), it is not unusual for me to visit parts or all of this several times throughout the year. Some "visits" are longer than others, but what I try to focus on is the fact that it will not last forever. It is important to remember though that this is just one side of bipolar, the depression side of it. There is a whole other world of mania and hypomania that I am not addressing in this post.

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January 9, 2008

I've been on a roller coaster of emotions for the last several years, but the last three months have by far been the worst. I have a great job, great friends, a wonderful family, a place to call my own, my dog and cat, and a wonderful man who loves me unconditionally. And yet, I found little joy in any of that. I found myself not really wanting to deal with anything. It all took too much energy. To smile took too much energy. To eat took too much energy. To pick up the phone and call a friend took too much energy, not to mention the risk of them realizing that something just isn't right with you. I slowly slid downward toward the murky and dark depths of depression.

Now, some of you may say "Oh I know what that is like" and you truly may know, but others may say that and really have only scratched the surface of this deep, abysmal type of depression. I am not trying to discount what they went through or say that it wasn't horrible, just more of a "I hope you never have to go where I have been" type thing.

The place I went was not just an "Oh I'm so sad" type of place. The best way I can think of to describe it was more indifferent and uncaring than sad. Everything just existed. Nothing really mattered. Anything that got done was out of absolute necessity and even then, only because it was expected of me. If I got up and went to work, it was simply because it was necessary to pay the rent so I could have a place to hide in. If I ate, it was simply because it was necessary to make the hunger pains go away. Everything was autopilot at best.

It slowly got worse with me doing less and less. Things started looking more and more hopeless and I found myself asking many times, "What's the point?" I wasn't suicidal, but I just didn't care if I existed anymore either. If I just blinked out of existence, that would be fine with me. If something happened that made it so I didn't wake up the next day, that would be fine with me too. If the roof came crashing down on my head crushing all the bones in my body, who cares! I sure didn't. I didn't care because it just took too much energy to care.

And then I finally collapsed. I will never forget the date. December 3^rd I went home for lunch, thinking that if I took a shower it might make me feel better. Instead, I spent an hour in the shower crying. No, not crying, bawling. Big fat tears of hopelessness, pointlessness, and just the fact that crying was pointless and useless made me cry more. I couldn't stop. It seemed to be an unending well of tears. I cried for nearly two hours before I messaged a co-worker telling her I wasn't coming back to work because I just couldn't stop crying. Looking back, I think I picked her because I knew she would understand how I was hurting and how nothing seemed worth anything.

She came to my rescue. She came to my house where I continued to cry. Finally the tears dried up, but I felt ready to shatter into a million pieces if someone just sneezed on me. We decided it was time for me to get help. She packed my clothes, my medications, pajamas, slippers, etc. for me. She put out plenty of food for the cat and asked how to feed the dog. Then she loaded what I viewed as my pathetic self into her car and drove to the Behavioral Health Hospital. She called another co-worker to meet us there as she had to go pick up her daughter, but someone had to take care of me.

As it turns out, we were in the wrong place. We were directed to where we needed to be, but by this time I had started thinking that maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all. I was scared of this unknown step. I was still in tears, barely able to function enough to know that the numbers to my psychiatrist and case manager were in my purse. We found the numbers and called. Apparently someone was shining down on me because my case manager could see me in less than an hour. My co-worker sat in the waiting room for 3 hours while I saw my case manager and then my psychiatrist.

I came out with a new prescription, an order to not work the following day, and a referral to the "Intense Outpatient Program." Why the Intense Outpatient Program (IOP)? Both my doctors felt that I was not a good candidate for the hospital as they felt I would only get worse if I didn't have any control at all over what happened to me. We then sat for another hour at the pharmacy, waiting for my prescription to be filled, Zoloft, an anti-depressant. One more pill to add to my cocktail. She then took me home, making me promise that if I needed anything or started thinking about harming myself that I would call her, and if you know me, you know how I value and stick to my promises. Funny how keeping a promise was the only thing I actually cared about during this.

That night, it didn't take long for me to fall into a deep sleep. I slept for 15 hours. After an entire afternoon and evening of tears, I was exhausted. I woke up, still hopeless, but not crying anymore which in itself I considered a blessing. Over the next month, I would go to the IOP program 3 days a week from 9:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and then work in the afternoon and the days I had "off" from IOP. The medications started kicking in, the therapy started kicking in, my support network kicked in, and things started to become less hopeless and more hopeful.

Friday, I "graduate" from the IOP series. I am being discharged from the program but will continue to see a therapist, my case manager, and my psychiatrist on a frequent basis until we are sure things have stabilized a bit for me. I am happy, truly happy, to say that for the first time in a very, very long time, I don't dread the coming of tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day. For the first time in a very long time I look forward to my morning shower. I look at my dog and smile, knowing that she loves me no matter what. I check my text messages every morning and smile that I have a wonderful man who says good morning to me every day. For the first time in a very, very long time, I feel alive and I feel content.