Thursday, December 27, 2012


Some mornings, too many mornings, I wake up warm and cozy with my fleece sheets pulled up to my chin. And I feel petrified - emotionally and physically. I feel I can't possibly get myself out of bed for yet another day. My body feels made of stone.The simple acts of shower, make-up, hair, and finding something to wear seem like too much. I curl into a ball thinking about another day behind a computer, wearing headphones to help limit the noise that sets off my anxiety, forcing myself to interact with people for 8 hours, trying not to be irritated by everything around me. The argument with myself begins. Of course I can do this. I can get out of my bed and get the day going. I have a good life. Friends who care, people who love me, a good paying job for a great family friendly company. And yet moving - getting out of my bed - takes so much out of me I wonder what I'll have left for the rest of the day. If it's a good day, there's no pain anywhere. My joints don't hurt. My shoulder doesn't ache. If it's a really good day, once I get myself moving the day doesn't take quite as much energy and I can have a "normal" day.

I suffer from bipolar disorder. For me, the manias are rare but do happen. The depression is frequent. I've tried most medications and had various issues with the majority of them. I can't "snap out of it", as much as I'd like to do just that. I'd love to wake up and say, "Today I won't be depressed or anxious. Today I won't be so tired and achy that a day at work takes everything out of me." In fact I do wake up and say those things. But sometimes it's really not about "mind over matter".

This is my life. Some people can't handle it: the ups and downs and never being quite sure where I'll be at next, the overreactions, the irritability. I can't say I blame them. For those who have managed to stick around, I say thank you. It is because of you I'm still here and making it through another day.

6/2/14 Update:
Turns out I'm not bipolar. I suffer from depression. Although apparently note severe enough for my insurance to pay 50% of my medical bills. It's considered mild, so they pay 30%. Whatever, right? Anyhow, the last two psychiatrists decided I have some anxiety and depression, at times impulse control, but not bipolar disorder. I'm also what's called a Highly Sensitive Person. It explains a lot, actually. But so far knowing that isn't making the fact that I've spent most of the last two days hiding in my room wishing the world would just BE QUIET any easier to deal with. At least now I know I'm not crazy or just a bitch...

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Little Red Riding Hood meets Pretty in Blue

I think I’ve shared with you all before that my best ideas come to me when I’m driving or lying in bed at night. And I know by now that if I don’t do something right then to capture the words, they’ll be gone before I know it. Yet I never do.

So here’s yet another of my catch-up posts – probably not that entertaining and if you follow me on Twitter or FB none of this is new and you’ve already seen the pictures.

Remember that cute little Woodland Fairy costume I was hoping to wear for Halloween? Well it didn’t happen. First, I wore an awful pin-striped costume I picked up last year that I’d worn once before and somehow managed to forget that I hated. But then I got a brainstorm and for the Sinners & Saints party at Thunder Valley Casino, I became Little Red Sluttyhood. Or something like that. It was a truly fun night – to my surprise. I was sure it would be too crowded and I’d be too anxious which would lead to drinking too much and being sick or some such nonsense. But it was just a fun-filled night of dancing with a great friend. And it was the last time I went dancing, so maybe that explains some of my recent funk.
Icky pinstripe costume! But my fabulous fellow burlesque pals look fantastic!
Little Red Sluttyhood.

After that came my first job shadow night volunteering at Origin Coffee and Tea, which I covered in my post on Coffee, Tea and SexTrafficking. It did get better from there, by the way, until my first actual night on my own. I didn’t leave until 11:45 (the shift should have ended at 11) and I literally fell into my bad aching everywhere, on the verge of tears, and not sure if I could possibly make myself go back. But tonight I’ll go back again and I’ve been promised it will be better – plus hopefully my body will adjust.

The week of Thanksgiving was a roller coaster. I had a slight meltdown and cried and cried. That is a story for another day, unfortunately. Or for an anonymous blog. Which I am still really considering… But then I drove 9 hours to visit my mom in Idaho and we didn’t leave the house for 3 entire days and it was heaven.  She says I can quit my job and move back home with her. Some days it’s so very tempting.

I dragged my two girls out of the house to take photos for our Christmas cards, and didn’t realize that the tree was much too tall and the lights made the photos blurry, but we got some pictures anyway. I downloaded pictures of my son and daughter from Facebook since I rarely see them and didn’t have any decent pictures of my own.

Last weekend was my work Christmas party. That was a hard decision, since the fabulous Sizzling Sirens were having an invitation only show and I had a few other invites, and since I’m not dating for a bit I had to go to my party solo. But I went. I got my hair done, settled on one of the three dresses I’d bought (I spent a whopping $36 total for all three) put on my fab new blue heels, and off I went. I was excited because several of us were supposed to go dancing afterwards. The food was great, the conversation hysterical, we got an awesome gift and I felt pretty. Then everyone bailed on dancing. And I went home and took off my pretty dress, washed off my pretty make-up, and went to bed.  To wake up sick and spend most of the next three days home in bed. 

Pretty, and sad, in blue. Since everyone bailed on dancing. 

And that pretty much brings us current.