Brain Spew in Lieu of Wit

It's interesting that my blog has taken the same pattern as my journaling has over the years. It seems that I have 4-6 month gaps in every chronicle of my life. Well, I'm back, at least for now, and I have had an interesting time. Holidays have always been hard for me (as I will say every year when discussing holidays - just so that you're prepared). Family history always floats to the top, and I ache for the good times (Grampy frying donuts on Christmas morning, filling the house with cinnamon while Sister and I watch Disney movies or chase the dogs around Mom's parents' north Florida property), while souring at the pain (knowing that my presents were far more expensive than my mom's or that Sister will end up paying for her gifts, one way or another). I long for uncomplicated feelings and feeling pure joy. I suppose that I would have ever achieved such simplicity, even without my trauma - I was never one for accepting one side of things. This year was much

I'm working about 60 hours a week. The second week of October will see it closer to 70. I have three jobs, all of which I love, but I'm feeling the social strain. I have yet to receive my first paycheck of the semester, and the University and tutoring center have the same pay schedule - T-minus 7 days until I will have some semblance of financial independence. Of course, I'll still be playing catch up, but I won't need to constantly go to Beloved for money for silly little things. It's so much easier to ask for help with bills, but when I am having lunch with a friend of almost 20 years who will be in town from out of state or meeting someone at a bar to help them prioritize their finances or life (oh, that's the other thing - the business plan), I end up passively edging in on it. I should just be able to ask, at this point. But, it's been three months of asking him for money, while I begged and pleaded for work, and now I never see him, but still have to a

Today is a tough day. I feel disconnected and numb. It's strange, knowing that my mood was spawned by the death of a celebrity. Last night, Robin Williams was found dead in his room. Robin Williams was an icon - hilarious, vulnerable, talented, a hard worker, an (by all accounts) a great guy. He was bipolar, and (if the news has any value to it at all) had been in a pretty bad depression for several months. For all the pain that came from my close friends seeming to minimize the suffering that depression causes, I also cannot image the rush that comes with mania. I experienced it, once, when I was trying Prozac. It was one of the most amazing and terrifying moments of my life. I can't imagine the frustration that comes with flying over the world, free and able to do whatever you want, no consequences to bind you - only to come crashing to the ground, lost in an oubliette of numb and self-loathing, left to cope with the consequences of the High. Often, quite literally, consideri

Okay, so I have a really  gross habit   neurosis  coping mechanism?  I'm not really sure what to call it. I pick at my skin.  It'll start with a hang nail or acne, and will eventually start to bleed, which will eventually become a scab, which will not heal for months  because I can't leave it well enough alone.  I know that it's awful and gross and potentially dangerous.  I already have scars from it.  My cuticles are destroyed because of it.  I've gotten countless minor infections on my fingers because I pick and chew on the skin around my nails.  Beloved points it out every time he sees me do it, one of my girlfriends has offered make me a behavior plan to change it, friends and lovers are always telling me to "stop picking at it!"  And yet, I can't bring myself to, despite the embarrassment, frustration, and problems. I didn't always pick at my skin and scabs.  I taught myself not to bite my nails in 4th grade.  I once had the will of the gods

I really want to open with "I'm in a strange place," but I'm far too well-read not to recognize that my current position isn't an unusual one. These past few weeks have been particularly difficult ones (though, that is good for posting regularly, I suppose), where my anxiety and depression were so overwhelming that I thought that I couldn't function. I did, of course, because that's what I have always done, but it certainly took far more out of me than I had ever allowed myself to be aware of before. On one hand, I think that is a move in a much healthier direction, and after discussing my state of being with Sister, we concluded that I might actually be moving into a more mild state of depression than I am used to...which is both heartening and terrifying. On the one hand, I'm excited that I am becoming healthier and I have a baseline that is "normal" enough that I'm able to recognize when the depressive swing is actually occurring, much

The CopyPasta: I need a snuggle buddy and a blanket fort. I shouldn't be alone tonight [context: Beloved is travelling this week], and I don't want to be around Roommate (not for the usual reasons...it's actually all of the in my own head aversion to the way certain people feel around me, and today it's extending to a lot of close friends). I'm finding that I don't actually want to be at home, but the places that I would go have a person who fits on the above list, or is not the right feel for right now, or have way too much of their own shit, or are limited by it being a Monday night with all of the work things tomorrow. I have so much work to do, but I can't get it done because I can't focus, but I can't actually resolve any of it. Idk what to do :( The Summary:  I've been so...disconnected. Not as far as interactions or isolation or anything like that. I just don't have it in me to internally connect to all of the things. I don't ev

Yeah. I said it. Life is hard. I mean, everyone knows that, right? And I feel like I'm whining when I say it. But, I'm not going to guilt myself for it anymore. Especially now. Because life IS hard. Especially when you're in recovery, you have a mental illness, you are overworked, underpaid, job insecure, and torn between life paths. I mean, that's HARD. Oh, and then missing family that are across the country to the point of homesickness, while not being sure how you feel about the family that lives literally down the road. It's been a few months, so I should probably catch you up... Therapist has been calling me out pretty much constantly. I mean, yeah, that's what I pay her for, but she's not letting me get away with ANYTHING anymore. I don't actually want her to stop pushing me, but it's terrifying down the path that she is leading me. I mean, I've spent the last three weeks trying to figure out how I feel about my mom. I thought that I was

TL;DR: Mental housecleaning that sounds like vaguebooking, but it's mostly because there's a LOT of people involved, almost all of it about sensitive topics. This stuff has been rolling around in my head for a while. Commentary on what I expect from friends and those who I trust. A LOT has happened over the last few months. A good portion of it has involved my friends and people who I trust. First, I pride myself on my integrity. When I say something, I mean it, and I trust that my friends will not be hypocrites. I won't be making that assumption any more. Any accusations about cheating, corruption, nepotism, croneyism, etc will be met with shock and an open mind. Because I can't handle fighting my ass off and spending energy that I don't have to discover that people can't follow basic ethical guidelines. Second, I DO NOT SUPPORT SEXUAL ASSAULT. I do not trust people who are actively complicit in it, nor do I have the desire to turn to people who tell people

I started this stream of consciousness almost two weeks ago. I have deleted it and restarted, because I'm in a different place. Well, sort of. I have spent the last month or so without the supports that I usually have. I've been off of my medications for a month or a month and a half, my beloved is across the country (and has been for nearly six weeks), I haven't had my own money since the middle of December (as I'm paid on an adjunct schedule), and I've had to cancel therapy for the interim due to the lack of funds. I have spent six weeks relying on friends, emotionally and financially, because I couldn't find enough odd jobs to pay my bills. Hell, I could barely find enough to put gas in my car. It's officially sunken in that I will be on medications for the rest of my life. I've quit my anti-depressant countless times before (because I'm a depressive, but I level out and I can live without it because I've learned coping skills...it's a

Recovery comes from the most interesting and unexpected places. I have run into some financial difficulties, and have taken to picking up odd jobs for some extra cash. One of these, about which I was very skeptical, is babysitting. I wasn't skeptical about babysitting because I don't like kids. I love kids - I love watching their moments of discovery and analysis, I love watching them develop language and reasoning skills, I love being reminded of what it is like to just interact with the world at hand. My skepticism came from my fear that I wouldn't provide for them, that I would miss some vital and obvious clue to ensuring their safety and survival. I have always been self-conscious about my "lack" of maternal instinct. It didn't seem to me that I took to the care-giving of younglings naturally enough (...whatever that means), and I have been picked on for most of my post-adolescent life about my discomfort with children. Looking at the whole thing logical