For those of you who know me, you know I can't stand monotony. Things MUST change every now and then. SO... I've done some work on the blog (changing link colours, moving some things around, etc.).
If you look just above this slightly pointless post, you'll see all my contact info. I tweet a bit too much sometimes, I'm dying to get the Facebook group to a point where I'm not the only one posting in it, and the email is there for questions, rants, and hellos.
I don't do any other social media because, well, I'd much rather have social interaction than sit at my computer all day. Although... I've been talking with a friend who is going to help me start vlogs! I've wanted to do it for awhile, but I'm so technologically stupid that editing and whatnot is a mystery to me.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
I Don't Negotiate With Insecurities
I have no clever opening line today.
I was thinking today about something that happened a while ago, and it just sparked something in me to talk about it. Today's subject: body image.
We all know that Hollywood and fashion magazines have made unrealistic standards of beauty. We also know that there are people and organizations out there fighting this. I personally believe that there is no such thing as a physically ugly person, and someone's attitude and behavior determine their beauty. I see every single person as a beautiful creation who is perfect just the way they are. Well, almost every person.
I've never felt particularly pretty even though people have always told me otherwise. My entire life, I've heard, "you have such a beautiful smile." Every time someone says it, I suddenly become entirely self conscious and close my mouth. If someone says that I'm funny, I retreat into myself and become very literal. Basically, any kind of compliment makes me stop doing whatever it was that earned the compliment.
I got side tracked... Anyway, I don't remember all the exact details, but I posted on Facebook a while ago that I don't like my nose because it's too pointy. Not a big surprise seeing as how a pointy nose is a trait inherited from my mother's family. Well, one of my friends (sorry I can't remember who!) said that she had always liked my nose. I feel so bad that I can't remember who said it, but every time I look in the mirror and see Cyrano 2.0, I remember what she said.
If we could all think about the good things people say about us, we'd be better off. Unfortunately, that doesn't always happen. I was scrolling through my Twitter feed, and saw a picture a girl had shared of new cuts on her legs and she put so many demeaning words about herself with it. Now, I'll be the first to say that posting that to social media was a bad idea simply because so many people post so many things that it will almost always go unnoticed. When nobody notices our pain, it endorses the thoughts we have about our lack of self worth.
You are beautiful.
You are smart.
You are worth it.
"Love Me"~ Katy Perry
I was thinking today about something that happened a while ago, and it just sparked something in me to talk about it. Today's subject: body image.
We all know that Hollywood and fashion magazines have made unrealistic standards of beauty. We also know that there are people and organizations out there fighting this. I personally believe that there is no such thing as a physically ugly person, and someone's attitude and behavior determine their beauty. I see every single person as a beautiful creation who is perfect just the way they are. Well, almost every person.
I've never felt particularly pretty even though people have always told me otherwise. My entire life, I've heard, "you have such a beautiful smile." Every time someone says it, I suddenly become entirely self conscious and close my mouth. If someone says that I'm funny, I retreat into myself and become very literal. Basically, any kind of compliment makes me stop doing whatever it was that earned the compliment.
I got side tracked... Anyway, I don't remember all the exact details, but I posted on Facebook a while ago that I don't like my nose because it's too pointy. Not a big surprise seeing as how a pointy nose is a trait inherited from my mother's family. Well, one of my friends (sorry I can't remember who!) said that she had always liked my nose. I feel so bad that I can't remember who said it, but every time I look in the mirror and see Cyrano 2.0, I remember what she said.
If we could all think about the good things people say about us, we'd be better off. Unfortunately, that doesn't always happen. I was scrolling through my Twitter feed, and saw a picture a girl had shared of new cuts on her legs and she put so many demeaning words about herself with it. Now, I'll be the first to say that posting that to social media was a bad idea simply because so many people post so many things that it will almost always go unnoticed. When nobody notices our pain, it endorses the thoughts we have about our lack of self worth.
You are beautiful.
You are smart.
You are worth it.
"Love Me"~ Katy Perry
Sunday, March 29, 2015
All Access Trauma Pass
Wait, that's traumatic?
In therapy lately, we've been focusing on traumatic events in my life and the possibility of a dual diagnosis of Bipolar and PTSD. I'm still fighting this because, when I think of the word "trauma," I picture scenes from the TV show ER, not my life.
Things we talk about as traumatic events, don't even feel like they made much of an impact. Like, I grew up right close to a rather dangerous set of intersections. Three in a row are known for car wrecks. I've actually lost count of how many totaled cars I've seen there. Most are relatively minor (fender-benders, rollovers) with no major injuries, but there have been a few that were more serious.
Story (slightly graphic, so feel free to skip if you need to): My senior year of high school, there was some dip stick who thought that the speed limit wasn't fast enough and that the merge was more of a suggestion than a rule. so, going way too fast, he hit one car and ricocheted off a few others before finally stopping. The sound alone was horrifying. I was one of the first to get there and see the aftermath. I'll spare you the image, but to paint an idea, not everyone survived.
Besides all that, the bullying I had to endure day in, day out is considered a traumatic event in my life. I guess I can see that. It left me with major anxiety and serious trust issues. I have a really hard time making new friends because I feel like everyone is like that thing and has ulterior motives. I find myself questioning when someone new comes to talk to me. I'm trying to overcome that, but add in the social anxiety, and it's going to take some time.
There were a few others my therapist and I have talked about, but I really don't want to go there. My point is, you never know what could be considered a traumatic event. What was traumatic for me, may not be for you, and vice versa. I've seen a lot of things that I wish I could erase from my memory, and believe me, I've tried. I've always prided myself on my ability to suppress things like this, but apparently that's bad. I'm not excited to add something else to my diagnostic sheet, but if it'll help, I guess I'll have to face the music.
I miss this show...
In therapy lately, we've been focusing on traumatic events in my life and the possibility of a dual diagnosis of Bipolar and PTSD. I'm still fighting this because, when I think of the word "trauma," I picture scenes from the TV show ER, not my life.
Things we talk about as traumatic events, don't even feel like they made much of an impact. Like, I grew up right close to a rather dangerous set of intersections. Three in a row are known for car wrecks. I've actually lost count of how many totaled cars I've seen there. Most are relatively minor (fender-benders, rollovers) with no major injuries, but there have been a few that were more serious.
Story (slightly graphic, so feel free to skip if you need to): My senior year of high school, there was some dip stick who thought that the speed limit wasn't fast enough and that the merge was more of a suggestion than a rule. so, going way too fast, he hit one car and ricocheted off a few others before finally stopping. The sound alone was horrifying. I was one of the first to get there and see the aftermath. I'll spare you the image, but to paint an idea, not everyone survived.
Besides all that, the bullying I had to endure day in, day out is considered a traumatic event in my life. I guess I can see that. It left me with major anxiety and serious trust issues. I have a really hard time making new friends because I feel like everyone is like that thing and has ulterior motives. I find myself questioning when someone new comes to talk to me. I'm trying to overcome that, but add in the social anxiety, and it's going to take some time.
There were a few others my therapist and I have talked about, but I really don't want to go there. My point is, you never know what could be considered a traumatic event. What was traumatic for me, may not be for you, and vice versa. I've seen a lot of things that I wish I could erase from my memory, and believe me, I've tried. I've always prided myself on my ability to suppress things like this, but apparently that's bad. I'm not excited to add something else to my diagnostic sheet, but if it'll help, I guess I'll have to face the music.
I miss this show...
Thursday, March 26, 2015
System Malfunction
What's the point?!
I've asked myself that question (as well as shouted it) so many times in the last 24 hours, and now I'm going to rant about why.
Quick note: I couldn't care less if you support the president's healthcare act. It's stupid and unconstitutional.
So, as all Americans know, you are now forced to obtain medical insurance, whether you want it or not. If you don't have insurance, you are penalized in the form of a fine that is 2% of your yearly income and $325 (or so) for every child under 18. To avoid the fines, you have three options:
Since I work part-time and can neither afford private insurance nor qualify for obama-care, I had to apply for Medicaid. I had to apply three times before the application was even accepted and could begin review. Then there was the five month runaround. "Do this. Get that. Go there." All the while, missing the December 31 deadline to avoid a fine for being uninsured for 2014.
Now for the fun part: Not every doctor on my list of providers accepting Medicaid will actually accept it.
I don't know about the rest of the country, but in Utah, Medicaid is not just Medicaid. You have to sign up with a plan as you would any private insurance. There were four options, and I chose the one that had the most names I recognized in the providers.
Excited to finally see real doctors, I began calling to set up appointments. I was able to get my usual ophthalmologist (eye doctor) and an allergist that my mother goes to, but when it came to a primary care, I hit wall after wall. "I'm sorry, we're not accepting new Medicaid right now." "Oh, well, we only accept Medicaid for children." I finally found the one office accepting new Medicaid for adults within (no joke) ten miles, and the wait time for an appointment was two weeks. Yeah, okay. I'll just feel better now and plan on being sick in two weeks. No problem.
My favorite part, however, was the one psychiatrist listed. She requires a referral from your primary care doctor that she also requires to be in the same clinic as she's in.
And people wonder why "the land of the free" has so much illness...
Here's a random song that's running through my head...
"Love Like Woe"~ The Ready Set
I've asked myself that question (as well as shouted it) so many times in the last 24 hours, and now I'm going to rant about why.
Quick note: I couldn't care less if you support the president's healthcare act. It's stupid and unconstitutional.
So, as all Americans know, you are now forced to obtain medical insurance, whether you want it or not. If you don't have insurance, you are penalized in the form of a fine that is 2% of your yearly income and $325 (or so) for every child under 18. To avoid the fines, you have three options:
- get private health insurance which can cost $500+ per month, per person
- get obama-care (which you must make at least $11,500 per year to even qualify for)
- get state-funded Medicaid (if your state has any openings and you qualify)
Since I work part-time and can neither afford private insurance nor qualify for obama-care, I had to apply for Medicaid. I had to apply three times before the application was even accepted and could begin review. Then there was the five month runaround. "Do this. Get that. Go there." All the while, missing the December 31 deadline to avoid a fine for being uninsured for 2014.
Now for the fun part: Not every doctor on my list of providers accepting Medicaid will actually accept it.
I don't know about the rest of the country, but in Utah, Medicaid is not just Medicaid. You have to sign up with a plan as you would any private insurance. There were four options, and I chose the one that had the most names I recognized in the providers.
Excited to finally see real doctors, I began calling to set up appointments. I was able to get my usual ophthalmologist (eye doctor) and an allergist that my mother goes to, but when it came to a primary care, I hit wall after wall. "I'm sorry, we're not accepting new Medicaid right now." "Oh, well, we only accept Medicaid for children." I finally found the one office accepting new Medicaid for adults within (no joke) ten miles, and the wait time for an appointment was two weeks. Yeah, okay. I'll just feel better now and plan on being sick in two weeks. No problem.
My favorite part, however, was the one psychiatrist listed. She requires a referral from your primary care doctor that she also requires to be in the same clinic as she's in.
And people wonder why "the land of the free" has so much illness...
Here's a random song that's running through my head...
"Love Like Woe"~ The Ready Set
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Too Tired For Titles
WHY?!
Ok, so, last Sunday, my mom, sister, and I went to the opera. Yes, really. It was a packed house and my seat was the fourth one in from the aisle. So, not only were there way too many people around, but I was trapped. Side note: the rows of seats were also super close together. Even crossing my legs was out of the question!
After having to endure all those people, we decided to go to dinner afterward. Now, my sister and I can never agree on places to eat. I didn't really feel like arguing this time and gave in when she suggested her favorite Italian restaurant that I really just don't like. I should have argued. This place was completely packed! There were people running around, kids screaming, and apathetic adults allowing the kids to scream while they shout to be heard. Side note: if you're going to allow your kid to be a brat, don't bring them out in public. Yes, kids are kids, but there's a limit.
After a day that stressful, I knew I wouldn't sleep much, but I haven't slept in two nights now. I'm going mad! I'm so tired, but I can't sleep! My dad went to two stores last night hunting down some natural sleep aids that my sister recommended, and they didn't work!
The worst part: the vicious circle. I'm annoyed that I can't sleep, so my mind runs and my blood pressure rises so it makes it harder to sleep.
Oh well... Here's the song that was running through my head all... freaking... night.
"Come On Eileen"~ Dexy's Midnight Runners
Ok, so, last Sunday, my mom, sister, and I went to the opera. Yes, really. It was a packed house and my seat was the fourth one in from the aisle. So, not only were there way too many people around, but I was trapped. Side note: the rows of seats were also super close together. Even crossing my legs was out of the question!
After having to endure all those people, we decided to go to dinner afterward. Now, my sister and I can never agree on places to eat. I didn't really feel like arguing this time and gave in when she suggested her favorite Italian restaurant that I really just don't like. I should have argued. This place was completely packed! There were people running around, kids screaming, and apathetic adults allowing the kids to scream while they shout to be heard. Side note: if you're going to allow your kid to be a brat, don't bring them out in public. Yes, kids are kids, but there's a limit.
After a day that stressful, I knew I wouldn't sleep much, but I haven't slept in two nights now. I'm going mad! I'm so tired, but I can't sleep! My dad went to two stores last night hunting down some natural sleep aids that my sister recommended, and they didn't work!
The worst part: the vicious circle. I'm annoyed that I can't sleep, so my mind runs and my blood pressure rises so it makes it harder to sleep.
Oh well... Here's the song that was running through my head all... freaking... night.
"Come On Eileen"~ Dexy's Midnight Runners
Monday, March 23, 2015
What's In A Name?
Round two...
I've had a major record set in the last day. I had one hundred views in twelve hours! Mostly on my post called I AM NOT BIPOLAR!!! (<--- shameless plug).
Now to the point of the day: names.
A name is the single most personal thing we have, in my opinion, so when someone messes with mine, it really gets to me. My name isn't that difficult, is it? Two basic syllables: "Char" and "maine." Now, Char is a fairly common nickname for Charlotte, Charlene, and whatever other names begin the same way, and for those in the know, Maine is a state on the eastern coast of the United States. Side note: if you want in my good graces, don't call me by either of those.
It's not spelt funny, it's not terribly difficult to break down, and I promise there is no "L" in it.
We give names to everything we care about, and sometimes, things we hate or fear. I have a friend who once wound up in the emergency room on an overdose, and the nurses kept referring to this friend as "the overdose." I've heard people refer to others as "the cutter," "the schizo," and "the mental patient." When I was hospitalized in that hell-hole (shameless plug #2 Hard Time On The Inside), the staff would give us their own little labeling names.
None of this is alright. If you don't know someone's name, ask; don't just designate your own label based on one thing you think you know about them. Side note: if you just know that "the girl in the red shirt" said something to you, that's fine.
I don't know about you, but my name is not Bipolar, PTSD, Schizophrenic, Borderline, or even Hey You. I have a name, and that name is Charmaine (say that five times fast...).
"Charmaine"~ The Bachelors (Yes, this is a real song. No, I'm not named after it.)
I've had a major record set in the last day. I had one hundred views in twelve hours! Mostly on my post called I AM NOT BIPOLAR!!! (<--- shameless plug).
Now to the point of the day: names.
A name is the single most personal thing we have, in my opinion, so when someone messes with mine, it really gets to me. My name isn't that difficult, is it? Two basic syllables: "Char" and "maine." Now, Char is a fairly common nickname for Charlotte, Charlene, and whatever other names begin the same way, and for those in the know, Maine is a state on the eastern coast of the United States. Side note: if you want in my good graces, don't call me by either of those.
It's not spelt funny, it's not terribly difficult to break down, and I promise there is no "L" in it.
We give names to everything we care about, and sometimes, things we hate or fear. I have a friend who once wound up in the emergency room on an overdose, and the nurses kept referring to this friend as "the overdose." I've heard people refer to others as "the cutter," "the schizo," and "the mental patient." When I was hospitalized in that hell-hole (shameless plug #2 Hard Time On The Inside), the staff would give us their own little labeling names.
None of this is alright. If you don't know someone's name, ask; don't just designate your own label based on one thing you think you know about them. Side note: if you just know that "the girl in the red shirt" said something to you, that's fine.
I don't know about you, but my name is not Bipolar, PTSD, Schizophrenic, Borderline, or even Hey You. I have a name, and that name is Charmaine (say that five times fast...).
"Charmaine"~ The Bachelors (Yes, this is a real song. No, I'm not named after it.)
Friday, March 20, 2015
+/-
When did this happen?
Lately, when I'm attempting the whole "small talk" concept, it's a vocal vomit of negativity. When someone asks the ever elusive, "how are you" question that we all know nobody really wants the answer to, the only response I can come up with is, "alive." Wait, back track... Sometimes I manage a less-than-enthusiastic groan.
I've always been crap at small talk, but this is pathetic. The custodian at the school I work at tries to talk to me, but everything out of my mouth is a sarcastic dig at whatever's going on at the moment. He just kind of laughs it off and goes on with his duties. Every time we "talk," I just turn the corner and face-palm myself. If I can't even talk to a kid six years younger than I am who I have no interest in other than friendship, how am I going to do this whole "dating" thing?
I don't see anything wrong with saying something along the lines of "I'm good, thanks," but it's neither true, nor the first thing to my mind. Right now, I'm sick. I've got a pretty nasty allergy attack that has kept me propped up with pillows, Netflix, and three boxes of tissues by my side. See? complaining even in type. I'm pathetic!
Ok, I need some positivity so...
For the first time in over two years, I can see REAL doctors! Side note: The NHS is desperately needed in the US.
Anyway, here's an upbeat song to end this...
"Midnight Memories"~ One Direction
Lately, when I'm attempting the whole "small talk" concept, it's a vocal vomit of negativity. When someone asks the ever elusive, "how are you" question that we all know nobody really wants the answer to, the only response I can come up with is, "alive." Wait, back track... Sometimes I manage a less-than-enthusiastic groan.
I've always been crap at small talk, but this is pathetic. The custodian at the school I work at tries to talk to me, but everything out of my mouth is a sarcastic dig at whatever's going on at the moment. He just kind of laughs it off and goes on with his duties. Every time we "talk," I just turn the corner and face-palm myself. If I can't even talk to a kid six years younger than I am who I have no interest in other than friendship, how am I going to do this whole "dating" thing?
I don't see anything wrong with saying something along the lines of "I'm good, thanks," but it's neither true, nor the first thing to my mind. Right now, I'm sick. I've got a pretty nasty allergy attack that has kept me propped up with pillows, Netflix, and three boxes of tissues by my side. See? complaining even in type. I'm pathetic!
Ok, I need some positivity so...
- Today is a beautiful day, and it's been beautiful all week!
- It's spring!
- I saw a happy puppy sticking his head out the car window!
- A super cute lady I know named Rose was wearing a shirt with roses on it today!
- My hair looks freakishly good today (shallow, I know, but still)! Look!
- I've got the UK, Batman, and Doctor Who all in one picture!!!
- Best news of all that I forgot to share with y'all last week...
For the first time in over two years, I can see REAL doctors! Side note: The NHS is desperately needed in the US.
Anyway, here's an upbeat song to end this...
"Midnight Memories"~ One Direction
Monday, March 16, 2015
Freaking Out
Yes Ma'am.
I've always been the "yes girl." The one who does whatever is asked of her (not at home, of course), and it bites me right in the tushy pretty much every time. I am once again backed into a corner that I have no idea how to get out of.
I got a text from my boss asking me to work with one of our kids for the last fifteen minutes of the day. A simple request requiring no more than a "no problem" from anyone else, but I've been having full-on panic attacks every time I think about this. See, I get to work fifteen minutes early so that I can leave fifteen minutes early, therefore avoiding the swarm of parents picking up their kids.
Backtrack... The parking lot that I park in every day is extremely small and is set up kind of like a circle. One entrance, one exit. It's ridiculously tight and trying to get even three cars through at a time is something only accomplished by Shriners, so having all those cars there at the same time while I'm trying to escape is less than fun. This is why I give myself the fifteen minute head start.
I know I'm going to say yes because, well, that's what I do, and I'm completely freaked out! I tried talking to my mom about this earlier, but she was so engrossed in her Facebook that she didn't even hear me, so all of you get to hear about it.
I seriously freaked out all day and even started looking at other jobs I could do, but the only things listed online are retail or something requiring a Ph.D. and a thousand years of experience.
I've used this song before, but it's so appropriate...
"Xiat"~ Trevor Moran
I've always been the "yes girl." The one who does whatever is asked of her (not at home, of course), and it bites me right in the tushy pretty much every time. I am once again backed into a corner that I have no idea how to get out of.
I got a text from my boss asking me to work with one of our kids for the last fifteen minutes of the day. A simple request requiring no more than a "no problem" from anyone else, but I've been having full-on panic attacks every time I think about this. See, I get to work fifteen minutes early so that I can leave fifteen minutes early, therefore avoiding the swarm of parents picking up their kids.
Backtrack... The parking lot that I park in every day is extremely small and is set up kind of like a circle. One entrance, one exit. It's ridiculously tight and trying to get even three cars through at a time is something only accomplished by Shriners, so having all those cars there at the same time while I'm trying to escape is less than fun. This is why I give myself the fifteen minute head start.
I know I'm going to say yes because, well, that's what I do, and I'm completely freaked out! I tried talking to my mom about this earlier, but she was so engrossed in her Facebook that she didn't even hear me, so all of you get to hear about it.
I seriously freaked out all day and even started looking at other jobs I could do, but the only things listed online are retail or something requiring a Ph.D. and a thousand years of experience.
I've used this song before, but it's so appropriate...
"Xiat"~ Trevor Moran
Anti-social Media
Why can't there be a juice cleanse for your life?
I've come to the conclusion that I need to remove toxic people from my life. Now, toxic can mean something different to everyone (people who use you, people who are always negative, etc.), but for me, it means people who don't bother to make me feel worthwhile.
I've taken to heart the whole, "Don't make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option," thing. The problem with this, however, is the "real life vs. social media" thing. I've got people on Facebook and Twitter who I talk with sometimes or they comment on things every now and then. This is great! I don't need to be the number one priority in every one of my Facebook friend's life, but it's nice to know they acknowledge my existence. It's the ones who don't even notice when I've commented on their things or bother to hit "like" on anything that need to go.
I'm down below 100 friends, and honestly, I feel so much better! I tend to get upset when I put forth an effort in a friendship and it's not reciprocated, and social media just makes that worse. Actually, social media makes everything worse, but I'll spare you my "technology is ruining our society and creating a generation of idiots" rant.
On second thought... This video is everything I feel...
I've come to the conclusion that I need to remove toxic people from my life. Now, toxic can mean something different to everyone (people who use you, people who are always negative, etc.), but for me, it means people who don't bother to make me feel worthwhile.
I've taken to heart the whole, "Don't make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option," thing. The problem with this, however, is the "real life vs. social media" thing. I've got people on Facebook and Twitter who I talk with sometimes or they comment on things every now and then. This is great! I don't need to be the number one priority in every one of my Facebook friend's life, but it's nice to know they acknowledge my existence. It's the ones who don't even notice when I've commented on their things or bother to hit "like" on anything that need to go.
I'm down below 100 friends, and honestly, I feel so much better! I tend to get upset when I put forth an effort in a friendship and it's not reciprocated, and social media just makes that worse. Actually, social media makes everything worse, but I'll spare you my "technology is ruining our society and creating a generation of idiots" rant.
On second thought... This video is everything I feel...
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Nice To Meet You, Rose
I need an anchor... or a floatie.
I feel like I'm losing control. Half the time I have no idea what I'm doing, the other half, I'm all too aware of it. The worst part: I can't actually put words to exactly how I feel. I can try, but it never seems quite right.
There's something that The Doctor says in the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who that is as close as it gets. He says: *I copied it from IMBD, so if it's misquoted, blame them.
" Do you know like we were saying, about the earth revolving? It's like when you're a kid, the first time they tell you that the world is turning and you just can't quite believe it 'cause everything looks like it's standing still. I can feel it... the turn of the earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And, if we let go..."
The more I read that, the more it's actually exactly how I feel. The part about not believing the world is spinning because it looks like it's standing still is like not believing there's anything standing still because my mind is always spinning. The whole, "falling through space... clinging to the skin of this tiny little world," is like how I'm trying to cling to some sense of normalcy, "and if we let go..." I don't want to know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on.
"Hold On"~ Wilson Phillips
I feel like I'm losing control. Half the time I have no idea what I'm doing, the other half, I'm all too aware of it. The worst part: I can't actually put words to exactly how I feel. I can try, but it never seems quite right.
There's something that The Doctor says in the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who that is as close as it gets. He says: *I copied it from IMBD, so if it's misquoted, blame them.
" Do you know like we were saying, about the earth revolving? It's like when you're a kid, the first time they tell you that the world is turning and you just can't quite believe it 'cause everything looks like it's standing still. I can feel it... the turn of the earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And, if we let go..."
The more I read that, the more it's actually exactly how I feel. The part about not believing the world is spinning because it looks like it's standing still is like not believing there's anything standing still because my mind is always spinning. The whole, "falling through space... clinging to the skin of this tiny little world," is like how I'm trying to cling to some sense of normalcy, "and if we let go..." I don't want to know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on.
"Hold On"~ Wilson Phillips
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
How To Stop Stigmas
(Clever intro line goes here.)
I've had to deal with quite a few people lately who know the inner most workings of my mind. I've had to send in my psych records to be reviewed by nameless, faceless people who will decide if I meet their standards of "disabled." Every time I get the ever-cryptic letters from the government, I have to call the office and talk to some (inevitably) pre-judgmental drone who assumes I'm going to yell or pitch a fit. These lovely people always have their guard up in preparation for said assumed fit-pitching and often strike preemptively.
Side note: not every person who works there is cranky, assuming, or, well, your basic government worker.
ANYWAY... I was thinking about why people have this reaction to anyone labeled as "mentally ill," and I just came back to what I had said before: those with mental illness are creating the stigmas they're fighting. People treat us this way because of how our predecessors acted (not to mention the lack of trying on the currents' part). I've said it before, I'll say it again, and again until stigmas are gone:
Having a mental illness does not excuse you from having manners!
I'm probably going to be alone in this, but I'm still going to challenge everyone to change the stigmas, not by marching, protesting, or shouting, but by simply using manners. I don't care how you feel on the inside, be polite. You don't need to smile/laugh/joke, but I'm going to tell you right now, with the rampant mental illness in the world, the checker at the shop you just yelled at is, most likely, also a sufferer. Just think of what Thumper says in Bambi: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Now for an appropriate song. Well, appropriate for the time of year, anyway.
"Winter's On The Wing (From The Secret Garden)"~ Original Broadway Cast
I've had to deal with quite a few people lately who know the inner most workings of my mind. I've had to send in my psych records to be reviewed by nameless, faceless people who will decide if I meet their standards of "disabled." Every time I get the ever-cryptic letters from the government, I have to call the office and talk to some (inevitably) pre-judgmental drone who assumes I'm going to yell or pitch a fit. These lovely people always have their guard up in preparation for said assumed fit-pitching and often strike preemptively.
Side note: not every person who works there is cranky, assuming, or, well, your basic government worker.
ANYWAY... I was thinking about why people have this reaction to anyone labeled as "mentally ill," and I just came back to what I had said before: those with mental illness are creating the stigmas they're fighting. People treat us this way because of how our predecessors acted (not to mention the lack of trying on the currents' part). I've said it before, I'll say it again, and again until stigmas are gone:
Having a mental illness does not excuse you from having manners!
I'm probably going to be alone in this, but I'm still going to challenge everyone to change the stigmas, not by marching, protesting, or shouting, but by simply using manners. I don't care how you feel on the inside, be polite. You don't need to smile/laugh/joke, but I'm going to tell you right now, with the rampant mental illness in the world, the checker at the shop you just yelled at is, most likely, also a sufferer. Just think of what Thumper says in Bambi: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Now for an appropriate song. Well, appropriate for the time of year, anyway.
"Winter's On The Wing (From The Secret Garden)"~ Original Broadway Cast
Monday, March 9, 2015
Awkwardly Annoyed
Awkward...
I have a truly rare gift, indeed. I can bring any conversation to a screeching halt simply by opening my mouth. Doesn't matter what the subject, anything I say is just so off-the-wall to anyone who is not me that everyone just looks at me like I'm speaking an obscure, forgotten language.
I've always been a little awkward around people. I was a freakishly shy kid. I'm still quiet until I get to know someone. It just seems like it's gotten worse since I graduated high school. Four sentences in a row starting with the letter "I"
I'm always trying to not offend people, so I try to word things differently. Fun example: I have a profile on a dating site (don't judge), and on it, I say how into music I am. Well, a guy messaged me with a link to a YouTube video of a song. It was possibly the most boring thing ever recorded. I mean, I gave it a fair chance, but after about a minute and a half I was contemplating stabbing my eardrums with an ice pick. What can you say? All I could say was "not generally my style, but not bad." (Yes, I lied. Judge me.)
Then there's the thing where, when I ask a question, I want the shortest answer possible so I can stop talking to you and stop feeling awkward. Nobody seems to understand this. I can ask someone directions to a room in the building, and instead of simply saying, "downstairs and third door on the right," I get an explanation so exact that I could paint a detailed picture. I don't need to know what room is just before it, what's on the wall next to it, or what decorations are on the door. The worst is when the answer is just yes or no. I really don't need to know your reasoning behind your answer, especially when you take ten minutes to explain it.
The really funny thing about this is that I can't stand awkward silences, either. In the elevator, I can look at my phone, but with the checker at the market, phones aren't really an option, so once again, I say something and get the, "okay, you're weird" looks.
My personal favorite is when I start rattling on about serial killers. That's the one subject that I can just keep going with, even when I want to shut up. Side note: I have a theory that Jack the Ripper was actually a woman. Based on victimology and MO, it just makes sense to me.
It's a random song day, and this has been on repeat almost all day.
"Legendary"~ The Summer Set
I have a truly rare gift, indeed. I can bring any conversation to a screeching halt simply by opening my mouth. Doesn't matter what the subject, anything I say is just so off-the-wall to anyone who is not me that everyone just looks at me like I'm speaking an obscure, forgotten language.
I've always been a little awkward around people. I was a freakishly shy kid. I'm still quiet until I get to know someone. It just seems like it's gotten worse since I graduated high school. Four sentences in a row starting with the letter "I"
I'm always trying to not offend people, so I try to word things differently. Fun example: I have a profile on a dating site (don't judge), and on it, I say how into music I am. Well, a guy messaged me with a link to a YouTube video of a song. It was possibly the most boring thing ever recorded. I mean, I gave it a fair chance, but after about a minute and a half I was contemplating stabbing my eardrums with an ice pick. What can you say? All I could say was "not generally my style, but not bad." (Yes, I lied. Judge me.)
Then there's the thing where, when I ask a question, I want the shortest answer possible so I can stop talking to you and stop feeling awkward. Nobody seems to understand this. I can ask someone directions to a room in the building, and instead of simply saying, "downstairs and third door on the right," I get an explanation so exact that I could paint a detailed picture. I don't need to know what room is just before it, what's on the wall next to it, or what decorations are on the door. The worst is when the answer is just yes or no. I really don't need to know your reasoning behind your answer, especially when you take ten minutes to explain it.
The really funny thing about this is that I can't stand awkward silences, either. In the elevator, I can look at my phone, but with the checker at the market, phones aren't really an option, so once again, I say something and get the, "okay, you're weird" looks.
My personal favorite is when I start rattling on about serial killers. That's the one subject that I can just keep going with, even when I want to shut up. Side note: I have a theory that Jack the Ripper was actually a woman. Based on victimology and MO, it just makes sense to me.
It's a random song day, and this has been on repeat almost all day.
"Legendary"~ The Summer Set
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Just Another Figure
Lovely.
My blog may suffer for the next few weeks or so. I had to carry an overly dramatic eight-year-old boy and that busted my arm. Naturally, the one I actually use. Let's see how long it takes to type this with the four fingers that actually work...
I realized yesterday that I have a serious issue with criticism. Any kind. It's like, any time someone tells me something I'm doing wrong, my anxiety hits the roof and I suddenly can't think of the meanings of words or remember how to walk.
Fun example: apparently, my phone was too loud for just one of the five people in the vicinity, so princess told (not asked) me to turn it down. I had adjusted the volume about an hour before but couldn't remember how to right then.
I've always felt that I don't do things right. Everything I do or say just seems to be wrong somehow. I mean, I know that nobody can do everything wrong, but it sure feels that way sometimes. I'm convinced that it goes back to school and that (insert demeaning expletive here). But then, it's easy to blame so much on something that caused so much damage.
I've watched an entire episode Gilmore Girls while typing. That's almost 45 minutes. I'm not left-handed and it's doing most of the work. It's tired, so I'm done today.
"Strong Enough To Break"~ Hanson
My blog may suffer for the next few weeks or so. I had to carry an overly dramatic eight-year-old boy and that busted my arm. Naturally, the one I actually use. Let's see how long it takes to type this with the four fingers that actually work...
I realized yesterday that I have a serious issue with criticism. Any kind. It's like, any time someone tells me something I'm doing wrong, my anxiety hits the roof and I suddenly can't think of the meanings of words or remember how to walk.
Fun example: apparently, my phone was too loud for just one of the five people in the vicinity, so princess told (not asked) me to turn it down. I had adjusted the volume about an hour before but couldn't remember how to right then.
I've always felt that I don't do things right. Everything I do or say just seems to be wrong somehow. I mean, I know that nobody can do everything wrong, but it sure feels that way sometimes. I'm convinced that it goes back to school and that (insert demeaning expletive here). But then, it's easy to blame so much on something that caused so much damage.
I've watched an entire episode Gilmore Girls while typing. That's almost 45 minutes. I'm not left-handed and it's doing most of the work. It's tired, so I'm done today.
"Strong Enough To Break"~ Hanson
Monday, March 2, 2015
Just Puttin' Off The Pain
My happy place is playing "Hide and Seek."
I'm still at the bottom of the well and the walls are too slippery to climb. Last week, I missed three and a half of my usual four days at work. I managed to go today, but the physical pain caused by smiling was too much to handle, but I don't have the energy required to get angry. I had kids pulling me in every imaginable direction by my arms, waist, scarf, coat, anything they could find, and all I could do was passively say "no."
After hiding out in the closet of the empty classroom fighting back the tears, I left a bit early. I came home, made Mac & Cheese, piled up every pillow I own onto my bed, and turned on Gilmore Girls.
Stress is not my friend (nice segue, huh?). It seems to be worse lately even though I haven't really had any. Even the tiniest thing gets to me and I'm not particularly good at processing it. I can bite harder and faster than a pack of hyenas on a... well, I'll spare you the visual. I don't actually like doing it, it's actually more of a defense mechanism, but it's been happening a lot more often.
I don't know what to do. I've never been this low before and I keep getting lower and lower. Have you ever heard someone say that it's too cold to snow? Well, I'm too sad to cry.
"Let It Hurt"~ Rascal Flatts
I'm still at the bottom of the well and the walls are too slippery to climb. Last week, I missed three and a half of my usual four days at work. I managed to go today, but the physical pain caused by smiling was too much to handle, but I don't have the energy required to get angry. I had kids pulling me in every imaginable direction by my arms, waist, scarf, coat, anything they could find, and all I could do was passively say "no."
After hiding out in the closet of the empty classroom fighting back the tears, I left a bit early. I came home, made Mac & Cheese, piled up every pillow I own onto my bed, and turned on Gilmore Girls.
Stress is not my friend (nice segue, huh?). It seems to be worse lately even though I haven't really had any. Even the tiniest thing gets to me and I'm not particularly good at processing it. I can bite harder and faster than a pack of hyenas on a... well, I'll spare you the visual. I don't actually like doing it, it's actually more of a defense mechanism, but it's been happening a lot more often.
I don't know what to do. I've never been this low before and I keep getting lower and lower. Have you ever heard someone say that it's too cold to snow? Well, I'm too sad to cry.
"Let It Hurt"~ Rascal Flatts
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