61 Days

My birthday is coming… Still got two months till it rears its ugly head, but it’s already darkening my door.

Why would a 29th birthday bother someone?

I’ve hated my birthday for years. It’s the culmination of a myriad of things, like the fact my birthday falls on Halloween. That SOUNDS like a cool birthday, but in reality it becomes inconvenient. I never get to take my birthday off because taking month-end off in my profession is impossible. People also make plans for Halloween. It’s a big party holiday. When presented with my birthday or some party with strangers downtown… downtown wins. It’s just a thing. So, with no one to invite to a party, and no way to take off for it to even really party, my birthday is just kind of a burden for me.

The last GOOD birthday party I had was when I was 15. Mom paid for me and some friends to hang out at Dave & Buster’s, and then all us lil goth kids when to see The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003). We ruined the experience for the mid-thirties couple behind us, but we didn’t care. We laughed, tried to scare each other, cringed… did kid shit. I think my mom was just excited for me to have some friends. They were fleeting, even at the best of time. I can’t recall doing anything for the rest of my birthdays after that… until I was 21.

A 21st birthday in America is a big deal. You can finally drink! Woo! Rager! Or something. The thing about my 21st first birthday is that I didn’t WANT to do anything for it. I was scarce on friends, as I had been for a while. My live-in boyfriend of the time decided it was a great excuse for a party. So… he invited all of HIS friends. To his credit, he tried to invite mine. Some showed up for a minute, but most didn’t even filter through. His friends were nice, though. This guy we called Fargo cut my birthday cake with a Samurai sword, and everyone got wasted. I tried to have fun, but I actually went to bed before everyone even left. It was a great attempt at a party, but at the end of the day it just had nothing to do with me.

The next year (I think) I didn’t even try to have a party. Instead, my friend Billie and I went to Zombie Crawl and then to a Polkadot Cadaver concert. It was great! I had a lot of fun. She’s in Oregon now, though. So… not really something repeatable.

I’ve had other people try to wrangle something together, but over the years my birthday started marking more than my inability to maintain healthy friendships. People’s careers took off. People got married. People had kids. People moved away. People changed. I’ve been at the same place for 12 years, even though my position has changed. I’ve got an alright career, but nothing to metaphorically write home about. I stopped dating. I lost friends. Every year my birthday just seemed to come around and remind me that another year had passed where I had earned no real adult points, and nothing had changed.

Obviously I’ve changed. I’ve clawed my way up to office manager, so far from the little file clerk I was 12 years ago. I have a house, four dogs, a cat, and I’m doing well for myself. I’ve stopped being a little goth kid and even found a moderately classy sense of style. I earned a college degree. There’s a lot in my life that’s worth being proud of. Still, every year, all I can think about is what I haven’t done… the typical adult milestones I haven’t even tried to get to… and it depresses me, because at 28 and 10 months, I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

My mom tries to console me. She was 34 when she had me, so there’s plenty of time for family. She never knew what she wanted from life till she decided she wanted the best for ME. She was a party girl and a serial bride. I appreciate her sentiments, but I’m not a party girl… and I haven’t even had a boyfriend since 2012. That boyfriend, by the way, has been married for over a year now.

So, I’ve been trying to think of things to do to avoid my crisis. I’m still unmedicated, still very bipolar, but I’m back to rapid cycling (pretty sure, now). I’m TRYING to do something different, which is leave… but I still feel like there’s so many things I just DON’T do, and I will probably never do.

And really, that’s fine. There’s no REAL obligation to DO these things. I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t really WANT my own kids. I don’t really want a big, fancy career. I just want to be debt free, with my dogs, and have a job that pays the bills without making me cry. I could use a significant other, but a best friend that lived in the same state would do. But knowing these things, and being rational about it doesn’t fix the feeling that I’m missing out and being left behind.

So… if you’re reading this… if you have a suggestion for something I could do to NOT have a total crisis this year, that would be fucking stellar. All suggestions appreciated.

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Left Only to My Own Devices

Well, the Geodon my shrink prescribed knocked me out and caused violent tremors in my hands. The Abilify before that gave me wicked hot flashes, which don’t sound terrible until you have them. So, I decided, since neither the Abilify nor the Geodon worked for me, to give up the medication hunt.

I just don’t have time for the adjustment periods. I don’t think that shrinks really comprehend that SOME people that see them are NOT on disability and have to go to work. I complain about side effects and I just get told to wait them out for a month or two? My falling asleep at my desk, having violent tremors, and melting on a daily basis is unacceptable for a workplace. I can’t take something that will cause me to lose my job.

At least unmedicated I know I’ll get out of bed and go to work. It’s routine. I can stick to a routine. I know lots of people can’t when they’re in a very deep depression, but it’s a skill that I learned from my mom: how to do the minimum.

You get up, you look presentable, you go to work, and when you get home you can fall apart, so long as when the alarm goes off you get up again.

That’s what I watched through my childhood. It’s not so terrible an existence if you can pop in some diversity: a forced social interaction with friends here, a reluctant date there. The hard part is those little bits of diversity, because you don’t WANT to do them, but if you don’t it gets real monotonous and further depressing. Fortunately, I’m pretty good at annoying myself with the company of others, which I fully enjoy but not until I actually get there.

My shrink was disappointed. That’s okay, because I was disappointed in my shrink. I explicitly told her that I wanted to treat JUST my depression and that it had to work with my job and NOT be sedative. We discussed this upfront, and the things she gave me had terrible debilitating side effects and sedation! It’s not right for a shrink not to listen to my wants….

Geodon treats MANIA not DEPRESSION. A quick google search turned that up. I was going to overlook it, because maybe the cost of stifling my depression is a little bit less mania, but then I fell asleep at my desk at work and the tremors started. So I took the weekend to get back off the Geodon… and decided I’m better on my own.

I dunno that things will get any better, but at least I’m awake and in control of my body movements.

In other news, much to my dismay the guy from Friday night has texted me a few times since the event. I definitely thought that the disappointment would be on both ends, but apparently not. I’m trying to be distant without hurting his feelings. I just don’t know how to kindly tell someone you don’t wanna see them because the sex was bad… Seems like a thing you don’t say… You bottle it up and push it down with all your other feelings, adding to that tight little ball in your chest that will someday become cancer.

I could lie. I have considered lying… telling him some elaborate excuse to not see him involving my bipolar and shit… but I feel like he wouldn’t care if I were a crazy person… which makes it worse. I really wish this guy had some bad quality besides being lousy in the sack… It’s a shitty thing to shun someone for, but OUR GENITALS DON’T LINE UP… so it’s not really something we can work on or something I care to overlook. I refuse to fuck missionary position the rest of my life… or any part of it if I can help it.

I’m just conflicted about how to proceed. He’s a really nice guy and if we could fuck better I’d be down… but Darwinism has spoken, and we can’t… so what the fuck do I do? I could try to friend zone him, but honestly I find that worse than telling him he’s bad in the sack.

I dunno. I’ll meditate on it more. I just feel like he deserves something more than me being weird and eventually not speaking to him, but at the same time I have no idea what else to do…

Suggestions welcome.

I went with the crazy meds fucking me up. He was nice about it. I hate that he was nice about it.

Eye Enucleation

A while back my baby, Kyrie Bear, suffered eye trauma. I thought it was an eye infection, but it was trauma… she smacked it on something, I guess. Unbeknownst to me, trauma can cause glaucoma. How she smacked it hard enough to cause that, I dunno. She has such deep-set eyes.

kyrie

Kyrie (seen here wearing a shirt only because she wouldn’t stop licking her leg) is a 10 year old German Shepherd, Chow Chow, Shar Pei mix that I picked up from the Dumb Friends League roughly nine years ago. She is blissfully unaware that she is 10 or that she has glaucoma, and regularly tries to eat food delivery men. If you let her, she’ll leap (and clear) a 6 foot privacy fence, and then spend the next hour or two running your ass all over the neighborhood (or farther if you fail to corral her). She still runs the backyard with the three year old dogs, and she gets excited when I come home. She’s never been one to sleep on the bed, but recently she’s taken to laying on the far end of the couch from me, or even jumping on the bed to wake me up sometimes. She’s a great guard dog, and while she was a menace and terror till about age 5, she’s turned into a great dog.

I know she can’t see out of her glaucoma eye very well. I’ve been calling her Cotton-Eye Joe, since the eye is all cloudy and white. Still, the prospect of my baby girl losing her eye is sad to me. I know it’s more economical than my buying the $200 worth of eye drops every month. (I have to get them from a people pharmacy, and she’s not qualified for my insurance… so… big expense.) I know it’s better for Kyrie too, because it won’t cause her pain anymore. BUT MY BABY IS GONNA BE A CYCLOPS! It’s just… sad.

I took her in to get blood work done today, and she goes in first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll be there all day, and then I’m taking tomorrow through Sunday off to be with her. After that, my mom is taking the week off for herself, but she’ll be on hand to pop over and check on Kyrie. So… it worked out pretty well. My mom also watches all these vet shows on TV, so she’s seen them to the eye enucleation, an assures me that she’ll be totally fine. I’m sure she will be, since I’ve known the vet since I was like 12. I worked at his veterinary facility as a bather for the groomer, actually. I just wish my baby wasn’t losing the eye.

Not only is this emotionally taxing, but it’s expensive. Yeah, it’ll save me money in the future, but it’s eating essentially my whole tax return… so, that’s a bummer. I could have used that money to get a little further out of debt. I feel like I’ve been working on it forever. I dunno what the money goes to (Chipotle and impulse video game purchases. Art supplies I didn’t need and books I’ve yet to read. I have an impulse control problem.)

Still, I’m getting 5 days off of work, even if the circumstance is shitty. I plan on lots of Kyrie cuddles, and maybe killing some video games I’ve been toying on. I might also get through some books I’ve been trying to read. I like the idea of time off without trying to do house renovations.

Today, trying to get ahead so I can be off, has been shit. I have contemplated homicide SEVERAL times. I dunno why when I try to get shit done everything always falls apart. Obscene.

Anyways… Expect picture of my one-eyed pup tomorrow. MY POOR BABY!!!

I guarantee I suffer more over this than she does… I tormented myself over her glaucoma for months, and I wasn’t even responsible… Now I’ll be kinda responsible for the lost eye, and Imma torture myself over it, I’m sure…