Secret Vacation

So. I got some vacation time this week.

I was talking to Bosslady about how I was going to lose my vacation this year. You see, at my place of work if you don’t USE the vacation, you LOSE it, because the company doesn’t pay it out. So, I was telling Bosslady how I lost my vacation and she was like NO YOU DID NOT!!! TAKE THE VACATION! NOW!

So, I was on vacation this week. I didn’t tell anyone, because… they might wanna do stuff… and I had things I wanted to get done.

I cleaned mom’s house Monday. I didn’t CLEAN IT clean it, but I vacuumed like four times for dog hair, cleaned the bathrooms, and mowed the lawn.
Tuesday I had problems doing things… Kinda wore myself out Monday, I guess. Still, I managed to mow my front and backyard.
Wednesday I went to Lowes for some garden stuff, including some Lois flowers. They’re called Lantana, and my grandma, Lois, grew them in giant bushes in Florida.

Wednesday evening I called to be sure Mothership had left work and she was NOT good. She was dizzy and nauseous, so I went and got her from work. When we got home she threw up… and I panicked. It was too much like that day I had to take her to Urgent Care… I don’t know if I can survive her in the hospital again. Fortunately, I set her up in bed and she woke up much better. That meant that I had to take her back to work Thursday, though.

So this morning I took her to work. It was a pleasant enough ride. Afterward, since I had a blood pressure check on that side of town at 1030 anyways, I went to Village Inn for breakfast. It wasn’t my best idea to eat before a blood pressure check. The omelet upset my stomach, which I think raised my blood pressure some; also: salt content. So I went in for the check and it was 138/90. That’s good, but it’s not quite where they wanted it to be. As a result, my doctor increased my Procardia. Doubled it, actually.

Here is the baffling thing about this experience.

My shrink reduced my Effexor because she thought it was raising my blood pressure. Last week, after I saw Joe and had better blood pressure, I got her to agree to increase it again and let me keep the Wellbutrin. That was major. Because it’s not as low as they wanted it, my Effexor might be in danger again.

I can’t go back to how I was before the Effexor. I woke every morning wishing I hadn’t. It’s no way to live. While I’m not 100% great right now, I’m better. That little bit of better is so important to me. I’ll do anything to keep the Effexor. That’s an important determination to make, because the Procardia is causing some tiredness and joint pain… and this flushing thing where I’m just super hecking hot a lot of the time. Procardia is not pleasant when you tend to get every single side effect known to occur… but I can’t go back. I need the Effexor because I like wanting to live.

Admittedly, the tiredness and joint pain is hindering my former burst of energy that I got with the Effexor, but I’m still better on the Effexor than off of it.

We’ll just have to see how this plays out. Tomorrow I wanna do more yard work, and I’m getting the dogs groomed. It would be great to have a nice backyard to read in…

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Steps Backwards

So.
I have high blood pressure.

My mom has high blood pressure and I’m incredibly fat and inactive… so, it’s not like this is unexpected or anything. What was unexpected is how stressful high blood pressure can be.

Let’s bullet this real quick.

  • So, I saw a shrink. She put me on Effexor. She requested some blood work.
  • My primary saw the blood work and wanted to talk about it, as well as just see me for the first time, since I finally picked a Kaiser doc.
    • My blood pressure at that appointment was high. She asked me to come back in like a month to recheck that it’s okay, because I thought it might be White-coat Hypertension. I don’t like doctors.
  • Before that recheck I saw my shrink again, just to see how I’m doing. I was doing great. Felt lots better. Started exercising. Woke up feeling pretty good on the daily. Wanted to increase just a little for weird depressive episodes.
    • Shrink had a nurse take my blood pressure since she saw it was high at my last doc visit, and Effexor CAN increase blood pressure.
    • My blood pressure was hella high. Like, to the point the nurse asked if I was having chest pain.
    • She got a higher ranking nurse to take it to confirm.
    • Blood pressure spooked my shrink, so she cut back the Effexor and gave me Wellbutrin.
  • Went to my blood pressure check.
    • Blood pressure was crazy high.
    • Nurse got panicky look and went to get higher ranking nurse to confirm again.
  • Doc scheduled me for an EKG and started me on Procardia.
  • Go to EKG. Take mom for moral support.
  • LPN is nutzo.
    • Can’t find the EKG order.
    • Tells me I don’t need to be there cuz it’s prolly White-coat Hypertension.
    • Brings me a 10XL gown to put on.
      • I’m fat, but I’m not THAT fat.
      • #bedsheet
    • EKG is fine. No damage to heart.
  • Take Procardia, Wellbutrin, and reduced dose of Effexor.
    • Feel bad.
    • Hard time waking up.
    • Very tired.
  • Get tired at work, so bosslady sends me to Rite Aid to check my BP.
    • BP is 183/123 according to machine.
    • Panic.
  • Mom takes me to Kaiser to have a nurse check my BP in case Imma have heart attack.
    • Nurse is cute guy named Joe.
    • BP is fine. 130-something / 80-something.
    • Advised that home devices and public machines are inaccurate.
      • For best results, sit for at least 5 minutes before taking BP.
  • Email Shrink about tiredness after mental breakdown over frittata.
    • It’s Effexor withdrawal.
    • Prescribes smaller pills.
      • Week 1: 1.5 pills
      • Week 2: 1 pill
      • Week 3: 0.5 pill
      • Week 4: Stop Effexor
    • Should help withdrawal.
    • Wait.
      • We’re stopping Effexor?
        • Not what I thought was happening.
      • Are we going to increase the Wellbutrin?
      • What if the Wellbutrin doesn’t work?
      • Panic.
      • Sadness.

And that brings us to today.

I picked up the pills… so I was up to 75mg… She knocked me down to half a pill (37.5mg) and added half a pill of Wellbutrin. So then she called in 37.5mg pills of Effexor, and I’m to take 1.5 of them this week to combat tiredness and withdrawal. Then decrease till I’m off Effexor.

That’s fine, I guess… but I feel like we’re moving backwards. I was doing great on Effexor. I’m on blood pressure meds now. The only up I’m seeing with Wellbutrin so far is that I don’t have the urge to smoke, even though I’ve been stressed out and sad. Great! But I’m supposed to be on vacation next week and I was really hoping to feel motivated to live so I can get some shit I wanna do, done. Right now I just want to sleep and cry. I’ve wanted to sleep and cry for years and I was finally kind of out of it, and now… we’re back here…

So I emailed my shrink… and asked when we’ll be increasing the Wellbutrin… because maybe it’ll work. It’s fine, if it works, but I am not currently fine. I had a freak out yesterday over cutting tomatoes… It was daunting, TO THE POINT OF TEARS, to cut tomatoes to put in a cake pan with eggs. That’s not better. That’s some shit I’d do before I started Effexor.

I feel very discouraged… I dunno what to do other than try to trust my shrink, but I’m not… great… at trusting mental health professionals…

In better news, I’ve lost some weight. Not a noticeable amount of weight, but 5lbs in 8 days. So, that’s good. I’m trying to keep up on exercising. Mom and I have been walking the dogs around the block a few times every night… we can’t go far cuz she’s still on oxygen at home, and all of us are out of shape, dogs included, but we’re doing SOMETHING. We didn’t go last night cuz of the freak out and general fatigue, but I did force myself to get on my stationary bike. I made it 12 minutes before my legs felt like they were going to explode… It’s not impressive, but it’s not bad for my first time in months.

I just… want to get better… Why is getting better so hard?

If I feel better, I can take better care of myself.
Not sad = can exercise & less binge eating.
Can exercise = will exercise. Less binging = less caloric intake.
Exercise + less calories = weight loss.
Weight loss = better heart health & better mood.
Repeat as needed.

But… that’s just not where I’m at right now.

It’s Gonna Be MAY

April 30th is “Obligatory Listen to NSYNC” day on the internet… because ramen.


It’s been almost a month since I started taking Effexor and Gabapentin. I can’t say that it’s solved all of my emotional problems, but there’s been marked improvement.

  • I don’t go home and cry everyday anymore.
  • I can’t sleep for 24 hours straight anymore.
  • My moods still swing, but the swings are shorter.
  • My panic attacks are fewer and shorter lived.
  • I can watch TV again.
  • I have the energy to go on walks with mom.
  • I had the desire to go get a pedicure this weekend.
  • I cleaned my room… which took 9 hours.

I think it might need to go up a little more, but the changes are noticeable and I have to admit that I feel better, emotionally, than I have in a long time. I’m still getting bouts of depression, and I’m still binge eating sometimes, and I’m still having some panic attacks… but overall I can’t say it’s not better.

The medication itself isn’t too bad, either. Non-sedative, and actually I think it gives me a little boost when I take it. I had some problems with nausea, but solved that by eating breakfast before I take the pill. The most annoying side effects are the dry mouth and compulsive yawning… lol. So, it’s not terrible.

My new diagnosis, btw, is Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar II, with an Eating Disorder and Anxiety Disorder. It’s definitely different from Bipolar 1 with Antisocial Personality Traits… but I asked for a rediagnosis, and I got one. At this point, I don’t care what they call it… so long as they treat it… and that seems to be what we’re doing.

Yesterday I cleaned my room, which is a thing I haven’t had the energy or motivation to do in like a year. Found a lot of shoes… I own a LOT of shoes…

So… Things are turning up. Mom is still on O2 at night, but we’re working on getting her levels up when she moves around. We walk at work and I walk her when we get home from work… It’s slow, but it’s getting better. Hopefully she’ll be off soon.

I have to see the doc for hypertension next week. She’s had me checking my blood pressure, and while I managed my fat diseases really well until now… apparently this is the year they all catch up to me. 140s over 100ish all the time… BUT she assures me that I might not need to be on hypertension meds forever… if I get my energy back and exercise everyday, maybe lose SOME weight, I might be able to get off them in the future. I’m choosing not to be upset over blood pressure, because… well… it was bound to happen. But there’s hope. Hope of energy and a better lifestyle. A hope I did not have for a very long time.

I’m not cured, but for the first time in a very long time I feel like things might be okay. I don’t feel like I’m despairing. I don’t feel like I’m alone. I don’t feel like everything is falling apart… I feel… okay.

Purple Spots

Kaiser is so fucking weird. Last time I wanted to see a shrink it took THREE MONTHS before I could get in… and I was really worried I wasn’t gonna make it that long. Today I called to get in and they’re like, “we could get you in with the shrink you saw last time early next week, but if you wanna see a new shrink we can get you in first week of April.” Really? Just two weeks? And it’s only that long because I didn’t want to see the same shrink I saw last time (as she is dead to me after her blatant disregard of my disdain for sedative medication).

Anyways… I get to see a new shrink! So… that’s fine. I mean, life’s been bad, and getting worse, but I’m having a weirdly good day for someone who didn’t sleep last night. I tried really hard, but yesterday was super hella blue.

Let’s backup.

Monday.
I made it into work, but on the way home I was just… defeated as fuck. We’re still down a biller, I’m training three new people, and the title gal went on vacation this week because she’s moving. I cried all the way home, and my mom encouraged me to go to my book club even though I was super blue. So, I bought some cigarettes, chain-smoked the whole way there, and actually had a really good time. I really enjoyed the book this month: Annihilation. It was really Lovecraftian, and I flew through it. I started book two when I got home from book club, and it’s really different, but I think I’ll finish the series anyways.

Tuesday.
For the first time in my life I found getting out of bed almost impossible. I’ve had low days, but Tuesday is one of the lowest days I’ve had since all this mood swinging like a wrecking ball started in eighth grade. I managed to get out of bed, and even shower, but then I couldn’t imagine leaving the house. It was 100% outside of the realm of things I was physically capable of doing. So, I called bosslady and told her I had a cough and issues breathing, and asked if I could work from home. I wasn’t opposed to working, but I just… couldn’t leave the house. I actually got a lot done from home, and it was fortunate I’d brought stuff home anyways. #YayRemoteAccess

Wednesday.
Hump Day was hard. I woke up, and I was determined to get into work, but I ended up about an hour late. I informed bosslady, obviously, and she knows I’m having problems, so she said that was fine, and that I could leave early. I did not leave early. I had some kind of mixed episode where I was pretty much hysterical but channeled it into trying to do EVERYTHING at once… and it literally startled bosslady. She tried to get me to go home at four, and I ended up staying a full eight hours “because there’s too much to get done.” But like… I was breaking…

So I went home. Mom had me try on some clothes she got me for Easter, to be sure they were the right size. I went home and refused to eat dinner… meditated on the idea that maybe I just wouldn’t eat again… and how last time I lost a lot of weight in a short period of time no one was concerned, because when you’re a fat girl that stops eating, or exercises herself to death, or binges and purges, people think the weight loss is great and no one asks how you lose 30 lbs in a few weeks. With my head spinning and my stomach feeling familiarly vacuous, I couldn’t focus on TV, so I played a few rounds of Star Realms before heading to bed with a book. Figured I’d wind down for an hour and be asleep by ten.

I was not asleep by ten. I was very awake. I put on white noise and laid in the dark for an hour. When the white noise shut off, I was still awake. So I turned on all the lights, got up, did a few things, turned on a fan and the humidifier, and then laid back down with some soft lo-fi hip hop to relax to. An hour later I was still awake and I had this pop song called RIIICH stuck in my head. It was annoying.

I tried thinking STOP STOP STOP or SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP, I counted sheep, I tried sleeping on the floor, I tried sleeping sitting up, I tried meditation, I took a 30 mg temazepam, I opened the window, I turned everything off… I got up and went downstairs, and in the dark biked on the hardest setting until my legs ached in an attempt to wear myself out. I was still awake… and all I wanted to do was sleep… and it broke me.

I’m not new to self harm or various creative ways to do it, but this was the first time I got so angry that I pretty much beat myself into submission. I slapped myself in the face, hit myself upside the head, punched and smacked my thighs till they burned, screamed, cried, and when it was all said and done I took to this weird game I’d played as a kid. I don’t remember why, but when we were kids there was some game where the punishment was someone hitting you with two or three fingers on your wrist or forearm. Every time my brain tried to think, after I laid back down, I’d hit myself on the arm. By the time I had calmed down, my arm ached like I’d slammed it in a door. This morning I woke up and thought it would be all kinds of colors, cuz it still hurt. Fortunately for me, it was just splotched purple. Still hurts like a bitch, though. There’s a definite swollen spot, but it’s not noticeable to anyone except me.

I never did sleep, I don’t think. I just managed a general nothingness till the alarm went off this morning. The dogs were concerned, but they are regrettably used to this kind of behavioral outburst. I hate that they’re used to it…

Thursday.
For someone that went totally batshit crazy and didn’t sleep, I’ve had a weirdly good day. I put on a nice purple sweater and cute boots. I’ve been very pleasant at work. I had a breakfast burrito and then meatloaf for lunch, in case you’re worried I didn’t eat today. I’m planning on Schlotsky’s for dinner, and I’d really like to maybe finish one of my books I’m reading tonight, but also get in some Star Realms time. I bought a ticket to a concert for tomorrow night, too.

Am I manic? I dunno. I’m terribly unfocused, but I’m not hyper, optimistic, or particularly chatty. I’ve just been enjoying my new playlist (and I took RIIICH off all but one playlist) and having a moderately pleasant day. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fine a little bit of happiness in every time my arm taps something and I get a small shock of new pain amidst the constant ache. I’m sure that’s some secret to my good mood… some messed up bipolar thing.

I’m not even tired… I’m just disinterested in work today. It’s super weird, and all of this isn’t LOST on me. I can only hope that I sleep tonight and the mood continues.

Anyways….

I’m gonna go see this pdoc and see what she says in a couple weeks. I don’t wanna take anymore antipsychotics, though… and I have always said I didn’t want to take Lithium… so I don’t know what they might give me. I’m willing to negotiate, but I really want a shrink to listen to me. There are side effects I can’t tolerate (like falling asleep at work), and I need to be respected when it comes to that.

So. We’ll see.

Things That Happen When I’m Stressed

  • Nosebleeds
  • Hallucinations
  • Delusions
  • Paranoia
  • Anxiety
  • Insomnia

I think, just this week, I’ve probably bled at least a cup from my face, and, because my brain hates me, I’ve been hallucinating seeing people in my house, which feeds my delusions that someone is living in my basement, and probably wants to kill me for some reason, and then I can’t sleep, which makes everything worse.

So… that’s fun. It’s not completely soul crushing or anything.

I’ll tell you this much, getting up and going to work is all I am capable of right now, because if I throw any effort into literally anything else, like hygiene or hobbies, I will not have enough self control to work anymore.

At least I can still read at night.

Guys, We Didn’t Talk About Resolutions

January has been crap, but my number one resolution for this year is TRYING to stay positive. I have a fun little positivity book I’m supposed to update daily and everything. I’m not updating daily… but I’m trying.

Other resolutions:

  • No internet dating
    • Read: {embrace that I’m not emotionally available to anyone}
  • Exercise more
    • Read: {be able to walk around without having an asthma attack}
  • Eat better
    • Read: {stop binge eating Chipotle when I’m sad}
  • Spend Less
    • Read: {stop buying art supplies, books, and Coca Cola on the daily}
  • Hydrate
    • Read: {drink something besides Coke and Sweet Tea}

So, I decided to cut internet dating because it doesn’t work and it makes me feel bad about myself. Also, though, I don’t make it easy for people to get to know me or even talk to me. I’m abrasive, closed off, and historically I prefer to make boys cry than let them violate me. So, I think in my year of preparation for being 30 (because 30 is death when you’re a woman, you know /s) I should just deal with that. I know who I am, and I know that I’m fine being alone, but I’ve grown so accustomed to the pursuit of a significant other that life without internet dating, even as terrible as it is, feels new and different. And I could definitely use some new and different in my life.

My ultimate goal with exercising and eating better is weight loss, and ideally I know I want to get back to high school weight (which is still fat, btw… like 60 lbs overweight still) but I don’t want to pin myself down to that number. I want to be able to walk without getting winded and I want to feel better physically more than I want to wear a certain size or see a certain number on the scale. I’m excited for my stationary bike to get here, because I’m motivated to do a thing. (It’s so rare that I’m motivated to do ANYTHING.) It’s supposed to come at the beginning of February. My mom also got me an Instant Pot for working so hard, so I’m excited to see what I can make with it and hopefully manage my caloric intake/expenditure better. I have this tendency to make everything about my weight, and while I am ENORMOUS (I’m not gonna sugar coat it, cuz then I might eat it) {as a fat person I get to make fat jokes guilt free} these resolutions aren’t inherently about my weight: they are about my health and my sense of well-being.

I finally got to really test out my Instant Pot that mothership got me, and I’m living for it. Today I made supa bomb green chili steak with rice and black beans, an amazing chicken soup, and a veggie side dish thing that’s essentially broccoli and cauliflower rice with peas and corn cooked in sofrito. It’s intended to be a side to whatever I make for dinner the next couple of days, which will probably be some chicken or fake turkey roast (Quorn brand non-meats are just tasty, y’all.)

Spending less is a resolution I often have, because I live in a comfortable debt. I have a mortgage, car payment, student loans, credit card debt, etc. I live pretty comfortably, and I don’t think too much about money most of the time, but I do buy things needlessly and I’d prefer to get out of debt instead of just repeatedly feeding it. Most notably, I have a tendency to put out a ton of money for art supplies and books. Of the things I could waste my money on, these aren’t the worst things, but I have stockpiled a supply of both. So, my goals are not to buy anymore, the exceptions being that if I use all of an art supply I can buy ONE more and if I take five books to sell or donate, I can buy one book (in theory using the money from selling the book). I also tend to overspend on groceries, so I’m hoping eating in a more health-conscious way will also help me spend less. Portion control can bleed into money, right?

Saying I want to hydrate for a resolution sounds like a very millennial thing to say, but the truth is that I have a tendency to avoid drinking actual water, and for a long time last year I was drink gallons of water a day, and it does wonders for everything from my skin to my appetite. Recently I got back into the habit of drinking Coca Cola and Monster, as well as a copious amount of iced teas. The teas don’t bother me that much, because it’s only 1 cup of sugar to a whole pitcher of tea, which I think is about a gallon and a half. The coke is out of hand, which is a startling sentence. I really gotta stop drinking so much processed crap, though. While I drink zero-calorie energy drinks, I can tell when I’m dehydrated because I get all swollen and wanna take a nap. I don’t know what I’m going to do to replace my caffeine intake… caffeine is definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to kick, but I know I can do this since I’ve done it before.

Also, I’ve quit smoking. I don’t really know how long it’s been since I smoked… which is not something most smokers will tell you, but I never really smoked on the daily. I always smoked when I went out, and I haven’t been going out, so that made it an unconscious decision to quit. I’ve decided to stick with it, though. I often find myself wanting one, but I just push it down. It’s been really hard recently, because I’ve found it’s really hard to live without a vice.

I don’t have that many vices, and it’s unfortunate that the one I have makes me feel terrible. With the obscene amounts of stress I’ve been under since the new year started, I could really use a vice, but…I don’t drink alone as a rule (cuz I have been known to develop a real bad drinking habit), I quit smoking, I can’t bring myself to become a stoner (I live in Denver, it’s legal, but I still might wanna find a new job at some point and have no idea how to detox, and in my industry we still follow federal regulations), and actual drug use (like abusing my stockpile of Xanax) has never really appealed to me. So, I’m often left with eating as a vice. Even if I make the healthiest food, I have a severe problem with portion control and as a result I’m fat and suffering physical ailments related to my size. Honestly, I have toyed with the idea of living on zero-calorie Monster and cigarettes and just giving up food… but I already had my battle with not eating, as well as the vicious binge-and-purge cycle, and I’m not sure I could win again.

My hands have suffered in place of my lack of vice, too, because I had stopped biting my nails for most of 2017, and I’ve just massacred them since the new year started. THEY ACTUALLY HURT. It’s not even just biting on them, either. I have a tendency to take clippers to try and “fix” the damage and cut them so much shorter than I even ripped them down to. I clip till they bleed, and to be honest that part is so satisfying. It’s like tiny self-harm that’s 100% socially acceptable. It really is just a self-harm substitute, cuz I end up biting and clipping when I’d prefer to squeeze tacks or jab myself with safety pins, etc. Fortunately, I don’t have to fight the cutting feelings a lot anymore, to the point I don’t even know how I used to do it, but the baseline compulsion is still there.

I guess one of my resolutions is to also try to leave my mental illness alone, as well. I’m aware I just talked about my eating disorder problems, and my self-harm problems, and that they were 100% unnecessary statements. I do that a lot. At some point I took my mental illness (bipolar I with anxiety, paranoia, delusions, and sociopathy if the doctors are to be believed) and made myself a chrysalis out of it to distance me from my life. I stopped going out, which is a thing I really enjoyed doing and often even did alone, but that’s not my fault because I have anxiety and staying home was just self-care. It’s a lie, but it sounds nice, right? I have awful paranoia surrounding other people and their perceptions of me, so I just started rejecting ANY thoughts people MIGHT have about me, to the point that I just stopped exhibiting any empathy toward other human beings at all and shut myself off from all people emotionally. Not to mention that my rejection of their perception of me is so strong I stopped wearing makeup or trying to take pride in my appearance. I’ve just been phoning it in for years under the pretense that the feminist movement allows me to not wear makeup, even though I like makeup and really kind of miss having the motivation to put it on. I could go on, but my point is that I’m using my mental illness like some kind of bubble to keep myself from being responsible for my life.

I’m not the kind of person to do that. I’m not the kind of person that gives myself permission to check out because of my crazy. I’ve never taken an actual mental health day. I’ve rarely lost control of my emotions outside my home, because normal people don’t mood swing, so I’m just not allowed to do it. You go home, have a break down, get up, and go to work the next morning, because that’s what normal people are supposed to do. The few times my emotions have gotten the better of me, I just bottle it back up as fast as I can, claim I threw up a lot and that’s why my face looks this way, all tear-streaked and spotty, and continue with my day under the guise of illness. I do not give myself permission to hide behind my mental illness like it’s a reason to be different, and I know that people with mental illness will tell you how unhealthy my approach is, but it’s how I get by in life.

Anyways, I want to stop using my crazy as an excuse for the things I’m doing to myself. I’m secluding myself from people I was good friends with. I’m using my mental illness as an excuse to look proper shite. My house has never been “clean” but it’s gotten worse and my excuse is just that I’ve been depressed…. I’m depressed every damn day for some amount of time, so that’s not a great excuse for me. I have to learn to deal with that shit. I’m… I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to ever open up emotionally ever again. I reserve that for having mental breakdowns on the phone with my mom. Still, I could get over the rest. I have before. Will I be happier? Fuck no. I’ll be miserable. But… I’m fucking miserable everyday anyways. So what’s the difference between miserable and gross or miserable and eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone? At least one of those projects a sense of wellness, even if it’s an illusion built on Smashbox.

So. That’s where I’m at, guys. It’s not a great place, but it’s not the worst I’ve been.

At least we finally hired a biller…
Well… technically she’s the second biller we hired, but the first one didn’t pass the drug test and wasn’t comfortable stopping her THC meds long enough to get a clean test. For what reason, I don’t know, but I sympathize. People are using THC and other weed products for a lot of things these days. It’s unfortunate, cuz I liked that biller, but she has to do what’s best for her. This other biller seems good if she stays. Typical car industry gal, but I think she’s teachable.

Aight, I gotta go to bed. It snowed a fuck ton and I will prolly have to drive in it tomorrow since Mothership has the norovirus I had over New Year.

Peace.

EDIT: I almost forgot! How could I forget?! Rick Died.

My mom’s best friend has been living with, but not married to, her significant other for 20+ years, and one day last week she went home and found him dead in the front yard. We went over immediately, obviously.

He was still lying in the yard when we got there, surrounded by a fire truck and cop cars. You’d be amazed how long it takes to get a body removed. He was out there in the cold for hours… almost three hours from when we got there. Probably three and a half hours total from being found and called in. They have to call people and take pictures and you have to see the grief counselors and stuff… it’s a lot.

We went to the viewing Friday after work. He had to be autopsied. Because she wasn’t married to him, our friend doesn’t know how he really died, though. It’s weird you can live with someone for 20+ years and not be entitled to be their next of kin at all. It didn’t seem to be the fall, so he probably had a heart attack or another stroke. He gets cremated tomorrow, and I hope that gives her some real closure, especially since his friends and family seem to be such fucks. Weddings, funerals, and holidays always bring out the absolute worst in human beings.

I haven’t seen a dead body since my grandfather died. I was really emotional about it at 14, but this time it was nothing. It’s not like I didn’t know the guy, or that I was in shock. I just… didn’t really care about the body. It was there. It was Rick. He was dead. People were crying. I just felt nothing about it, other than it was really unfair to not let the spouse sit with him. I get the investigation portion of body removal, but it was three hours of being told you can’t touch the body in your yard that used to be someone you love, and that feels so wrong. At the viewing I staid away from him, cuz, tbh, the mortuary made him look like a bad Tussaud figure. I just knew that if I got too close I’d wanna poke him or something else completely inappropriate for when you’re viewing a dead body.

So… not sure what to do about my total lack of feelings about a dead body. Makes me a little more serial killer than I’m entirely comfortable with, but maybe it just means I’d make a good mortician. I’ve considered it.

The Year I Give Up

So far, 2018 sucks a sewage pipe.

First, work sucks for new and different reason than usual.
One of my office girls walked off the job, which was bad enough because the other was set to go on maternity leave at the end of January, but then the pregnant gal had her baby a month early. She’s fine, and it’s a lovely baby (named Ainsley), but that means I have NO billers and we’re in year-end. So, my boss and I had to do bill out, and salesman’s pay, and everything else, plus our own jobs… and we’re still not done. So… that’s been bullshit.

Second, until today, I was suffering from severe food poisoning. (It’s actually norovirus, I will later find out after googling it when Mothership contracts it later this month.) I dunno where it came from, but it was incredibly painful, and gave me vertigo, and it got so bad when we were working on Sunday in a mad-dash to try and get the fucking year billed out, that I nearly passed out. I had to very quickly get on the floor of the fucking bathroom at work. Fortunately, it hadn’t seen much use since we’re closed Sundays, but I did realize that the last place I want my mother/boss to find my dead body is on the bathroom floor at work.

ALSO, I emailed my new doctor at Kaiser, who I’ve never actually gone to see, and asked her about medication for severe stomach cramps that I’ve been getting since I was a kid, because I have IBS. She said no to my dicyclomine script, even though there’s absolutely nothing recreational I can do with it, and stated that since Kaiser didn’t make the diagnosis I could come in for testing. I’m not fucking going in for testing when I already have an EXCLUSIONARY diagnosis from two other doctors I saw for YEARS. So, instead of giving me my dicyclomine, she recommended the FODMAP diet for IBS, since I’m being a stubborn bitch about it.

Here’s what you need to know about the FODMAP diet… I’m not fucking doing it.

Why?

No onion. No garlic. No tea. No ripe bananas. No black beans. No black eyed peas. No beans at all, really. No cauliflower. No celery longer than 5cm, which is not enough celery to diet on. Nothing fermented. No mixed vegetables. No mushrooms. No peas. Nothing pickled. No apples. No apricots. No black berries. No cherries. No mangos. No nectarines. No peaches. No pears. No dried fruits. No pomegranate. No watermelon. No wheat. No gluten. No almond meal, either. Or amaranth flour. Or barley flour. Or bran cereals. Nothing normal people would consider bread. No cashews. No rye. No baked goods. No cous cous. No gnocchi. No granola. No agave. No gravy. No honey. No jam. Nothing with high fructose corn syrup. No corn products at all. No pesto. No relish. no stock cubes. No sugar free sweets. No artificial sweeteners. No tahini. No tzatziki. No more than one beer a day. No coconut water. No fruit juice. No kombucha, not that I’d drink that stuff anyways. No rum. No soda. No soy. No more than one glass of wine a day. No whey protein. No dairy. No carob powder, either… whatever that is.

The first three offend me most. I can’t imagine a life sans onion, garlic, and tea.

On top of that, all the fruit and veg I eat is supposed to be organic, which I can’t afford. Also like half the fruit and veg listed are things I’ve never heard of, such as callaloo, marrow, swede, and whatever the fuck a bilberry is.

The meat preferred is fish and seafood… and I live in Colorado, so I can’t afford that, either. For some reason I can have deli meats, which seems suspect AF, and MOTHERFUCKING KANGAROO IS LISTED AS MEAT I’M ALLOWED TO EAT. Really? Kangaroo? I’m not an Aussie expert, but I’m unsure that people in the AU are eating enough Kangaroo that it needs to be listed next to turkey on this list.

I can have espresso, too. Now, I hate to break it to a doctor who spent a lot of time and money learning to be a doctor, but if I ingest espresso, my ass is going to explode within 6 minutes afterward… and it’s gonna hurt… for like… two hours. Also, I have no idea what Kvass is, but unless it tastes like my darling Earl Grey Tea, it’s not an acceptable substitute to one of my precious drinking staples.

This diet won’t work for me for the same reason I can’t be a vegan: you have to make too much of the food yourself, or you’re going to be eating a lot of watercress.

It’s not like I thought 2018 was going to be MY year… I thought maybe 2017 might be, but it wasn’t. I just didn’t think that on day three I’d having imaginary conversations with shrinks about how if I killed myself it would be good for my mom AND me, because she only sticks around for me, and we are both miserable.

It doesn’t help that other people seem to be having a better time… Lindz is engaged and her fiancé bought her a a new car. Lovely 05 Subaru with purple rims. Mel is preggers. Bird is dating Dom for the umpteenth time in her life, but is planning on law school in the summer. D1 is dating a nice rabbi and has a badass job that earns him insane amounts of money. Billie just celebrated her 1st marriage anniversary.

The short list of good things happening for me is that this evening I upgraded my internet speed while also reducing how much I pay for internet… and my mom ordered me an exercise bike (because I’m fatter than I’ve ever been in my motherfucking life).

So I fucking give up.

Fine, doc, I’ll give up foods… but not onion, garlic, or tea. I give up on internet dating, and won’t do it this year. I give up on having a social life, because I don’t have time anyway, and mostly don’t even want to leave the house. I give up on my dream to make money via my art, cuz no one wants it. I give up most of my hobbies, because they’re just offshoots of the stupid art idea. I give up trying to make this house nice. I give up on trying to keep in touch with people. I give up Coca Cola… that’s a big one.

I just give up on trying to be happy anymore.

I try and I try, and maybe it’s because I’m an unmedicated bipolar, maybe it’s because I’m a god damn fat ass, maybe it’s because I’m too close to my mom, or because I’m a pet hoarder, or because I’m just an unmotivated waste of potential… but every time I try to be positive and do things I just get shot down. I not to let things bother me, but the things pile up until I’m drowning in them. I try to do things that make me happy and just end up realizing that nothing makes me happy anymore.

I’ve tried to drag myself out of my depression by the metaphorical hair, kicking and screaming… and all that’s happened is that I’m back in the fucking blue, drowning on my own sadness. So fine, self. You win. Life is terrible, and not worth living…

And that’s why we’re starting this year back at “I will live until my mother and my pets die… and then I’m probably just going to kill myself.”

Don’t worry… even my oldest pet is in good health, and mom will keep kicking as long as she can for fear of leaving me alone with no husband or reliable friend to take care of me… and I really shouldn’t feel so much despair about that.