Untitled Stuff

So I have an old coworker friend who has always shown me kindness and makes me laugh.  He's a great person, and I guess somewhat of an enigma in the eyes of some other work colleagues.  They have a secret Facebook page about him where they post about the funny and remarkable things he says and does.  I submitted one such story about a wonderful memory of him as he lifted me up out of a very difficult period in my life.  And I meant it when I said what a great friend he was/is to me.

Today what's on my mind is HOW MEAN IT IS TO HAVE A SECRET PAGE about a person where people discuss and potentially make fun of a person.  I think if I found out that there was a secret website about me where everyone analyzed every minute detail of everything I said and did, I would suffer a terrible depression and humiliation that I walked this earth feeling so, so alone but that there were a number of people watching me for entertainment like The Truman Show.

The internet is friggin insane.  I don't think people realize they're being mean in their quest for 24/7 entertainment sometimes.  I hate how society singles out certain people saying they "kinda" like a person rather than telling them directly how appreciated they are.

Punk and Weird

This is one of the glorious excerpts from my fourth grade creative writing journal.  We were given a topic each day to write about and boy oh boy!  There are some HILARIOUS gems in this thing.  My mom recently found a box of my old stuff at the old house and it is very insightful into the person I grew to became.  Haha.

tcbpb (takin' care of bipolar business)

So I've been catching up on season 3 of Homeland and I have to say, Claire Danes does a super realistic portrayal of bipolar mania.  I'm really rooting for the fictional character Carrie to comply and stay on her meds, but then the realistic me knows exactly what she means when she says she 'misses things.' 

Oh, the meds.  So I am trying a new med combo starting tonight, and I'm scared because med changes are AWFUL.  There are withdrawal symptoms, sleepless nights and extreme agitation.  I usually increase therapy appointments and hide out from the world as best I can.  Maybe I just have psychological turmoil from the anticipation of a new side effect or two or three as I have done this routine several times now.  Or more.  I now have resorted to saying a little prayer to the universe when I swallow a new med that *THIS* will be the magic cure with minimal side effects.

I'm trying to use essential oils in conjunction with these changes and continuously with the meds, but I don't know if they really help.  But at this point, I'll try anything.

I just wish the day would come when I wouldn't even have to fuss over this stuff and my life can resume to normal.  Or at least as normal as possible.

Trazadone, Risperdal, Zoloft, Klonopin, Abilify, Lamictal, Geodon, Seroquel, Propanoprol, Ativan, Latuda, Saphris, about three others I can't even remember the names of now, and now back to Trazadone.  Over the course of about 17 years I have been or am on these psych drugs.  Is that my contribution to society?  That I've lived to tell the tale of living on psychiatric medications?  ugh!  I hope there's more to life than all this.

New Year, New ?????

I'm not going to give into peer pressure and society to make for a new me this year.  I am just going to continue doing the best I can and not beat myself up anymore.  Maybe the old me can resurface a bit, but only the good parts...

So I went to a Bob Mould concert on New Years Eve.  I love his music and that's the 2nd time I've seen him live.  I missed him this summer when he was playing for free downtown due to agoraphobia I was dealing with last June...so it was extra special to see him this time around.  I have his autobiography to read but haven't delved into it too much.  He writes openly about 'mental health' struggles and I am always game to read about other people's successes in dealing with that stuff.  I'll get around to it soon.  I actually started it and he started talking about abuse early on and I wasn't feeling strong enough to read about it.  But I'll get to it.  Anyway, he put on a great show and it was a fun night out.  The owner of the Metro was hanging out and I smiled at him as we passed each other in the hallway.  He was like, Who are you smiling at me?  Do I know you?  Haha.  But THAT is the person I USED to be...the person who would smile at strangers and might even make a new friend that way.  My younger self.  I want to be more like my younger self.  The good aspects of my younger self, though...not the depressive suicidal version.

I love watching artists do their thing.  I always do my own thing, but I don't have the balls to show it to anyone.  Maybe someday I will, but for now I just do it as my therapy...and that's OK.  Or maybe it's not.  I don't know.  I watched the movie Big Eyes yesterday and what a great subtle art revenge story.  A young naive artist agrees to lie to the public because her husband wants to take credit for all the paintings she creates.  Based on a true story, so it's even better.  I recommend seeing it.  My husband recently invited some gas service salesmen inside our apartment and one of them asked about one of my paintings propped up on the easel.  He asked how much and my husband said, $800.  The guy said he didn't have that kind of money right now but left his contact information if we could work out an arrangement.  It's an old painting I did back in the nineties but I don't think I want to part with it.  Is that weird of me?  Probably.

We lost a great person right before Christmas this year....my father-in-law.  He was kind and wise and full of good humor, even as he dealt with difficulties in his health.  It is a major life adjustment without him, but we are better people to have known someone like him in this life.

I wish you weirdos reading this a Happy Happy New Year.  I am calling you weirdos because you read this thing and never leave any comments for me.  What am I, chopped liver?