Monday, November 9, 2015


I have started writing for NaNoWriMo. Whoo!!

Watch me dance and throw a party! Because I am writing! yaaaaay!

Now, that being said, I'm not writing every day. Working exhausts me. However, when I sit down to write, words come. Ideas start popping and the voices start talking.

I've not yet bothered to go back and read what I've written. I have no idea if half the words will make any sense. But I have notes. I know what kind of descriptions I want to give the cities, the streets.

My first drafts are always more of an outline where I write out who does what, where, and why. Then I go back and flesh out the details. and THEN I let someone read it.

This is super exciting for me!! I haven't felt this spark to write since before I went on medication.

Granted, my word count is at all of 2200+ish right now. It's day 9, and if you do the math, I'm quite behind. But that's not worrying me, actually.

In fact, I feel encouraged. I was walking to work today and had several lines worked out in feel and texture as well as the full mental imagery for the next couple of scenes. That means that when I *do* sit my butt in the chair and put my hands on the keyboard to pound out some fiction, it's gonna flow.

Am I going to hit 50,000 words this month? I don't know. I hope so! But I'm not as concerned about the number of words as I am about the fact that I'm writing.

Sitting here writing this little NaNo post is not time I'd otherwise spend writing my steampunk fantasy. No, it's time I'd be spending eating, or sitting in front of Netflix watching another episode or two of Supernatural, or doing my daily garrison chores in WoW. Stuff I do to unwind from the mentally goofy wired-but-tired-but-wired mode that I'm in right now. In fact, pet battles sound like the thing for the day.

I'll take my meds - because I forgot to take them before I went to work - And in an hour the Effexor will have me wide-eyed and bushy tailed. However, if I don't get any writing done today, I'm not going to cry or have a guilt trip because of it. I went to work and had a great day at work. That equals productive day to me!!

Oh! And I'm sketching an idea for the cover of the book. Which makes no sense, but NaNo has this spot to put a book cover for your novel. So I figured what the heck, I'd make a book cover for this story which has a title that... well... um, it will probably be changed after I figure out where this story is going and how it's getting there.

Anyway, I do the sketching on my breaks at work. So that's coming along nicely, too. :) Friends text me back and forth to help flesh out characters when I need to figure out some motivation. It's so much fun to brainstorm about stuff!

It's also a lot of fun to sleep. So there's that. But I AM writing. So yay!

Sunday, November 8, 2015

What. The. Flippin. Heck.

Hi there. I am a member of the LDS church, otherwise known as Mormons.  

My church is controversial. It always has been - because it was founded by a guy who said he saw God  -- and no other person, ever, has claimed such a thing, so controversy and oh my the horror.

It was controversial because of polygamy. Well, I guess it still is? Because history.

It was controversial because it didn't allow Blacks to have the priesthood. And then it was controversial because it did. People joined because of the first bit and people left because of the second bit. Bigotry happens, which sucks.  

I could go on and on and on. Nearly every aspect of my church is controversial in one form or another.

Currently it's controversial because of its stand on same-sex marriage and the baptism of the children of those unions. Obviously no other church has an issue with this, so why in the world won't the LDS church become more open minded?



Thursday, November 5, 2015

Feeling Vulnerable

Ok. I *think* I have our insurance premium fiasco figured out after talking from person to person to person. Now, I just have to get Rob's HR to cooperate. Then maybe we can pay rent ON TIME and catch up on all the other bills. Like all y'all wanted to know our financial woes. Everyone has them, we aren't any different from anyone else.
I don't even know why I'm sharing this. It's been so frustrating having half the amount we thought we'd have every two weeks. It's not like I expect insurance to be handed to us for free. I am all for working for and earning what we have. The cost is so overwhelming, though.
My faith encourages us to have 3 months of savings on hand for emergencies. And we DID. That's the most frustrating thing. We used it all over the summer for *that* emergency. And we had this complete miracle happen in August and September to help us stay on our feet. So it's not like I don't see the miracles happening in our lives every day. I am extremely grateful that we are taken care of even when we don't know how things are going to work out.
I know we'll make it through this, but wow this particular trial is hard. However, Rob has his meds and they are affordable. The kids have insurance in case they are sick. Our homeowners are FABULOUS about working with our situation, but after our fiasco five years ago, keeping a roof over our heads is my biggest priority and biggest fear. It's not like we're *behind* on rent, because we're not. I just hate paying it in installments during the month instead of one lump some as agreed.
Somehow I'll get *my* medical bills taken care of from that ER visit when we were sure I was having a stroke. My meds are affordable. I have an awesome psychiatrist who I love and who checks in with me to make sure I'm stable and doing ok. We have a fabulous pediatrician for the kids and a wonderful GP for the rest of us.
I have great friends. Some days it's really hard not to worry, though. It's hard to acknowledge that some bills are behind. I hate playing catch-up with electricity, phone, gas, cable. Yes, cable. Since Jada does online school for her core classes, internet IS a necessity, not just a luxury.
I don't know why I feel like I have to justify our choices. I feel extremely vulnerable today. Probably because of yesterday's missed meds. I'm also feeling extremely grateful for the people willing to help us. The folks who said they'd call Rob's HR on our behalf for the insurance stuff. The people who let me cry because I'm stressed over things I cannot control but affect my life.

The good people who love us no matter what.

Text Games

When one of my daughters went off to college, we started playing a text game. I texted her a line of lyrics to a song, and she'd text me back another line of lyrics using one of the words in my text.

It was a fun game. We had over 200 texts just in music lyrics. And if we got stuck, people around us were always happy to play, too.

Music is this thing we have in our house. A single word will often cause one or more of us to break into random song before continuing the interrupted conversation.

I loved this game. It kept us connected over the long distance.

This particular child of mine speaks the love language of "Time Spent." None of us knew this until her senior year in college, but she knew she needed time. So while I was existing through post-partum depression, she would come home from wherever she was and insist on my attention to braid her hair. and once she had my attention for that, she'd sit on the step and talk about her day.

Midnight conversations. We've had them for years, from Jr. High until now. To this day she'll call around 11:30pm or later, needing her late night conversation.  It's no longer every day. Sometimes it's not even every week. But it is a connection that *she* started years ago, when she refused to let me fade into the background of non-life when I didn't know how to cope.

Today she messaged me and let me know that her roommate is now playing the lyric game with a relative.

I grinned, but was also sad. I joked back that we were trend-setters.

However -- We haven't played the lyric game since April First.

In fact, after my suicide attempt, she wouldn't even speak to me for three weeks.

This is the child who called Rob that night and told him where to go looking for me after she'd calmed down enough to think. This is the child who patiently and not-so-patiently tried to pull me out of bed on bad days.

This is the child who said, "Mom! You were supposed to go get a tattoo! Not try to end everything! You were supposed to call me and we would go get your butterfly!"

So today, while grinning at the fact that we started a fad, I cried a little. She doesn't like to remember why we stopped in the first place. In fact, I think this is the first time she's willingly talked about the text game since April.

There are consequences you cannot control when you make a choice. I made a choice, and broke part of my connection to a child. It may never fully repair.

As this is one of the more visible/tangible connections I have with my children, I am also aware of the broken connections that are not so easy for me to feel/see. Connections I have to make an conscious effort to find and work on.

Mental Illness affects everyone, not just the one with who has it. I am fairly sure that my children and husband must have a much harder time going through life than I do, now that my brain chemistry has decided to play mad scientist.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Grouse Grouse Grump Grump Grump

Swept, mopped, scrubbed the counters, table, and dish drain and started laundry. Yay limited work clothes.
Having one of those inexplicable grumpy days, and I feel surrounded by junk. So I cleaned. Maybe now I will be able to think clearly. Need to do my 15 minute ink sketch/doodle/whatever. -- after 15 mins, I can't seem to figure out what I'm looking at anymore, but daily drawing is good for me.
I'm procrastinating opening my sketchbook. And my writing program. And taking a sleep aid so I can get up for work. People who invented morning work are evil evil evil. Just sayin'. I should probably eat something, too.
I think I deserve some chocolate, but protein and vegetables would be much better for my body. But that would require cooking and I just cleaned. >:( My kids are fed, though, so at least I've done right by them foodwise.
I wish I had a chef. Or someone who would remember to put things in the crockpot for me. Or remind me to put things in the crockpot when I wake up. Or have freezer meals prepped for me so I can just pop them in the oven. Because lazy. I should join one of those groups that do them once a month so I have them, because I guarantee I won't do it on my own.
I hate cooking. HATE it. I *can* cook, I can follow a recipe, and I can make my own chicken noodle soup, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it.
I wish I lived closer to my cousin who sells all kinds of fun food.
With Rob being gone from 12:30-10:30pm, he's not here to whip up food, either.
I need to just step up and do the stupid food thing. And what's really ridiculous is that I'd rather sit here and whine about it than do something. /slap
I apologize for the whine, whine, whine. Sort of. Kind of. You know what, if you don't want to read whine whine whine, just don't read this. Because that's how I'm feeling today. The feels are so freaking random, and I hate that I can't control them. Brain jail. Trapped in my stupid head. AAARGH.
Chris. Hymn 135. Go read it again. Although some days the peace doesn't come as soon as I wish it would. Some days this struggle just SUCKS.
At least I haven't yelled at the kids over it. So I have managed some self control.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Stability is a Precious Thing

It's nice to feel stable. Ok, in my case, the word "Nice" is such an understatement. It's peaceful, calming, and rational.

The anger is gone. My ability to reason, cope, and just enjoy - even though there is a storm of life going on around me - is back.

Some pretty major crap hit the fan on Monday, and it's made life here extra stressful. This is one of those things that we didn't see coming, and BAM!. Hubster and I spent Monday panicking, making phone calls, emailing, and crying in frustration.

Yesterday (Tuesday) I went to work, smiled at people, and was happily distracted by cleaning up my area of the store. Somehow the knowledge that the world wasn't really ending was helpful. Life goes on, even though it feels like my little world is undergoing an earthquake.

Today I can acknowledge that I cannot change what happened. I can only move forward and try prevent things from happening again, and do what I can to help fix the problem.

This is typically how I handle a problem. First: panic/react. Second: distract myself for a bit so I can calm down. Third: deal with it as best I can.

Now, my coping strategy is probably not the best. However, I'm extremely glad that this problem hit when my meds were stabilizing in my system again. Because I *can* feel the calm. I can feel the peace.

I can feel grateful that I have a home that provides shelter. I can be grateful that we have food, clothes, and plenty of wants in addition to our necessities.

Life is what it is. No one ever said it would be easy. Complain as I might, today I am grateful that I do not walk this path alone. I'm grateful for the ability to feel the support and the love.

Being stable meant that I could take my daughter to the local Barnes & Noble to meet her favorite author. We walked all the way there, we stood in line and looked at all the books on the shelves, wishing we had a million dollars and could buy all the books that looked interesting. And all the awesome picture books just because.

Being stable meant that I didn't need to take a xanex to be in line with all those people, with the little boy in front of me who kept making the same high pitched noise over and over and over and over again. When it finally started irritating me enough, the line started moving and he got distracted. end of noise. :)

And being stable meant that I was there to see my daughter meet her favorite author, tell him about how she loved his books so much that she went to his website, saw his tour schedule and put it on the calendar a month ahead of time. She told him about doing extra chores to earn money so she could buy her own copies of the books just to get his signature in them. He in turn asked her questions about her name, about what she liked about the books, and made her feel important.

Tyler Whitesides, folks. Author of The Janitors series. He's fabulous.

The entire walk home, my daughter skipped and exclaimed how happy she was. And me being stable meant I could enjoy it. I didn't resent having to leave the house. I didn't shake and freak out because of the people. I was able to look at the clouds see the images there and enjoy the time spent with my daughter.

It doesn't mean I'm not stressed or worried. But it does mean that I can be calm, not angry, and willing to listen.

I keep my negative posts because it shows the stark differences between my ups and downs. Between the anger that I can't keep under control and the opposing calm and happy that I feel otherwise.

Today I'm grateful for medication that works for me. I know very well that it doesn't work for everyone, but I'm so glad that my meds are working for me. I'm so glad I have the means to buy them. And I'm so grateful that - even though I have pain in my feet afterwards - I have legs that work so I can walk to/from work and other stores within a two-mile area from my house.

I'm just grateful. I'm grateful I can sleep because the worry is under control. I'm grateful for my friends and all my family who tolerate my mood swings. I'm grateful for my church's general conference and the reminders it gives that Christ knows and understands what I'm going through, so he can better help succor me in my time of need. And while sometimes I don't feel it, I think those times are when He's there the most.

I think I'm going to take this lovely calm feeling and go to bed. And sleep for longer than three hours.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Religion, Rebellion and Anger

I am a deeply religious person. I have quite a few friends who feel that it's an outdated superstition, an organized political 'lead the unthinking sheep to follow whatever I say' kind of thing, or just a horrible idea altogether. And that's okay. Whatever works for them and brings them peace is awesome. My faith and my religion work for me. Today, for some strange, stupid reason I feel like talking about it.

This is seriously one of my most tender, vulnerable spots, and I have no idea WHY I am talking about it here. A place the entire world can see it, mock it, ridicule it, or whatever. But here it is nonetheless. Call it a crazy chemical bi-polar compulsion? I don't know how else to understand why I am sitting here typing this up on Blogger.

I don't normally talk about this kind of thing, but today... Today I've been two days without my medication. I forgot to fill it Wednesday before my insurance stopped. And I forgot to fill it Friday, the day I ran out, then Saturday because I was distracted by walking home in the rain, and then Sunday - well, today I didn't forget, it was just Sunday and my pharmacy is closed. I refuse to go to Walgreens; they always screw up, they're rude, and I much prefer my pharmacy where they know me by name, are friendly, go to bat for my kids when there are insurance screw-ups, and they take the time to treat me like a human.

... I digress.

I'm super distractable today.


Because it's been two days without my anti-depressant, today was a bad day. A sobby, unstable, doggy-paddle like mad to keep my head above water day. A day that I couldn't wake up fully in between very vivid nightmares until I HAD to go to work. And even then I was/am dizzy and distracted and... well... attempting very hard via Xanex and mood stabilizer to appear normal to the world.

Again, ANYWAY...

On the way to work, I had a conversation with God. I don't know if I was feeling guilty? I don't know a lot of things today, but I know this:

I know He loves me. I know he understands and knows what I am going through. I know that He hasn't forgotten me. I know He has a hand in everything going on in my life, putting people in place to support me when I can't deal on my own, cheering me on when I succeed, and loving me anyway when I am rebellious.

And oh am I rebellious some days.

And I am angry.  So angry that on some days - like today -  I want to turn in my temple recommend and scream and rail and say I HATE YOU!!! I HATE THIS! MAKE IT STOP ALREADY!

I do not like being mentally ill. I do not like not being in control of my emotions. I do not like that I have to take a xanex to handle little kids screaming in the store.

I am angry that I have to remind myself to breathe over one simple little mistake - regardless of what it is. Forgetting to sign a permission slip. Forgetting to have my son read. Not seeing a customer at the fitting room in time for me to count their clothes on their way out.  (It's an anti-theft policy and I am far from perfect some days)

I'm especially angry right now that He didn't let me come home in April.

Friday, October 2, 2015

the Semi-Colon

I sent someone a sketch of my current semi-colon tat idea. She mentioned that someone she knew was going to get one 'because they're cool,' which offended her. It kind of offends me, too, to be honest.

Sure it's showing support for mental illness. However, "Because it's cool" doesn't sound like understanding the whole reason behind the semi-colon. It feels like the bandwagon is taking something deeply personal and making it a commonplace cliche.

But I'm old and practicallyyelling "GET OFF MY LAWN" to all the young folk.

Besides, just because it means something to me, doesn't mean that someone else can't love the look and want one. It **really** shouldn't bother me how other people treat symbols. It's a punctuation mark, for crying out loud.

Maybe it's because April is not so far in the past, and that experience is still somewhat fresh? Maybe because I want people to understand. I want them to realize the importance and the very real struggle that depression, et al, present to those of us who struggle with it.

A semi-colon to me, right now, says "You're not done yet. You're not done yet. Keep going, you're still writing your sentence." I look at it, and it changes the "I can't do this anymore. I'm done. I just can't." to "Keep going; one more step; one more day; one more line in your book of life."

It's one of my many life-lines on the inevitable down days.

Saturday, September 19, 2015


I'm a teensy tiny little bit worried that I might be going into a manic phase? I have all this crazy energy, and I've had it since noon. I'm not even tired. so... probably a sleeping pill is in order for tonight. (this morning? it's really 2 a.m.??? no way. It feels like 10pm.) But, um, if I start spouting all these ideas for projects I'm going to do and then forget them for another one, that would be a yes, yes in fact I am in a manic phase.
I'm telling you the warning signs now because I don't see them until after the fact. so, you know, I might need someone else to say, "Hey, call your doc."
While my mild manic's are great for interacting with people at work -- ooh, and housecleaning! -- it's probably not a great sign for how my meds are working. It's also a sign that a super bad low is on the way.
So I'm deciding that the happy energy is simply that. Happy energy! FEEL THE LOVE EVERYONE!! I am sending it out to everyone!! I hope my cousins in France and Germany can feel it! smile emoticon

Thursday, September 17, 2015

pros and cons for me of retail work

Cool things about working: Adult conversation, smiling at people, losing a pant size from being on my feet all day and walking back/forth from home. Having a reason to do hair and makeup AND jewelry! Oh, and the paycheck. Did I mention the discount? Because discount = awesome.

Not cool things about work: The kids cheering "Yay mom's home! I LOVE it when you're home!" and becoming velcro when they come home from school on one of my days off. Putting my schedule into my phone and still clocking in late at work (even though I'm IN the store) because the numbers get turned around in my head. Staring at clothes and not remembering what I'm supposed to do with them on my bad days. Jada saying "I'm so glad you're not closing this week. It's nice to have a break." My feet hurting.

 The kids only see Rob during the mornings, because he gets home long after bedtime. Because my schedule changes constantly, they see me at all kinds of different times. /

According to Jada, the pros of this: "Hey, we're learning independence and how to rely on ourselves."

Of course, the cons are: "I don't like having to be the mom." wil won't do his homework for her like he does for me. You know, mom things.

this working thing is hard for me. I mean, I know it's hard for everyone, but once upon a time I was a quick learner, could tell time, could do math, and remember basic things. This is much harder for me now. The forgetful bit is really kind of an issue some days, though.

Not sure if I'm whining, thinking this over, or putting all the thoughts out there so I can do some problem solving to make this better.