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.

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.

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.

Anyway.

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.

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.