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.

mania?

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

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.

Why I got a job?

I am working 7pm to close tonight. Can I just say that A- I still don't feel all that great, but I'm not sick. and B - I just don't have the energy to walk there today. I have to get there, so I will, but I am probably going to have to leave an hour early.

Once I get there, I'm usually fine. It's the getting myself there that's the hard part. Today is one of those days I just want to sit in a dark room, curl up and hide.

Which, of course, means that the social interaction is something I NEED to do today.

THAT's the work part.

You know, I have so many friends and family going through stuff so much worse than this. We remember so many folks in our prayers that need blessings and help, and I just feel stupid for my down days. And while I know what I struggle with is real, it seems so mild next to everything else.

Ok, yeah, if there's a repeat of April, then yeah, it's very real and very scary, but... well... hopefully there won't ever be a repeat of that.

I have a lot to be grateful for. I have healthy children capable of being self-reliant. They may not always get along, but as they've grown they look out for each other and remind each other of the rules.

I have a husband willing to work to provide for his family. Who takes his turns doing dishes and cleaning the bathrooms.

I have a home that is current on the rent. I have food. I have medical coverage for my children and husband. I have books to read, I have the internet, a computer, electricity and gas. We have the basics we need, and we have quite a few of the niceties. We aren't rich, but we are not living in squalor.

So blessings. Lots of them. Many, many things to be grateful for. Yet I feel like getting up and facing the day is nearly impossible.

I'll be walking in the sunshine, that will help. I'll be walking. That in and of itself will be good. An object in motion tends to stay in motion. And object at rest tends to stay at rest. Unless acted upon by an outside force, right? Well, I guess today that outside force is gonna have to be me telling myself to get up off my butt.

The Semi-Colon fad? It's not just a fad for me.

I have talked about tattoos before, and I know some think it's a great idea, some don't -- or don't even understand why I'd consider it. Some just don't care what I do, because my body, right?

I'd like to explain how I'm feeling. I love butterflies because they represent freedom, which is a very big deal when I feel caged inside my own head. After my long walk in April, a tattoo became something that I felt I needed to do, because even though I can no longer control my mind all the time, I can control my dreams.

 I don't know how many of you have heard or seen the semi-colon movement, a blog post that went viral about a semi-colon tattoo to represent surviving a suicide attempt. I want to let you know that I am not jumping on a band wagon just because other people are doing it. I have never been one to follow a crowd. In fact, I usually will do the opposite just to prove that I can think on my own. 

However, I personally identify with the semi-colon because of my choice in April. And I want to share some of the ideas I'm toying with for when a tattoo won't be a financial luxury I can't afford, but something that I am doing for myself. When it won't be a choice between catching up on some bills or putting ink on my skin. I mean, really, that's just a duh choice, right?

Something simple yet beautiful, something that expresses me. Something small and in a place easily covered for work, yet something I can see when I need to. Because there are times I *need* to see it.

It's ok if you don't understand. It's ok if you disagree. I just wanted to explain where I am emotionally and mentally on this, and why, even though I do not like pain at all, I am willing to do it.

The original quote from the original blog post. When I can find the link I will share it.  

I've always love ink splotches. I love this semi-colon. Not sure how I'd work in a butterfly, but it would be kind of awesome, don't you think? Well, I think so.

Love this butterfly and the simplicity and grace

Ok, how can I NOT love this butterfly??  It's amazing

Oh, I love the splotches and inky here. 

This needs to be a tattoo for me as well. NEEDS to be. Sometimes I need to be reminded that I write my story. Ok, I don't want the words. Just the book turning to wings.

Childhood issues

You know, with this assault of childhood memories, I now completely understand why I dislike my birthday and holidays. I had no answer for people who asked, and now that I know, I can smile and say it's just not my thing. I may even get to a point where I don't wince when people say "Happy Birthday." Not today, but someday.

To be honest, I think I'm doing exceptionally great for the insanely fun things I started at Christmas in order to make it fun for my family who I love so much. YAY for that!! It's a very cool moment for me when I can say, "Hey! Look what I did! I turned a negative into a positive! I'm kinda proud of myself!"

-- Besides, the kids LOVE it, and playing silly games is completely worth the effort that all of us big kids do to pull it off. It's FUN! - And Rob, who thinks it's crazy to do such elaborate things, gets into it and plays right along even though I think he'd rather do the sit around the tree and open everything all at once that most people do.

I'm just gonna give myself a pat on the back right now for the Christmas thing. I couldn't do it alone, but it was my idea to start with and that's a big deal. It won't matter later, but right now it does.

I doubt I will ever be a party planner, and that's ok. That's why the Lord blessed me with great friends and family. That stuff makes them happy, and I am super happy watching them play as they organize and set things up.

The Job Experiment

Did my first 5 hours of work today. And I learned a few things:

A - keep a xanex in my pocket instead of hiding in my purse so I don't have to wait for break to take it.

B - My interpretation of front to back is NOT the same as normal people.

C - My anxiety was not triggered at all by the people in the store, but by doing an entire go-back rack backwards. And then a screaming baby. I sang to myself as I tried to convince my brain that the Ross way is the Ross way, not my way.

D - I really enjoy interacting with the customers. I like smiling at people and eliciting a smile in response. The high traffic due to back-to-school wasn't nearly as overwhelming as I thought it might be.

E - I tire really easily. After 5 hours on my feet, I am covered in sweat and am exhausted.

So work? So far I feel like I can do it. Can I do it without my anti-anxiety pill? No. Definitely need that. Glad I have it when I need it.

 My way of sorting things is weird. I know that now. Who knew? Not me.

I grew up playing Pinochle. So I sort: Ace, King, Queen, Jack, Nine. Descending order, just like that. And because the lowest number is at the right, the right is then the front, and I move from right to left as I put things in order.

The poor lady training me was convinced she wasn't explaining things right. She did fabulous. I have to retrain my brain that the left side of the rack is the front, even though it's at the back of the fitting area. And when they refer to things being "behind" the sign on the rack, they mean to the right of it, not the left. Soooo strange to me, but ok. I have to put my back against the wall and look down the rack so my brain processes Front here. Back there. Behind the sign from this angle is truly behind it.

This is probably good thinking exercise for me. Currently frustrating and hard, but good for me, nonetheless. At least all of my coworkers are awesome and friendly and happy to answer all of my questions.

I think it's because it was my first day on the floor that I am wired, nervous and feel like crying. But I managed to keep all of that under control at work. I was able to let that out after I was in my van and driving home.

My kids are awesome. The rain was awesome. Being able to stand out in the rain and enjoy the puddles in my bare feet was a FABULOUS way of helping disperse the nervous energy.

When I got home, the kids could see I was trying not to have a complete breakdown. Mina, bless her sweet heart, made me fried eggs on toast. And oh my goodness, the few housework chores I'd asked them to do, DONE, by the time I got home. How awesome is that??? I couldn't even find the right words to tell the kids how proud I was of them, and how absolutely pleasing it was to find the three things on the check-off list done. I wish I had something super cool to reward them with, but hugs and kisses will have to suffice today. Awesome children.

Oh, the joys of processing old memories

There are some things that just shouldn't be shared publicly.

Stuff I'm dealing with now is stuff *I'm* holding onto and am learning how to let go of. Sometimes things that happen during childhood come back full force, and there's nothing I can do but feel it, acknowledge it, and attempt to process it as I am able. Paralyzing as it may feel.

Publicly shaming someone else does nothing but cause more harm. And if nothing else, I can at least show that much respect. Besides, trust me, if it were something jail-worthy, ooooooh that would have been taken care of, because I won't protect that.

I'm angry, yes, but I don't need to be spiteful. The anger is just a stage and I'll get through it. It's yucky and I don't want to hang onto it, but it's currently in the front of my brain, so ... it is what it is. If you find me curled up feeling all sobby and broken, it's part of this phase. But please don't think I'm a victim or consider myself one. I'm not.

I not only survived, but I came out of my trials of youth stubborn, quick to learn, and determined not to give up. And extremely grateful for the people who were there.

 Stuff that is this old is possible to let go of. I can; I will; but I am not the quickest of learners when it comes to emotional crap. However, like the job and trying to learn how to deal with my anxiety by facing it, I'm pretty sure I can do this, too.

Cuz seriously... who wants to define themselves by old yuck? Not me. I'm ME now. And while I'm far from perfect, definitely had my years where I was not the greatest of parents, and struggle with mental illness that is hard to handle some days, I'm still here. I have raised some bright, beautiful children, I have had very successful careers, and very successful school experiences.

So I can do this. -- Some days the depression tries to convince me that I can't. Somedays old emotions pop up and say, "but you're not loveable because of blah blah blah." Yeah, it's a struggle. But today, today I can see a lot of the good, how I overcame and became stronger because of the blah blah blah.

I still have a long way to go. But that's ok. I'm not close to the cliff edge currently. This may be paralyzing and hard to deal with some days, but hard is hard is hard. Life never promised to be easy.

I have a lot to be grateful for. And I believe that as I write through these memories and process them, that I will be able to find something that I learned from each of the experiences.

 TMI? Perhaps. But it's life according to Chris, and this much I felt like I needed to share.

Sigh. Everyone has issues. I just realized I don't like mine.

The last few days/week I've felt paralyzed by overwhelming memories from my childhood. Along with the accompanying anger, resentment, and hurt that I honestly thought I'd let go and forgiven.

Today I found an article that talks about learning how to let that go with "start by doing this" instructions. Now that I have a starting point, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. I am so tired of this baggage. My chemical imbalances don't need that extra fuel to add to the depression's fire.

aaaaand, this is probably another one of those TMI posts, but dangit... I feel like my brain has just shut down regardless of how hard I'm trying to move forward and be creative and be me. So this is where I am today. Sobby, reliving past gunk that I'm sure my friends and immediate family are sick of hearing about, and attempting to control my temper, my frustration with not knowing how to let go of this, and that desperate fear that maybe I'm the same way.

Uck. I shouldn't be talking about this one on FB. I don't want to point fingers and do the shaming, blaming thing. I'm the one holding on, it's on me to let go. I'm a big girl with my big girl panties dammit, I can do this.

Love Languages

I have a friend who is a therapist. He was talking to me vaguely about a married couple who did not speak the same love language and how he was assigning them homework to practice learning the other's language.

Hmm

So I came home and mentioned it to my daughter. Oh yeah, she knew all about love languages. She'd had to take the test in her CE Life Roles class in high school. She knew her language and what she needed from others to have a working relationship.

Cool beans.

So the hubster and I took the test. My primary love language is touch. His primary love language is Acts of Service. Which is cool, since we both also speak those languages.

After we learned our primary languages, I was able to figure out why he freaked out so much when the kids had to be asked more than once to do chores. He was interpreting that as an "I don't love you enough to do it."  And he realized that a quick hug a day was not nearly good enough for me. A 30 second hug, and maybe an arm around or a hand hold once in a while was much better for my state of mind.

There are two of the languages I don't speak at all: the gifts one. receiving? giving? Gifts is not a big deal to me; I don't much care about them one way or another. The second language that I don't speak is Time Spent. That one makes me shudder and cringe.

My brother and I were on the phone the other day and he mentioned that his language was also touch, but his wife's was Time Spent. I immediately thought, AAAAHH!!  I would not, not, not be able to handle it if my husband had that one.

I love hanging out with friends once in a while, and I don't mind doing the family game night thing. But that's doing the time spent without thinking about it, and without it being hard.

But sitting and talking to my partner because they NEED me to spend time with them? Just for the sake of being there?? Um. I would kill my husband if he were that needy.

Now, that being said, I have a daughter whose love language is time spent. I don't feel like she's needy at all. If she needs time with me, she comes and sits near me and starts a conversation. It doesn't feel like she's leeching my energy, we just discuss stuff.

The note here is that *she* makes the effort to spend that time. Probably because she knows it would never occur to me to do that in the first place.

The whole "Hey, do you want to talk for a bit?" is the dumbest question I can think of being asked.

Talk about what? Because sometimes no, I don't feel like talking. That question makes me nervous and suspicious.

On the other hand "Hey, mom, let me tell you about my day." Or "Hey mom, I have a question." Or me saying, "You look upset, sweety, what happened?"  Those I can do willingly and without issue.

Usually I'm doing something else at the time my daughter comes to find me, so my attention is divided between what she's saying and what I'm doing. This works for both of us unless I hear something that needs my full and complete attention. Then she wins, hands down. Because daughter.

It feels like girl-talk. I can do girl talk with my daughters because I'm their mom, you know?

However, as a married couple, the hubster and I discuss kids, bills, dreams, goals, (the latter two in short spurts) and once in a while have an "i'm feeling this way, how are you feeling about this?" but not often. Because if I talk about something for too long and too deep, he retreats into his "nothing box."

Which is understandable, because once I start talking it's pretty darn hard to make me stop.

Which is why I have girl friends. I can do Time Spent with them just fine because it's not like I think about it when we're hanging out. But to talk to my husband for that length of time about all the different subjects we girls bounce around? Um... no. In fact, I'm pretty sure he'd stop listening after about five minutes.

I just... wow. I cannot fathom the amount of work and patience it would take to have a marital relationship with someone who needed Time Spent. Pretty sure we'd be divorced by now.

I guess that makes me selfish. And I guess that's why I didn't marry into that. I am too lazy make a conscious effort to learn that particular language to make my marriage work, and I'm so glad I don't have to.

We did have fun on our road trip to Phoenix. But I mostly read out loud to him, so...

Anyway, massive respect to those who not only speak the language, but those who willingly learn it to make things work.

In my opinion, that's got to be the hardest love language.