Intoxicated

lessons learned...

so... today i have learned the following:

-that Lamictal sucks.  it takes away my high, it makes my nose stuffy and makes me eat like a pregnant heiffer...  that which i am not.

-that GAK must be made with Elmers glue... seriously.  it wont work with the cheap stuff.

-that homemade playdoh is a ZILLION times easier to make than Gak, and the kiddo loves it more.

-that i like my highs.  i get some *winks* and go to sleep late, sleep through the night, and wake up early at 630 refreshed, and can make-coffee-unfriend-120-FB-peeps-clean-the-bedroom-unmake-the-bed-put-the-blankets-and-pillows-in-the-wash-and-dryer-feed-the-frog-surf-pinterest-for-twenty-yoga-plans-and-scrub-the-toilets all within about an hour...

but when i take that d@mn Lamictal i freakin CRASH.  it was at 10 i finally took it, b/c i knew, i just KNEW it would kill my high.  and it did.  at 1220 i was telling kiddo to go watch some tv on the ipad and Mommee is taking a nap.  i slept for a whopping 30 minutes (who can sleep with a kid in the house, alone anyway?).  this is an evil drug.  hate it hate it hate it.  three hours later, it finally wears off  - "drivers, start your engines!... and they're off!"

i come out of the fog and make s'mores for the kiddo, drag her to the grocery store, pick up the four things i need, head over to the drug store for a return, go home, mangle the Gak recipe, and make three batches of play doh stuff.  and i realize i am brilliant- as i think of a zillion new yoga classes i can totally teach, invent a new seat cover for the kiddo so she doesnt burn her arse off in this heat, and plan out next years garden in our new home (which, of course, we havent actually bought yet... but i digress... ).  life is good - well, except for the whole stuffy nose thing, STILL.

again -i hate the Lamictal.  its worse than the Seroquel, which is going away next week (commence countdown- night 8... tonite).  i cant tell if the other one, the Risperdal -i hate spelling that- if its working or if its the one that chops me down.  although, i can totally pinpoint the two hour half life of the Lamictal... so im blaming it.  the good doc says that the hives are a sun sensitivity from both meds, and that my aches and pains are from the highs -HA!  i laugh at the thought.  tooooooooo baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.  i like my highs.  i said that.  oh well - i DO.

what else?...  ...  ... 

OH -i dislike immensely the saying that "you should do what you dislike doing first..".  only a-holes do this, i have decided.  i cleaned the upstairs bathroom- like, scrub-the-doorknobs-and-lightswitches-with-a-toothbrush cleaned.  i LIKE doing them - they are small, i know where everything goes, and it is DONE and i move on.  even the master bedroom is okay.  it is the dining room/office and living room i DESPISE.  there is just NOT enough room, and too much CR@P.  they are still not done.  neither is the laundry to put away (not even WASH, just put away!) or the sewing (yes, i mend things... when i want to be cheap... ). 

i have a brilliant idea again... i salvaged a tv stand from a front yard curb, and i am going to repurpose it as a scrap corner!  whahoo!!!  cant wait.  it is a project for my niece and i for the summer.  cant wait to pick out colors- i am thinking tiffany blue and black.  love that.  and i love blue, and black.  this also will be in my new house, in my new office and craft room.  oh - i do so love a good fantasy. 

okay.  rant closed.

what is this mood? ... i think it’s longing. maybe.

feeling lost tonight.

My silhouette... By the Kiddo...

Toasting a still alive garden. Salud!

Dream

Dream Jan 7 night Passed out drunk, gagging, Meem drove me home<? Peg took my car. Where was I? I remember making a list of words or funny sayings through the night, then waking up sore and tired and it felt like days had gone by. I was in my old bedroom at Meems. I had a suitcase- which peg and tif had packed for me. I unpacked most all of it, especially my makeup- they put it in all wrong in my kit, and my clothes were in all wrong. I have no idea if I was packed to go somewhere or to stay there. I remember meeting some guy and thinking he was so nice and he kissed me, and it was okay but nothing special. We hung out for some of the party<? I remember later then another guy came in-- it was Ben Kiner <<I think?! From freaking kindergarten/high school ??wtf. There was an instant connection, not sure if it was just familiarity or infatuation, but we were stuck together for the rest of the night, up until what I remember. The dream skipped from there, seeing the list, remembering the one guy and the other guy and the house- like a beach house, and people there for some kind of party? To the waking up part. I got in a fight with peg and rig about planning togo to the beach this year, and to Georgia?... I yelled at them that I couldn't even buy my kid bread why the fuck would I be able to afford a vacation?! I was pissed... I think that was during the unpacking. It was almost like I felt like they were trying to move me, like, get me to move away. It was very long, very vivid... I woke up in the middle of the night when I woke up in the dream- totally confused, but fell back to sleep and the dream kept going from there.

True.

"Any resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent to them and those who know them, especially if the author has been kind enough to have provided their real names and, in some cases, their phone numbers. All events described herein actually happened, though on occasion the author has taken certain, very small, liberties with chronology, because that is his right as an American."

The memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers, because of its autobiographical nature, features the above play on the usual disclaimer... If you believe I have used your character without proper recognition, please feel free to sulk about and stew on the idea that either 1) I didn't know your phone number, or 2) I didn't know you well enough to notify you of said use of your character, or 3) that I believe that you are mature enough to get over it... Consider that last one a compliment. Thank you!

Where am I?

*SI trigger warning Just in a weird place lately... I'm pretty sure I'm not High, and I know I'm not Low. But, this is a weird place. I said that, my bad. So anyway. Maybe still in a state of confused mourning?... Had a dear friend pass away, and it was super hard... Harder than I thought it would be. Harder not because of who he was, rather, who he hid he was. And then, how he passed. I couldn't believe it. None of us could. But then, to be there, among friends and coworkers and family... And I'll bet you I was one of maybe three that had any clue what he felt like ...before. I could sense in one friend. He felt it too close too. And another, he couldn't even go to the front to say goodbye- like he would physically be too close to "it"... The Event. The End. I did it... I went up. To the small, granite box, with his name engraved on it... I placed a dime on it- he always called me a Ten. It made me smile. So instead of a penny, which I used to do for all the old"er" people, it was a dime. I believe they should go whoever they are going feeling rich with simply a penny and their soul... Just me. Anyway... After a while, it was too hard to be inside. Fresh air. And a friend. Old friend. When we went through the service... There was a part... I just didn't get why it made me so angry. I hate religion in general, hate is a strong word, dislike immensely... But the pastor... I'll never forget it... "He was chased by demons. The demon is in this room. And today, we are going to give this demon a name. It is Suicide.".... And my heart stopped... More like cracked. Broke. Split apart, leaving a gaping serrated edge of a wound. Angry and angry, and what is a better word for angry?! Furious? Painfully angry, hurt, wounded. How dare he? How dare that man, who calls on the name of his god say that a demon took my friend?! It took me a good solid day to figure out why I was so mad. It wasn't a demon. It never was a demon. It's not a demon that does it... That makes us think those thoughts. ... It's hope. Hope that when we go we leave behind all the good we were in the world and don't leave the ugly, terribly, horribly wretch of a person we were at that moment. Hope that we get to move forward instead of sink. Hope that we can be done with all the feelings, all the not even kind of good feelings. Hope that there is love... Somewhere. Because at that moment, it's not a demon that possessed us.. It was hope... So yeah... I'm not sure where I am right now. Between the reality of thankfulness and the reality of what-could-have-been. Surreal. Is that a place? It should be.

Yes.

Just getting it out there

Sorry I’m gonna say this but people who joke about mental illnesses get right on my tits, the weather isn’t bipolar, you’re not anxious because your strawberries are going off and you have to eat them, and you don’t have depression because you couldn’t afford the shoes you want.. It’s 2015 and there’s still so much stigma.. Depression is a real dark place to be, bipolar isn’t as black and white as mood swings and anxiety disorders stop you doing the simplest things like going out by yourself, I have all three and before judging and taking the piss, educate yourself because you’ll never know what it’s really like until you or someone you love has been through it! This year for me has been the hardest most draining and the worst my illnesses have ever been.. You wouldn’t joke about cancer so don’t joke about mental illness because it’s no ones fault and sadly they both take lives, trust me I wouldn’t wish this one worst enemy! It’s a daily battle and I had to get this out there because people are so insensitive.

Truth.