Conversations

So, I work at Trader Joe's. 

For those who don't know about Trader Joe's, 1. how dare you. and 2. We private label stuff. 

We have a seasonal tea that doesn't even try to pretend that it's not Celestial Seasons

So I tell Jack that I'll pick up a bunch because it's seasonal and once it sells out, it's gone. 

Me: Or we can just go to Shop Rite. 

Jack: And what? Creepily smell the tea boxes?

Me: Wait, you don't do that already?

I mean, how else do you find out what the tea smells like?

It just keeps tumblin' down, tumblin' down, tumblin' down.

Being bipolar is a funny thing.

Obviously there are days where everything is fine. Hunky-dory.
Where I can function and forget that I have this chemical imbalance in my brain that makes it hard to regulate my moods.

Then there are days where I hardly sleep and clean the house and read all the books and talk to everyone and be social and am so damn productive.

This is not that time.

Stress brings on the anxiety, which turns into depression eventually.
But now it's what's called a mixed episode.
Where I'm full of energy but can't focus or breathe and I just cry all the time and panic.
The panic turns into trying to control everything but failing.
Which turns into more anxiety.

I used to cut in high school.
Long before I ever knew what manic depression even was.
Hell, before I even knew what depression was.

Those scars are long gone thankfully. I know others who still live with them.

I stopped a long time ago.
My medication helped me.
Video games helped me. Killing Zerg or The Flood truly helps relieve the tension. Helps me to hyper focus on the task at hand while my brain calms down.

Cue my current Candy Crush addiction.

I'm not cutting again per se. More like digging my nails into my arms.
Trying not to break skin and leave the marks which will turn into scars now that I'm older.

I am getting married in 17 days after all.
It's bad enough my legs are bruised from work and my general clumsiness.

But the panic and the anxiety.
Yes a lot of my stress is gone now that we figured everything out.

All we really need to do is get our marriage license.
And clean the apartment.

But I can't shake the stress.
I can't stop crying and panicking.

Normally I can hide it at work.
Throwing myself into uber customer service lady.

But I'm distracted and even my coworkers see it.

"Kelly are you ok?"
"What can I do to help?"

And what I really want to say is
"I want to go home and learn how to breathe."

But I need the money, so I don't ask. I stay.
Sometimes I suffer throughout the day.
Other times I can fake it until my anxiety goes away.

Today is not a faking kind of day.
My chest is tight.
It's hard to breathe.
I'm on the verge of tears.

I'm overwhelmed with trying to clean.
17 days. 17 days 17 days...
that I can't start anything.
A closet is cleaned though.
And I'm working through a pile of magazines that have been sitting here for months.

But that's it.

Oh. yeah.
we need to order a wedding cake.

Perhaps actually get wedding bands...


And I don't like asking for help.
I hate it.
Makes me think I'm weak.

Because I'm not weak.
I'm strong.
I've gotten through worse, right?
Past suicide attempts.
Past abusive relationships.
Past revelations of family members.

I can get through this.

But it's so goddamn hard.

Going Through/Cleaning Up

I started this course today. Called Project 137. Started by my friend Patti Digh. Today is exactly 137 days until the new year.


Where the fuck has this year gone?

I don't think I've felt this lost in a very long time.
Where the world is spinning out of my control.
I'm out of touch with everything.
I can never catch my breath.

And I feel guilty over everything. Well to be honest, I always feel guilty over everything.


So I'm trying to clean out my cobwebs.
I only killed one spider so far. And it was tiny. And I said I was sorry about it.
I did clean out my fridge today. Full of yogurt from June. Where did the time go?

How did I let life run away from me?


I'm broke.
Like, before this past paycheck I had $1.05 in my bank account.

$1.05

Last year this time I had over $2k

Where did the money go?
Where did I let the money go?
Why haven't I cared until it's too late?


Thankfully I can go to my psych doctor without a co-pay. I need to talk things out again.
I need to write again.
I need to open up again.


So I'm happy and scared about this Project 137.
Who knows what's going to come up.

Hopefully I can purge my demons and black bile from my soul.
Or get over the past and finally move on and live in the present.

Maybe I can actually get a hold of myself without medication again.



So here's to another beginning. Let's see where this goes.

Fluff

A great thing about my brain eating amoeba named brian, is that I get all this time to rest.

And play Skyrim.

And worry about the money I'm not making.

But really, rest!


Although I wish I could focus on stuff.

Like Skyrim.
Or reading (so many books I want to read!)
Or watching Supernatural. (It's so hard! I just want to see Misha Collins now. I'm not even done with season 1 yet... WHY ARE AMERICAN TEEVEE SHOWS SO LONG??? (I'm way too used to the BBC))


But hey look guys. That's like 3 posts.
Even though this is nothing of substance....


Writing is writing? yes?

Vision is the art of seeing things invisible. 

~ Jonathan Swift

The aspects of the thing that are most important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity.

~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

Web MD Fail

For the past couple weeks, whenever I get home from work (around midnight:30 or so) I smell cigarette smoke. I live on the fourth floor of our apartment building and my windows are open, so it totally makes sense that this smell could happen.

Jack smells nothing.

I have a better sense of smell than him anyways.


Last night though, I started smelling this cigarette smoke in my car. While I was driving. On the NEW JERSEY PARKWAY.

Jack's awake when I get home.
I tell him the story.

Jack: You should check on Web MD.
Me: No, it will just tell me I have cancer.
Jack: Well it could be a tumor.
Me: It's not a tumor.
Jack: Or a seizure disorder.
Me: I don't have a seizure disorder. Besides, my bipolar meds are also anti-convulsants.


We sleep.
I wake up.
I google "olfactory hallucinations"


More than likely I have a sinus infection (or an actual tumor).

Web MD?

Well when you search Web MD for "olfactory hallucinations" I don't get "sinus infection" or "seizure disorder."

I don't even get "tumor" or "cancer."


Nope.

I get this:

Brain Eating Amoeba


Yup.



So, I think I'll name my brain eating amoeba.
I'll call it Brian.

Mystical Magical Mystery Box

A few months ago (I know! I'm a bad blogger. How can I ever meet the gold standard? I can't even blog twice a month most times.

but I digress[1].

A few months ago my wonderful lovely friend Jen (who is a proper blogger) sent me a package. In college, she used to send me mail all the time. Mostly creepy cut outs from magazines. And I don't know if I ever sent one back because I'm bad at mail or any sort of communication in a timely manner. I mean, she'd send me mail even though we were roommates. That's how awesome she is.

So I got this package.
I was instantly afraid.
As I should be.


The outside was covered in unicorns[2].
The inside was full of awesome.

Exhibit A:

I won this book via Jen's dog blog[3]. It is about a man and his house chicken. Or something like that. I haven't read it.


Exhibit B:

A walkman? Really? Without headphones? It's a good thing I have my ipod. And my old mix tapes from my first-ish boyfriend still laying around...

But it's all good! Exhibit 3

Because we didn't get a close up of the cassette tape it is "Born to be Wild" Original Artists. Original Recordings. I would like to meet an unoriginal artist, perhaps that's what a cover artist is? I dunno. I understand the wording and what it means but it's like that restaurant: Legal Seafood. It begs the question what is Illegal seafood. Probably dolphins and whales.

And no, I haven't listened to this tape yet either.

The fourth thing I got:

A space dragon killing an astroid. Pure Awesome. Look! That's my excited face and everything! For the record, space dragons are awesome; space unicorns should die.

Yup I'm gonna stop numbering these things:

ACE OF SPAAAAAADDDDDDEEEEESSSSSSS

Really? A box of Altoids?

!!!!!!

I was wrong! Full of little stuff that is awesome! Look at those tiny seashells! And a monster with those floaty things so they don't drown because it can't swim!

What's next?

Socks that I haven't worn yet.

Sunglasses that make me look like Bono, but now that I have contacts again these have been coming in handy.

Urban Decay eye liner. Also very awesome and reminds me I need to actually buy makeup and stuff now that I have contacts...

Uh oh.
Umm.
This last thing.

Jack had no idea what was going on when I saw this.

IT'S A BABY YOU!

Granted, there are 3 other people besides me and Jen that understand the horror of Baby You. And the shenanigans that was our 3rd year of college.

Will this be sent on to a new home?
You bet your ass it will.
BWWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAha




So that is my mystery box.
I have a slow growing one for Jen in response. So in the future we will have a sister post.

I am always up for mail though, so if you really want to send me something, feel free. I like stuff.





[1] Heh, Jen's post also says this. BECAUSE WE ARE MIND CONNECTED.
[2] Fucking Unicorns. I hate them. Except for My Little Ponies. Those are awesome.
[3] One link to her blog per blog post. Sorry Jen. Those are "my rules."