Wedding

I guess I'll be posting pictures as they come in, but we all know that is a lie. Best ones will be on facebook anyways.


And no. I will not be changing my blog name just because my last name will be changing whenever I decide to go to the social security office.

Wait. Is the SS office even open during a government shut down? Hmm. Maybe this will take longer than I thought.

Front to Back: Bride, Groom, Best Man/Minister

Jack

5 years ago today, I was getting ready to go to a coffee house. I had my book and my notebook. I had time before meeting this guy I met via a dating site. 

I remember having soup. 

And Jack swears I was wearing this blue sweater that doesn't exists. 

I remember me being my awkward self when it comes to first dates. 

I remember being taken to a freaking HORRIBLE diner. 

(when I found out that there was a better one also not too far from his house, I yelled at him.) 

I remember feeling very comfortable with him. 

A few days later,

I vividly remember knowing that this guy was special. 

My coworkers at Barnes & Noble kept asking me if I was still with him weeks later. 

Months later. 

After a year, people couldn't believe it. 

I couldn't believe it. 

I remember our first valentine's day. Jack neglected to make reservations to this place. "It's a Tuesday. It will be fine."

We ended up going to Lido's.

And I told him that I was gonna marry him. 

I knew that I was. 

So it wasn't love at first sight. 

It was love around 3 days in when we were on our way to the mall to find parts of Jack's halloween costume and we were listening to Lou Reed's "Perfect Day." 

We get married on saturday. 

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