You Need to Go!

38 Erny Facts

Because nutmeg3 challenged me!  (And I need something to focus on besides myself)

1.  I've lived in Ohio my entire life.  I don't entirely expect that to change.
2.  I really don't like hot yoga, but I make myself do it because it's supposed to be really good for your body.  I like how I feel afterwards.
3.  Since I'm alone in the office, I usually make some time to dance or sing.
4.  I think I would kill it on Lip Synch Battle.
5.  I've always wanted to be a drag queen.  Even before I was with the drag troupe, I thought it would be so much fun.
6.  When I was in high school, I thought I was really talented at drawing and painting, and I wanted to do that forever and ever.  Eventually, through not-so-subtle hints of friends, family, and teachers, I got the hint that I'm not that super amazing, and I should probably drop it.
7.  I love autumn clothes.  I get really excited when I can break out the hoodies and the head-sweaters.
8.  Speaking of sweaters, I've had my favourite sweater since I was in 8th grade.  I bought it off the men's clearance rack at Gap, and my mother was mortified that I was so huge.
9.  My complicated relationship with food started when I was in 6th grade.  I was trying on a pair of shorts that were a size 9 and too small, and the girl in the fitting room next to me was having a breakdown because the size 6 didn't fit her.  Before that, it hadn't really bothered me that I was bigger than other people.
10.  I've tried on pretty much all of the clothes at work.  Even the One Size Fits All leggings.  I got them on.  I feel good about that.
11.  I've never been able to sleep well.  Even as a child.  In day care, I once threw a hellacious tantrum about nap time and accidentally kicked the teacher in the head.  I had to bring her flowers the next day and apologise.  My dad taught me how to pretend I'm sleeping.
12.  I was 14 before I tried non-diet soda.  My father had a Coke in a glass bottle, and he gave me one to drink.  I was mezmerised.
13.  So then in college, I would double-fist Mountain Dew when I had a lot of stuff to do, which was always, since I was a double major.  One diet, one regular.
14.  I also made a really heady concoction of Tang and Malibu rum, which I drank regularly in my Creative Writing classes.
15.  I once broke my foot while making Easy Mac.  I was dancing to Alanis Morisette's "Uninvited," and I took this big leap and landed on the side of my foot.  I just laid there in a heap until all the pasta was done.
16.  I was 7 the first time I rode a horse.  My father had a client whose daughters were pros in the Appaloosa world, and they invited me up for a ride.  It was super muddy, and I was wearing khakis and loafers like a total chode.
17.  But I didn't get riding lessons until later that year.  We moved an hour away from home, and I got riding lessons as bribery.  My first lesson, I closed my eyes at a trot (I was seven, ok?), and I remember thinking "This is all I ever wanted."
18.  I bought my first horse when I was in college.  With my own money.  $4,000.  It was a really bad plan, logically speaking, but Magnum just had to be my horse.  We loved each other, and all of his other prospective buyers kept falling through, so it just HAD to be.
(bonus fact- I've bought myself 5 horses total.  My parents only know of 3.)
19.  Since I was about 15, I've just wanted to be a hermit, living in the woods on a hill in South East Ohio, with my goat in my front yard.
20.  My dream goat was named Buttercup.
21.  My actual goat was named Petunia, because she just wasn't a Buttercup.  She'd come running to you when you yelled "PET-PET!!!"
22.  I love getting pedicures.  It's probably the only princess-y thing I do.
23.  I drink a lot of tepid tap water.  I've only recently started putting ice in my water at work because the stuff from the tap tastes awful.
24.  I named my first kidney stone "Brian Jones" because he was the first 'Stone to pass.
25.  I find Numbers Stations soothing.  I'll listen to them at work when I'm working on a difficult project.
26.  I am exceptionally good at dicking around when I don't care.  When handed a task that bores me, I'll figure out how long it takes, determine what the next steps will be, then fuck around until it needs to be done.
27.  On the contrary, I will pour 14+ hours of dedicated heart and soul into something that I'm truly invested in.
28.  I hate it when people whine and say they can't do something.  I hate it even more when I'm the one doing the whining.
29.  I make myself do a lot of things that make me uncomfortable so I can be a bad ass, but I still have solid lines in the ground.  Most of them involve heights:  ziplining, parachuting, hot air balloons, bungee, etc.
30.  The first time I ever had a Frappuchino was this year.  It was a grande S'mores.
31.  I truly love big leafy veggie salads with a lot of yum.
32.  My father made me play golf and baseball as a kid.  I'm really good at throwing things.
33.  My brother and I smugly think we're pretty impressively intelligent.  Think Mycroft and Sherlock.  We don't actually think we're better than you, though.  We have the same dad, and thus the same deeply-rooted inferiority complex that comes with being told constantly that you're crap.
34.  I hate bright lights.  Give me the dim.
35.  One of my anxiety tricks is to play Mah Jongg solitaire on my phone.  I have it set to the Halloween tiles for giggles.
36.  My Nanaw introduced me to the paranormal when I was about 5 or 6, and one of the saddest things for me is that she hasn't given me any signs since she passed.  Yodie got one, though.
37.  I know the lyrics to an impressive number of 90s rap songs.  And then I perform them in my best Edith Bunker impression.  "Archie, I like it raaaawwwww!"
38.  Somewhere, there is a folder full of drawings I did of monsters during HR meetings.  When I left, I was supposed to destroy or catalogue all of my notes, but I was so attached to my monsters, that I cut them out and put them in a folder.  My boss supported this decision.

So there ya go.  Any questions?
You Need to Go!

(no subject)

I'm just gonna say it, and I don't care who's sick of hearing about it.

Robin Williams' death is kicking me right in the gut.

I can't pay attention to anything, and when people make me laugh, I'm laughing too hard.

And it's not because I was a super fan.  Yes, I appreciated his work and marvel at his acting, but it was a casual appreciation.  I was just watching The Birdcage Sunday night, and just really paying attention to how his face worked throughout the movie.  Brilliant.

It's the depression link.  For some reason... maybe because it took so long to get diagnosed, or because no one believed me for so long, or because I'm drawn to other people who can understand that I'm not just faking it... I feel like there's some kind of familiar bond between those of us who have depression tagging along for the ride.

Not to say we all suffer the same, or feel the same, but it's like the Corvette Wave to me- an understanding that you're not broken or bent, that it's not ok, and that we don't expect it to be ok all the time.  That we know when to love, when to back off, when to answer the phone, and when to call yours 800 times to make sure you're ok.

Yeah, I've thought of killing myself.  More frequently now that I'm older, because each year that slips by means I've been meaningless that much longer, and all the optimism I felt as a kid is draining right the hell out of me.

It's not that I'm unhappy with my life.  I have amazing friends.  I have a significant other who is absolutely... as close to perfect as a relationship can get.  I go on adventures regularly.  I am surrounded by fantastic critters- if you had told me at 21 that I would start riding again, find my heart horse, and have an opportunity to buy the horse I stalked online, I would've raised an eyebrow and asked you if you needed help, because you were clearly doing far more drugs than I was at the time.

Yeah, my job sucks, I don't get paid enough, my body is deteriorating faster than I can keep up with mentally, and I weigh more than I ever have.  I've got fucking fleas.

I can actually live with all of that.
I just can't live with the mental consequences of all that.

I hate knowing I'm useless and sometimes brain dead and make more mistakes that more people call out and I worry about stuff I shouldn't worry about and I spend too much of my friends' time forcing them to care about me, when really, I'm just a chubby potato of a person with no discernible skills or worth.  When people are telling me nice things, I want to shout at them that they're really being stupid, that they're wasting their time.  That it's just breath and they can stop caring.

And when they finally do, I think, "good.  They don't need this."

And feel so alone.

It's what I want, but not what I really want.  I just don't want the guilt over making people have feelings about me.

At the same time, I have so many feelings for other people.  Like I said earlier, it's like an instant bond to know someone else has problems in their brain wiring.  I don't even know what to call it.  "Mental illness" sounds like something you'll recover from, and when you're just chemically incorrect, it's not likely you'll be "fixed."  Plus, you can't "fix" something that's not "broken," in my humble opinion.  I'm not sick, I'm not broken, I'm just put together differently, and I have to find a different path to self-appreciation and self-esteem and understanding everything about the world and myself.  I have to be gentle to myself when others would push, and push myself when others would rest, and really, when you break it down like that, it makes me


And when I look at other people who are struggling or suffering and trying to cope and understand what's going on in their mind and body and heart with depression and anxiety and the whole spectrum of conditions listed in the 300s of the ICD-9 codes and otherwise, I see me, and I want to gently let them know all the things I would tell myself, if only I would listen to myself.

To be honest, it makes me come off a lot nuttier than I am.

But when you're afraid to look in the mirror, you train your eyes to look elsewhere, and you start accidentally seeing yourself all over the place.  I just want to find a way to reach myself, and reassure myself, and furthermore, do everything in my power to keep anyone from ever feeling like I have, ever again.

Which is straight up impossible.

First off, no one will ever feel exactly like I have ever felt.  There may be similar factors and shared experiences, but nothing is ever exactly the same twice in the world of emotions.  Second, I can't stop other people's brains.  I can't go in there and do the tinkering necessary to help them flash forward over this suffering to the point where things are back to baseline.  I want to, but I'm not *actually* a wizard.

I can't really fix a lot, really.  None of us can.  We can make changes, sure- change a ripped seam to a sewn one.  Change a broken fence to a mended fence.  Change the oil.  Change the bedsheets.  Change our medications.  Change our doctors.  Change our minds.

So when I hear that a member of the family has fallen... has been unable to climb out of the trenches... it just hits me particularly hard.  Knowing that I've sat in that place where, instead of putting on a movie and gone to bed, I've put a handful of pills in my mouth and taken a few shots and found myself surprised to wake up in the morning.  It's almost a "that could be me," but more of a "I've seen that sunset" sort of feeling.

Every time I've come back from the brink, I've been a bit relieved.  Mostly shocked, but relieved.  'Cos I didn't succeed.  And the next day goes on, and something magical happens, and I think, "wow, if I'd really done it, I wouldn't have been here for this."  Those moments never sustain me when I'm on the brink, but when I come back, they fill me with guilt and regret.

I've probably said enough things that don't matter, but I had the need to sort things out for myself, so I came here.  I'll never touch as many lives as Robin Williams, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be there for someone who needs it, no matter how they are.  Just like I appreciate the many, many people who have been there for me.  So much love.

So much love.
You Need to Go!

Quick Clean Up

I just a quick clean up, removing friends from my list who haven't posted in eons.

If you have been lurking around and wish I hadn't removed you, just let me know! :)
You Need to Go!

It's A Wee Bit Better

Today was "Girl's Day" with Yodie.

She named it, not me.

I pulled up to her house around 9am, as promised. As usual, I called ahead so she could put the cat away, because even though strays will come trotting through the neighbourhood to visit with me, her cat hates me with the power of Hell.

Literally. I think he's part devil. And I even rescued him.

First we had a light breakfast at Bob's- mostly fruit and coffee. We read Auto-Correct mistakes on the internet and giggled madly.

Then I let her quibble me into stopping at Wal-Mart. I do not care for the Wal-Mart, but an hour into it is far, far too soon to escalate.

Then we headed off for the actual adventure.

She had been singing Macklemore's "Thrift Shop" all morning, and really, really, really wanted to go pop some tags. I was freaking out about being out of the house.

There was a loud barking fit in the car, and I drove grumpily downtown in silence.

See, I already had a hair appointment scheduled for today, and I was dragging her along as the adventure part of it.

But I also needed to buy cat food, and I did not want to pop some tags all the way across town from where I needed to be for my errands, just because she preferred this particular thrift shop.

It's not a big deal in the world, but when you have anxiety, it means a lot.

But, I'm not just anxious- I'm intelligent. I stopped at a consignment shop that's just a few blocks from where the cat food is, which is just one exit from where the hair place is.

Yodie, naturally, was unimpressed with this strange territory. "If I only had $20 in my pocket, I'd leave with nothing!" she hissed, browsing the racks. I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate.

I was in need to two dresses- one for Ham's friends' wedding this weekend, and one for the rehearsal dinner. I have winter dresses and summer dresses, and I have work-appropriate skirts and suits, but nothing in between.

I also have a really weird body, so everything is difficult.

We left with only a sweater she bought for herself.

Then to snag pet food and on to my hair appointment.

At the hair appointment, I was very careful to orient Yodie with the mall in which I was getting my hair done. She got lost on her initial try, but eventually got the hang of it.

I now have reddish purplish hair, and I love it. Kate the hair Jedi also did my eyebrows, which turned out waaaay not how we expected, so I got them waxed on the spot, lickity split.

I also scheduled my deep-tissue massage, courtesy of Ham. He bought one for me as an Easter present.

"Your mom has really cute hair," commented Kate.

"She does it drunk in her garage at 3am," I responded.

"A lot of people actually do that," she said.

She's perfect for me.

After hair and waxing, Yodie and I inhaled yumminess at Dirty Frank's hot dog restaurant. I could really live on their fried leeks, but I won't.

Popped some more tags at Yodie's favourite thrift store. I tried on three dresses, which all looked like various versions of crap on me. Remember that part in ET, where he's all sick and keeled over and pale? Imagine Grimace from McDonald's experiencing a similar condition. That's how bad the best looking dress looked on me.

Utterly discouraged, I dropped Yodie off, and on a whim, hit the thrift store we originally hit.

I pulled six dresses into the dressing room, and emerged victorious with a rehearsal AND a dress for the wedding!!

I also got a mystery phone call that I shall reveal in more detail at a proper time. wink wink wink

No, I'm not pregnant.

Ran a mile on resistance 14 and 16, since Ham thinks I'm weak. Now to have a light dinner of veggies and finish Monsters Inc! (another Ham Easter present)

Feeling much better from yesterday, thanks.
You Need to Go!

Step 2.

I made it in the building. I tried to listen to the sermon about how all people can be spiritually enlightened, regardless of defining characteristics.

But people were talking and playing video games and being loud.

So I hid in the bathroom and listened to the sermon, best could.

Once I heard the crowd thin out, I slink out to meet Ham.

I don't want to face his family now. I love them, but they know I'm not normal. I know it's obvious, but I hate that, so I try to hit my best approximation.

I ate all the Xanax in my handbag. I could use a drink.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

You Need to Go!

How to be a pathetic waste of space

Ham brought me to Easter service. He teaches Sunday school, right, so he's in there.

I walked into the church. There are so many people.

I tried to find a seat. The ushers wouldn't help me. A woman yelled at me.

Im now in the car sobbing. I can't breathe.

I can't leave the house right. I can't talk to people right. I don't understand the world and I wish I could just die.

The internal struggle in this Jetta is enormous. I really want to go in and prove that I can be a real person and do what is expected... Because someone, somewhere always expects you to do something. If you disagree, you're a disappointment. If you don't understand, you're a traitor. And if you have a problem, God forbid, you should just fuck off and die.

It's been a lousy week. Bad anxiety last night. Bad anxiety today. I feel like an outcast every time I try to interact with other humans. I speak and feel ridiculous. I'm awkward and clumsy and insulting and if I don't play the fool, I have to play the silent one.

There was never a time when life was easier, but I live for those moments when it's just me and the critters. I can't say anything wrong to them. I can't insult them. I can't disappoint them and I would never betray them.

I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm scared. I didn't expect crazy to feel like this. I kind of hate Ham for telling me I'm not, but live him, too. I love my bros for just being there with me and telling me it sucks, but it will be ok. I'm grateful for everyone who understands. Daddy Marc texting me to breathe. Daddy Tooj and pictures of him with his new husband, giving me hope that it's just a tunnel and not a pit. Daddy Mike telling me to seek the universe. Even Yodie has tried to be a calming force, which is somewhat like a razor trying to be snugly. All of my buds letting me text. I'm a lucky mass of crap, for sure.

I just wish that knowing that a dozen people live and understand me was enough to make me feel brave against a world that shuns me.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.