I did go and see my Grandma and go to the grocery store on Saturday morning, as I said I would.  Just those two things put me over the edge.  The rested feeling that I felt from sleeping from two days, plus the cute little hypomanic spell that followed, was quickly snatched from me and I spent all weekend in bed.  I think it is totally awesome (obviously sarcasm) that even a little bit of peace can vanish so quickly with this stupid bipolar crap. 

So, over the weekend, I slept, didn't eat, avoided everyone including Malcom and my mom and DHut, didn't go anywhere, didn't mow or do yardwork, didn't do laundry, didn't didn't didn't.  I was either sleeping or laying in bed, staring at the ceiling.  So much for progress. 

Monday was also not a picnic, not that I really expected it to be.  IOP was tolerable...but I was pretty spacey and not really able to focus on what we were doing. 

The front of my diary card was pathetic because I hadn't used any skills in the previous 24 hours...too busy laying in bed, hating myself, too depressed to move.  The back was full of "5's", which, for anyone who doesn't know what a diary card looks like, is not good.  The number "5" means "unbearable intensity" and the number "4" means high intensity.  So yeah, definitely a "4" and "5" weekend. 

As I said, Monday was not much better.  I survived through group, on auto-pilot.  I then had therapy with Goddess of Mindfulness, and she expressed concern about the high numbers on my diary card.  We talked about what self-soothing skills I could use (I'll take any suggestions) and the need to build structure and work on "sacred self" because I haven't been treating my body well.  She explained that I am using mostly distraction techniques, which are good in the short term, but don't really decrease anxiety...they just, DUH, distract you from it. 

We have been working on interpersonal effectiveness in group, and I was feeling bad about the way I have been treating Malcom and I called him and we talked and I told him I would try harder, be more loving, compassionate.  He doesn't deserve to be treated poorly and I need to stop acting like a jackass.

I went home from therapy and went straight to bed, where I stayed until 4:30 p.m.  I then took off with my dog for Mom's.  My objective -- let Kizzie play with their dog and build structure.  I didn't particularly want to be there other than those two reasons.  I yelled at Mom for trying to talk with me about certain things...which isn't really her fault, although I made it out to be that way.  We then pretty much sat and stared at each other because I was unable to hold a conversation. 

Then DHut came home.  He always has good stories to tell from the bait shop and watergarden store, and it is easier for me when I can just listen to him and Mom talk about stuff and just throw in my two cents every here and there.  They made me laugh.  And smile.  And that was good.  Thank you, Mom and Daddy Hut.

So, I felt a little bit better, at least on the surface areas, after I left Mom and DHut's.  I even agreed to come back tonight and do a fish fry. 

I talked to Curly Snap for almost an hour last night.  She is being very supportive and is just very, I don't know, good at validating my feelings.  I don't always get that -- and sometimes that's all I need. 

Everyone wants to know what they can do to help, to make me feel better...sometimes I just need my feelings validated, sometimes I just want to hear about something other than myself and my problems.  Sometimes I just need to feel normal.  Kind of the opposite of the Toby Keith Wanna Talk About Me song. 

I want to talk about anything other than me.  I hash out my problems here, in emails with Jody, in phone calls with Curly Snap and with Malcom, in five days of IOP with each session lasting three hours, and in three one-hour individual therapy sessions a week.  Those are the places I choose to talk about me, because I know I need to.  I am hanging onto my life with my fingernails and I just want you to tell me how your day was and maybe a funny story from work or something outrageous you heard on the news (Malcom is good about that) or about politics or religion or almost anything.  But me. 

There will be times when I can't interact, can't talk, can do nothing but stare at you across the table.  I could apologize, but I'd probably get threatened to go stand on the steps.  I guess what I would say is that I wish I could get this all across to you in person, but I can't. 

And if we do talk about me (which is fine to a point), let's keep it brief and please don't try to fix it...just validate my feelings and give advice if I ask for it.  Maybe I should just tell my family that.  All of them.  Hopefully they will read it here and understand.  And understand why I had to write it down instead of say it. 

And yes, I'm mad.  I'm frustrated.  Not at you, my family, or anyone but myself.  About my inability to interact, to be normal, to be what I think I should be. 

Dixie Chicks Not Ready to Make Nice

I'm into another week...week two of being out of IOP, to the date.  I am feeling pretty good.  I still have my moments (as we all do), but I am able to pull myself out of the shit before it gets intolerable.  Using my skills, dontcha know.  I didn't spend two and a half months in intensive DBT to let it all slip by the wayside. 

I surprise myself sometimes at the things I am able to do now.  One of the major MAJOR things I have been doing is going to the local public pool...all by myself.  No one to talk to, no one to help me feel comfortable.  I'm just doing it...without anxiety.  I am having a good time, interacting with strangers, people-watching, getting some sun, floating around the lazy river.  Being there puts a smile on my face and makes me feel good.  Plus, I have a very nice tan at this point.  :)

Then there are the little things I can do now, without anxiety, that I was not able to do before.  I can spend time by myself without ruminating on every little thing that has been said during the day, that has happened in the past, that might possibly happen.  I can keep myself busy, soothe myself, distract myself.  I can tolerate intense feelings, work through them.  Every once in awhile, it gets to be too much, and I make a coaching call and feel better. 

I can also be around people.  A lot.  I mean A LOT.  I have been working at the bait shop and water garden store when I'm not doing other stuff, but usually for around 4 or 5 hours, sometimes more a day.  Interacting with strangers (customers), regulars, and everyone in between.  I have a smile on my face, a joke always on the ready, and damn if I'm not a good saleswoman.  And I feel very comfortable doing it.  It comes easily, and is not forced at all.  I am genuinely happy to be there and happy to help people find what they are looking for. 

It is incredibly interesting to interact with the variety of people that come in and when I leave at the end of the day, I feel good.  Really good.  I think that working there is really helping build my self-esteem.  I feel knowledgable and like a friendlier person.  I do have that inside of me, to be social, to be outgoing and personable.  I just lost track of that somewhere in the last ten years.  It is coming back, though.  I am seeking people out, instead of avoiding them. 

Granted, sometimes I seek out a little too much and end up exhausted.  Usually it's not that I am tired of being around people; I just wear myself out, mostly physically and mentally.  I get tired, sleepy, just exhausted.  It's not that I have to put a lot of effort into interacting with people, but I think it's just something that I'm not used to, so it takes a lot out of me, even if I don't feel it at the time. 

And I like to be busy, to have plans for the day.  Sometimes I go overboard and don't schedule any time to just relax on my own, and then I end up exhausted, like I said before.  Recently, I have been taking more time for myself and trying to find that middle ground on the dialectic of socialization...social butterfly to recluse.  It feels good, like it is an accomplishment (which it is), to even be thinking about looking for the middle, to be cognizant about where I am on the dialectic.  Progress. 

I am finding a lot of things that make me happy, that make me feel good.  Interestingly enough, I am really enjoying going to Walmart.  I go during the day when there aren't a lot of people there, and just look around at stuff.  Sometimes I find something really cheap (like the $2 plastic summer mugs for cold drinks...HUGE mugs...love them...and the blue straw holder with green and blue straws...that match my new mugs...for $1.50) and buy it for myself, knowing that I can do something like that every once in awhile.  Just doing something for me, without spending a bunch of money, going to extremes. 

And as I said before, I really enjoy going to the pool.  It's not something I can do a lot of, because it costs money, but I helped Mom and DHut open the pool a few days ago and plan to spend time there getting out in the sun and floating around in the water.  I find it very relaxing, soothing, and I love to be outside.  Such a change from all of the years when I hated to be outside more than anything and would only go out if I had to or Mom and DHut suckered me into it. 

It just amazes me how different I feel, how much better life is, how clear my thinking is.  I feel like I am living, instead of existing, and it's a great feeling.  I am embracing life and the things around me, rather than pushing it away because I am uncomfortable or fearful.  Yes, I do feel anxious from time to time, but not to the levels I did before. 

I am very thankful for all of the love and support of my family and friends and everybody else who has helped me to get where I am in this moment.  I know that without that support, my ship would have sunk and I'd have drowned.  At the time, I think part of me wanted that.  I'm just glad/happy/relieved/thankful that I have all kinds of people that love me and helped me through.  And that continue to help me through.  Most of all, I am relieved that I came to the point where I was willing...willing to get better, to do whatever it takes, to live. 

Bobby McFerin, Don't Worry Be Happy

Even if you don't care for the song, this video has tons of very cute pictures of puppies, dogs, kittens, cats, and other animals...BEING HAPPY.  :)

The days in the past week have gone by quickly. I have stayed busy most days. I need more.

I feel an intense urge to connect. Granted, I get that to a certain extent by spending time with my family and talking to various people on the phone. It is not enough. And then it is too much all at the same time.

Now that I am actually living my life instead of avoiding it, I feel as if I am now forced to figure out more about myself...what I like, what I don't like, what I can tolerate, what I can't. I have all of these choices now, where before I couldn't see beyond the stone walls I had erected around myself. Choices.

Sometimes it feels like my chest is going to rip open and my heart will fall to the floor and I will impulsively stomp on it until it stops beating. Because I don't know what else to do.

This living, this life, is uncharted territory. Landscape I have never seen, never walked before. I am engaging, interacting, listening, seeing. It is a very different life, with very different feelings than I have lived and felt before.

The not knowing what to expect. KILLS. ME. As someone who obsessively plans out everything from what I am going to wear on Wednesday to my plans for next weekend (I do realize it is only Sunday) to what I am going to be doing five years from now. I want to know. I am now faced with the fact that I can not always know. KILLS. ME.

I keep reminding myself to float. Float with thoughts, emotions. Don't struggle or I drown. I don't want to drown. I don't want to go back there, with lungs half filled with water and concrete blocks weighing down my feet.

That fear. The fear of going back is unbearable at times. I try not to think about it, although I know avoiding the feeling gets me no where. It makes me think about it all the more. Can I keep this up? These gently rolling hills that sometimes spike up into the sky without notice? I fear the valley. I have not seen it recently, but I fear it because I know some kind of valley will come, somewhere in the distance.

This is what I think of as the sun starts to go down. When the mosquitos start to bite and my body and mind go places I don't want to go.

The thought that keeps going through my mind...

"I'm doing what I'm supposed to do...right?"

Doubt. Fear. Alone in the dark.

Jewel, Absence of Fear

Thursday through Sunday, I was at the bait shop and water garden store, helping out, and it was really busy.  I went home exhausted each night and just ate dinner and went to bed.  I've had some really good sleep lately.  Physical exertion can do that to you, apparently.  Who would've thought. 

Yesterday was the first day in a long time that I've been "on my own."  The first day that I've had to build structure on my own, without any real concrete plans.  I knew what I needed to concentrate on, and I knew that I needed to stay busy all day. 

Other than not getting my lawn mowed (which I am doing here as soon as the neighborhood wakes up a bit), I accomplished everything I set out to do.  I put in job applications at a few places, picked up some paper applications at a few places I want to apply, and went to Walmart (where I had an unreal, fun time...seriously).  Those were the things I had planned.  In addition, I visited Grandma, cleaned and organized the fridge and freezer, the kitchen, and my desk, did some DBT work, talked to my sister for awhile, and baked a lasagna to eat this week. 

I definitely stayed busy all day.  I didn't sit down to rest until about 8:30 p.m., and even then, I was working on some online stuff.  I like to be busy and active, and am hopeful and really just determined to keep myself that way.  It will be easier to do once I have a job, for sure, but in the meantime I'm going to keep on plugging away and finding stuff to do. 

I know a lot of my time will be spent looking for a job, and when I'm not doing that, there are definitely projects around the house I can do.  I also will be exercising more, especially now that I've quit smoking.  I have been walking a bit here and there, and plan to gradually increase until I am walking about 6 miles a day, four days per week.  On two days, I'll walk three, and then I'll take one day off. 

I know I can do it...been there before.  It is a great stress reliever, and definitely helps with weight loss.  Plus, Ab and I are going to do a 5K here sometime in August or September.  I want to be able to keep up with her quick pace.  She's a runner and she walks faster than anyone I know. 

I have been losing weight pretty easily since I've been feeling better.  I've been eating right and exercising, and simply have been more active.  All of that sleep and laying around doesn't do much for the figure, dontcha know. 

It is a lot easier, also, to eat better and exercise when I'm not working for the agency...especially the eating better.  At the agency, there was always food in the break room, food at every meeting, FOOD FOOD FOOD.  I find it hard to resist if it's available.  I also did a lot of junk food and eating fast food for a long time...partly because I was depressed and didn't care, and partly because it's almost part of the culture of social service that you eat like crap.  I'm not quite sure how to explain it other than that. 

I did a coaching call last night around 9:00 p.m.  I did it in part because I haven't done one in so long, and partly because I was having difficulty processing this bizarre feeling of calm and contentment and feeling like everything is okay.  It ended up actually being a really funny phone call, likely because I did it with Ann.  She totally cracks me up.  We were both rolling by the end of the call.  It truly is strange to feel okay.  As Ann said, it is uncharted territory for me, and will take some getting used to.  She also emphasized that I need to keep doing the things that make me feel okay.  It's called EFFECTIVENESS in DBT terms.  :)

I continue to put my DBT skills into practice and fill out a diary card every day, which is very helpful to me.  I won't go on and on about all of the benefits of DBT and how life-changing it has been for me, because I think I've been there and done that and posted about it about fifteen times by now, but seriously...

GETCHA SOME...DBT.  :D

So, I'm pretty obsessed with Jack Johnson because it's such feel-good music and this is a fun little ditty...and an even more fun video. 

Jack Johnson, Do You Remember

My last post was Tuesday morning before IOP and I've given myself every excuse for not posting again here recently.  I'm tired.  I'm busy.  I'll post tomorrow.  I think what it comes down to is that I have been avoiding blogging about graduating from IOP. 

The actual "graduation" wasn't bad.  It was strange to hear people say nice things about me (the "group matriarch" really threw me) and at the same time it was a relief that no one stood up and said I was a shithead during every group and that I had ruined any chance that person had at feeling better.  Not that I was worried someone would say something like that.  No, not at all. 

I think I have been avoiding blogging about graduating, because since April, my only "job" has been to go to IOP and therapy and work on myself.  Which, as one can read in my previous posts, I have been.

It hasn't been easy, and there are still times when it is hard as hell and I am banging my head against a brick wall, trying to make my mind SHUT UP, trying to get images out of my head, trying to make it all stop.  And most times, banging my head against the wall gets me nowhere, but sometimes a coaching call will help.  Then there are times it doesn't. 

During those times, I put some extra pillows on my bed, shut my bedroom door (with Kizzie inside), and put on my headphones.  And crank up the volume (no lectures on how this harms my hearing).  I cry.  I yell.  I sing.  I usually keep a few magazines in my room I can flip through to make my mind see something else.  Sometimes this doesn't work, unless you count falling asleep from becoming exhausted by crying and being anxious and tense.  I totally count it.  Because I slept.  I'll take sound sleep anytime. 

An obvious reason I am avoiding blogging about graduating is that it's time to get a job.  I quit my job as an employment specialist.  Now is the search for part-time employment that I am able to do.  I am not afraid of the search, I am afraid I won't be able to find anything I can do.  I can see myself minimizing my skills and abilities in my head as I type. 

I have also been avoiding blogging because graduating IOP does not mean I am cured and I might have to face that fact.  One thing it means is that I now have actual skills to help me cope with depression, anxiety, nightmares, flashbacks, and all the other symptoms I experience.  The hope is that I will try and use these skills instead of engaging in negative, self-destructive behavior.  I am fairly vigilant about using them whenever I can...every bit of practice seems to help.  When that fails, I do a coaching call and am told to work on a specific skill. 

Another thing that graduating IOP means is that I am engaging in MUCH LESS therapy than I have been for the previous two (and a half?) months.  When I was in IOP (15 hours/week), I was also attending therapy three times a week (3 hours).  I have come from 18 hours of group and individual therapy per week down to one hour, once per week.  I told Goddess of Mindfulness today that it just isn't enough.  Granted I've only been out of IOP since Wednesday, and have stayed very busy between the bait shop and then the water garden store's grand opening this weekend (thank you Mom and DHut).

I can already tell that one hour a week is not enough.  Even if I did a coaching call every day, not enough.  I need more practice, more talking, more sorting things out, more guidance, reassurance, validation.  Goddess of Mindfulness agreed to meet with me twice per week until my regular DBT group (2 hours, every Thursday) starts on July 10th.  I am hoping that she will still meet with me twice a week for awhile, even once it starts. 

I am terrified of losing all of the ground that I have nearly killed myself to get.  Friggin' terrified. 

There, I said it. 

I'm terrified.  To go back to how things were before.  To not coping, not dealing.  To feeling like shit every second of every day.  To thinking about dying and how I would do it all of the time.  To having that voice constantly in my head, ruminating, spewing negative garbage into me, making me doubt everything and everyone, most importantly myself.  I can't go all the way back there again. 

But there is that possibility.  For that reason, I am terrified.  The hope is that I will have ups and downs and be able to somewhat ward off and somewhat be able to pull myself out of the shit.  Even when I am feeling my most positive, I am doubtful I will be able to do this time and again.  Perhaps I will feel more clear on this issue once I have done it a few times.  And maybe I will never be more clear.  Maybe this fear is a healthy thing, keeping me on my toes, keeping me practicing my skill, going to therapy, taking my meds. 

I am still terrified.  Very uncomfortable feeling.  Not scared, not worried, not anxious...TERRIfIED.  END OF MY WORLD.  GO TOWARD THE LIGHT.  CATASTROPHE. 

Interesting I thought of the word catastrophe to put in there.  I can see myself doing it.  I am catastrophizing...going to extremes...all or nothing...black and white.  Bouncing from one pole of the dialectic to the other.  Everything is perfect vs. everything is shit. 

Short discussion with myself leaves me feeling less terrified.  I do believe I just did my own coaching call and gave myself something to put on my diary card for mindfulness. 

And although I didn't mean to put my skills on display, that is exactly what DBT can do, how it can make you think, how it can help find the middle of the dialectic.   

Friggin' awesome, huh?

The Doves, There Goes the Fear

See the lyrics if you can't bring yourself to watch the video.  The video is rather odd and long, so I would forgive you.

I graduate IOP tomorrow.  Granted, I will move onto a DBT group that meets once a week, but I am a bit anxious about not having that daily "fix" of DBT.  To help ease this anxiety, I am going to use a DBT workbook that Goddess of Mindfulness had me purchase about two or three years ago (that I never opened...hmmm) and do something with it at least every other day.  I'm also going to keep up with a daily DBT diary card so that I can track my mood and emotions. 

I'll really need to work on "building structure" skills when I graduate.  I am looking for employment, and am keeping a particular eye out for part-time employment.  I talked to DHut last night, and he and Mom both think that I should consider working a regular job part-time (around 20 hours a week) and then supplement that with working at the bait shop. 

This makes sense to me because, although it is difficult to accept, in the past I have experienced extreme difficulty with working a regular job 40 hours a week.  Okay, extreme difficulty may be minimizing.  I have not been able to successfully work a 40 hour week in a regular job, the way it "should" be worked (i.e. no four hour lunches, no surfing the Internet when I'm supposed to be working, not being productive at work, going in late, leaving early, taking a lot of breaks) for a really long time.  It is very difficult to accept this barrier to employment without feeling like a bit of a failure.  I am practicing radical acceptance with it, though, and have hopes that I can come to terms with it. 

In other areas, I am trying to stick to a routine.  I am still not smoking...four days "smober" (hehe) at 10:00 today.  It hasn't been terribly difficult, mostly because I am coughing up tar all of the time and my throat and chest are so ridiculously sore that I don't even think about lighting up.  I am still using the patch and have felt less irritable. 

One of the keys to that is getting more sleep.  I have felt very physically tired recently and, although it is good to sleep well (which I am, for the most part), it feels like I am playing some catch-up in that department.  I don't like to get really tired, because eventually I hit a wall and start hallucinating and basically cracking up and, ya know, it's just not a good time.  For me, for anyone around me.  So, I'm sleeping now through the night and sometimes taking a short nap during the day.  I am not worried for now.  As I said, I think I am playing catch-up, but am keeping my eye on it so that it doesn't become a depressed sleep type of thing. 

Hope is a thing with feathers / That perches in the soul, /
 And sings the tune without words / And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson

 I am not alone.  This song rocks my world. 

Jack Johnson, Hope

This post may seem a bit stiff.  I'm practicing opposite to emotion and blogging now even though I'd rather do it in the morning.  I am trying (in vain, it seems) to get back into a routine and blogging daily is part of that.  Part of the reason that it is hard is because I am not accustomed to feeling this way (better) and don't really know how to describe it. 

I quit smoking on Friday at around 10:00 a.m. and haven't had so much as a puff since.  I'm using the patch, which I have quit with before for over a year.  I have actually been smoking again for a little under a year...started again when I began my position as employment specialist at the agency.  Now that some other things are starting to turn around in my life, I feel like I'm ready to take this on. 

This also means that, to some extent, I have been a bit in my emotional mind, especially over the last 24 hours.  I'll get there. 

For the first 24, I was with my sister and she is very supportive of me quitting.  We ran some errands, I took a nap, then we went to a baseball game with Dad.  We had a good time and I was feeling very mindful. 

Saturday rolled around and I went to see Goddess of Mindfulness around 9:00 a.m.  The session went pretty well.  We talked about my progress and what my plans are for the near future.  We talked about some interpersonal relationship stuff that needs working on, and came up with some plans as to how I can address certain issues with people. 

It's always better to have a plan.  For me, anyway.  Then again, I freak out if dishes are left in the sink for over 30 minutes.  Literally.  And I want to know yesterday what I am doing next week.  And have every minute detail firmly tied down.  Sometimes (okay, often) I find that the world doesn't work that way.  Sometimes I am a slave to the bitch that is radical acceptance. 

After therapy, I worked at the bait shop and water garden store and it was CRAZY BUSY.  Of course, the man with the real plan, DHut, who runs the stores during the week, was not there.  He was off doing the family reunion thing.  That left myself, HT, and Mom to run both stores.  Plus two other people who don't count because they contribute so little to the businesses that I am dumbfounded at myself that I would even give them two lines. 

Unfortunately, I couldn't just go home after leaving the bait shop.  I had to go to hell Walgreens and grab an Rx that I realized I was out of.  The Walgreens I use was closed, so I ended up going to the busiest (and most ghetto) 24-hour Walgreens in town.  After they had transferred my Rx, they said it would be about 30 minutes. 

I sat in the parking lot and talked to Malcom for awhile.  Then he had to go, and I just sat there and it was odd.  Odd to not be smoking.  Odd to just sit there and BE.  Normally, I would have been chainsmoking, counting the seconds to go by until I could pick up the Rx and get the hell home.  But here I was, not smoking and feeling a lot of things, and trying to float with them and not fight.  Hard as hell. 

Was not made easier by the fact that I saw a lot of:

a) happy couples (probably in buying condoms...lucky bastards)

b) people obviously going out to party (CIGARETTES...4 packs of Marlboro Lights...must ALWAYS make sure there are extra cigarettes stocked for a.m. hangover)

c) people obviously buying ice cream and candy and chocolate (which I was NOT doing because I'm attempting to eat healthier and have been doing so for awhile now...and in fact am physically ill when I ingest too much sugar or fat...POISONED)

I floated.  I was mindful.  I went in, my express-pay didn't work, I had no form of payment with me, and ended up begging for two Lamictal and stating that I would come back the next day to pick up the rest.  Mercy.  Yesterday I sighed and moved on.  Today I say, Walgreens, I know you're laughing that devil-laugh.  Fuck off.  Like I said, in emotional mind last 24 hours.

I ended up making a coaching call last night regarding an issue I was having difficulty expressing to my roommate.  Of course, I got ahold of J, who does very so-so coaching calls.  She told me what I already knew.  Write it down. 

Of course, I didn't.  I allowed myself to get more and more frustrated and upset.  Serious ruminating going on. 

When my roommate came in around 10:00 p.m., she was the unlucky recipient of all of that bottled-up angst.  Thankfully, she did not punch me in the face and left me to continue freaking out. 

If you are:

Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired (of which I was all four)

HALT!!!  Do not make that decision.  Do not go there.  Just shut your damn mouth and take care of your shit.  Eat something, talk to someone...anyone...and go to bed. 

That is exactly what I should have done...had something to eat, taken a PRN, called someone (anyone), and went to bed.  As I said, this is not what I did.

Hopefully HT and I have this somewhat sorted out now.  I hope so.  I talked to her this morning and apologized and explained myself.  Even so, the whole episode has been nagging at me. 

Then again, I have maintained part of the HALT scenario through the most part of the day -- hungry, lonely, tired.  So very tired.  And trying to float.  And not smoke.  And just be.  Hard fucking work. 

Priscilla Ahn, Lullaby

Life has been a bit...um...busy lately.  With the addition of a roommate, I find myself occupied almost all of the time.  Feeling better doesn't hurt.  I've also been reaching out to some other people (my neighbor, a co-worker) and have been just getting out there more and doing things.

There is such a thing as "over-doing" it.  Sometimes I have to learn that the hard way.  I spent all of last week running around, busy busy busy.  To go from hermit to social butterfly nearly overnight was great at first.  But then I got tired.  REALLY TIRED.  I'm not talking about being tired of seeing people, just physically tired.  I have been out of my routine, staying up late, and not taking time for myself.

After some stupid decision-making over the weekend and being somewhat of a huge bitch on Sunday and Monday, I realized that I needed to chill a little bit.  That, and my anxiety had been spiking and subsiding and was really causing me interpersonal difficulties.

It's great to be busy, but I have to find some balance.  I wasn't doing any of the things that got me to that point.  I was just having a good time.  Like Mom says, I do everything all the way...to the extremes.  How dialectical.

P.S.:  Being dialectical isn't really good thing.  It means you swing between the extremes and can even mean that you feel two opposite emotions at the same time.  The key is finding the middle of the dialectic.  How to do that, I am still learning. 

IOP has become very, um, depressing lately.  There are a lot of people in there, just wallowing in their shit.  Which is exactly what I was doing, for a very long time.  In fact, I was told that I had been one of the most willful clients in quite awhile.  That's not a compliment.  So I really can't judge. 

It has been pointed out to me that my quick turn-around can be explained in part for being in therapy for the past who-knows-how-long (maybe 5 years straight, and then a couple more years here and there) with a DBT therapist, Goddess of Mindfulness. 

And as I've said, becoming willing has been the key.  Some days it is very fucking hard to be willing.  And some days it doesn't happen. 

Becoming willing was like a lightbulb set on a dimmer switch, moving me from from absolute darkness and slowly creeping into the light.  All I can say is that it takes time, and that if you don't stay on top of the bullshit, it comes back full-force and you head back into the darkness.  I also know that I will have "dips" and "hills" in my mood for the rest of my life. 

The whole point of all of this therapy and whatnot that I have been going through is that I should be better prepared for these bumps, and able to work through them, instead of succumbing to the hell of out-of-control mania or severe depression.  I've had a few "dips" and "hills" here in the past month, but have, for the most part, been able to pull myself out of the shit before I drowned in it. 

I am set to graduate IOP next Friday.  I'm pretty freaked out about it.  I can only hope that I will keep up with using my skills and being mindful of my emotions and behaviors...and the world around me.  I will still be having therapy, as always, with Goddess of Mindfulness, likely on at least a weekly basis. 

I've been having great anxiety over the fact that I will be returning to some kind of work here in the next few weeks.  I know for sure that I won't be working as an employment specialist or a case manager, or anything clinical.  I can't handle the responsibility that comes with it, when I can some days hardly be accountable for myself (and some days not at all).  And I can't handle the stress, the constant bullshit.  I'm done with working in mental health, at least for now.

On the advice of my parents, I have been trying to look into getting some kind of non-clinical position within the agency I have been working at for the past almost five (or is it four?) years.  I called the HR director yesterday to ask him about it, and it doesn't look like my chances of that are so good.  He told me that FMLA only holds the job that I already have for 90 days.  It doesn't mean that they have to work with me to find a different job within the agency. 

I thought that worked a little bit differently, and maybe I didn't say the right things or ask the right questions.  I'm going to have to check into it.  If I can't return to the agency, I suppose I'll just find something else.  Definitely something non-clinical. 

My long-term goal is to eventually work in some sort of fashion with plants and the like.  I likely won't be pursuing this until I move to AZ, mostly because I can't afford to take a huge paycut without having Malcom's additional support with finances.  That, and the fact is that type of work here in KS is very seasonal. 

I hate the saying, "It will all work out in the end," but I suppose that's what I'll have to live by for now.  I also hate the "One day at a time," saying...but again, that's what I really need to do.  What I think I'll live by, for now, is my mom and DHut's continual advice to me:

"For crying out loud, get your shit together."  And keep it that way, right?

George Thorogood, Get a Haircut and Get a Real Job

This whole actually living my life instead of avoiding it is keeping me really busy, hence no daily blog.  That and I have totally been out of my morning routine because...GASP...I'm actually sleeping.  Sleeping LATE...like 6:30 a.m. or 6:45 a.m.  Much better than 5:30 a.m.  And being active and actually awake for my entire day makes me so tired that I have not needed my sleeping meds.  How awesome is that?

My mood is still good.  I do have my moments of sadness, but they are less frequent.  For the most part, I feel positive and I think a lot of that is due to a) using my DBT skills, b) spending time with friends and being active, and c) med changes.  I know all of the above have helped with sleep.  I still really struggle with anxiety sometimes, but have been trying to take less Klonopin and use more soothing skills.  And I am no longer taking Klonopin as scheduled, which is how my old Pdoc had me taking it.  I'm taking it WHEN I NEED IT...and preferably a little bit before I do something that I know is going to make me anxious. 

I think the med changes have made a big contribution.  I was definitely overmedicated before and I think that screwed with my sleep, with my physical health, and my general state of mind.  I was blunted and I really feel ALIVE now.  Not manic, not hypomanic, but just clearer somehow...in my thinking, in my mood, in my mindfulness.  I would suggest to anyone with depression and anxiety (or bipolar or PTSD or panic attacks, for that matter) that they take DBT courses of some sort.  Or at least pick up a book about it.  It is amazing how much these skills have helped me to improve my life. 

But like I said, it's not perfect.  I'm coming to realize that things don't have to be perfect.  They don't have to be "just so."  Yes, I still prefer to have extreme order in my house and in my life, but doing the spontaneous occasionally (and I do mean, seriously, moderation is key) makes life more interesting.  Another key is just being willing.  Yes, you will feel like shit.  It can change. 

Med changes, social interaction, avoiding toxic people, setting boundaries, and just not WALLOWING IN THE SHIT seem to help.  I don't think I could have done any of the above without DBT.  Of course it is not a cure-all, but it has genuinely given me skills that I use in almost any situation in life.

I have lived my life as a grumpy hermit for most of it.  No friends, no social life, no interaction.  I wouldn't even make eye contact with cashiers at grocery stores, wouldn't go sit somewhere and have coffee, wouldn't do a damn thing except stay in my house, talk on the phone to Malcom and my parents, and occasionally go over to my parents' respective houses.  I have come to realize that this is not living, it is existing. 

It's funny that after serious introspection (which takes time, time, and more time...and practice...all the time), you have these epiphanies that you can change your life.  You can make better decisions.  You can pinpoint better what makes you feel like shit, and you learn how to pull yourself out of it. 

I am still definitely having mini pity-parties, but I find that it's better to "turn my mind" (DBT term) and focus on something else.  Self-soothe, sacred self, distract skills, interpersonal effectiveness skills, radical acceptance, and let's not forget the biggest one...MINDFULNESS.  Live in the moment. 

I realize this entire blog sounds like one big pep talk and it may seem amazing to be coming from me, but, dammit, I FEEL BETTER.  I have lived my life thinking things would never get better.  But they can.  And they will.  It's all about pulling yourself out of the shit, even for the shortest while, and working on something.  Something small.  Something that might seem trivial.  All of those small things make all the difference.  They add up to a lot of big changes over time. 

The keys:

1)  Willingness, not willfulness.  Stop fighting, struggling.  If you're in water and you struggle, you drown.  If you float, you live. 

2)  Mindfulness.  Be aware of every emotion, sit with it, let it go.  Meditate.  Focus, focus, focus on the moment.

3)  Interpersonal Effectiveness.  Learn how to set boundaries and keep toxic relationships at bay.  Improve existing relationships by communicating more effectively. 

4)  Have a grudge against someone, hate them, resent them?  Try my mantra..."may you be happy, may you be at peace, may you be protected."  This is my version of the loving kindness meditation.  Hate yourself?  Direct the words toward yourself. 

5)  Balanced sleep and balanced eating.  'Nuff said.  Do what it takes to get there.  Talk to your Pdoc, your therapist, anyone.  Just get it taken care of.

6)  Build structure.  Stay busy.  Get out of bed and do something.  Don't feel like it?  To borrow a saying from a 12-step program...fake it until you make it.  Again, be willing. 

Okay, so I'm getting off my soapbox.  This is just what has helped me.  To live a new life.  A good life.  Yes,  there will be ups and downs (kind of like the sine wave, right Pasha?  Or maybe it was cosine).  I now have the skills to keep the ups and downs from being so severe, so intense.  And I have the ability to pull myself out of the shit. 

Keep in mind that it has taken me several years of therapy and almost two months of intensive DBT to get here.  I just want to stay.  And I will. 

The willingness exercise that turned my mind?  J made me hug a tree.  Literally.  Sounds dumb, try it anyway.  That's what willingness is all about. 

Get out there and hug a tree.  Just because I said so, because it might help, because it's trying something you've never tried before. 

Tell it like it is...Jack Ingram, Love You

Quite a bit has happened since last Thursday.  Some worth mentioning, some not.  My mood has been pretty good and I have been staying productive.  J stood me up (okay, so she told me the day before) for therapy and I took Thursday off from IOP.  I just needed a break. 

I did go on Friday with two friends of mine from IOP, Hawaiian Tropic (to be explained later) and PITNB (Pink Is The New Black).  It's so cool to have girlfriends again.  I don't know that I've had a good friend since I've been in college, and I don't think I've ever had friends that were as awesome as HT and PITNB are. 

We just all get each other, and we click, and we're just so damn honest with each other about everything.  We're supportive to each other...we listen...we give advice and feedback and suggestions...and we have so much fun together. 

Friday after IOP we went to the community pool in the town that PITNB lives in.  We weren't expecting it to be quite so fabulous, since it is a really small town...but it was so great.  It has a slide, diving boards, a really fun shallow area (that's supposedly for kids, but is where we mostly hung out) that has the thing where buckets of water drop on your head and also one of those things shaped like an umbrella that water pours around in a circle. 

That umbrella is how Hawaiian Tropic earned her name.  It was hot that day, but not incredibly so.  We spent most of our time sitting by the side of the shallow end and dipping our feet in the water and chatting, and then getting in the water to cool off every once in awhile.  Well, at one point PITNB and I were sitting on the edge and HT goes under the umbrella thing to cool off. 

Let me just mention that HT is a total hottie.  She has an olive complexion, wavy brown hair, and the type of body that bikinis are made for.  Anyway, she goes under the umbrella to cool off, and, without meaning to, she did a total impersonation of one of the HT girls trying to sell sunscreen.  She stands under the umbrella, running her hands through the water and her hair, and then steps back under the umbrella and shakes out her hair. 

Immediately, PITNB and I were like...we're going to sell her.  We're going to be her managers and get her this awesome contract and be RICH.  So, that's why she's Hawaiian Tropic. 

PITNB is named such because she wears a lot of...yep, black and pink. 

Have I mentioned how awesome these friends are?

The big news is that HT needed to move, and I had been thinking about getting a roommate to help with bills and have someone to hang out with.  It was kismet.  She moved in Saturday and we're both looking for jobs here in the city until we move to AZ.  That's right...she's coming to AZ with Malcom and I.  WHOO-WHOO!!  I'm beyond excited. 

So we got most of HT's stuff from the place she was staying at yesterday and got her all moved in and all of her stuff put away.  It was good, because it also motivated me to put away all of my winter clothes instead of just switching closets like I do every season.  And I put up a lot of stuff that I don't wear for one reason or another, mostly because it's all in different sizes that don't fit right now.  So we got HT's room all set up (even though she is sleeping on an air mattress for the moment) and she even helped me get my stuff organized.  She folded my socks, among a million other things, which I absolutely hate doing. 

I think we are going to be very compatible as roommates (and already as friends).  She's smart, funny, and a great listener.  We know each other already better than most friends know each other because we've been in IOP together.  She doesn't mind my being a neat freak and she's not a slob by any means.  She eats healthy and exercises (two things that I am trying to do that I can definitely use some help with). 

And, here's the kicker...she knows how to DO stuff.  Like home-improvement, landscaping, fixing stuff.  We're going to finish out the deck and make a few repairs here and there.  I'm pretty excited about it.

After we finished getting all of our stuff put away (for now...we still have another good car load, maybe more, of her stuff still in the other city) and made her room up, we went to PetSmart to buy Kizz a new collar. 

The intention was to buy one that will help when I walk her so that she doesn't snap the one she has (because it's snapped together with a plastic thingie) when I walk her.  I ended up buying one that is just like a regular collar, but has a small chain on it so that when she pulls, it tightens around her neck and she can't slip it.  Hopefully we'll get to try it out soon. 

And I also bought her a new collar for just everyday wear...you know, to put her tags on and for when we aren't out walking.  I couldn't believe how filthy her old collar was, although she's definitely a dog's dog and loves play down and dirty...and the fact that for the three weeks that Kizz and I stayed at Mom and DHut's, she was in their fish pond at least three or four times a day.  At any rate, she has two new collars, and she's going to get a bath today.  Or maybe tomorrow.  Sometime soon anyway.

HT and I had an awesome evening yesterday.  After dropping by the water garden store to say "hi" and pick up the air mattress, we came home and had a fabulously cooked dinner (shrimp with broccoli/cheese couscous and green beans).  Then we sat outside and drank some awesome wine.  It was our self-soothe for the evening, although I'm pretty sure it wouldn't get us any gold stars in group.

I'm not normally a wine person, but have been getting more into it since Kyle and Ab always have it on hand and we drink some with dinner when I visit.  So, HT picked out two kinds...don't ask me what kind...I'd have to get off my big butt and look at the bottle. 

So we sat outside and chatted and drank our wine and, after awhile, saw my neighbor (who is a couple of years older than me) and invited her over to have a glass.  We ended up staying up late, chatting and laughing and having a crazy old time on the back deck.  It was really funny.

And it's just amazing.  Before this period, I was just surviving my life, not really living it.  But now I have some good friends and am actually doing some social stuff.  It's totally great.  And I think I have over-used the words "great," "awesome," and similar words this post. 

HT and I are going to the grocery store in the morning, because our neighbor told us about Havarti (sp?) cheese and insists we must get some because she herself had an orgasmic experience right there at Hy-Vee when she sampled some and has been obsessed ever since.  We're then going to work at the water garden and bait store around 11:00 a.m. today and will be done by 5:00 p.m.  We're then having a BBQ at Mom and DHut's, which should be a good time. 

And after that, who knows what kind of craziness we'll do.  All I know is that I'm having a FABULOUS time.  :)

Very appropriate for life right now...Alanis Morissette, Hand in My Pocket

Yesterday was a day of pulling myself up out of the shit.  I haven't slept well for the past few days and, although I had a nice chat with Malcom in the morning (part of our new routine), IOP left me unsettled. 

What bothered me most was that I couldn't understand why I felt unsettled, when I have been feeling so good lately.  I felt anxious, and sad...but not depressed.  I didn't feel as bad as I have felt previously, but I certainly didn't feel as good as I had for the past week.

After a coaching session with one of the DBT therapists, I was assured that I was just having a "dip."  Apparently recovery isn't set on a straight incline.  It generally goes upward, but sometimes there are dips...but you don't go back to where you started unless you stop trying.  Kind of like three steps forward, one step back.  Or maybe two.  Depending on the dip.

I also talked to the therapist about my anxieties about working and conversations with Curly Snap.  She validated my hopes that quitting mental health doesn't make me a failure, and that I want to find something I am good at and enjoy.  I talked with her about wanting to work outside, with plants and the earth.  That's what I really want.  Or it might not turn out to be, but it's what I want to try next.

As an aside...a concern is that I wouldn't be able to make enough money to keep up with my bills while I am living alone here in Topeka doing a job such as this.  I think that's probably why my mom sent me a link to a job as an office assistant.  It probably doesn't help that we haven't actually had a real conversation about it either. 

After I left IOP yesterday, I was feeling sad.  Just plain sad with a little bit of anxiety, and a bit of blah.  I had lunch with my dad and was fairly non-communicative.  I knew I had to pull myself from the shit.  I just couldn't do it at the time. 

It was really hot out yesterday.  Hot and humid.  I put on my "working outside" clothes and spent about two hours mowing, tearing down a fence that has been driving me crazy, and pulling weeds.  I think my intention was not only to make myself feel better, but to somehow prove to myself that I could still get out and get shit done.  And get that sense of accomplishment. 

My dad has been mowing my lawn for me for the past few weeks.  It has been really helpful, but it was good to do it myself.  I was ready.  And able.  It felt good to sweat and get hot and muddy and have to drink tons of water and, this will sound ridiculous, give the middle finger to everyone who said it was too hot to be outside during that time of the day, that I'd make myself sick. 

I didn't get sick.  I got some sun, my face turned a nice magenta color, but I did not get sick.  Probably because I was literally singing in my head during the entirety of those two hours...

Bad, bad, Rosie Brown...toughest bitch in the whole damn town

Positive thought and mindfulness can take you places you didn't know you could go.  Or thought you couldn't go.  Or thought that you would never be able to go to again.  I felt better again.

After spending time cooling down, sitting in my freshly mowed yard, I ran an errand to Walgreens.  It's sad.  When I walk up, they say my last name and then they say, "how many today?"  I rewarded myself for my hard work with a box of Hot Tamales.  They're gone now. 

The rest of the evening was good.  I watched a cute movie (The Jane Austen Book Club) and talked to my baby, played fetch with my dog.  I left the movie feeling as if I really need to start getting back into reading now that I am feeling better.  The movie inspired me to try some Austen, which I have actually fake-read before when I was in college.  I'm also going to read some Faulkner, which I also fake-read in college.  The books are compliments of Dad and Karen's library.  Thanks guys.

I feel like I should blog about today, since the day is almost over.  But I need to eat and comfort my anxiety-stricken dog (thunderstorms).  And doing so today would leave me with little to say tomorrow morning, because some serious insights were made today. 

Stay tuned.

A song for Malcom...xoxoxo

Alanis Morrisette, Head Over Feet

I had a pretty good day yesterday.  IOP went well and then I actually...wait for it...wait for it...WENT TO A PUBLIC PLACE WITH A GIRL FROM GROUP.  I know, it's huge.  Not only did I interact, but I hung out with another person.  And didn't feel anxious.  It felt totally natural and that is a first in perhaps my life.  Maybe it's because she's just as crazy as I am.  And I actually have plans to go swimming with her and another girl from group on Friday.  Such progress.

Yesterday was hotter than hell and so humid...oh so ick...and no AC in my car.  I ran some errands for DHut and then went to the grocery store...where I did not freak out and stuck to my list (other than buying some shrimp that was on sale).  I even made small-talk with other customers and smiled at people and was nice to the check-out person even though he was a grouch who made it clear that he did not like his job. 

It's funny how being positive and having a smile and a kind word or a funny thing to say can cheer up a person's day...and I'm not just talking about the grocery store.  I brought my Keb 'Mo CD to group yesterday and we listened to Better Man for mindfulness meditation.  People LOVED it. 

Cheered a whole bunch of people right up...at least temporarily.  It helps that the song is totally relevant to willingness and validating feelings and accepting that you don't know what is going to happen in life and that's ok. 

I had therapy yesterday and we talked about how I am feeling now compared to how I was feeling about 18 months ago when I was doing "really well" (i.e. not smoking, exercising, not very anxious, not depressed).  I told Goddess of Mindfulness that, although I am not doing those things and still get anxious and depressed, that I feel like I have a better handle on my life now than I did before.  I've got all of these awesome coping skills now and definitely have a more positive outlook. 

In the past when I was "doing well," I mostly avoided situations that made me anxious, such as talking to people at the grocery store and making small-talk and going out with people.  Now I'm just throwing myself into it and knowing that I have the distress tolerance and emotional regulation skills to deal.  So, in a way, I think things are really looking up for me.  Like Keb says, "Gonna make myself a better (wo)man."  And that's what I'm doing.

I did talk to Curly Snap last night, which is almost always a mistake.  She bitches about work the whole time and it makes me feel really anxious to be talking about work.  When I got off the phone with her, I felt really sad and anxious and was worried about what I am going to do when I go back to work.  I know I don't want to go back to the agency I was at and I definitely don't want to do the job I was doing before.

I called a friend from work that I used to do groups with around 10:00 p.m. (I know...off my schedule, Mom) because he always listens and gives good advice and has great insights.  Bottom line is that I need to find something that I really like doing and that I can do a good job at and feel competent with.  We talked about the fact that my ceasing to work in mental health does not make me a failure.  That I did not get my degree for nothing. 

So, I'll be trying to find a different job here within the next month or so.  Right now the agency is paying 66% of my salary while I am out on leave, which is kind of keeping the bills paid.  I'm thinking that I'd like to do something working outside...maybe at a nursery or doing maintenance for the city.  Or something like that.  I love to be outside and work with plants and get my hands in the dirt (I get that from my Momma).  And if I can't find something like that, I would be all right with being an office bitch, or a grocery store clerk or stocker.  I just have to know that something will work out, one way or another. 

Like Ab and J say...I have CHOICES.  I don't have to do the same BS that I was doing before.  I can CHOOSE to do what makes me happy and pay the bills at the same time.  I can do whatever I need to do to improve and keep working on my mental health and I really want to LIVE my life, instead of just tolerating it and avoiding everything.  This is a very new feeling for me. 

And I kinda like it.

Ode to mi madre...and no, she is not a crack whore...she just likes this song.

Amy Winehouse, Rehab.

So yes, it has been a long time since I have posted and previous it was sporadic at best, and I realize this has caused some anxiety among a few readers as to my well-being.  My apologies.  But sometimes no news IS good news...although I wrote a post to the opposite just a couple of weeks ago.

Over the past week (since last Thursday, really), I have been getting a lot better.  The suicidal thoughts are pretty much gone...and when I do have them, they're really fleeting.  I'm not sunk into a really deep depression, although I do have my moments.  My irritability is mostly gone.  And my anxiety has decreased.

It has felt almost magical to go from feeling like shit and being miserable every day to feeling almost good every day.  Or at least feeling like I can cope, like I have the skills to get me through, that I can look at things in a positive light.

How did this happen?

I've had an epiphany of sorts.  After three therapy sessions (two with Goddess of Mindfulness, and one with J) of "get your shit together and stop wallowing in your misery and negativity," I decided to be willing instead of willful.  Willing to do what it takes to feel better.  Whatever it takes.

I realized that a lot of my hang-ups were in my own head.  I'd talk myself out of feeling better, even.  Talk myself out of my ability to go anywhere.  I think in a lot of ways I was scared to get better.  Because, in my twisted head, that meant that I had to go back to all of the things I was doing before...the job, the stress, the bullshit, the not-being-in-control feelings.

But I don't, and it was mostly a chat with my sister and then with J that confirmed that.  All I have now are choices.  I don't have to go back to my shit job that stresses me out and makes me crazy.  I don't have to go back to being off schedule and doing whatever the hell I want, damn the consequences.  I don't have to go back to any of the bullshit.  Instead, I get to make new choices. 

And I choose to find a different job, to live my life by a schedule, to be willing and positive, to not put up with bullshit, to protect my own mental health and not give in to people or situations that harm it, and to live life in control.  It was like this huge lightbulb went off in my head and I thought...I can control this...I can manage it...I can make it better.  And, with the help of DBT, I have the skills to do so.

Sticking to a schedule, doing small things to make myself feel better, and, I realize this is going to sound a bit ridiculous to those who are in the depths of depression, but just being positive even when I don't feel like it.  If you think positively enough, some of those negative thoughts go away and you can heal.  Or at least start healing.

I moved back home yesterday from Mom's.  That should help with the sporadic blogging, because I'll be able to get online in the mornings when I most feel like blogging.  And I'll be able to get online whenever I feel like it...Mom is a busy lady and it makes her a computer-hog.  :D 

Many thanks go out to many people for being supportive during this time.  I'm not going to list out everyone, but know that if you sent me an email, left me a comment, let me stay at your house for three weeks, or even called me or stopped in, or mowed my lawn...I am grateful.  May all the good you do be returned to you.

Okay, so this video sucks and it's not the cut that I absolutely love and it cuts out before the song is over (it was the only one I could find), but if you even remotely like the song, you definitely need to check out the Slow Down Keb 'Mo CD.

Keb 'Mo, Better Man

WARNING -- if you are offended by cursing, you should not read this entry

Yesterday was extremely difficult.  I woke up and I was irritable.  And willful (DBT term meaning not open, opposite of willing, not wanting to work on myself, not wanting to listen to advice, not wanting to expose my emotional skin because it hurt so much).  And really judgemental.  Everything was stupid.  And pointless.  And why the fuck did she say that?  And why the fuck are we doing this?  This is dumb.  I hate her.  I hate myself.  I hate everybody. 

So yes, IOP was a bit difficult yesterday.  I didn't want to do anything and I didn't want to listen to any of the BULLSHIT that is Friday IOP.  I'm sick and tired of some of the people in the group and I'm sick and tired of that goddamn ARNP that comes in from 11:30-12:00 and talks about how fish oil and exercise in high amounts has been known to "cure depression."  Stupid bitch.  I know, judgemental. 

If things couldn't be worse, our mindfulness excercise from 11:00 - 11:30 was playing that dumbass Jenga game...you know, the one where there's a stack of sticks and you stack them up and try and take one out until it all falls down.  How stupid.  How it related to mindfulness, I couldn't see.  And I literally refused to participate, said out loud that I didn't think this dumbass game was relevant to DBT, and sat in the corner and mumbled under my breath the whole time.  Willful.  Judgemental.  Don't fucking care, it was stupid.  Still judgemental.  And the fucking anxiety...thought I was going to die, and wished it too. 

After IOP, I sat out in the parking lot, shaking mad and irritable and screaming FUCK YOU to the world.  I was totally out of control, totally on the verge of doing something stupid.  I tried to get a fucking coaching call so I could work my way through it and maybe have someone to talk to, since I'd already had 2 mg of Klonopin so far which didn't seem to be doing the trick.  Couldn't get a fucking coaching call.  Goddamn therapists.

I went from there to another water garden store in the big city to pick up some stuff for DHut's water garden store.  Relatively painless.  They had it all ready to go, I signed for it, and they even loaded it into my car.  But the anxiety on the drive back.  It was all I could do to keep my car on the road.

I dropped the stuff off for DHut and then went back to Mom and DHut's house.  All I wanted to do was numb out.  I didn't want to do anything productive, couldn't imagine doing anything productive, or being conscious, awake, my emotional skin on FUCKING FIRE anymore.  I told Mom I was going to lay down and listen to music.  She advised against it, since I'm not supposed to take naps.  And she said that because 1) I told her to keep me on track, and 2) she, along with all of my treaters, don't think naps do me a bit of good and numbing out doesn't solve anything.  I didn't fucking care.  I told her to ignore what I had said for today...that today wasn't going to be a perfect, on-schedule type of day.  I just couldn't deal.

So I went and laid on the chaise lounge and listened to music.  I am still stuck on the Curious George soundtrack.  I listened to it for awhile and ended up falling asleep until 4:00, when I had told Mom to wake me up before she left to help DHut at the bait shop (HELLO MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND).  I fell back asleep for another hour, and when I woke up, I was still feeling really irritable and anxious and like I was crawling out of my own skin and every thought stabbed me in the heart.  I didn't feel like I could deal. 

I called DHut, asking if they needed help (which I was really not in a state to do).  He said they were fine, and later told me that he could hear in my voice that I was not fine and that coming down to that busy-ass shop was not going to be the best.  So I sat around for about thirty minutes, pacing and feeling like shit and feeling MISERABLE and I just didn't want to be alone.  My thought was that I would go sit in the office in the water garden and mess around on the computer, so I wouldn't be alone.

When I got there, there were no customers in the parking lot, but DHut said they had just had a big rush.  They were putting up tackle and I was sitting in the bait store, watching them do so and drinking a Diet Pepsi.  All of a sudden, every fisherman in the world decided they needed bait RIGHT FUCKING NOW.  It was just Mom and DHut working, and there were people standing around everywhere needing help.  What I should have done, considering my state of mind, was to either go home or go sit back in the office.

What I did instead was jump in and start waiting on customers.  It was so fucking busy that it was ridiculous.  And I thought I'd just run the cash register for a little bit until the crowd died down, but it didn't.  And then before I knew it I was catching bait too and having to make small-talk.  And a lot of people fish once a year and they decide to go out on Memorial weekend and do so and they know DICK about bait, keeping it alive, etc.  Then I had some troubles at the cash register and accidentally voided out four dollars and some change when I was supposed to be ringing it up.  In my mind, I had failed.  Totally completely failed.  What a fuckup, stupid, dumb thing to do...I have a college degree and I fucked up the cash register.  So I left.

I sat in the parking lot and did a coaching call with J.  Thank God she picked up.  I was hysterical, crying, feeling like I just wanted to die right at that very moment, that I wasn't ever going to feel better, and it was all just FUCKING UNBEARABLE and it would be better if I was beamed up by aliens and they killed me after they were done shoving probes into my ears.  I agreed to go home and do some mindfulness exercises, which are impossible to do when you're that upset. 

Instead I went home, with the intention of doing mindfulness exercises (I had my CD player out, was sitting on the back porch, had all of my coloring books and colored pencils and journal, etc).  I couldn't bring myself to use any skills, and all I really wanted to do was fucking TALK to someone. 

I called Dad and his wife, Karen (who has been a psych nurse most of her life) answered and I talked to her (or rather cried my damn eyes out) while she tried to calm me down and I tried to explain how shitty my day had been and how hopeless I felt.  She made me feel a little bit better, and then I talked to Dad, who tried to take my mind off things by telling me this story of how he got pulled over by Highway Patrol the other day.  He distracted me and it was good.  Once I had calmed down a little bit, I tried to explain why I felt so bad, how today had been so horrible, and he asked me some questions about stuff.  Trying to understand.  And being supportive.  I'm really glad I called them. 

Then Mom pulled in the drive.  So I got off the phone and put my headset on.  I told her I had to make a second coaching call in fifteen minutes.  And that I was pretty much done talking about it.  We didn't really chat much.  I told her a little bit about the events of the day.  Then DHut showed up and they were talking business.  I sat and listened.  DHut was very supportive and kept saying, I love you, because I must have looked just so fucking miserable.  Mom did the same.  It made me feel better.  DHut told me not to worry about the cash register, that it was only four dollars, not a big deal.  I told him that it wasn't just that, it was all the stress and I just had to leave and break down.

I did quite a bit more sitting outside listening to them talk.  Just listening and chainsmoking.  Sometimes it makes me feel better to have people (not just any people, namely Mom and DHut) sit around and talk about something totally unrelated to the issues I'm having and for me to just be able to sit there and listen and not say much.

I then went inside and had dinner.  And chainsmoked some more.  Called Malcom, talked to him briefly.  Went to bed around 10:30. 

We had storms last night and Kizz woke me up at 3:00 a.m.  And then I was wide awake.  So I literally sat downstairs on the chaise lounge, drinking coffee and chainsmoking until 5:45 a.m., when I called Dad and asked if I could come hang out today and make Mom and DHut a trifle for their anniversary.  Dad said he had to work (works out of his basement at his house...he's an attorney), but that I was more than welcome to come over. 

I just want to be somewhere quiet.  And work on sacred self and self soothe skills.  Because I really need them right now. 

Before I go over there, I have therapy at 9:00 and then need to pick up some stuff for the trifle.  At some point in time today I need to go the Res and buy cigaretttes. 

Other than that, I plan on doing nothing but sitting on my ass, talking to Malcom (thank God for free weekend minutes), and doing other self-soothe stuff...coloring, reading, doing my toenails, journaling.  It's about all I can handle. 

I would apologize for all the cursing in this post, but that's how I feel.  I'm still really irritable and mad and want to tell the world to fuck off.  Instead of going out and doing that though, I'm going to do as previously mentioned and spend a lot of alone time...with Dad doing his lawyer thing in the basement.

Norah Jones, The Long Day is Over

Okay, so maybe vacation isn't the right word.  If anything, I didn't need to take a break from my blog...actually, it was one of the worst possible things I could do, because instead of getting it down and off my chest, all of the bullshit stayed inside my head and just repeated itself OVER AND OVER. 

I'm not going to go into the details of the last four days.  Let's just say that it consisted of severe depression and anxiety, no sleep, suicidal ideation (no worries...that's why I'm staying with the folks), and very very brief moments of relief.  Nothing especially exciting happened.  I tried to stay busy and just spent time with family, went to IOP, etc. 

I had therapy with Goddess of Mindfulness yesterday.  And I was feeling bad...I mean really bad.  Such black and white thinking, self-judgemental thoughts, and just emotional...really emotional.  I hadn't cried that hard in a long time.  It wasn't anything in particular that was bothering me, just the general bullshit.

We came up with some ideas to help get me back on track sleep-wise and hopefully somewhat improve the constant cloud of depression and anxiety so that I can at least tolerate it.  Bottom-line...I need to get back to doing the things I was doing when I felt better...like the way I felt eight months ago, or even a year ago.  Granted, it wasn't perfect then, but it was so much better than what it is now.

The first thing is to work on sleep.  I have been staying up late and having too much stimulus in the evenings, along with not eating until around 9:00 p.m. and not taking my meds until 9:00 p.m. or 10:00 p.m. and then staying up to talk to Malcom when he gets off work at 11:00 p.m. my time, and generally not going to bed until around midnight.  The combination of all of that has me all out of whack and my sleep has been super-shitty. 

When I was doing well, I really worked hard on what is called "sleep hygiene."  I had a routine.  I stuck with it.  I did the same things every night, and I slept a lot better.  I'm going to be getting back into that, and did my routine last night with a few things GoM threw in to help and slept for seven straight hours, other than waking up to pee a few times, which I have always done anyway. 

The keys to my evening routine are to:

1)  Eat dinner by 7:00 p.m.

2)  Take meds by 7:30 p.m.

3)  Start relaxing by 8:30 p.m. (watching TV, coloring, or just doing what seems relaxing at the moment)

4)  Take a shower before bed to calm me down.

5)  Be in bed (not necessarily asleep) by 10:00 p.m.

6)  Sleep in a cool room.

And GoM threw in that I needed to listen to music when I was winding down, lying in bed.  So, I went out and bought a portable CD player and, although I was skeptical, fell asleep listening to the Curious George soundtrack (very soothing, if you are in need of such a CD).  I actually fell asleep while listening to it and ended up taking off my headphones when I woke up for the first time to pee.  And it was such a sound sleep.  Absolutely wonderful.

As most people with bipolar disorder know, things go better when you stick to a strict routine.  Get up at the same time every day, have the same "waking up" routine, have your awake time structured to a "T", and follow the same evening routine every night.  Granted, there may be nights when it is harder to do this, and I imagine if you have children or a spouse it would be ten times harder.  And that's not to say that every once in awhile you can't deviate and stay up a little late to watch a show or hang out with some friends.  But when I was doing well, I very VERY rarely did that, and when I did, I still made sure that I was home by 10:00 p.m. or so. 

So call me an old fogey, or unexciting, but I would rather feel better than live a life of adventure.  Routine works for me (or it has in the past), and I don't really get bored with it.  I like being at home, I like knowing what I'll be doing for the day.  I just like it.  I can't really express how much.  In the past when I've had a day that I followed my routine, I went to bed with an less-demanding mind, and just a better feeling, kind of hard to describe, but like an "everything is okay right at this very moment" feeling.  A feeling of satisfaction, if you will, that I took care of myself that day.

As I said, I started getting back into my normal routine yesterday and plan to keep it up.  Some other things that I need to add are:

1) Blogging daily -- it really helps me to stay centered

2)  Being mindful of (or aware or just noticing) black and white and judgemental thinking

3)  Working on calming myself when I wake up in the middle of the night instead of staying up and chain-smoking in a well-lit room, which just makes me more keyed up

4)  Allowing myself to feel feelings and let them go

These are my goals, the things I am working on (along with IOP and therapy) to make myself feel better.  To make life tolerable again. 

Jack Johnson, Broken -- from the "Curious George" soundtrack (There is no real video to this, only music...couldn't find a video I liked, but thought this song was worth listening to)

It has been a few days since I have blogged.  Again, a combination of not taking time to fit it into my schedule and having problems sneaking in some computer time with my work-a-holic busy mother.  I mean seriously, she has three jobs.  Time to quit one, Madre (which I know you wish you could do...I just worry).  On the plus side, it means her and DHut's businesses are going well, but she is so damn stressed out that I wish she would nibble on a Xanax and sip a cocktail.

Another reason for not blogging is that nothing particularly new has been going on.  IOP...therapy...more IOP...more therapy...working on DBT skills...trying to survive.  I am still staying with my parents, which helps to some extent.  It's a great distraction technique, but IOP and therapy still leave me with third-degree emotional burns and it takes most of the day to recover, if at all.  And then it's back at it again. 

I've been trying to give myself one task per afternoon that I can get accomplished so that I can feel like I'm actually doing something.  For the past couple of days, it has been cooking and doing laundy and helping Mom with the house.  Anything but mowing my lawn, right?

I had an up-and-down day yesterday.  IOP was awful...couldn't concentrate, couldn't listen, couldn't function, participate.  I made three coaching calls yesterday and friggin' J ended up cancelling our therapy appointment because her allergies were bothering her.  I really could have used some therapy yesterday.

I came back to town, sat in the hot tub, took a shower, ran a few errands, talked to Malcom, and then it was off to Mom and DHut's again.  They got in another shipment of plants for the water garden store and I helped get them all potted and put in water.  Good self-soothe technique.

Then we came home and I made mini-meatloafs.  YUM. 

So...

DEPRESSION...CHECK!

ANXIETY...CHECK!

GENERAL CRAPPINESS...CHECK!

Nothing new here.

My thoughts go out to my godmother, The Bird Lady.  XO

Norah Jones, Rosie's Lullaby.

Okay, so I have had this nagging feeling that there has been something I haven't been doing...that there is something that's missing.  Pasha wrote a comment that prompted me to realize what it was.  I haven't blogged since Sunday morning, and here it is Tuesday morning.  I've been thrown out of my routine a little bit by staying at Mom's house. 

I usually blog in the early morning (when she is on the computer doing her wake-up routine) or the early evening (when I am spending time with the fam) or in the late evening (when she is on the computer).  But I know, no excuses.  Just need to get back into the routine, because it is something that really keeps me sane. 

In a lot of ways, choosing (mostly important because it was my choice, not something forced) to stay at Mom and DHut's house until I can get going again, stop isolating, has been a blessing.  My days are more structured and I'm spending less time staring at the wall or sleeping.  It's also a safe way to interact with others, even if I'm not getting out and immersing myself in the hellacious and scary world of people that I don't know.  It's a baby step, but at the same time, it's a big step.

The weekend went better than any weekend has in a long time...mostly because I didn't stay in bed the whole time.  Of course, it wasn't perfect.  I felt quite depressed and anxious, but it wasn't such an intense level, because I had so much to distract myself.  Saturday and Sunday afternoons were rough, mostly because I was by myself, but when Mom and DHut are around, I can feel the tightness in my chest ease a bit and the depression not hit me so hard.  

I also had feelings of helpfulness, and even a little bit of hopefulness...and some sleep.  And just feelings of being loved and accepted and cared for.  I'm not going to sit here and lie and say that all of my problems went away, but stopping the isolation and being around my family has helped.  Gives me much less time to dwell, and I am staying really busy.

Mom has been going through a stressful time, between her full-time job, doing the books for both of the businesses, and doing a part-time bookkeeper job that she has been doing forever.  She has a lot on her plate, and I have really been trying to make myself useful -- cooking dinner, keeping the house straightened up, doing laundry, keeping up with the dishes, and just doing things that she doesn't always have the time or energy to do.  Just my way of taking things off her plate to hopefully make her life easier.  It makes me feel useful, keeps me busy (good distraction technique) and it makes me feel like I am contributing something...instead of feeling like a mooch that sleeps in the guest room and doesn't do anything. 

And Mom and DHut have been (I know I'm sounding like a broken record here) SO damn supportive.  They want me to get better, and if staying over here means that I can stay safe and get some sleep, then they're all for it.  DHut, usually a man of few words, not one to talk about emotions has really put himself out there and said that he just wants me to feel better and that he is happy to have me here.  And Mom, too, has made it clear that, not only am I helping myself by staying, but that she really likes having me here, that she enjoys my company, and that I am really making her life easier by helping out.

Those things make me feel better about myself.  That and I have people to process my day with, to talk to, to bring me out of my house where I sit alone with my dog, and to just sit and listen to them interact makes me feel better sometimes.  Just living in the world, even if it is just a little bubble of a world.  It's a step. 

I have been spending my mornings in IOP, then therapy on Saturday and yesterday (and again on Thursday and Saturday), and then trying to structure the three or four hours I have left in the day until Mom gets off work.  Some days I have been doing good with that, some days I haven't.

The biggest problem with structuring my time is that I have a hard time doing things and feeling alive and feeling like I don't want to just jump off a bridge.  There is too much time to think and, after IOP and therapy, I feel like I have really worked hard that day and all I want to do is sit around. 

And I think, and have talked with my therapist about possibly being too hard on myself, and how I need to stop making these huge to-do lists, and simply do what I can, and accept that I am not a failure because I didn't get my grass mowed, or because I chose to sit and talk to Malcom instead of doing laundry, or because I played with my dog instead of all of the million things I COULD be doing around the house. 

Both of my therapists really want me to be working hard at self-soothe and sacred-self exercises, and I am trying to do that.  It's hard when you feel like shit and you come home from three hours, sometimes four, of IOP and therapy, and all you really want to do is numb out.  So, I try to do something between the time I get home and the time Mom and DHut come home from work to occupy myself.  Because really, when I numb out and don't do anything, I feel guilty afterward.

Monday was pretty rough, as Mondays usually are.  I had a billion things on my to-do list.  And all this optimism in the morning before I went to IOP that I would get it all done.  But IOP was especially rough and going home to an empty house after being with Mom and DHut all weekend was hard.  I ended up sleeping and not getting anything done, and had really bad nightmares.  So, I woke up feeling like I'd just survived a battle in my sleep...and like a failure because I didn't do the things I had planned to do (grocery store, mow, pick up dog food). 

I then went to Mom and DHut's and felt a bit better, mostly through distraction techniques -- getting dinner ready, doing laundry, cleaning up the kitchen, listening to Mom and DHut talk about their day, and just not getting caught up in the bullshit in my head.  The negative tape still runs, but being productive and feeling like I am being helpful and taking some of the stress of Mom's shoulders decreases that anxiety a bit and gives me a temporary feeling...not a feeling of feeling good, or even somewhat good, but a feeling that is not deep depression and anxiety.  They still exist, but, broken record, staying with Mom and DHut and having that structure and feeling like I am being productive do help. 

Another person that I have to give a lot of credit to for helping me through really tough spells is Malcom.  I can call him and instantly feel relief, a loosening in my chest...just hearing his voice and having him listen.  He is amazing and it is reassuring that when I move that I will have him there to help me through.  And really, we help each other, which makes it even better. 

I also need to give some credit to IOP and therapy, as painful as it may be.  Going to IOP and therapy daily is like ripping the scabs off all these wounds, rubbing salt in them, and then going home to try to let them heal until I have to go in the next day and rip them off again.  Hell yeah, it's painful, it's exruciating sometimes, and sometimes I can't deal with the aftermath without numbing out.  But I'm doing it.  And I'm learning skills to deal with it.  No pain, no gain, right?

There is something to be said for all of things I am trying to do.  Building structure and using self-soothing, distraction, and sacred self techniques give me moments of relief from the overwhelming depression and anxiety that I do feel, and hopefully there will come a time when these things come to me automatically and I don't have to work so damn hard to make it through the day.  Right now, I'm holding on with my fingernails, or, as I've heard people say, white-knuckling it...but at least I'm doing that. 

The Shirelles, Mama Said:

Okay, so maybe the word "cures" is a little strong, but being here at Mom and DHut's is like practicing distraction techniques all day long.  It's not so great when they're not here.  I spent yesterday afternoon by myself and went to Dad's very briefly and felt pretty shitty until they got home.  And then the games began. 

Between Mom and DHut, they are keeping me pretty entertained.  DHut has a very goofy sense of humor and sometimes he can really get on a rip. 

And then there was Mom this morning.  I got up around 6:45 and Mom had already been up since around 5:15 and she was, um, raring to go.  She was listening to YouTube American Idol crap and singing along.  And then she put on Amy Winehouse...and she kept singing "And I said no, no, no" to everything I said. 

Mom + caffeine = giddy

We are on our third pot of coffee.  Things might be a little whacky today. 

So I have now been with Mom and DHut for almost the past 24 hours.  Do I feel better?  A little.  I at least feel safe here, and I had a good night's sleep because Mom put Quaaludes in my Fresca sleeping here is always easier than sleeping at home.  I plan on spending enough time here to get my sleeping back on track and until I feel safe enough to trust myself at home alone. 

Mom and DHut have been great and really supportive.  Sometimes I have a hard time interacting, but even just listening to them talk about day-to-day stuff and not really jumping in the conversation seems to help.  Just like Pasha says...just be around people, even if you don't have to interact.  Wise advice.

The dogs are all having a great time.  Not only does Mom have two dogs, Lucy and Gracie (both poodles, Lucy being a standard and Gracie being a miniature), but she is dogsitting Bella (a wheaten terrier) for my sister and her boyfriend (who are off living it up in Germany).  They can all get pretty wild and crazy together and it really gives me a sense of satisfaction to see Kizzie so happy and getting the play-time that she really needs that I haven't been able to give her much of lately.

Another bonus to staying at Mom's -- the food.  I baked her a New York cheesecake from scratch yesterday for Mother's Day, my gift to her since I am pretty much unable to go anywhere and money is tight since I am not working...and because it is her all-time favorite dessert.  We had Papa Murphy's pizza for dinner last night (YUMMM!!) and I'm getting ready to whip up some French toast, sausage, and eggs.  Then for dinner to night, we are grilling steaks and I am making twice-baked potatoes and wilted lettuce.  All of Mom's favorites, and I'd have to say that a lot of it ranks among my favorites, as well. 

Being here just makes me feel more human, or something.  It distracts me from all the crap in my head, because Mom and DHut are very talkative, on-the-go, task-oriented people.  As long as they are here, I am entertained and it's like watching a funny TV show.  When they go, I revert back to feeling like crap, but they are here for the most part (at least over the weekend) and it really helps. 

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there.  Especially to mine...best Mom anyone could ask for.  MTLI, Madre.  Your favorite song of the moment...

Amy Winehouse, Rehab.

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY also to my sister, Ab.  Drink a few for me tonight, sissy.  :D

The Beatles, Happy Birthday

Same old shit with a little twist on Friday.  Depressed, anxious, self-loathing blah blah blah blah.  I did a lot of numbing on Friday.  Went to IOP, had a hard time listening and learning, which is, of course, what I am there for.  I just couldn't tune in, the tape in my head was playing so loud and I was trying to numb numb numb.  I didn't really participate.  And then I went straight home and went to bed.  If it counts at all, I did go to Mom and DHut's in the evening and kinda sorta interacted.

Of course, I filled out my diary card, what with all it's 4's and 5's (high intensity ratings) on things like numbing, anxiety, sadness, guilt, rumination, shame, irritability, anger...and I believe joy and willingness (to interact) scored around 1 (low intensity ratings).  It's like I put down the same thing almost every day, hence the blog Nothing Changes a day or so ago.

Earlier in the week and the previous weekend, I was really cycling and, rather than getting stuck in a manic state, I ended up in a hellacious mixed one.  While mania has it's benefits, it definitely has it's downfalls.  Like spending too much money, having high anxiety, making poor choices, and the bitch of it is that the voices don't stop...they get louder, faster, and more irritating...and you still feel like you want to take a shower with a toaster crap. 

I am not exercising per say, but am becoming a bit more active.  It is unbelievable how many people have told me to exercise within the past few months...and have said it repeatedly, like perhaps I didn't hear the first or sixth time...DAD.  I just want to scream I KNOW! and then punch the person that said it in the face.  And it's really no offense to any one person.  Most people are trying to be helpful and don't know that I've heard it a million times or who think that they're telling me something I don't know. 

But  I know it doesn't help to sleep around the clock, to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, to sit or lie on the couch and stare at the wall or out the window, that it makes matters worse, that I need to get off of my ass and walk around the block, do the dishes, watch a movie, read a book, be around people, bathe, play with my dog, do my laundry, sweep the floors and vacuum the rugs, and all of the other things one SHOULD do. 

I am saying this mostly for my own benefit, because I am truly my hardest critic...I'm doing what I can, and although it appears to be the bare minimum, I need to remind myself that I'm not sleeping 24/7.

To my credit, I do go to IOP and interact with people for three hours a day, five days a week.  I also go to three 1-hour individual sessions a week.  I do go to Mom and DHut's house almost daily, and the days that I'm not there, I go to Dad's.  I've also tried to do small things during the day to stay awake...coloring, for one.  Sometimes I go to the grocery store with Mom.  I went to Walgreens by myself today.  I talk on the phone to Malcom, to Curly Snap, Mom, Dad, DHut.  I sit out on my back porch a lot.  Have been playing a lot of fetch with Kizz. 

But most of the time I feel so depressed that I can barely get out of bed, can barely stay out of bed, can't motivate myself to brush my teeth, do my hair, take a shower...the bare minimum.  In my mind, I know all of the previously mentioned things help, but getting around to doing them seems impossible some days.

Things have been reaching a breaking point, so I am staying over at Mom and DHut's all weekend...spending the night and the whole bit.  Even though Mom isn't here at the moment, I still feel a little better just BEING here.  Playing on the computer, looking around at their gardens and pond (which have all won numerous awards), watching Kizzie play with my mom's standard poodle, Lucy, talking to Malcom.  Those are the little things that are keeping me going today.  Whatever works.

Queen and David Bowie Under Pressure

Yesterday was rough.  I know, I know.  Broken record.  I felt really overly-energized, hyped-up, anxious, etc in the morning. 

Group was pretty ick, mostly because I didn't sleep well the night before.  I kind of stumbled through the 9:00 a.m. group, then we shared diary cards.  That was fine.  Then, the therapy leader (the one I don't really like) made us watch this movie about mindfulness. 

And I fell asleep for the first hour of it, which is fairly unlike me, because I'm usually pretty alert for group.  I woke up several times during that hour, having auditory hallucinations coming from the TV, which of course increased my anxiety.

We then had break and I chatted with a girl in there who is also having a rough time and we talked about some of the annoying people who are in group right now.  People who act like group is fun, a social hour.  Who make inappropriate comments.  Who never act depressed, manic, or anxious.  I know it isn't fair to judge others, because they may be feeling differently inside and just be in denial, but it is annoying when they act like everything is great and they just come to group to socialize and make friends. 

Bugs the shit out of me, since this is an Intensive Outpatient Program, designed for people in crisis.  They don't appear to be in crisis to me, and that's what pisses us off.  I know, shouldn't judge. 

At any rate, after break we went back in and I was determined to stay more alert for the second part of the movie.  But I continued with these damn auditory hallucinations and it was really tripping me out.  I asked to be excused from group early and went outside to the meditation garden, waiting on my therapy appointment at 12:00 p.m with J. 

I talked to Malcom for awhile, and he helped to make me feel better, just like he always does.  I don't know what I would do without him and he is a very VERY patient man.  XOXO, honey. 

I then went to therapy and we talked about my issues with suicidal ideation and severe depression, which are my therapist's biggest concerns.  I don't want to get into it too much, but my ratings on my diary card really need to go down for that category.  We also talked about my eating and I told her that I had been doing really well with it since our last appointment, which she was happy with. 

Some other things we talked about were self-soothing exercises and negative self-talk.  We touched briefly on the rapid-cycling and mania.  I told her about the hallucinations and also reported that this happens sometimes when I am really manic and haven't had enough sleep.  We worked on skills so that I don't try to numb out all the time, but experiencing my feelings and just "sitting with them" as she puts it.  It is hard, but it actually made me feel a little bit better.  I could go into great detail about how you do that and self-soothe yourself, but it would make this a really long blog, so if you have questions email me at RosieSmrtiePants@cox.net.

I had planned out all kinds of distress tolerance activities for the afternoon...going out to eat, going to buy Mom's Mother's Day present, and possibly going to the library.  J and I decided that yesterday was not a good day to do that.  So I went straight home.

It was nice outside so I spent most of the afternoon sitting out on the deck, looking at my plants and yard, smoking cigarettes, and talking on the phone.  I colored some, read a little bit of a magazine, and organized my fridge and freezer.  I cut up a watermelon that was just oh-so-perfectly-ripe.  And some kiwi fruit.  And ate a piece of pita bread with hummus and kiwi and watermelon for lunch.  Very tasty. 

I felt semi-okay during this period, because I was just taking care of myself and my problems, but then I spent an hour and a half on the phone talking to a friend and they were crying and really upset and it really brought me down.  I am having a really hard time dealing with my own issues, so it is hard for me to be a good friend right now.  I need to lean on them, not vice versa.  That sounds selfish, but I just can't tolerate anymore distress than is already in my life right now. 

After I got off the phone, I was right back to feeling miserable, as if my relaxing afternoon never happened.  I talked to Mom for awhile, who suggested I stay away from this friend for a little while, because I have spent almost four hours within the last two days talking to her and it isn't helpful, for the most part.  We then made plans for me to come over tonight.  I called Mom a little bit ago and am going to cook dinner for her and DHut tonight.  I just want to do something nice for them because they are always so helpful to me.

My plan for the day is to go to IOP and then come home and do the same thing I did yesterday -- sit outside with my music, my drinks, my cigarettes, my phone, and my coloring books and magazines.  Hopefully I can get back to feeling relaxed again.  I am making no big goals for the day other than to take a shower and stay awake. 

Because right now, I am tense, I am anxious, I feel crappy and depressed, and very ick.  Just so blah.  So apathetic.  Not caring about anything.  Not wanting to exist.  And those DAMN THOUGHTS racing through my mind.  Same shit, just a different day. 

James Blunt Cry -- (I couldn't find an actual video for this, so this is more for the music, not the video)

Head spinning, chest tightening, walls closing in, and all those DAMN THOUGHTS racing through my mind.  24/7.  My upswing has turned into a mixed episode.  Not only am I totally revved (and irritable), I also feel like drinking bleach crap.  How lovely is that?

Yesterday afternoon went just fine, other than being manicky-out-of-my-mind hyped-up.  I visited Dad and ate some really yummy Indian food, that I can't remember what is called, but is basically spinach and chickpeas in a spicy sauce over rice.  Very yum.  We had a nice chat and

I even brought Kizzie with me, which shows Dad's increasing tolerance toward animals.  He even let her get up in his lap, but, sadly enough, wouldn't let Kizzie kiss him.  I'm pretty sure she got over it, though, because she kept coming up to get petted.  AND HE ACTUALLY PETTED HER.  We're talking big progress, man. 

Kizzie and I then went to visit Grandma, which went well.  It was easier visiting with the dog around, for some reason.  Grandma loves that dog, which is also strange because she has always claimed to not like dogs.  It's pretty funny...she acts all scared when Kizz hops on her lap and licks her, but she really loves that dog and I think she secretly wishes that Kizzie would come visit her more often. 

After all my afternoon visiting, I came home and puttered around for an hour while Kizzie slept (hey, visiting is hard work and we were at it for over four hours).  I then went to Mom's to pick up some checks, put gas in my car, and chat for a bit.  It was pretty wild and crazy over there, what with DHut being DHut, Mom being Mom, and me being manic.  We were quite a trio. 

I called Curly Snap on my way home, because I have kind of been avoiding her, and we talked for almost two and a half hours.  The only reason we got off the phone is because mine went dead.  She's a good friend, good listener, and is funny as hell.  I even helped her out a little bit and gave some good unsolicited advice, which I learned how to do at the foot of the master(s), Mom, Grandma, DHut, Dad...um, yeah, pretty much everyone...I think it runs in the family.  

I then briefly talked to Malcom after I got home from work.  He is working some different hours now until his back is better and when he goes back regular, he will be promoted to a position where he can be a computer geek and play with numbers all day.  He's pretty thrilled about it.  My nerd, I love you dear.  :)

I actually slept some last night.  Not a lot, but enough to keep me going.  Which is good, because I have big plans for the day...which I know possibly won't get done.  The plan is to go to IOP, then therapy (those two I know I will do), then go to _______________ for Mom's Mother's Day present, and then come home and do who knows what.  We'll see what the day brings.  Maybe a trip to the library (sorry Mom, li-berry).  :)

A rocking "I'm crazy" song for the day...Pink...Just Like a Pill:

Wednesday, May 7, 2008  12:17 p.m.

I had a very up-and-down yesterday.  I was really down in the morning and then very frustrated when I tried to leave because the cairn terrier that owns me that I own has started to run out into the garage when I am trying to leave and hides under the car and won't come out because she doesn't want me to leave.  After about 15 minutes, I finally brought out her leash and took her for a short walk.  I know, I know...rewarding bad behavior.  But I had to get my ass to group and I ended up being an hour late anyway. 

Another sign that I have not been paying my dog enough attention...she ate a hole in part of my wood privacy fence...to get out to see me.  Yeah, time to work through a little bit of that depression, not caring about anything and play some fetch every once in awhile (which I have been doing all morning...Kizz doesn't know what to do with all the attention she is all of a sudden getting). 

So, I went to group an hour late yesterday.  I didn't mind missing the first hour, because it's not really skill-building, just meditation and mindfulness.  I made it for the second two groups -- diary cards and skill-building.  We are working on how to be kind to ourselves (there's an exact DBT phrase for it, but I can't remember it off the top of my head).  At any rate, these are skills that I really need since I...um...hate myself and have all these voices in my head that yell at me and tell me what a piece of shit I am and have this negative tape running in my head all the time. 

And I don't do self-care, self-soothing very often.  I have been working on it though.  I have showered three times since Friday (I know that doesn't seem like a lot, but it's progress) and have been listening to music and coloring and just trying to be better to myself.  I still am not able to quiet the negative self-talk, but am working on some strategies.  Pasha had suggested a "done" list instead of a "to-do" list, which I have started doing and which was actually brought up in group yesterday.  Note to self...listen to Pasha more often.

After group yesterday, I had some time to kill before my therapy appointment at 2:00 p.m.  Pasha had also suggested that, while it is not necessarily important to really interact with people a whole lot, that it is important not to isolate and to just get yourself out there. 

So, armed with Klonopin and my coloring book and colored pencils, I went to a bakery/cafe close to my therapists office and sat on the outdoor deck, smoking, drinking coffee, and coloring.  I wanted to get up and leave every second that I was there, but I stayed for almost an hour and thirty minutes...a largely anxious, I can't breathe, but I'm going to do this even if it kills me hour and thirty minutes.  So, I did it, I survived.  I then went to my car and had a bit of a panic attack and took some Klonopin.  The coloring definitely helped me get through it. 

My advice...GO BUY SOME COLORED PENCILS and a Whinny-the-Pooh coloring book.  Works wonders.

After that I went to therapy, which went okay.  We talked about the severe depression and anxiety I have been having, about using self-soothe and distract skills, about distress tolerance.  I told her about the cafe experience and she gave me a gold star.  :)

My goal yesterday was to not take a nap, which I managed not to do.  When I got home, I talked to Malcom for a little bit, picked up the house, and colored.  Then I went to Mom's and we planted my pots up (because I have been utterly unable to bring myself to do it) and I watched her pot some stuff for the water-garden store.  My plan was to be home by 8:00 p.m., but I didn't get around to leaving until about 9:15.  When Mom and I get together, time flies.  Sometimes we have so much to talk about.

I slept like total crap last night...likely due to high anxiety and staying out late.  I slept from 11:00 p.m. - 12:00 a.m.  Then I was up, on high alert until about 8:00 a.m., and slept until 9:00 a.m.  I called into group, because I was feeling really out of it since I hadn't slept and wasn't sure it would be a good idea to drive the 30 minutes to group and back on fumes. 

I still wasn't able to sleep after I woke up at 9:00 a.m. and called in.  So, I puttered around, filled my med box, called in a refill, called the doctor to ask to call in a refill, swept off my back porch and removed the Christmas garland (I KNOW...SERIOUSLY), and made my bed and fed the dog.  Other than that, I sat out on the back porch, drinking coffee and Diet Pepsi and smoking, playing fetch with my dog, and talking to Malcom. 

I've managed to return a few emails and am getting ready to head to Dad's for some quality time and also to keep me from sleeping...you know, building structure.  I'm on an upswing again, edging into that pink (you know, before you get to red, duh) zone of mania and am just waiting for the crash.  It really sucks when you can't trust how you feel.  Just another joy of rapid-cycling bipolar.

Queen Fat Bottomed Girls -- SexyFat says turn it up and shake that big sexy butt, girls!