Ok, here's one to add to my 'Kick the Bucket' List...

Yeah, yeah, I know - I'm all Suzy Sunshine about things, right? But really, hear me out - this truly won't take long. See, everyone has a now-popular Bucket List, which is a list of things they would like to do before they die. Now. Given that I'm, well, me... I have a Kick the Bucket List. This is a list of things that I've narrowly escaped or just hope that now that I lived through it once, that evens up my quota so I hopefully won't have to do it again.

Today I have a new entry. Today, I choked. Not choked as in 'it went the wrong way and I'm dramatically coughing', I mean I was choking in the way that my food was thoroughly lodged and I could not breathe through my mouth OR my nose. Which I'd like to add is really creepy. By the time it donned on me that I could not handle this alone, I finally got my pharmacist's attention. The other tech said my face was bright red and I was feeling very weird - I figure the weird feeling was more from panic than lack of oxygen. Like a champ he calmly asked me if I was choking, spun me around, and after two attempts of the Heimlich Maneuver, I was breathing. In addition, a lovely wad o' food had gone airborne and splatted on the floor and yeah, there was pee on my leg. Heh. He squeezed hard. That definitely goes on my KTB list!

Given that we are often eating in a hurry, or in separate rooms or left alone - this really could have had a bad ending. He really did save me. I told him I was new at choking and being saved so I really didn't know what I was supposed to say. The three of us laughed about it later (and I was the ringleader because face it, sometimes the worst situations are funny) but I still feel like I need to build him a shrine or something.

Right as I was turning to put my back to him I had this odd thought. It could have been my last conscious thought prior to extracting the offending wad o' food, and I'd like to say that it was odd because of a lack of oxygen to the brain, but nah, I think it's just me. I thought, 'oh shit, he going to be touching me, very closely... is there anything I have to worry about? Like a water-filled bra that might explode'?! I don't even OWN one of those! WTF?!

So there's another entry for my Kick the Bucket List!

You know why Christmas bothers me?????

Because I don't know what I believe. I don't. Do I really believe this story that has essentially been passed down for thousands of years, supposedly accurately? Shit - you ever play that game 'telephone'? You can't get 10 people to pass on one simple story and have it end up the same but I'm supposed to fully and unquestioningly believe all this? Right.

Add to that the fact that 'my' Christmas is January 7th! My family is from eastern Europe and I was raised Greek/Orthodox/Byzantine Catholic. Yeah, the strict one - can't you tell? Now, my own family uses those three words interchangably so I really don't know what I'm supposed to technically follow. All I know is that there is an additional slanted bar on 'my' cross and the churches are ornately beautiful. We never shook hands or hugged our 'neighbor' or even acknowledged one another for that matter. We were all sinners, hung our heads, many wore black with black scarves and we sung hymns in Slovak. (On Easter we would literally crawl on our knees with hands clasped together in prayer the entire way up to the alter thingy for communion. Not shitting you. The entire way, on a tile floor, on your knees. Sickos, they were.) Yep, we were a pretty fuckin' happy lot.

And now some dipshit thinks it's a grand idea for me to string lights and shop and sing carols and be jolly. Fuck your jolly right out your ass. I hate the freezing cold, I hate trodding through two feet of snow, I hate some of my family and if I have to see one more store employee with a jingle-bell santa hat or hear Jingle Bell Rock one more time I'm gonna cut someone. I have less than a week to finish shopping for people that I recently punched in the face... how senseless is THAT?! But I have to - thems the rules of this here Christmas shit. Then I get to buy food for a lovely celebration where I will most likely have to beg every cell in my brain to not punch the aforemetioned individual in the face yet again if this holiday goes like many others.

Give me back my gloomy eastern European faith that was housed in a slightly crumbling, ornately gilded church; the one where my grandfather rang the bell with a thick, old rope. I want my black veiled and shrouded elders singing off key in a language I never knew but could recite perfectly for hymns. Give me back my family dinners, the ones where only the people you really wanted to be there were there. Where traditional foods were prepared and the special dishes used. There were even candles that were used only for that day, year after year.

I can't say that I believe anything about my religion any more now than I did then. I question too much. Essentially, I was excommunicated from the church as a child. I still went, I just didn't really count if you were being technical. I don't know what I believe but any bit of tradition has been replaced by things that mean even less and an influx of hideous holiday decor in October. Seriously? Does anyone need to be bombarded with all the glitterfuck that early?! I do not begrudge anyone their beliefs or their desire to run around like an elf on crack, baking and shopping and wearing cutesy appliqued sweaters. What I would like is to just be left to do what I do. I can appreciate what others have put into their decorating and such, I just don't feel the need to do it myself. Not now.

The traditions, the people, the gloominess of it all, really. I miss that. To me, those candles were Christmas. And the bean soup made once a year only for Christmas, that, too. I have my moments when I'm ok with this kind of Christmas, but every year I realize that what I consider to be the important part of the holiday is so deeply steeped in tradition that the remainder has fallen away and there is simply no way for it to ever be again. Sometimes it bothers me that clarity can come so late after the fact.

But seriously, no more Jingle Bell Rock or someone is going to be extracting those bells out of unmentionable places. I will leave you with this... probably my favorite traditional carol redone by a modern band. The vocals are amazing. Not surprisingly, this is probably my second favorite and they do a great job! Give them a listen or you'll risk the wrath of the wayward jingle bell...

Momma always said life was like a box of random... you never know what I'm gonna pull outta my ass

Although I may be somewhat misquoting Mr. Gump there. ::cough::

So, I took a little break. Wanna know why? Of course you couldn't give two shits but you are probably reading this at work and, well hell - let's admit, reading this crap is still better than actually working.

Said I felt tired and incredibly irritable (yes, more eratic than usual). So, come to find out my Ferritin level is doing the 'how low can you go' limbo, I'm now anemic, and my vitamin D level is just about as low as anyone has seen. Next week I see the hematologist so he can ask me numerous questions ensuring I haven't been exposed to Anthrax or Mad Cow then set me up with some iron and high dose vitamin D. I would like that. Then I may not feel like I'm struggling just to breathe. Seems like an easy fix... YAY ME!

I found a goose. He was in the road looking around and I got out to move him - at 10:30pm. Next thing I know I'm driving with a goose in my lap in the dark just hoping it didn't latch onto my lip... those fuckers can be mean. We had a good conversation though - I explained my love of all things canadian to him and he, by default, fell into that category, being a Canada goose by design. Sadly, he did not make it but I tried. Man, he was awfully warm and soft... I totally 'got' the goose-down thing then, but I didn't tell him! Driving with a grown goose in your lap is hard. Really hard - makes turns almost impossible because you have to hold their wings down with even pressure or all hell will break loose. These are my normal nights.

For the first time in my life I punched a guy in the face. Or anyone, for that matter. We were crossing over into sexual assault territory and I gave him three options. 1: back off, 2: keys in my left hand are about to swing up and clock you in the face, 3: I will punch you - in the face. After he pinned me back, I managed to get loose and yelled at him to back off. He kept saying 'ok' but coming for me again - so I hit him - right in the mouth. Nice way for your cousin's husband to treat you, isn't it? Any surprise I feel really awkward at family gatherings?

Found a job, applied for a job, had a phone screening session. They should have notified me by Thursday if they wanted me for an interview, but I've heard nothing. A bit disappointing but in truth, the job may be a bit above me, you know. It's ok - I got out there and TRIED! I'm breaking the chains of my current employer. And if they don't watch their step, I may punch them, too...haha.

Lastly, I just have to comment on something I saw when I was doing some internet shopping. For those unawares, SPANX is a line of lightweight, smoothing undergarments made to really make you look good in your clothes. Needless to say, all women want that, right? But, being a chunky monkey myself, I really do benefit from this fantastic invention. The model they used, however, seems to have forgotten to eat for the past 8 months. Minimum. And they use HER to show how this product works?! Seriously?! What in the hell does SHE have to suck in?! They HAD to have had it pinned in the back... her fucking hip bones stick out so far she could double as a sundial fer crissakes! Now. Personally I happen to think she is too thin. But that isn't the point. She may be healthy and happy... and almost see-through. The point is that she is modeling an item used to suck in extra pounds. Oh puh-lease...

This just really pisses me off. And you wonder where both men and women get warped views of their body. If this 92 pound darling is in need of a modern girdle, so to speak, then what must the average person think of themselves? Sorry, but they could have used a model that looks like she's at least eaten something in the past few months. Her thighs have a canyon-like gap that is not natural. I can usually get beyond this, but when I know how people internalize this, it angers me. I've been in stores and overheard ~11 year old girls talking about how fat their thighs are... and they are little, scrawny 11 year old girls.

Well, that's all the random coming outta my ass tonight. Hope to browse around blogland tomorrow so I can catch up.

Is it 'practicality in spades' or a case of 'I'm stingy'

Stingy. Stingey? I think it's the former. Anyway.

With the holidays come all the sales. Doesn't even matter if you participate in the holiday or not, the sales and general shopping will be shoved down your throat. Sideways.

For just about the last year, my camera has been dead. I don't know whether I thought I could resurrect it because it is currently sitting on a table in my bedroom (collecting dust). It is dead. It has been dead. It will never see life again while in my hands. Yet, there it sits. So anyway - a few days ago I snooped on the internet and bought a nice little 12.2 mp that seems like it will be great for my needs. And will certainly be better than my cell. But the point is, I bought it.

Now, with all these crazy sales, I should be getting myself a computer. Mine is six years old and has been ridden hard and put away wet, so to speak. I'm going from a desktop to a laptop. Eeeeventually. I already bought my mom one for christmas and gave it to her - she loves it. This would be a good time to get myself one. This pc of mine has really earned the right to rest. But instead I'm preparing to renew my virus protection on it in the next day or two.

The new iPod Touch 4th generation is out - which I really want, but don't need. I've seen some great navigation pieces (Garmins and Nuvis and such) but again, that's a want, not a need. Besides, I can still read a fucking map and have excellent navigational skills plus common sense for most travel situations. I wouldn't even mind buying a used one - I'm not one of those people that will have these items attached to me at all times.

But I'm getting away from myself. My mother is not working and struggling with basic bills. I help her as much as possible without offending her. I know I have to change jobs and most likely living quarters, so I need to be wise about how I'd fund that. So I got my camera and in a way that was kind of a big step because the cell 'would do'. Even though it doesn't, know what I'm saying? When the pc dies, I'll swear alot and get a new one then, unless there happens to be an utterly brilliant deal on one tomorrow (Cyber Monday).

My grandparents lived through the Great Depression and would use something until it fell apart - fearing that another would not be readily available. I am not at all that severe in my behavior but I almost feel like something is wrong with me in this disposable/upgradable society, and at this time of year, because I try to not be wasteful nor do I feel the need to run out and upgrade to the next cell or iPod the minute the new one comes out. Ok - the camera thing was just lazy, plus I looked numerous times and just didn't see anything I liked.

So because I can say 'no' to a nifty little gadget, is that practical or stingy? I think I want it, but it may end up tossed at the bottom of my purse like so many other things. I have the money for it. For all of them. But it just doesn't seem like a smart choice. Except the laptop, if I get something that will be first.

Ick - holidays. My sensibility goes into overdrive.

When I do it, I do it up GOOD!

Unfortunately, in this case we're talking about vomiting. This body does not readily vomit. I will be sick and suffering beyond belief and yet nothing happens. So the finger goes down the throat and I envision licking the sink (or toilet... depending on where I'm hanging my head) and that's all it takes. Really gross yet terribly effective. Well. The stomach jinnis attacked me today and there were, to put it kindly 20+ head-hanging episodes. All I will say is that I will NOT be eating hummus for quite a while (shame) and I've now learned what happens to cheese when it sits in your stomach for a good 12 hours undigested. It really doesn't change much...

Now I'd like to go to bed and my neighbor is apparently having a battle-of-the-bands at his house. Really poor timing. Pretty sure I can sleep through it anyway.

I've ordered a new camera so maybe within the next few weeks I can get some new random pics. I miss doing that. Also, with a little tweaking, I think I'm going to like this new template on here.

Spoiler Alert, haha

There is something fundamentally wrong with me. I mean, I knew this and have said it on different occasions, it just seems to be culminating in this chaotic vaccuum at the moment.

Given some time and planning I think I'll be leaving. I mean everywhere. No forwarding address. For some reason I can't interact with others. Nothing will ever be right with me. These are things I can't change and for as many years as I've been alive, no one has found a way to help me.

I'll leave, reinvent, and struggle again - just in a new place with new people. Maybe I can learn to keep my distance and my mouth shut. Or maybe just one. I can't keep going on hurting people I care about, and even myself. If I can narrow down the list, then I will have met with success.

Something is just wrong and I don't think there is a way to fix it.

Second in a series on 'the life and times' of LiVEwiRe

I wrote the previous post first because I knew it would be easier and because I didn't really know what to think about the topic I'm going to write about now. Funny thing is, I still have no idea. But I'm making progress. As I see it, I've got to blurt it out so I can really see what I think. I know there are few people reading this blog these days and I don't think anything I say is really going to shock anyone. If it does, well, so be it. I'll be damned if I'll apologize for the level of odd in my life to anyone.

Background - go here.

And then there was yesterday. Yesterday I had an appointment to get test results. On the bright side I guessed immediately that the doc ruled out lung cancer when he walked in, hugged me and immediately kissed me. Yep - full on, just like last time. This man is interested in me. I do not know of anyone, ANYONE, who has been to any medical appointment where their doctor has given them a lingering kiss four times in less than 20 minutes. Or at all, for that matter. (Still, no molar licking, thank god - this is pretty much awkward enough.) Out of that time, about five minutes was spent with him having his hands behind my head - so our faces were really close. He made comments to me and I knew that he was trying to gauge my response - he wanted to know my interest level. As in, would I consider additional smooching outside work - haha.

So, here's the question - would I? Like I said in the other post, I've had this harmless crush on him for years. I don't think he's available. But I don't know. His circumstances may have changed. I never really thought he'd be so, so, intimate (?) during my appointment. I will say, in his defense, that he addressed the situation at hand, discussed another medical concern with me. He listened to my heart and lungs with not so much as a hint of inappropriate behavior - he was total business. We talked about a diagnosis given to me by another doc and he really gave me some good insight. He was the professional he is paid to be.

So where does this switch come into play? He's made it clear that he's interested. Oddly, he even commented on the fact that he sees me on the nursing floors all the time and commented on my rapport and outspoken nature with the nurses. Ok... so does this mean you're listening and paying attention when I'm around? I told him flat out that I've seen him many times and opted to not bother him because he looked busy. I was respecting his profession and responsibility to his patients. But he knew I was there.

Here's the deal. I do like this guy. In general, I mean. All I have to do is suggest coffee or something like that and it's on. And I don't know if I want that because I don't know his status. I would totally go have a cup of coffee with him even if he is still married - that isn't a big deal, married people do have friends. But even if it's just a cup of coffee, he's a physician... a specialist in the area. Very well known. That simple act could cause him serious grief. The most I'd lose is my job and we all know how I feel about my job. But I have to be ready if he insinuates he's interested in more. Just to say - when I left the exam room he gave me another hug - full body, like last time. Apparently he was really, really happy to see me. And yes, that's what I mean.

I have never had any grand scheme to 'land a doctor'. (Although given my something-always-going-on state of health it would be convenient, lol.) Whether you sweep floors part time or are an astrophysicist, I really don't care. I don't want anyone's money or status. If I like you, I like you.

Perhaps I'll tell him we should meet for coffee sometime and leave it at that. Let him take it from there. Nothing has to happen and I'm not sure either one of us would want anything more to happen. Granted, it was clear that he was pretty glad to see me, but sometimes that's all it is. I do have a feeling that all I'd have to do is say the word and clothes would be on the floor. Really, his behavior was pretty bold, yet he's not a pushy guy. I don't need to be anyone's second in line. Won't be. I'd just like to get the chance to truly talk to him over coffee and see what he's like.

I have to laugh. I really do. It's a bit of an awkward laugh, but I'm finding some humor nonetheless.

Well hot damn, I got a makeover! But that still doesn't trump my day.

Truth is, this day has been so odd that I will have to break it into two posts. Which, given the order these are being typed, you'll see that disclaimer after reading the other, which will show as the first but actually be the second. Technology is a slippery bugger.

Ok, I went to my cousin's birthday party at the bar where she works. Since I had to work, I didn't get there til 10:30pm, well after the majority of partygoers were slurring and hanging on one another. Meh, that's how it is there. Cousin's hubby likes me. Alot. More than he should. And I'd appreciate it if he didn't try to slip his hands down inside the back of my jeans. He's a nice guy, I actually do really like him as a person - he's got a good heart. It's just those wandering hands he needs to work on. Trying to hang out and talk (everyone, mind you) means you have to lean in close to hear over the DJ. Hands trying to wander in shirt. You get the idea. He told me when I first got there that he just is really attracted to me and finds me incredibly sexy, yadda, yadda, yadda. Ok, obviously this is true because he's been trying to get with me for years. Apparently he forgets he's married to my cousin. I cannot say a word to her. Long story but it would end up being my fault, even if I told her so that she knew what he was doing. Tough situation for me to know that she's in and she doesn't even know she's in it. Perhaps I have to face the fact that some people have odd interactions in their relationships and that it isn't my business. Except that it is because he's all over me. I'm artful in getting out of it and avoiding anything that would seem out of the ordinary to the casual onlooker. Problem is, one day there will be more than a casual onlooker.

But I went, as promised and had an ok time. One shot, one beer and that was it. Stayed a couple hours and drove a drunk friend home. I can't say I miss those days. For the record, grape vodka sounds a hell of alot better than it tastes.

So the night ended, no hard feelings. I'm starting to recognize others as the flawed individuals that they are... that we all are. That I am. It makes it easier to remind myself that I am just as flawed and have no room to judge. I may not like it and have every right to avoid it or speak my mind, but no ones stupid flaws (as such) should overshadow the good they are capable of and live everyday. Does it make it slightly shady and kind of shitty? Sure. But we're all human and that is just what we do.

Happy birthday 'cuz! xoxo

If I told you what I wanted to say, you'd think I was nuts

More accurately, it would solidify your near-perfect hunch that I'm nuttier than you already believe me to be. So I'm going to talk about something else. A few something elses.

I made plans to meet with a girl that I used to be best friends with for a couple years in high school. Lost all contact for many years until a family member ran into her and say, 'Hey, aren't you so-and-so?' and so goes the story. We communicate by facebook grunts and I finally figured shit or get off the fuckin' pot! So we're meeting for coffee this weekend. Whatever. It's either fun or it's not - I'm ok with it either way. I'm sure it'll be a good time no matter if it's a one time deal or not. Then I think I'm going to dinner with another friend, got invited to a bar with yet another friend, and will be going to my cousin's drunken birthday bash in just about 22 hours. They will be drunk, I'll be getting off work. I could really pass on almost all these things (and should because I have so much to do around the house) but that's the easy way out. I'm sure I'll do at least two of the four things - that's still awesome for me. Last week I went to dinner and two parties. What on earth is going on here, people?!

This past week and a half to two weeks have been a bit stressful as far as health goes. One more set of big test results tomorrow - hope I pass with flying colors. I'm not really worrying though, because what is, already is. No use in wondering 'what if'. Hoping this particular saga is ending but I still have to retest in six months from last week's saga. I don't mind talking about it, just not yet. No need to put it in my mind before bed. Like I said, what is, is.

Oh, I know what else... guess what I saw a couple days ago? No, come on - a real guess. Well, perched high atop a deadwood, I saw a bald eagle! Yay me! This is the third time I've seen one over maybe 3-4 years but still, it is amazing. It's hunting season - I wish I could hide it from all the yahoos out there that'd like to mount it on their wall but I can't. There is something special about seeing them so close to home, just hanging out.

Lastly, my kitty saga goes on. The little booger I picked up roadside? Well, he's back with me (long story - I'll spare you) but supposedly has to stay outside - the enclosed patio only with bad weather. Well, he's already sneezing and horking and gagging and has quite the lovely runny eye. Fuck. It's clear, so it may not be an infection - perhaps an allergic reaction to all the crumbling leaves and mold outside. He really doesn't have much of an immune system in that respect. So I've got to decide whether to medicate, which isn't the bad part. The bad part is that if he can't stay out because he's always sick, I have no idea what to do. This was his last option before euthanasia. We'll see.

And I'm back in touch with my half sister again. Which I still can't grasp.

And somehow the holidays are coming up. ::sigh::

I guess I just had to say these things somewhere, somehow. Only so much can build up in my head without a release.

Just a word relating to privacy and modern times

Eventually I caved and got a Facebook account this summer. I use it to get updates from musicians regarding cd release dates, concerts... I use it to get updates from stores, parks, businesses and local points of interest so that the information comes to me, I don't have to find it. Of course I play a couple of games now and then and comment on friends' walls as well as send the occasional message.

Now. My settings are minimal as far as who can see what. It's limited to friends and there are less than 50. In Facebook terms I might as well not even have a page because of that. Truth be told, that's too many for me. I have JUST allowed a pic of me (other than in Halloween garb) to be tagged with my name (consequently, only my first and middle names - not my last name, so no one can really search me). Everything appears to be blocked right where I want it to be blocked.

I just found that in two instances, a former friend (that doesn't really get the 'former' thing) has somehow been able to comment on comments I've made on a mutual friend's wall. Now. I am supposed to be invisible to him unless we are on a common page (think Pepsi or Volkswagen). All my settings hold. We know several of the same people. At this point I told our mutual friend that I will not be commenting on anything she says as I do not want this guy up my ass. If I did, he'd be one of my friends on Facebook. I've ignored his request.

Yes, it may seem like an overreaction, but it really isn't. If HE can see me, who else? I've made my life's work maintaining anonymity for safety reasons. It is now a habit I will most likely never break. There were people I had to hide from. Still people that I don't want finding me and for very good reason. Yet somehow this weasly little fucker can see me? If he sees my comments elsewhere and comments on them, I'll have no option but to delete all the people on my account and just keep the public pages.

If that doesn't work, I'll delete the whole account - it's not that big of a deal. Just a few adjustments I'd have to make. And this is precisely WHY I put off dealing with Facebook for so long. Nothing is private, even when it appears to be. There is always some glitch or override mechanism that will expose you.

This is why I like it here. It feels much safer. Why I thought I'd be ok with using a social networking site in the way it was intended is beyond me. Perhaps my pared down version will be better. I do not do well with my privacy being breached. Geez - look how long it took me to put up a pic on here! And it's dark at that.

One day I shall be a hermitess... With a blog. ;)

Forty Six and 2

It started with a bit of flirting. The kind that has no basis, just that you are all in a room together and you've all been talking long enough so that when one ever-so-slightly suggestive comment is made, various people pipe up with their come backs. Just that kind.

There was some slight escalation and I got this super quick, really light (almost not there) kiss from this guy. Kind of surprised because I really get the idea that over the past couple years that I've been vaguely acquainted with him, that he really doesn't care to even be around me. No big deal because I think he's kind of an ass from what I know, which isn't much.

Maybe an hour or so later we were clearing things to clean up from the party and he made a comment about it being a good time to give me my official halloween kiss. I could see where this was going but I let it go there. He was my experiment. A few escalating kisses later and I sort of gently pushed him away explaining that we'd better get down there with everyone else.

I felt nothing. Not one single thing. At all. That's why I called him my experiment. He's quirky, has fun stories, is attractive and is all muscle because of his job (still an ass, but an interesting one, at least). You'd think some kiss time with this guy would illicit some sort of response, even given his tendency to be an ass. Something. But nope. Nothing. I think I've dulled my senses (in that respect) to the point of near non-existence. I'm not sure how I feel about that. But what I can tell you is that when the day comes that my senses do respond, I'm going to be in big, big trouble.

Because it will either work or it won't and I'm equally frightened. Good experiment tonight - and I never, ever saw that one coming!

And there you are nailing good to a tree

I don't consider myself more sensitive than most. Or less sensitive for that matter. At least when it comes to things like getting a 'feeling' or 'sense' about something. I'm usually buzzing along at too high a frequency to actually sense it. In the times that I was more sensitive, it was always directly correlating to me being completely separated, (blank mind/autopilot, if you will) therefore I could just react without all the clutter in my head getting in the way. It was only in hindsight that I realized it.

So for the past couple of weeks I can feel something. I have no idea what it is, but it has begun. The air is charged around me and I can feel it. Imagine a drop of water splashing from a stream high atop a mountain. It's path altered by a gust of wind... it's new path set in motion. Everything that happens from that moment on will culminate here... with me. From the moment the water splashes, to the wind rerouting the drops, the leaf it lands on, etc... you know the drill. But it's like I can feel every single bit of anticipation mounting. And I know it's coming. Eventually.

I don't sense bad, nor good - I simply sense it. Period. I wonder but I'm calm. It is in motion. I have nothing to say in the matter just to know I'm the last stop.

I am curious.

One Day All This Could Be Yours

Right now it's just this song and a dead stare. Thank you to all who contributed.

A lesson learned. Sort of.

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that I am shutting off my feelings, distancing myself from real human interaction and staying in my head more. If you understood the extent, you might be surprised. I can play the game but in my mind, things always stop short. Because I make them. I wasn't always like this. Sometimes it serves it's purpose though. If I were to let out what I've pent up for so long, I'm rather sure it would be my complete undoing. For now, emotional shutdown is a really good option. That's all.

A new, and hopefully singular, experience

Last night, I met my first known murderer. I did not know this at the time but found out shortly thereafter. I'd seen him the night before and when he saw me, he seemed to get even more agitated. (I DO bring that out in people...) But as I was on the psych ward, that isn't uncommon - patients begin to have a comfort zone and when people they aren't familiar with come in, they tend to get their hackles up - it's something new being thrown at them. I get it. I respect it.

But last night he made a beeline for me. Stopped short a foot of me and it began, this broken semi-lucid nonsensical truth. I knew I was dealing with the one sort of person that scares me most - an unmedicated (or undermedicated) schizophrenic. No answer you have is right. They literally hear what they will, visual and auditory hallucinations override reality. All sensory perceptions are off. It is the disorder, not the person. Nonetheless, they frighten me. I answered him very carefully because I sensed this was the issue - I had no idea who he was or why he was there. It is simply my job to go up and provide medications for the patients, not to judge them.

When I went back up to the floor, he got agitated again. It could be anyone or it could be that I remind him of someone. He was asking if he could have someting to cut his fingers off and leave them on the counter. Loudly - he wanted me to hear. He tries to get my attention.

I knew he was a danger but I figured it was aggression/unpredictablity - I had two sizeable men (staff) on either side of me and that was a tip off. One escorted me out. I learned that this patient had just murdered someone in front of a child. When he leaves the hospital, he goes to the court and will be sent to one facility or another. I didn't want details. I didn't care. His own doctor broke down and sobbed after explaining this to the patient. The patient really doesn't have full comprehension of what happened. He is 31 years old.

My heart breaks for him, because he could not get the help he needed. Schizophrenia is no joke. Read up on it. And now someone has died. Been murdered, in front of a child that will live with that every day. Sometimes, I really think I need to get out of this field.

I just need to say that I hate Facebook.

Why? Because I am weak-willed. Ok, that's a lie. I'm nosey. I only have my first and middle name on the account because I DON'T want people to find me. The few that do are tolerable. Mostly. Some I'd like to drop a giant axe on. Anyway. Why do I care what some guy I went to high school with, and wasn't really even friends with, has posted in his pics? Why do I feel compelled to see what a former friend's 'likes' are. Or what they wrote today?

It is simple curiosity but I don't like it because it reminds me yet again how different I am from those people. I suppose I just have to stop looking and remove any associated people from my account. If they are gone, the temptation to browse through their friends list (knowing full well that I'll see people I know there) will also go away.

Unfortunately I learned yesterday that I work the same shift (different department, but we have contact) with a former best friend's sister. You know, some how I knew she was related to him. I finally asked her yesterday. He's in another state so the possibility of him wreaking havoc on my life is rather limited, but still. I don't like dredging up things I thought were closed. I've never had luck with that.

I know I'm different. But I truly dislike this wave of uber-normality (or the appearance of) hitting me from all sides. But like a car crash - I can't help but look. It just reminds me of all the ways I'm not like other people. Perhaps we are more alike in ways, but I'm just more 'ok' with saying that my life is confusing, chaotic and a total loss at times. Maybe I don't need to keep up appearances.

Man, I really hate facebook. It brings out a very bad side of me. And just so you know - I think I only have only permitted 45 'friends' and to me, that is WAY too many. A person such as myself has next to no business having actual personal contacts on a social networking site. Bad combo. Just sayin'.

Shitdamnhellsonofabitchmotherfuckingcocksucker!

Ok. That was warranted.

I've been sick, right? Decided I couldn't handle it myself and just 'let it pass', right? So I go to my gastroenterologist thinking I'm in the throes of Ulcer-Fest 2010, right?

Turns out I have Lithium Toxicity. Mother. Fucker. Look it up - turns out it can kill you. Which I knew, I just never thought I'd have it. My levels have been, well, level, for YEARS!

So not only is it a weekend, but a holiday weekend... can't get my doc til Tuesday. All I can do is deal with it the best I can and try to wean myself off without doing it too quickly so as to not cause more problems. Mother fucker. Technically, I should be hospitalized, monitored, pumped with fluids, etc.

Remember the post a handful or so back where I broke down all angry at the new psych doc and how he treated me and that I asked for this test three times and he simply ignored my request?!?! Yeah, remember that fucknut? If he'd done the test (especially since it was overdue) then I might not be sitting on death's doorstep. No kidding, this is a nasty situation. So anyway, I'm pondering what I should do. I'm considering making an appointment, taking the results in to Dr. Sadist, tossing them on his desk then telling him what kind of car he needs to buy me to keep my mouth shut.

There's more testing in the works but I think this should explain 95% of my problems. Imagine, my gastroenterologist catches this while my former psych was content to let it go. I am contemplating suing the bastard and that is something I've never, ever been a part of. Or Dr. Sadist can buy me a car and I'll shut up. Honestly, I don't know how I'll handle it. But he could have literally killed me. Although I'm not out of the woods yet.

And now I may have to go off the one med that saved my life. Ok, then sure, it sort of tried to kill me, ha, but I'm just sayin'.

*sigh*

But for now I am thankful that my GI doc listened to me. He listened and did his job. Even though my ailment was out of his realm.

Thank you Dr. K. Because of you I live to be a bitch another day...lol.
;)

Wholesome and pure. Much like me. That is my story and I'm sticking to it.

So, ok. Just hear me out. Literally.

See these wholesome looking lads? Well, I think I may be in love with them. Please meet Joey Jordison and Wednesday 13 of the Murderdolls. Yes, I know.... you're thinking, but LiVEwiRe, have you got your spectacles on? Lost your mind? Had too much to drink? Hit your head?

Wednesday 13

Joey Jordison

The answers are yes, most likely, not now, and numerous times. You can fit them to whichever question you like. Because I KNOW what you are thinking. I KNOW it. You, dear reader, are thinking that these stodgy, conservative, stuffy types are not really my style. What could I possibly see in someone so obviously boring? Mundane at best?



To answer your question, let me guide you for just a moment. Within this link is proof explaining why they tickle my fancy. And here you'll find a behind the scenes look for the first link. Which is rather interesting if I do say so myself. It explains it all. But yes, I know, I know... love is blind.


And soon love will also be deaf. Heh.

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Is there is a point to posting a horoscope if you are also saying the world ends in 2012? Bit of a clash, no?

Shocker of the week - I am not a religious person.

Second shocker of the week - I was a rather spiritual/metaphysical sort of person years back.

What I believe changes constantly. Every now and then I stumble upon something that really makes me rethink what I believe. In the end, it turns out that I don't believe in much. I'm currently a faithless girl all in all.

But what brings me to this is the following: http://www.mayanmajix.com/art4467.html

Not that I live my life to horoscopes ~ actually if I see one I read it but I don't seek it out. BUT there is something at the beginning of that link that should scare the socks off every one of you... some more than others.

Mercury is Retrograde!!!

Run! Cover yourself in hot butter and ... oh no wait, that's only if there's a lobster loose. Anyway. Mercury plays a huge role in communication. Everything from misunderstood conversations, emails getting lost, fax machines frying, and truly just a general zap to anything relating to communicating.

Usually, I only learn this in hindsight and say 'oooohhhh, that explains the past few weeks!' But now I got a heads up. Funny - no one needed to tell me this time. It is so apparent that it's not funny. Ok, I lie, some of it is... I mean how many ways can one break a printer in 10 minutes, really?

I think I'm grabbing some hot butter... just in case.

How now are you gonna bite both hands? BOTH HANDS?!

Sorry, channeling Matthew Good this morning. I'm somewhere between crying and vomiting but it would appear it's my own fault. You know, human interaction and all. If I could just learn to distance myself maybe it would be easier. Yet for some reason I get suckered back into it. Either by other people or by my very own self; traitor!! Haha, sorry I find that kind of funny.

Anyway, this whole feeling ill thing. Yes, it is because of humans and my idiot sensitivity to them. Want to know how sensitive? In the past 7 days I've lost 10 pounds because I can barely eat. Ten. I can drink just fine as long as it has very little substance (think sugar, dairy, etc) so I'm not dehydrated. And this is because I am so stressed that every time I eat even the smallest thing, I get this rolling nausea and my stomach does flips. Thank you human race, for being such a collective dick. And thank you self for being the wussy fool that continues to hold out hope for them despite repeated failings.

For now, I'm going to use it to my advantage. But until I learn how to cope appropriately, I have to get something out of it, right? Remember how I said I'd gained some weight back from the previous knee surgery? Well, it's going! I'll just use it to my advantage. Not really the way to go, but at least I'm not sticking my finger down my throat, shoving a laxative suppository up my arse or ingesting tapeworms. Although it is unhealthier than any of those, truth be told. But hey, stress is free after all. Gotta love that. It's at least 50% from my job so the stress won't be going away soon.

Some people don't 'get' stress. Some don't care. Some lack the ability to understand. I seem to have no option. My body goes along with what my mind tells to do. Damn bully. ;)


How now are we back here tonight?
That's all there is, roll the dice. ~ Matthew Good, Double Life

Have a listen to the link. Matt always helps. He is my rock.
#

And in time, the phoenix shall rise

If I finally let go and stop wondering

If I am what you wanted. If I am what I wanted...

If I wake up happy to know that I am simply alive instead of

How to solve everything. And the let down by lack of results...

Just when I think I have a foothold

I feel it crumbling. I have learned to just let go...

If I finally learn to stop trying, even though I don't realize I am...

Then maybe one day I will be enough. For me. For you.

For everyone that attaches themselves to me because I give

the impression that I am what I want to be.

It is a work in progress, I'm just good at appearances, that's all.

But maybe someday.

Some time in the very near future, I will be getting a new tattoo. This is just a representation but I can think of nothing better.

Is it healthy to sleep with an air freshener shoved up your nose?

I only ask because circumstances require such extreme actions.

Remember Chewy? One of many little rat bastards (literally) in my house last year munching up through my kitchen floor? Well he's back. Or perhaps Spawn of Chewy. The rat annihilation crew returned with their cubes of death.

Several days later methinks one is dead and didn't get back out before his demise. Needless to say the hot humid air along with the now copious amounts of rain make for a great festering rat stew. Oh come on now - fucking seriously?!?! I have to smell this thing for weeks til it turns to dust?!?! I can't get to it fer fucks sake!!!!

I so would have taken rat zombies over this stink.

WTF is wrong with me? Rhetorical? Yes? No?

I am going to sort of self analyze here. Considering it is almost 11pm and I'm in a room myself, I don't think the houseplant is really going to be helpful so I don't have much of a choice.

All of a sudden, I am sinking into this depression. Not one I can't get out of, like a passing thing. Trust me, I can tell the difference. This time it's different, though. I see many parts that are making up a whole. Unfortunately it's a whole lotta shit, but I can handle it for I am stubborn.

Variables:

• Few days off from work (ok, 7!) in which not one fucking thing has gone as planned other than the fact that I am not at work. Still, I SO need to get away.
• Family stress; typically a given in one way or another.
• Sick cat - $500 so far; outcome unknown.
• Question of knee surgery.
• Still finding no locale on the map where I fit.
• Being away, I realize how much I really hate the way my job is going.
• Vacation plans falling through because of cat, family issues, etc.
• But because of that, I've been able to talk with a friend at length.
• Sometimes you don't realize how much you've given up until one day someone comes along and reminds you that some people can be worth it, no matter how impractical.
• And of course sleep is still fleeting.

There are so many emotions running through me right now that I feel like Duncan MacLeod in the Quickening. Good, bad improbable, helpless, angry, happy... you name it, it's there. But then why doesn't Duncan seem to want to curl up and have a good cry?!?! And no, we're nowhere near PMS time. I think it's just sensory overload. Well, that combined with wanting my life to move forward but stumbling so.

That's it. That's all I've got. Therapy session over.

!

Alanis Morissette - Perfect + Lyrics

I want a show of hands

Because I know it's not just me.

Ever notice how there are periods that every time you look up, there is a new thing to break your heart just a little bit more? One right after the next. Some things are bigger than others but it ends up like an endless barrage of invisible barbed wire squeezing tighter and tighter until you are sure you need to outrun it for self preservation? Only, there is no haven. It's with you, and as they say, wherever you go... there you are.

Just noticing it. And trying to remember how to breathe. Like I said, I know I'm not the only one and this is not a pity party. Just me taking note of living through an odd period of frustration and being reminded of things that I'd rather not be.

Drown if you want and I'll see you in the bottom, where you crawl on my skin... and put the blame on me so you don't feel a thing! Go on and save yourself, and take it out on me... ~ Audioslave {Cochise}

An aside... if I had enough energy I'd stalk Chris Cornell. But I don't. He's quite the beautiful boy and has an amazing voice. Perhaps I find him more beautiful because of his voice? Anyway, hot damn.

Ode to Molly Dodd

Not sleeping blows dirty ass. Well, if sleeping was your goal.

In the past couple weeks I've dealt with very large crickets getting in my house and singing til all hours. My neighbor has a rooster with a very, very inacurate internal clock and apparently a bad memory as he likes to cock his doodle about every hour and a half at any given hour. Why is a rooster in a residential area anyway? The nosey news choppers have been flying along the coast. My neighbor is renovating or some noisy shit. It just might be fox mating season because they are surely kickin up their furry heels outside my bedroom windows in the early morning hours. This doesn't even address the noise in my own head, both literally and figuratively.

Suppose it's true that they say you'll sleep when you die. A nap might be nice, though.

Look ma, no effin' cavities!

So really, that's mainly my point. I had a dental cleaning and checkup today and I have no cavities. NO currently (or soon to be) scheduled dental work. This is a major breakthrough since I'm usually cracking teeth and whatnot.

I reason that it is because I have potty mouth. No chance for sugary decay to flourish with a bitter tongue that spews forth such filth. Wooooohooooo!!!!! Lol! =)

Um, newsflash Don Juan...

I'm just gonna put this out there so it can be said and done and over with.

If you are married and flirting (with me), that's not a big deal - flirting is fun. When you get into talking about the bondage clothes you own during the week of your 2 year anniversary or start asking me to rub your back at work (two separate cases) then things take a turn. They take a turn that reminds me why I have chosen NOT to date for a very, very long time.

And it's not the standard 'men are pigs'. Not at all. It's just that we live in a society where you have to keep acquiring more. I am not something to acquire.

Friendly flirting is a good thing. Everyone gets an ego boost of sorts and that's the end of it. But when you try to manipulate others into being a conquest of sorts, I mean, really.

Pfft. People are truly thoughtless sometimes. Just sayin'.

I may not be pregnant but I sure feel like I'm eating for two

And my weight has inched up a bit in the past handful of weeks just to prove it to me. Bastard. And the fucker to blame for all of this? Stress. You think I'm kidding? Hear me out...

Weight has been a battle my whole life. It took me until my mid twenties to figure out that I eat more because I am, at that moment, able to give myself something that otherwise I could not... think better job, $ to fix the car, family that didn't involve police... so eating that peanut butter sandwich with two extra layers of peanut butter on it was me being able to give myself something. Now. I didn't have to wait for anything else to work, it was all I could do for myself so I did it. And I was in control. Ok, yeah, and I was fat. Moving on.

I was almost always overweight to some extent but in my early 30s I began meds that were famous for weight gain. And gain I did. And then I was depressed so I ate more! I weighed so much at one point that I was at the highest size that the plus size stores had at the time, barring a few special selections. Being 5'9" really helped it look as if I wasn't as big as I was, but the weight was on me nonetheless.

So I changed my eating habits and lost 100#. It was a long hard process, but I did it. After my knee surgery 3 years ago, I've struggled with 25# coming back. I fight it and it goes down then back it comes. Well, I've just changed that 25 to a 30 folks. I'm trying to go the opposite direction and lose more again in preparation for my knee replacement, whenever I find the courage to get that done. But still.

So here's what stress is doing to me. First, I hace a facet of night terrors where I wake up and appear to be awake - you can have a full on conversation with me (probably making more sense than I do when I'm awake) and I will not remember one bit of it. It remains at bay for the most part but when I'm really stressed, I do what is called sleep eating. I've woken up in the morning with food in my bed. On more than one occassion I've found chocolate smeared on my wall and in my bed. The other night I 'came to' as I was shoving cookies down my gullett! Problem there is that I also have symptomatic acholasia... read: I could choke due to a swallowing difficulty. I buy cookies for my Gram that I specifically don't like and peanut butter was forbidden for the last few months. But when you are sleeping, all food is fair game and the quantity is a guessing game.

The other thing I've noticed recently is that I've been hitting the vending machines, which I try to avoid - always have. So I get a candy bar. No big deal. But then I forget about it ever existing and later go buy some disgusting item made to mimic real pastry. And I eat it! Plastic icing and all! And it isn't until I'm on my way home that I remember that I also had a candy bar. So it's like the stress is conveniently erasing the memory of eating the first item so that I will comply and buy the second item. Honestly, this is getting stupidly ridiculous.

Because of meds and medical issues, I cannot jump start anything with a 'diet pill'. I just need to find a way to stop the sleep eating and, well, the 'awake' eating associated with vending machine amnesia! I've dealt with the sleep eating for years, this thing where my mind conveniently 'forgets' that I ate some crap a few hours ago has got to stop. And you know, it's not like I even LIKE 95% of the stuff in there, so I stand there swaying back and forth trying to decide what to get. One might think that browsing the same selection that I ate only a couple hours prior would trigger a memory!

I fought this fight before and won. I lost just over 100# the proper, healthy way. For some reason I'm just failing now and I can't get a grip on why. Which of course, creates more stress. Maybe I just had to write it to make it more real. I don't know how to stop the sleep eating. Often the absence of food (and an increase in pounds) is the only indicator it occurred. I've even tried taping the fridge and cupboards shut in the past.

So if anyone wants to make fun of the pudge in my belly, I'll let you mull this over before I kick your ass. ;)

Epiphany 101

Isn't it funny how on one hand, we can feel so much - then on the other hand, we're all but devoid of feeling? Well, somewhere in the middle, I learned something about myself.

Someone I know (who has no idea I have this account, so I can speak freely) has been talking to me about being lonely. I made several half hearted attempts to give him a pep talk about finding the right girl, but you know what? Turns out I don't give a fuck.

See, in talking with him, I learned that I interpret his discussion of this as whiney and pathetic. Just turn that emotion OFF fer crissakes!!! And I only say that because I did that very thing many years ago and have stuck to it since. I was in two relationships that, well, one devastated me when it ended, the other one pissed me off so I ended it. I was hurt twice, too close together. Given my history, it was a miracle I made it that far.

So in talking to this guy, who is having actual human emotions and realistic concerns, valid as the day is long - I simply cannot identify. I cannot explain to him, or anyone else really, that that part of me is dead for all basic purposes. I know the majority can't just 'turn it off'.

It confuses me how a person such as myself, who typically feels more than her fair share, and deeply, might I add, can be so utterly dead in another respect. It's like I had those feelings surgically removed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. It's just how it is. A part of me made that happen as a mechanism of protection. That could change some day. I just find some irony there.

And truly, dude, stop fucking whining.

The only thing that comes to mind is a song by Pink

Ok, I think technically it is P!nk, but whatever. Remember the song Don't Let Me Get Me? Even if not, you get the idea by title alone.

I keep forcing myself to stay awake until the point of exhaustion because I'm afraid of what will happen in the time between waiting for the Klonopin to kick in and sleep. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts.

Well fucketyfuckfuckfuck.

Waiting for the workplace backlash because some things never change, haha!

At the moment it would seem that our temps today are hitting the low 90sF with storms and about a zillion percent humidity, so, it should actually feel tropical equator-ish as opposed to Ohio-ish. Tomorrow is similar, but higher, maybe 94F with a skabillion percent humidity which should feel like the sun. If you had to breathe water through gills. Just saying.

Anyway, I've been at it again! What, you ask? Thinking! Yep, thinking all by myself! And asking the bossman to put some ideas into motion. Well, he has. And today I sit and wait for all the typical backstabbing bitching and kvetching that is normal for my department. Now - get this. This one idea helps everyone... and if you just do the first step, which takes 15 mins max, it will save you a total of at least 30 minutes (on top of making up the 15 minutes). So, 15 minutes on your terms vs 45 minutes at the mercy of happenstance. Ok, where's the dilemma again? Yeah, well I'm sure because I didn't ask anyone (ok, one or two people) there will be the whole 'who does she think she is, no one asked me, it's nice how people just change things around here' commentary.

Ahem. Yes you lazies, I changed something after twenty years without consulting you. Why? Because you never contribute anything more than bitching and moaning and are too lazy to implement anything anyway. Last time I consulted everyone and no one lifted a finger to help. So yeah, I don't really care what you think. Bossman likes it, saves time and money... why are you bitching again? Aren't coworkers great?

Hoping to catch up on blogs this weekend. In addition to being hot. Hope everyone has a great weekend!

For the most part, this post should round out recent events.

I learned something huge. From my regular therapist, not the new one - no idea what is going on with the new one, if I'll even see her or not. Anyway... this needs to be mentioned then I start moving on.

Remember how I said I had the horrible appointment with Dr. Sadist that just about had me dead in a ditch by my own doing? Well. Well, well, well, WELL, WELL! The psychiatrist apparently used a technique that is commonplace in dealing with BPD patients. The differences in the appropriateness of care lie in several areas. First, BPD was new to me as a diagnosis (although apparently very much a part of me for many years, unbeknownst to me), not something I'd dealt with knowing about for a long time; I was just learning about it. Second, we didn't have that much of an established relationship nor was I holding a gun to his (or anyone's) head so that he felt this tactic was neccessary by means of emergent intervention. Most importantly... I was in a 20 minute 'follow-up' session to discuss meds. He was using a tactic that is meant for an inpatient setting only. When they simply cannot get through to a BPD patient in an inpatient setting, one (approved) method is to try to literally 'break' them. They come at you repeatedly with a continuous stream without letting you say anything or defend yourself. Should you get a word in, they shoot you down and tell you that you are wrong and it's all the disorder. Their goal is to shock you out of the shell that BPD has put you in... and then in an immediate follow up session, they go one on one to see how you feel, calm you, what you thought of, how it applies to your life, did it make you see things differently, etc. IN A MONITORED INPATIENT SETTING.

Although harsh sounding, I can see the validity in the treatment in the proper care setting. Many disorders such as these need the intervention of an impartial party to NOT go along with patient, to show them that not everyone will bend to their disorder. (Not that all patients even realize that is what happens, but people, family/friends, do tend to accommodate, and that can add fuel to the fire. Of course some manipulate flat out.) Anyway. I was no where near that point, nor was I an inpatient with any follow up care. He was wrong for using that technique. Not only was it not warranted, but it was cruel - this is something meant to most often work in just one session. It is harsh. It is meant to break you but there are people there to help you rebuild and make sure you get through it ok. Except in my case. And he seems to forget that I have a river of Bipolar and multiple suicides in my immediate family. Me for one on the bipolar, not so much on the suicide, although he almost made it manifest.

Didn't I say I felt like I'd been taken apart and just left lying about? I've never had that feeling before and now I know that is what it feels like when someone intentionally tries to break you but conveniently forgets to help put the pieces back. I sat in my car on the side of the road sobbing with my phone in my hand, not sure if I should call for help or a hearse. I was ready to kill myself. And don't doubt it - he would have been implicated in a note.

Please do not address this portion, but I cannot even think of celebrating my birthday this weekend. I've told a few select people to make sure if the topic comes up that they recommend I don't get so much as a card. I think I will be getting out of town. See, I'm still struggling with the aftermath and the moment I think about my bday, being a celebration of life, it makes me feel what I felt after that session - that I had no worth and was nothing, never would be, and my entire life a farce. I don't want to hover too close to that because I'm not clear of the damage he caused yet. I no longer cry every day but don't think for a second that I would not succumb to being overwhelmed by having to display birthday gratitude when I'm struggling with pushing his words out of my head. Those words are fresh and the feelings even moreso. It is much like walking a tightrope, I'd imagine. One false move or interference and down I go. Keep away, and I'm holding my own. It pisses me off that I have a milestone bday and friends and family that wanted to do things for me but I can't. And I can't exactly tell them why either! He took that from them as well, not just me.

So that's what I found out. Turns out I was not very far off in my original description. And all this stemming from questioning the meds he prescribed. Seriously, what the fuck? How can you literally go about trying to break a person, knowing what you are doing and leaving them to fend for themself, then go home to your nice little family and not care? I'm angrier now than I was before but only because I know what it is that I am angry at. It is passing and turning into just another part of the wall that encircles the 'distrust' portion of my brain. I'm sure I will see Dr. Sadist in hell. The playing field will be even and let me tell you, game is ON.

If these things happened to someone else I'd either laugh uncontrollably or simply not believe them.

But they happen to me. Yay me. Remember the mental health professional I went to see two posts ago? Well, I found out that instead of paying something like $20 to see her, it will be more like $200 because Dr. Sadist gave me incorrect info. Shocking. So I left a message for her asking what her fee was as I'd have to see if I could afford to come back. That was Wednesday 6.30. So yesterday (7.5) I called back, thinking that she may have been out a few days for a long holiday weekend. She answered, I told her I was following up on a call and what it was about and she asked if she could call me right back. I began to give her my name and phone number when she brusquely added, I'm on another line, I'll call you back. Yeah, I was on a private line hence no caller ID. So it's almost 10p on 7.6 and I'm still waiting for a call. Ha. As if it's ever coming. I guess it's hard to call someone back when you don't have their number or really even know who it was for that matter. I think this rules her out as someone to rely on.

So I need and actual psychiatrist to monitor my meds (like Dr. Sadist should have) and keep things on track (instead of derailing them a la Dr. Sadist). They have the prescription pad so I need them. Being a good little patient, I went to the next logical doc and his hours are so limited, I'm not sure I could EVER get in to see him. The third doc we have is more unstable than I am so he's just not even an option. And I don't trust him. He dated a friend of mine for a while and I know things about him that make it so that it would never be a proper doc/patient relationship. My next choice is a doc that works out of our sister hospital which happens to be a drug and alcohol treatment center. If this keeps up, I will find myself on a bar stool and he really WILL be the best choice. Not to mention that he's like, 45 minutes away. With my schedule, that is really tough.

I find myself looking at my situation and asking myself if I couldn't just make do with one of the Dr. Duds. My answer is no. No I cannot. I've said that if this other doc doesn't work out (schedule, he only sees drug/alcohol pts, etc.) then I think I might try to get off the Lithium. Ok yeah, that's one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had, but lets look at things logically. If I can't get a doc to prescribe my meds, then I will have none to take. I'd rather try to wean myself off at a controlled rate than just up and stop. Shit like that messes with your brain chemistry big time. Stopping on a dime is what makes people suicidal and homicidal and I really need no help there.

This makes me see how people fall through the cracks, so to speak. How people have medical coverage but still can't manage to get the care they need. The only difference between me and perhaps the majority of those people is my attitude. I do not believe that any practitioner is a medical diety. Irregardless of initials that come after your name, I will question you. Often, it is simply so that I understand your goal for my treatment. Other times, it may be because I have known me alot longer than you have and I will question what seems to go against what feels right. In the end, they may be completely right, and I'm great with that, I just have to ask questions. Many have the idea that you should just simply agree - they are the doc, after all. And now, with so many people trying to piece together part time jobs just to have a reliable income, doctors with limited hours are often out of the picture. If you have an hour and a half between jobs, or jobs and school, do you really think you'll be able to get an appointment in the time frame you need in a reasonable amount of time? Sure, they can fit you in then... in about 5 weeks.

Which is not to say that the medical professionals don't have their own set of gripes, I'm certain they do. I'm just saying that if I would get to see the doc with limited hours, I'd either be late for work and lose hours, and my employer wouldn't go for that. If I pick the doc that is further away, then I will lose at least half of my day off getting to the appointment, or will have to take an early appt and have a couple hours to kill before having to be at work. It would all depend on the day - I never have the same days off. Lost hours or lost sleep or lost wages.

You would think that getting an appointment would not be so hard. But it can be. Then add in the fact that you need to see them every month. I don't know, I just had to ramble about this. It bothers me. Not just for myself, but because I know this has got to happen to others. Although my track record lately with picking sadist docs and flippant therapists is really something else. And we won't even get into the threats I had to make to my insurance company... I'm pretty sure what I said was illegal in at least 13 states. But in this case, THEY effed up... not me. They reversed payment on bills for a year and a half ago (in an attempt to fix the screw up on another issue) and then paid a claim they shouldn't have, after I told them not to (workers comp). But that's another topic... *sigh.... deeeeeep cleansing breath*.

Happy Fourth, blah, blah... Now shut the fuck up!!!

Have I ever mentioned that I hate the Fourth of July? To be clear - the noise of it. There's a bunch of fucking yahoos with various fireworks and firecrackers just waiting to blow a finger or two off. They probably don't even care if it's theirs or not. These people go from being bank tellers, deli workers, assembly supervisors and baby sitters to instant pyrotechnics engineers. GAH!

Unfortunately, two of my neighbors feel they have a responsibility to light up the night for all to see. Hey dumbfucks - ya got a friggin' LAKE at the back of your house! Seriously? Do you think Canada is looking?!?! No one save a handful of highly annoyed neighbors can even see your shit, and most of that is through the trees. My fucking spleen is doing the chacha from the bass and no one can see you!

They are trying to one up the other and other than the fact that my ears literally ache and my hearing is rather tinny, my poor cat is about to jump out of his stripes. He is afraid of simple loud noises and he is just beside himself. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do. This has gone on for hours.

The best part is that these jack offs will continue with their shimmery, masturbatory projectiles for days. Days. Just use them up now like good little drunks and be done with them. But no. This happens every year and this, I can say with confidence, is the worst year by far. Louder, bigger, snappier, boomier, and far, far more of them. Stop competing! Just whip out your dicks and get it over with already!

All I can say is that I hope someone's cat or dog (although not mine, he's traumatized), preferably an intact male, pisses on all your flowers. May you find your own landscaping smoldering in the morning and if, just IF you should come to my hospital tomorrow with self-inflicted drunken firework injuries - don't you even think that I will be a part of getting pain meds to you.

So yeah, I kind of hate the Fourth of July.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

BOOM!

I'm lying to them again, you know.

The whole headshrinkers group and associated entourage. They ask you questions. Uncomfortable ones. After my recent emotional rape, I just cannot give them any more. The things they want to know may be important along the way, and you know what? If we get to that point, I'll let you in on the truth. Until then, pardon me for being guarded. You meet them and 15 minutes later they are dissecting you. Most questions I lunge at... 'so, do you have a history of alcohol abuse?'... Oh fuck yeah, I was at the bar 6 of 7 nights downing an average of 18 beers and lets say, 6-8 shots. See, I have no problem with that. That is important to them understanding me and then essentially pigeonholing me into a category. It's their job, I can't be angry. But some things they don't deserve to know. Not yet. Not to use against me.

So today was my first appointment with the therapist that is a specialist in BPD. Turns out she kind of isn't a specialist by her response when I told her that's what the IdiotDoc told me. WTF. Seriously?!?! I have no idea if I'm going back. I've got to call the insurance company in the morning. And she said she makes her own diagnosis(es)... so that means how long seeing her just to start at the beginning?! How many fucking mental health professionals does it take to get a goddamned diagnosis?!?! All you have to do is go by the guidelines in the DSM IV. Do you fit this axis? Then you've got it - whatever 'it' is. Christ on a fucking bike - you'd think I was asking you to come up with a solution for peace in the middle east!

Still feeling fragile. Still feeling broken. But my normal shell of anger and general *pissyness is beginning to reform. And I need sleep.

*Yes, technically pissiness should be spelled with and 'i' but I think it looks funny. Actually it looks funny both ways but I chose the lesser of two evils, visually speaking.

What is life if not a joke? One night she went out for smokes and they took her apart like a ragdoll in the back of a van...

That's an old Matthew Good Band song called Alabama Motel Room. Welcome to my mind. It has just been taken apart by a doctor that won't hear what I'm telling him. He claims everything is due to the BPD. We talked of my fear of adverse drug reactions which I've endured horrid ones in the past. That too, he managed to tell me, was because of the Borderline Personality Disorder. He asserts that because of my fear of lack of control over the meds and experiencing side effects that I've worked myself up so far into having hallucinations. So sure, he'll give me the smaller dose of the new med to placate the crazy girl. He said he'll put money on the fact that I have a problem because I believe I will. I handed it back to him. He gave it back with a condescending comment.

I'm not going to go into any more but let me just say a few things. Any reaction I've had is real - even to antibiotics. My mother began experiencing peculiar and severe reactions in her early thirties and passed that on to me. I have tried many meds, some worked, some didn't but two almost had me hospitalized... pardon me for giving a shit about the hell that may come to me in the form of a pretty colored capsule. Second, fuck you for insinuating that I willed it to happen. Third, do not talk over me and treat me like one of your over-medicated low functioning patients that lives 50% of their days shuffling in the psych ward. I am not that person. Treat me like I understand you, because you know I do. Perhaps that is one of the things you don't like.

I came to you for help and you have managed to tear down the small connections I built. You took away my entire history, making it seem that everything is the BPD. There is no 'me' anymore - I was all a fabrication. Nothing is real. And you tell me meds won't help me anyway. It's all a personality issue. You forget that I DO have a history, all the bipolar and suicide. You just took me apart and left me there. If I was ever anything at all. You want me to follow you like part of your flock. Saying it's all part of being able to follow directions. Again, fuck you. It's about open dialogue with your patient and trying to treat someone, not belittle and strongarm them.

I might just get off all meds. As long as I have enough time to get my shit in order, I don't care what happens to me. Not anymore. I can't make this my life.

You know doc, I had hopes for this. For me. For improving my life which is what I was seeking for years. But you found me to be a plaything. Something to wind; watch me spin. I care far less now than I did before thanks to your careful guidance. I am parts, but not whole. You told me I never was. But don't fucking underestimate me. So help me god you son of a bitch, if I go out, I am taking you with me in any way possible.
~
Add on: Because 'stubborn' runs through my blood in a ratio that overtakes even red blood cells, I will get through this. I just need to say that this guy did some damage when I was at an extremely vulnerable point. I've pulled inside myself because I can't trust what I thought or what the doc thinks. As long as I stay inside for a while, I'll be back to normal life telling some idiot or another to fuck off. For now, I feel wounded, lost, betrayed, confused, angry; you name it. Fragile. Broken. But as long as I fight it, I'll be ok. I just have to recognize that it is ok to let myself feel this for now; to not fight for a moment. It will remind me what to be wary of in the future.