Senior State Department’s management team just resigned; Juggalos to march on Washington (for why exactly?); Enrique Peña Nieto, president of Mexico, says “fuck you” to trump and cancels summit; and the Doomsday clock goes ahead 30 seconds to name a few things
Today has been a fucking hell of a day. From 9AM to 4PM local time, the below has already happened. America is in desperate need of hope and we’re clinging to even the slightest hint of some reality (see Mexican president canceling King Cheeto’s summit). I am thinking it may not be a bad idea to start collating these tweets on a daily or so basis as some kind of record in what’s happening in the world as my site gets indexed by the Wayback Machine. Everything else seems to be irrelevant and pointless other than what’s killing Amerikkka.
(On a side note, I would recommend, if you haven’t already, to subscribe to Teen Vogue, Ms., and bitch.)
tl;dr: Senior State Department’s management team just resigned; Juggalos to march on Washington (for why exactly?); Enrique Peña Nieto, president of Mexico, says “fuck you” to trump and cancels summit; and the Doomsday clock goes ahead 30 seconds to name a few things that happened on January 26, 2017.
Holy fucking jesus aloysius christ on a pogo stick: State Department's entire senior management team just resigned https://t.co/IFO5qt9SDu
I am finding myself more reluctant to write about my experiences because of the shame that is so attached to those who are mentally ill. I could not bare, at the darkest time of my adult life, letting those wounds get picked on even by those who were doing it out of love. It is so exhausting these days just being.
If you’re an email subscriber, you may have received an email for learning to breathe / projection, which was written and to be published in April 2016 but it didn’t get posted for some reason so it got posted now. I cannot turn off publishing to email on a per post basis so if you sometimes get a deluge of emails from me, it means I’m going through and publishing old posts.
A couple of weeks ago I launched Excessively Diverting1, an all Jane Austen all the time (with the occasional Brontë) blog with the main reason as I am taking front end web development classes, I needed a project and durr, Jane Austen. There is so much news on our Jane, I am spoilt for blog posts and that is not including the long list of ideas I could write about. The blog is the little blog that could and if you’re a fan of our Jane, please do give the blog a read as it would be much appreciated.
It is a sunny Sunday afternoon and I’m finding myself at loose ends today. While I woke up late, I was able to finish the bulk of my chores shortly after noon and I’ve been looking for something to do since then which is hilarious, in its own way, as I’ve got plenty to do such as finish reading the chapters due this week for Mansfield Parkor working on homework for the aforementioned front end web dev classes. Yet, I do not find myself attracted to these things right now and it should be noted I’ve been getting tired of my laptop as of late. Everything I must do or have to do stems from working online and oh gods, why? I’ve been online 22 years and it never fails to amaze me how the internet works but I get so tired of it from the news, the gossip, and the work I just want to move to a tiny island and be surrounded books such as this:
(If you’re not familiar with this episode of The Twilight Zone, Burgess Meredith plays a nebbish bank teller who survives a nuclear fall out as he was reading in the vault of his bank when the bomb hits. Realising he is alone, he contemplates suicide before noticing the public library is now all his. Then he steps on his glasses. So I want this but sans the glasses breaking.)
So I take short breaks and do a lot of self-care and while sometimes it doesn’t seem to be enough, it does satiate my need for some offline time.
(And yet, YET!, I find myself here writing this post on, you guessed it, my laptop.)
We went home to Grand Rapids for the holidays and I had a lovely lady date day with several of my closest friends. As I love all of them equally, I cannot play favorites but this one is one of my favorites and she asked why wasn’t I writing a book on being mentally ill, specifically bipolar, since it would help so many people such as how it helped her to understand from the live in your face blog of a mentally ill person.
Truth be told, this is something I’ve been thinking about for some time but haven’t verbalized and it is something I’m still on the fence about. Since my nervous breakdown in October 2015, I am finding myself more reluctant to write about my experiences because of the shame so attached to those who are mentally ill (yet I have no problem banging on about it on Twitter, which is beyond public, so there is that). I could not bear, at the darkest time of my adult life, letting those wounds get picked on and over even by those who were doing it out of love. It is so exhausting these days just being that writing about it gives me a headache and a very desperate need to curl up with a good book, hot tea, and a pug by my side with TEH close by.
But oh! My dear, dear readers – I find myself in self-flagellated mode on this topic because wouldn’t now be the perfect time to write while emotions are high and the feelings are low and yet I look at this website on occasion with some disdain. Jesus, how time has changed in 20 years since this little website became a reality where then I would bare my breasts with nipples hard and prominent with a giving no fucks attitude and now I gave you a brief glimpse of my cleavage and demurely mention how lovely you look.
When TEH and I were buying Throbbing Manor in the winter of 2010, the seller was being a fuck twat and jerking us around. TEH and I were living in long stay hotel, our things in storage, and we were very desperate to move into the house. One day while at the hotel, something got in my eye and instead of a cool, “Oh, I must get this thing out of my eye” like some rational person, I went from “OH MY GOD, SOMETHING IS IN MY EYE” to “I AM DYING OF EYE CANCER” and no amount of consoling from TEH soothed my anxiety beast. It took a Klonopin to calm me down and lull me to sleep before I found myself the following day feeling fresh as a dewed daisy and not the least bit anxious.
We laugh about this episode now but it is used as the barometer of my feelings for that particular day. There’s been more times of late where I have scurried into the kitchen to grab my Klonopin because my anxiety was so high and no amount of meditation / breathing / yoga / self-care was bringing me down. I will yell “EYE CANCER!” in a high voice so TEH knows why I scuttling to the kitchen naked but for a towel wrap around my wet hair.
EYE CANCER used to happen every three or four months but now it’s moving to a near weekly basis. Frustration for a lack of money, job, possible loss of insurance (Thanks, Trump!), mental health in peril some days, and the lack of snow in Louisville (truly) is taking its toll. Feeling frustrated is normal for these are normal things to feel frustrated about but my fucking brain — fucking gods my brain! — takes it to a whole new level and there are days I am so frustrated with my brain rather than my situation I want to get ECT to make it all go away. TEH and my therapists are against this method, I am, ha ha ha, still too high functioning to even consider such a thing and, well, my meds are rather working at the moment, so, why the need?
Before we started dating (or whatever the fuck you want to call what we were doing), TheBassist was hospitalized for deep depression and is in year two or three of recovery yet he still often finds himself exhausted by daily life to such a degree he still needs naps in the afternoon. I thought this was ridiculous — if you can play gigs at bars on the weekends, you can get a damned job.
Ha. Ha. Ha. The jokes on me! I now find myself in the same position where if I do more than one thing a day, even seeing my therapist counts, I need to take a break from the world. Being mentally ill is not only expensive but it is exhausting.
Imagine this:
You have a job and you work in the office. You have your morning rituals and commute times; you interact with your coworkers; you have meetings and lunches with other people; you come home and do your evening meal and delights; you go to bed and you start the process all over the next day. On the weekend you may sleep in and take some personal time. You get recharged and tackle the Monday just like you have every other Monday.
For me, and people like me, we can get up and do our morning rituals. But going out into the world and having to be “on” takes such a large amount of emotional and mental strength we simply do not have so we break down in some fashion. It may be we’re late to work. It may be we take a sick day. It may be we job hop looking for a job we can work without giving too much notice to our mental health. We may cancel evenings with friends or even self-plans like heading to the movies because it’s too much.
Everything is too much. It is overwhelming and there have been times in the last year I thought I was on the spectrum because even certain noises made me jittery (exhaust fans from the kitchen and bathroom). I cannot breathe when I’m overwhelmed in these situations so I need to check out so I can get breath back into my body.
This does not negate the normal exhaustion one feels when one is working 40+ hours a week, has a family, has a home, or whatever it is people my age have — because that is normal. Working takes the piss out of most humans as does daily life but what I want you to imagine is take that weekend feeling of exhaustion, jack it up by 100 and have it compound over the course of the week.
That is what the mentally ill often go through on a daily basis on top of their crazy.
I find myself nearing 2000 words on something I didn’t think I could sum up 500 so maybe this is the sign I need to start planning that book. From the varied research I have done over the last year, it is rare to find an adult fiction book of someone who is mentally ill and NOT depressive as it is to find a non-fiction book from someone in the first person of their own accounts of being bipolar.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
1. Careful readers will remember I ran an Etsy shop of the same name a few years back in which I shuttered (temporarily) when I was working full time. I do have plans of the store re-opening, I just don’t know exactlywhen.
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Written were hundreds of words on my tales of woe for 2016. It sounded kludgy and hackneyed so instead, I am going to answer these questions from Gala Darling:
What were your top five moments of the year?
Going to rugby practice and not dying
Finding out the lump in my right breast was not cancerous
Spending time at the cabin with TEH
Finding a green sequined skirt for 1/2 price
Spending NYE with my brother, SIL, and TEH
The beautiful drive from east coast to the cabin in late August
Coming home again
ummm….
366 days (2016 was a leap year) and I’m struggling to make a list. For 2017 I am going to write down each good thing that happens and throw it in a Mason jar and January 2018 I should have a nice fat list. What are you really glad is over?
The elections. The lead-up and the final day were torture but now that it’s over, I am getting better equipped to shape the future. How are you different today than you were 365 days ago?
I’m much more mentally stable. Thank deities for good drugs. Is there anything you achieved that you forgot to celebrate?
Probably but see question one — I barely come up with five things to celebrate for the year. What have you changed your perspective on this year?
I became more aware of my institutional oppression and I’m actively working to be more “woke.” My reading goal is to read non-white, male, American authors and read more non-fiction. Who are the people that really came through for you this year?
The usual suspects: TEH, Kate, Kristin, CMMRB, and many more. What is something you tolerated for a long time, but now you will not?
Ignoring my health. I’ve slid along thinking I was eating healthy and being more active. To some extent, this is true but not as much as I thought. I’m no longer going to accept “good enough” as a mantra. What old beliefs did you let go of?
I accepted wholeheartedly I do not believe in a Judeo-Christian god. What was the one thing that you found really challenging, but can now see supported your growth?
Continuing with meditation and doing yoga fairly regularly. If you could go back in time, what would you tell yourself this time last year?
You’re going to be okay. It’ll be slow going, but you’re going to be okay.
My goals for 2017: Expand my intellectual horizons
Read more non-fiction and works by non-white, American, male writers. My reading last year was pitiful. Only 30 books! I’m going to shoot for a book a week and dedicate 25 – 45 minutes a day to reading.
I’m also going to read news outlets outside of my typical bubble and subscribe to newsletters that make me feel enlightened and get off of lists that aren’t helping me with my goal. Expand happiness quotient / do more self-care
550 days of continuing meditation, WOOHOO. Body wise, I’m no longer going to accept “good enough” as a mantra. I turn 45 in 2017 and I want to be healthy and strong. Challenging myself with being active is going to be scary but worth it. Continue being diligent with self-care. I also need to remind myself that change is slow. The past is the past, start every day with a clean slate
Seeing mother during the holidays confirmed what I’ve been telling everyone, in regards to her, all along: no amount of whinging, begging, or wishing is going to change the past. She is who she is. Seeing her this holiday was painful but a solid reminder that I shouldn’t let the past shape my future for anything. Write more
I say this every year (honestly, every day), and I’ve always held myself back. Always, always, always. Less looking at how to write / obsessing about planning and execution and more on writing itself. See more of the world, even if my world is within a 25 mile radius
My mother-in-law asked me how I liked living in the city now that I’ve been here for more than six months. I lamented I wasn’t doing more to be active in the city but I was making, albeit small, changes to rectify that. I need to drag TEH out into the world with me. Make more time for adventures!
My talking therapist chides me on the amount of goals I always set for myself and never seem to accomplish. “Do one or two things!” she says. These goals aren’t “lose 50 pounds by my birthday” rather “eat better and exercise.” Nia Shanks wrote a great piece, and give practical tips, how to beat resolution failure. The main point she keeps driving in and on is to break whatever you want to do down into workable general actions (drop processed sugar from my diet) rather than specific steps (eat only X grams of sugar a day; drop all “white” food, etc).
So that’s me for 2017. All those naysayers on how resolutions don’t work, go fuck yourself you micromanaging assholes.
