pookiebear – Page 11 – A Most Unreliable Narrator

I Want To Be A XXX Librarian, Part II

Dear Internet,
Yesterday I discussed the ridiculousness of job titles and their descriptions. For empirical proof, I’m going to dissect my last position, where I worked for nearly four years as a Systems & Web Librarian, and what those responsibilities really meant.
Let’s look at the requirements for that job directly from the horse’s mouth:

Information Literacy: In collaboration with colleagues, classroom instructors, and the Information Literacy Librarian, design, teach, and promote general and subject-focused instruction sessions that support the academic curriculum; develop a personal teaching philosophy; contextualize instruction based on course learning outcomes; teach database and web searching and evaluation; understand and apply Institutional Learner Outcomes (ILOs); participate in the development and delivery of library instruction to online and distance learners; create and maintain SubjectGuides and other instructional materials using web, presentation, and course management software; and participate continuously in the development and administration of learning assessments. (You’ll note this is one sentence. Cut/pasted for its absurdness in length.)
Reference Services
Collection Development
Liaison Service
College Service: Participate in faculty responsibilities as described in the Faculty Performance Evaluation system, including student advising and campus-wide committee work; cultivate collegial working relationships within the LLC; collaborate with colleagues in local, regional, and national libraries to cooperatively develop and manage print and digital resources; promote awareness of the LLC’s mission, resources and services; collaborate with LLC staff in long and short term planning; and support the mission, vision, values and strategic priorities of the LLC and the College. (You’ll note this is one sentence. Cut/pasted for its absurdness in length.)
Professional Development

(Pretty standard stuff you’ll see on most academic librarian job responsibilities.)
Now on to the real meat of the job:

Coordinate and trouble-shoot daily operation of the ILS
Serve as liaison to IT Department for the integrated library system, web page server, and setup of library PCs
Serve on campus-wide teams relevant to web page services and other information technology tools and resources
Manage, design, and develop library website for optimum exposure and ease of use. Lead library team responsible for the content and presentation of the web site, including the use of existing and emerging social media
Compile statistics on use of library system and library web page
Maintain library’s collaboration with statewide collaborative resource-sharing initiative
Use technical expertise to assist with implementing and maintaining digital library services, including OCLC ILLiad and instructional support materials
Provide library staff support and training in ILS and virtual services
Demonstrated experience maximizing the effectiveness, efficiency, and appeal of instruction and other learning experiences through intentional instructional effort
Portfolio of web page design and implementation projects
Knowledge, experience, and enthusiasm for evaluating and integrating emerging library technologies (They mean social media.)
Ability to demonstrate the mental health necessary to safely engage in the librarian discipline as determined by professional standards of practice.

Now the job description is much longer, but I’ve weeded out the humdrum stuff. Let me now break down how I spent my 37.5 hour work week.

Reference desk: 10 hours
Instruction and prep for said instruction: 10 hours
Department and college wide meetings, including liaison departments: 10 hours
Fixing library computers, scanners, and related items: 5 hours a week

Number of hours to fulfill the listing of what I was hired, web and systems, to do: 2.75 hours.
A week.
Am I exaggerating? Sadly no.
Let me break down what those job duties really meant:

This was handled between myself and cataloging person, but mainly by me. I used lunch time and reference desk time to fix, update, and maintain the ILS
The previous two librarians in the position burned bridges with the IT department and the library was on the lowest rung of the ladder for any kind of support. Because of that poor relationship, it took me six+ months to get into having weeklyish meetings with the various heads of the department and to get respect from those heads. The library has zero control over desktop environments, software updates and fixes, and so on. No one other than IT, including the Systems & Web Librarian had/has admin access. The best I could do is fix software issues (“I don’t know how to do headers.”), reboot machines, and fix student laptops because the library, aka me, was faster than the college’s open student lab. I doubt that has changed.
The college’s website was handed over to the communications team, there is one person, in IT, handling/maintaining the college’s site and they have get “suggestions” from said communications team before doing any kind of work on the site. The systems and web librarian has zero administrative access.
Library website is controlled by the college. Everyone in the library, per the library’s director, has access to update/manage/etc. It took me a year to get the staff to okay all changes I made for better navigation, usability, and other refinements before someone else in the library effed up my hard work, which I had to fix. In the nearly two years I’ve been gone, the site has remained identical to how I left it.
As described for ILS and social media. Stats on the library’s website is controlled by the college and I had to make a formal request to get the analytics.
As described
More or less as described. The ILS is not hosted at the college, it’s managed by the ILS company. I could update and control the front end of the ILS for patron viewing but that’s about it.
No one did this until I came along. So, as described.
Buzz words
I was the only person, confirmed by IT and the library director, who presented a web portfolio for tenure. Since the college runs the website, no idea why this was added since the person in this position would not have any control.
They killed off half of my social media initiatives, the social media is rarely updated.
About 12. YES, that was on the job description. YES, it was reference to me as I’m bipolar. YES, the college was bombarded with phone calls, emails, and so on to get that removed. YES, I was in process with talking to the college’s legal team on suing the college. Good times.

You may be asking yourself the following questions:

“Lisa, you do know while you’ve stripped this post of your previous employer’s name, it’s in your portfolio?”
- Yes, yes I do. I figured since the college tried to eff me in a variety of ways, it was open season.
“Lisa, but future employers…”
- Look, let’s be honest. Future employers love my interviews/resume/skills but once they do a Google search and see the #teamharpy case, I’m persona non grata. My skill set is highly desirable, I am, however, not.
“Lisa, everyone in nearly every librarian position is expected to handle multiple jobs. You’re not a special snowflake.”
- I know this. I’m not so smug to think this was only me. But you know what? People who are ladled with this much responsibility are burned out. They work unpaid overtime from home or stay after scheduled hours. Self-care is a joke. They then cut ties and take their skills to other fields, mainly pure IT, to get the money they deserve. About 75% of my librarian friends who are IT nerds do exactly that.

How do we fix this problem? Here are my suggestions:

Stop requiring all positions to have “blended” relationships. You’re attempting to get more bang for your buck while your employee is getting burned out. Should they do some of these things? Sure. Have said employees work reference once or twice a week, or maybe be a liaison to a department that fits their background. But for the effing love of god, stop forcing them to do ALL THE THINGS and then start grabbing at your pearls when projects are not getting done.
Stop being cheap and break up the unicorn position (which I’ll discuss in another post) into multiple positions. Don’t give me the tap dance your budget cannot allow for it. If the college can pay the president and upper echelon management zillions of dollars, you can find the cash.
- At a position I interviewed with recently, I was told by the director I could have any kind of computer system I wanted, two if desired; head to any kind of conference I wanted and the college would pay, and continued listing all these great, and costly, perks. But the college was absolutely adamant they couldn’t pay more than extremely low $40Ks. Extremely low. It’s bullshit. If you want me to stay, you want to me do my job and enjoy my job, pay me what I deserve.
- Speaking of which, use money normally paid to adjuncts (and I’ve seen departments have up to a dozen adjuncts who did full time library work on part-time pay/hours) and funnel that into a second position. You’re wasting money.
Be realistic. Ask yourself what is it you really want from the position and the person. Don’t listen to bruhaha from college colleagues, not every library needs a goddamned 3D printer, or from other libraries what you should have as opposed to what you need. Not every library needs the same things. All libraries want to be forward thinking and relevant, which is also totally okay and encouraged. It’s totally okay to have wants, but while it would be great to have someone do geospatial work for your stacks, if you’re a tiny ass library, is that a bit ridiculous? (Yes, yes it is.)
Appreciate your employees. True facts: I loved working at my few bucks above minimum wage bookstore job rather than the $62K a year library job because I felt appreciated. I was encouraged to expand my horizons. I was told what a great job I was doing. At the library job? Not so much. I’m not alone in this thinking. Many will accept reasonable pay cuts or work that much harder for their upper management if they feel appreciated. And it doesn’t have to be big! A card, a lunch, a or cheap gift card somewhere, doesn’t matter — as long as the employee is feeling like they are doing a good job, they will stay. (This should be taught in management classes. It would do wonders for moral.)

This is getting ridiculous long so I’ll end here. Let’s give the lowdown on what I covered: Empirical proof of what job descriptions really mean, including examples. Suggestions to make changes in this system.
Tomorrow I’m going to dip my toes into franken jobs, what I mean by unicorn job positions, more thoughts on responsibilities, and pay wage/gap. Well, I hope to at least cover some of it. 🙂

I Want To Be A XXX Librarian, Part I

Dear Internet,
I’ve job hunted in the librarian world three times: first when I graduated with my MLIS in 2010, which took nearly a year and 110 apps before I was offered a job. Second when I was thinking of leaving my last position, applied for two jobs, interviewed at one, rejected by both. Finally, this last job hunt in which I’ve been hunting for a solid year, and half heartedly the six months before that, with 120+ applications in my field as an academic librarian, 40+ in other fields for a total of 160+ applications.
I feel like I’m a damned¹ near expert in job titles and descriptions².
Let’s look at examples of job titles for similar positions I’ve come across in the last year:

Online Learning Librarian
Digital Learning Librarian
Web Services Librarian
Community & Digital Services Librarian
Emerging Technologies Librarian
Technology and Social Media Librarian
Systems Librarian
Web Content Manager Librarian
Learning Commons Librarian
Cybrarian (Yes, this really was a job title)
Digital Initiatives Librarian
Digital Content Librarian
Digital Services Librarian
Systems & Web Librarian

Stop that. You’re effing confusing everyone.
This is not including positions marked Librarian I/II/III/IV and so on that required or preferred digital/technology/emerging/web job duties. (The notation of position was mainly in public libraries, but the requirements were nearly the same.)
You could weakly argue these positions were completely different. Someone who is a systems librarian is vastly different from a web content librarian which is vastly different than a digital initiatives librarian.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret: That’s a bullshit lie and we need to stop kidding ourselves.
Now let’s look at these job descriptions written by our illustrious future employers (or their HR department):

Liaison to varying departments
Collection development
Library / student / staff instruction
Develops and updates online materials; knowledge of LibGuides
Participates in college and community services
Reference responsibilities
Participate in various functions for tenure

Now, I’ll concede this is pretty much standard across every academic librarian position regardless of job title. Now lets look at the other responsibilities:

Working, but preferred, knowledge of HTML / CSS / Javascript / Python / Django / Ruby / SQL / scripting languages
Working, but preferred, knowledge of OSX, Windows, and Linux platforms, including server side software
Project management
Knowledge of current trends in library and technology services
Liaison to IT and related departments
Maintains library’s web presence, including but not limited to: social media, website(s), and ILS and discovery layers
Pioneers experimental and innovative approaches to emerging technologies (direct cut/paste from a job description currently in another tab)
Working knowledge of assistive and accessible technologies
Coordinate workflows, set guidelines and ensure that the library’s web presence is accurate, up-to-date, user-centered and accessible (another cut and paste)
Manage interface customizations and the integration of commercial and open source library application (another cut and paste)
Working, but preferred, knowledge of open source software
Working, but preferred, knowledge of digital and physical copyright laws
Maintain and administer the library’s intranet
Lead and/or participate in processes for usability testing, analytics analysis and assessments of the library’s virtual spaces (another cut and paste)
Become resident resources/tools/databases expert (another cut and paste)
Maintain currency with web technologies, software, tools and solutions. Participates in training efforts (another cut and paste)

And there is a lot more.
(And I had to grammar and spell check a few of the cut/paste thingies.)
You’re probably thinking, “Holy cow! That cannot be all for one job.”
Yes, yes it is.

Join me tomorrow when I dissect my last position which as the same requirements as above, unicorn librarians, and the asinine pay scale for these jobs.

1. A swears in a professional website post. Yes, I know. Shocking. If you are focusing on the swears and not the content and subject matter for the post, you’re not someone I want to work for. It also shows you pay little attention to detail and a poor understanding of written communication skills.
2. You may wonder if the subject line of this post has to do with porn. The answer is no, but it does have to do with the wildly variating titles for the same or nearly same positions, mainly in academia.

doctrine of signatures

Dear Internet,
It’s ~~late Saturday evening closing in on~~ early Sunday morning and as of Thursday (the day, not the dog) I’m now 0/2 on the job front. Connecticut let me know this past week they were moving forward with another candidate and surprisingly? I was okay with it. Truly. Disappointed? Absolutely but right now this is turning out to be a good thing™ for a variety of reasons. Honestly.
And for now? On ward and upward. I’ve pulled out all my old job haunt websites, found 10 jobs near immediately to apply for and will work on those applications this week. I’ve got linux server admin to learn, websites to redesign, kickstarting my librarian website, and enough things to do to last someone a life time.
I am the queen of moving forward. I’m also tenacious. I’m very tenacious, sometimes scarily so.

Discovered recently a Kickstarter package was sent to my old address in Connecticut when I swore I had updated everything to the L-Ville address. 95% sure I had updated Kickstarter. 95%.
The 5% was enough to prove me wrong.
I contacted TheBassist about the package that was delivered to him in early December, not expecting much of a response as I have not heard a peep from him in three months. I don’t stalk him on the facebooks, the mutual friends and I are on collegial terms. It’s life. You break up, you mourn, and you move on.
As the days blended into another, I resolved to accept the package was a lost cause. I wasn’t terribly worried, really, as I have a digital copy of the book. It would have been nice to have the physical media but if not? It’s okay.
A week later he got in touch to let me know the package had been shipped and here was the cost (I offered to pay for postage). I was a bit apprehensive in regards to the thank you card I sent his family was in the package — and I asked. He responded absolutely not. I was thrilled to hear it had been opened, they knew of my gratitude, and it laid with the rest of the holiday cards in their kitchen.
This was a relief. His family are great people, how the last year went down was of no fault of their own, and I wanted to make sure they knew my gratitude and thankfulness for their kindness, hospitality, and generosity.
Truth be told, I’m aghast at my behaviour in the last year — especially in accordance with his family. If I were me now meeting me of the then, I would be appalled that someone was so — foolish? Careless? Something. I’m being too hard on myself, and as I well know, but as someone whose so fucking self-aware (as told to me by my current (and past) shrinks, TheExHusband, and close friends), it bears thinking about. If I were in that same situation now as I was then, I would be too proud to accept their kindness.
(Pride? Not sure how I would describe the feeling other than that’s the closest approximation I can give. I can’t help but think if the domino effect had not happened, I’d be in a wholly different frame and mired life of mine. As I mentioned to someone recently, it was around late 2013 when I lamented how stale my life had become and I only needed some kind of excitement to get it remotely interesting. Last time I ever say that again, I must point out.)
I waited for the box with much trepidation. I had zero idea what he would put in it. I admit I worked myself up in a near froth about the whole thing but by mid-week I was back in control of my emotions. I have a TheBassist box started (things that are of/remind of him) and agreed with myself whatever was in the box winging its way to me was to painful to view/use would go immediately into TheBassist box to be stored indefinitely.
He said the box was arriving on Saturday and I waited as the morning slowly made its way towards the afternoon. (Rip the bandaid off and all that rot.) I checked the mail around noon and nothing had arrived but 15-30 minutes later, I was awash of impending dread. I knew the box had arrived and sure enough, there it was. Almost taunting me.
(Yes, I am being overly dramatic.)
I slit the butcher paper and tape, slit the tape securing the box, pull out the plastic air bags, and there was my stuff. Not all of it, some of it. My favorite JoyDiv shirt I left for him, the last love letter I gave him, a copy of THE PLAN I had sketched out in December 2014 and was pinned to the bulletin board in his room. My personal coffee cup (that looked used?). Some random knick knacks I used to give my personality in his bedroom. The package and mail that had not been passed on to me.
(I can still recall the location of the shirt and the letter I left on his pillow before I left that early September morning. Time moved so quickly, I realized the last time I was intimate with anyone was with him and I have no plans to be intimate with anyone else for a very long time. (See: hot mess. See: swearing off relationships for at least a year.))
It was a strange, sad, and depressing affair, those items.
I refused to let myself read too much into the box — it’s just stuff after all. In my paper journal I wrote I would be terribly upset if he sent back the JoyDiv shirt, and here was the shirt, rolled up neatly, snuggling against the cardboard side. Here I am, heart broken, but not terribly surprised, not in hysterics, not really anything.
(I’ve prepared myself to accept he may send further boxes along with other things and into TheBassist box they will go.)
I’ve been ruminating on the choice of things he sent. I would have been gobsmacked if he sent along the Grand Rapids shirt I gave him all that time ago. The other love letters. The silly signs. The random gifts (Pops! Toys and other things).
I put the things he sent into my TheBassist box. The coffee cup is getting washed and it too will find its new home. The mail was sorted and the junk mail (most of the mail packed) was recycled. The unpacking, the sorting, and the questioning was over in less than five minutes.
Lunch was beckoning. I closed the front door, turned the lock, and that, as they say, was that.

You may have heard, Alan Rickman died this week, and like his cancer predecessors (Lemmy from Motorhead, David Bowie), the world has been mourning. It’s been a very good week for DEATH on all accounts and for various reasons.
I’ve been thinking about what tattoo #18 will be when I get some cash to get fresh ink. I knew I wanted it to be text of some kind, picking a phrase you absolutely love to carry on with you always is hard work.
I think I have found the answer.
Those of us who are Harry Potter fans remember all too well (and cried) when Dumbledore is gently surprised of Snape’s still in love with Lily Potter after all those years:

And this will be tattoo #18, more than likely around my right wrist / forearm.
“After all this time?”
“Always,” said Snape.
xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. Krazy Kate tisked me into agreeing when the box arrived to not contact TheBassist to let him know the eagle had landed. Don’t hand over power, etc. I coughed up the excuse I needed to contact him: Mail from the Connecticut institution had not made its way to me yet even though they had my updated address. Could you please forward the mail on? Thank you. I also thanked him for the box, but I had to make a correction. Several of his friends informed me when TheBassist made his year end review on the facebooks, he had a line that went along the lines of, “And I broke up with the girl who loved me.” That wording has been plaguing me for months — it’s not past tense, it’s present. So the last line I wrote was, “Correction: It is not ‘a girl who loved me,’ rather it’s, ‘a girl who loves me.’ Always has been and so it should always be.”

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 1999

An Errant Librarian

Dear Internet,
I know. It’s been forever. Let me catch you what’s been going on in roughly in the last 18 months.

Due to the new union contract, I decided to leave my last position when the existing contract ended and took a gap year to write a book July 2014
My yet unnamed book stalled November 2014
I’ve been steadily job hunting since February 2015
The #teamharpy case settled out of court March 2015
I’ve started selling a pieces to online magazines starting August 2015

Since April 2015, I’ve been applying for loads of jobs, getting a lot of interviews, which lead to getting two offers and having those two offers rescinded. The job hunt continues always.
I currently have one outstanding interview I’m waiting on a response (yay / nay). I also interviewed with another institution during that same time period and gave a presentation as part of the interview process.

That particular institution called me a month later to tell me they were pulling the job and absorbing the duties into the library department with the caveat if that had not happened, I would have landed the job. Honestly? I was relieved.
Yet, always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
These two in-person institution interviews were second step in the job process. Both jobs have a lot going for them but I feel I belong more in the Connecticut position rather than in Kentucky. During the in-person interview, I feel like the Connecticut people are my people. The job is more enticing, with a lot more opportunities.
If I do not land the Connecticut gig, I, as always, have a back up plan a, b, c, d, and e.

Plan A: Continue to apply for librarian positions
Plan B: in addition to applying for librarian positions, search for other positions that match my skill set
Plan C: I am set to join a cohort in in May with Code Louisville, with the intent of segueing into a system administration or developer position
Plan D: Get a fourth masters or get a PhD.
Plan E: Continue to write doing all of this

And this is where this site comes into play.
The longer the hunt has lasted, the more this site has gotten stale. I definitely needed to refresh the site and provide current content.
I’ve been writing over on my personal blog about the current process of the job hunt and other librarian pursuits, which got me thinking i should not keep lisa.rabey.net as a static site but to make it current and dynamic. Tada!
First, I began with revamping the theme to look more contemporary. I also rearranged the main pages for display the top pages. The current theme is nearly perfect except for a few aesthetic details that need tweaking, other than that, I’m pretty pleased with it.
Second, I started jotting down blog ideas on librarianship, the job hunt, and projects I’m working on relating to all of this. I have OPINIONS about such matters.
Third, I migrated the content from my last position, and previous positions, into this site. I’m also in the process of moving librarian-esque content from my personal blog over here to consolidate the information in one location.
Fourth, I’ve scaled back personal social media links and references with the exception of Twitter. To that end, I removed all social media accounts and with Twitter, I rarely use the service these days and most of it is to retweet something or to comment on someone’s tweet.
That’s pretty much it. The current main content on the site, my resume and so forth, are still going to be prominent but I’ll be updating a lot more in the near future.
Here’s to 2016!

Year in Review: 2015

Dear Internet,
Here we are almost to the middle of January and I still have not written my end of year review. (Some may scoff at doing these things, but I like having a list of what I’ve done and where I’ve been as my memory is often terrible.)
2015 was not as bad as 2014, but it still wasn’t stellar. January saw me moving alone into my own apartment for the first time in six years (in which I was then living with my ex-husband), February saw the amping up of my job search. The #Teamharpy case was dismissed in March, my divorce came through in April. June was my birthday month. August, September, and October were the months I began selling writing pieces. In September, I moved to the cabin in Northern Michigan to close it down, ended up getting a terrible strain of the plague including a cold in my eye. TheBassist and I split in October, and that’s when I started writing in my paper diary. November was a pretty intense month: I moved back to Louisville, I started my “getting healthy” plan which is still in effect, and Thursday arrived. In December, I had second interviews with two institutions, of which I have only heard back from one. The tl;dr on that boiled down to: They absorbed the job back into existing staff, they are re-writing the description with the new duties and they want to make sure that person fit the description. But hey! If all of this had not happened, I would have been offered the position. Of course.
There was also criss-crossing across the U.S as I interviewed for jobs, a wedding, and an epic trip occurred where myself and Kristin drove to D.C. to see Angela Landsbury and I ended up adding a few more trips on that same week.
There was loves lost, friends gained, plans added and changed. It was not a stellar year but it had its moments.
So, 2016. What are my resolutions? On one hand I think making resolutions is bunk — we should be trying to be a better person throughout the year. On the other, having goals can keep you on track and can be added/changed/ditched as things change. I’m well versed how your life can change on a dime and you may never know what it will bring you.
Tada! My top five goals for 2016:

Get a job and get all the accouterments that go with said job (apartment, pay down student loans and credit card debt, so on and so forth).
Continue on with the healthy plan, which entails:
1. Continue changing eating habits (No sugar! No dairy! Less carbs!)
2. Quitting smoking (Again and again and again)
3. Continue with meditation (181 days straight!) and DBT
4. Continue exercising
Travel more. I’ve been to a zillion places and I want to be at a zillion more, but this time I want to absorb those places. I’ve been considering finally taking the plunge and road rally with MINI Takes The States, which is a cross-country tour with a pack of MINIs. I’ll probably start in Minneapolis and continue on to Atlanta, then back to wherever home is located.
Write more and not just in my paper journal. Write true, write what matters, write what you love. Selling a few pieces last year really bolstered my ego, but I know i can do better. I want to be better. I’d like to finally sell a fiction piece, get into the bare bones of writing and start up. My damned book still languishes and it might be trunked, but I want the love of saying, “This is a thing I have made and completed.” I’ve been knitting like a fiend lately and the feeling of accomplishment is brilliant. I don’t want it to ever end
Per the graphic above, Be Fierce (I know everyone says that, but we stop saying it and just live it?). And we can’t forget one of Mr. Neil Gaiman’s a yearly wish to us all:

Wherever you are in life, take chances. Be kind. Have compassion. Love hard and more, love bravely, love fierce. See and do more. Connect more. Be alive and discover the world. And most of all, remember you are human. This is something we all tend to forget – if you make mistakes, make big ones, and do that thing all over again.
That is my New Year’s wish for you.

(Previous years in review: 2014, 2012 2002, 2000)

The last couple of weeks of holidaying have been quiet. I was alone on December 25th and it was what I wanted. TheExHusband and I exchanged gifts, then off with him to his parents for dinner. I sat in my jimjams with Thursday glued to my right hip, ate sausage cornbread stuffing for dinner and trifle for dessert. I mainlined TV shows, knitted, and enjoyed the peacefulness of the world I created.
I sent out a slew of holiday cards this year (and got some in return). I walked more, got out and explored Louisville for a bit, read a few books, and mainly just enjoyed myself. This was my holiday season.

I’ve mentioned writing in a paper journal and I’ve cranked out 150 pages since October. The emotions vacillate, but as time moved on it became less of a “woe is me” and more “this is what I’ve done and this is what I’m going to do and here is how I’m going to do it.” I’ve quipped I wanted to be known as the Anais Nin/Samuel Pepys of my generation. “The Life and Times of an Aging Alternative Spinster.” (Yes, I’ve seen Bridge Jones’ Diary recently. Why do you ask?)
I’ve been journal writing steadily online for the last 20 years (!), so the migration over to paper seems a bit backwards; this I do not believe. Sure I cannot correct spelling mistakes, cut and paste pithy quotes, or add graphics but it’s raw. It’s freeform. It’s life. There is a line, astonishingly, of what I put online (much to some chagrin) and I need to have a place where that line can erased. Paper journals it is.

I have quite a few journals laying around that are half used. Some stretching back five or so years where I was writing an entry every couple of months, or notes, or something of that kind. Those journals I’m picking up where I left off and writing to the end, using Roman numerals to indicate which order they go in (green journal in the image). (I have no idea what I have in storage these days, but I do know that there are many, many blank journals for me to dig into.)
The black journal in the picture is my writing journal. Lines, quotes, or whatever I come up with, separated out from my paper journal for easy access without having to thumb like mad in said paper journal.
The pink journal is my Bullet Journal, which I was recently reminded of its existence (again). The easiest explanation is it’s an analog planner with massive amounts of flexibility. The only digital planner I can use is Google Calendar as it syncs across all of my iDevices. Pre-packaged paper journals and my Filofax bit the dust, so Bullet Journal it is!
The modules I have set up outside the legend and index are: monthly spread, habits tracker, gratitude page, goal settings page, book/movie list for that month (I am terrible at remembering what books I’ve read for that month), weight tracker, and then the daily spread. I love how I can add modules as I go, remove what I don’t need for the following month, and customize the fuck out of how I want it.
And it fits into my bag. (I first thought the bag was too small, but I did not return it because shipping it back to the UK would be expensive. Amazingly, I’ve been able to cram a lot of shit into that bag. Highly recommend. A++, would buy again.)
While I’m not working, I do have a lot to do (errands, appointments, paperwork for various entities, grocery shopping) and I forget all the time what I need to do, like get Thursday’s dog park tags, errands I need to run, projects I left undone or need to start. There is loads for me to do before I relax, as the kids say, and I want to use that time wisely.
So if you’re into finding a good solution to keep your life on track with massive amounts of flexibility, cheap, and without frills – Bullet Journal is the way to go.

My medicating therapist sent me in for blood work some weeks ago and the results came back perfect. This is not hyperbole, scouts honor. There are ranges for things (cholesterol, vitamin levels, thyroid levels, etc) which are considered normal and the sweet spot you should hopefully land. Despite the years of body asbuse (terrible eating in my youth, smoking, etc), everything came back perfect. I was pleased as punch because to look at me, know my weight, you’d think I was a walking diabetic waiting to happen. (Still not diabetic despite the uniform heredity of it passing on my mother’s side. Go me!)
Go fuck yourself, fat haters.
I went and had a physical, which also came out astonishingly well for being a fat chick (blood pressure excellent, confirmation of my blood work is excellent) and no fat shaming from the doctor.
My ob/gyn appointment went off without a hitch. With a history of cervical and vulva cancer, I have to be diligent on getting the vajay looked at. This ob/gyn gave me a rectal exam as apparently rectal cancer runs high in women over 35. Both my cunt and my ass were textbook perfection.
She was able to find the benign lump in my right breast, discovered a year ago with my first mammogram. (If you recall, I had a total of six mammograms including an ultrasound over six months and it was decreed everything was fine.) The lump is located at the intersection of my armpit and my breast, so I would not have found it if I was doing a self-exam.
Speaking of which, I go in for my yearly mammogram this week and hopefully the benign lump is still benign. I shudder at the thought of getting a biopsy to make absolutely fucking clear it’s benign.
LADIES! Get your tits checked.
Eye doctor also well. Textbook optical nerves, my eyes haven’t changed other than the moving astigmatism. New (progressive) glasses were purchased. I wanted your standard black frames and apparently this was neigh impossible, ALMOST.
Great health all around, I have good friends and chosen family, a roof over my head, a pug to call my own, clothes on my back, and food in my belly. All in all, I’m grateful for my life.
How are you?
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2001

happy holidays

Dear Internet,
Five days. I lasted five days. I won’t promise that I’ll be updating on a super frequent basis as I’m massively writing in my paper diary these days but I’ll try to keep the world abreast of what’s going on.
My paper diary is an interesting read. I’ve been writing in it steadily for the last few months and you can follow the ups and downs of my emotions. I can not even begin to explain the swathe of emotions thrown about like a salad BUT it’s a good touchstone to figure out HOW things are getting there and how to be mindful of them in the future.

I was outside tonight having a smoke and the moon was so clear and bright, the valleys and mountains stains against the white of the surface. I stood staring at the moon as I smoked (I know, I KNOW!) and thought about the last few years and how my life profoundly changed.

I chronicle the last several years of my life as a chain of events beginning in February 2014. Wednesday died on February 1. I was served papers for the #teamharpy case in early June. I left my job to write a book on June 30. I left TheExHusband on August 24. I moved in with TheBassist on October 14. My book stalled in early November. Staring in mid-November, I started a whirlwind trip across these united states land that seemed to never stop. I’ve been living with TheExHusband since the first week of September 2015 when I went up to the cabin to close it down for him (and following him to Louisville after). In October 2015, TheBassist and I split.
In these last four months, this is the longest time I’ve lived at once location in the last yearish as I’ve been crisscrossing the US looking for work.
Coming up two years since the domino effect started and but I was internally dying before the domino started (job stress, marriage stress, etc). Yet, I would never have seen this massive amount of change coming from a million miles away. I could see maybe one or two things happening but the succession of each event turned my life into a country song.
Things have started to get better. The #teamharpy case settled on March 25, 2015. The divorce was granted on April 1. My interview rate has gone up (though no job offers – yet), I’ve been living in the same location for the last fourish months. Thursday came into my life.
The uptick has been slow, but it’s happening and I’m hoping the events that led me up today will start reversing itself, starting with the pug. That’s how it all started, right? In that vein, I (hopefully) will find out if I’m employed or not within the next few weeks. Once employed, then my own place, and so on and so forth.

There I am staring the moon and my thoughts turn to the things I am grateful for. I am grateful to TheExHusband and TheBassist for taking me in. I’m grateful for my friends. I’m grateful for TheExHusband letting me live with him while I wait for my life to straighten out. I’m grateful I have clothes on my back, food in my stomach, and my car paid off. My credit score is stable. I’m grateful that my health is good, I have a therapist, and a medication regime is keeping me on track.
No matter how fucked up my life is and has been, I am just thankful and grateful for being here, in this now.
I’m also grateful for TheBassist for breaking up with me, which is something I would never have admitted even a week ago.

One of his friends got in touch with me while I was in CT and joked as TheBassist had two extra tickets for the premier of Star Wars, I should go. I said sure, ask him. I’m curious about his response. The friend warned me TheBassist’s response to him was often slow. Time ticks on that night and as nothing has come back about a “yay” or “nay,” I accept it’s not going to happen. I will not lie and say I was not ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and I was. I will also not leave out I called TheBassist a day before my trip to see if he wanted to get together for dinner (no expectations, truly!) while I was in town and I was sent immediately to voicemail.
There I am, ready to rock if the answer comes back “yay” and if “nay”, I would accept this was okay, because it really was. Hope for the best, expect the worse and all that rot.
I fly back home on Friday and the friend gets in touch with me that night saying he heard from TheBassist. He then gives me the run down: TheBassist loves me and he always will, but I was a 24/7 flight risk. TheBassist broke down Borderline Personality Disorder and how I was sabotaging my life. He would never say never, but now? No.
It was in that moment when a switch flipped in my brain and everything changed. Something about the explanation of BPD TheBassist gave to the friend was that click. TheBassist knew, he’s always known. I ignored his advice and pleas to work on myself. He tried to save me, I wouldn’t let him or he couldn’t, and he had to let me go to figure it out myself.
Only I could save me and I’m no where near where I need to be in a relationship with TheBassist, let alone anyone else.
You’d think these chain of events would send me into a tizzy. But it didn’t. Two days prior when I flew into Hartford, I started sniffling. The sniffling turned into ugly crying as I walked the length of the airport. The ugly crying sent me running into the ladies’ where I let myself cry to get it all out. As I came out of the ladies’, I started doing deep breathing meditations as I walked towards the exit and tried not to look at the usual spot where TheBassist would be standing with a silly sign in his hand. With the deep breathing, I was able to make it through. I won’t lie and say I didn’t chain smoke outside while waiting for the rental car shuttle. I won’t lie that I didn’t take Klonopin to settle my nerves so I could drive 1.5 hours to my hotel. I will not leave out I wasn’t looking for his car in the pick-up lanes.
But Friday? I was fine. The world sharpened as it came into focus. I did deep breathing as the friend talked, asking if the response from TheBassist made sense. I said it did.
And I was happy. Fucking finally I was getting some peace.
This was not a manic happiness or a forced happiness. The last two months has been emotional pain. I could put a brave face to the world, doing my thing, letting the outside world think I was charming and personable (because really, I am). But home was a whole ‘nother story. I would cry for days. I would write disparaging things about TheBassist, what I would later call my “half-truths.” (Which one day, when I’m brave enough to write about it, I will give it a proper explanation.) But the pain in my heart was engulfing me and I begged TheExHusband and my friends to tell me how to get rid of it. I was willing to do almost anything put that flame out and no one had the answer.
For years, I was painting everyone who had remotely (or imagined) slighted me (especially TheBassist) as the bad guy when I only had myself to blame. I was trying to control things I could not control and nor should I have been. I put myself into situations that I could temper but didn’t. I could have ended those conversations, those thoughts, those feelings.
Only I could control myself. Only I could make the decision on what I wanted to do, something I evaded for the last 18 months. I wanted TheExHusband, TheBassist, and anyone close to me to make those decisions for me. No one would, of course, it was my life. But I didn’t understand that then my lack of decision was a decision.
(Please note I was never suicidal during this process. TheExHusband, my therapist, and I think someone else asked in a matter of days apart, if I had thoughts of ending my life. The answer is a resounding, “No!”. I want to be here on this planet and make my life meaningful and with purpose. Suicide were the farthest thing from my mind.)
The switch that flipped changed everything about my outlook. I accepted the emotional pain and rationalized it was not necessarily the end of a love affair with the man I knew to be the one, but the end of the affair was the breaking point. I was finally grieving for everything I had lost up to that moment. Oh, I said I was grieving, but remember the brave face and the half-truths? It was far easier to paint me as the wronged one rather than accept that if I had not sent that tweet, I would not have been sued. If I could have really tried, I could have saved my marriage. The only fault here was mine.
I began to, finally, accept the good things. I was steadily losing weight. I was keeping up with the exercising and the meditation. I was excite about my job interviews and the potentialy to have my own space. The pug helps ground me. I’m writing daily. I’ve been knitting like a fiend and the projects are getting complete. I savor going out in the world.
I am trying to be present and mindful.
BDP cannot be cured or control with drugs, but it can be lessened or recovery can happen via talk therapy (which I’m in now) and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy. I did DBT years and years ago, using some of the techniques to manage my emotions but I’ve let those tools rust and I need to get them back in rotation again. The writing and meditation help, but there is more. I’ve bought two books to work through the DBT alone (finding a good therapist, which I have, is difficult enough. Finding a DBT group is nearly impossible). I have done this before and I can do it again.
No one is ever really stable. Life is messy, but we can control how we messy we make life. I’m done with having chow mein existance and I strive to be more like a medium rare filet mignon. please.
And all the things, the plans I kept raving about, are finally solidifying. The sands are starting to turn into earth and one day will they will become mountains.

I sat out to write this as a “the holidays tend to suck, but I am grateful for these things (list things) and my life,” but has turned out to be more confessional then planned. Isn’t that always the case?

TheBassist is never far from my thoughts, but the worst of the pain has passed. I can stop boycotting Target, Barnes and Noble, Five Below or flinch when I see a Guitar Center. I have not cried when grocery shopping at a local store simply because it was the same layout as the grocery store TheBassist and I used to shop at. (I mean, really. A fucking crying jag in the produce aisle because it was designed similar to every other fucking grocery store on the planet but yet I associate it with ONE particular store? COME ON.) I’m okay when I pull out clothes that still smell of him and etc.

I cannot write this without thinking of e.e. cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], because that poem sings of my feelings for TheBassist. I have reconciled we may never see each other again, let alone get back together. I do know if/when I see him again, I will cry. Tears of relief, happiness, and everything in-between. Even if that is the only time I ever see him, I will cry. I better remember to not wear make-up.
Together we were not toxic, but I was toxic and in that toxicity I changed the pattern of the relationship. Love, faith, and want, at times, are simply not enough no matter how badly we want them to be.
Happy holidays.
xoxo,
Lisa

Today in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2013, 2011, 2002, 2001

valhalla

Dear Internet,
I am spinning a lot of plates as of late and in my paper diary I definitely sound like I’m cra-cra.
I’m just, simply put, overwhelmed.
I’ve been having feelings it would be a good idea to step away from the blog, and social media, when possible. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone from the blog — a week, a month, six months. I always come back — I’m too much of a narcissist not to.
In the interim, enjoy pics of Thursday the pug, the picture of me below in Valhalla, or better yet,

READ THE ARCHIVES

lots of love,
lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 1996

adventitious

(TW: rape, sexual abuse, sexual harassment)
Dear Internet,
I know! Two daily entries right next to each other. What in the fuck is the world coming to?
This morning on Facebook I said:

In the “2AM Bad Decision Hour” a few nights ago, I enabled my OKCupid account which consists of a few questions and a pic. That’s it. No lengthy intros, outros, what have you. In less than an hour, my profile had been liked over 20 times and I had 5 generic “hey baby” messages in my account. I immediately disabled the account and look forward to ten glorious months of being date-less. So while Hume is on point with inductive reasoning, I can say with the utmost sincerity and respect he’s never been on a dating site where without a shadow of a doubt there will be some twat who thinks sending dick pics is a good introduction idea.

Alright then.
I’ve come to some reasons, with personal introspection natch, why my romantic relationships tend to have my lover dump me rather than the other way around. In fact, of all the adulting relationships I’ve had since I was 19, I’ve only dumped one person — every one else dumped me (and came back with the “You’re the love of my life!” routine). This is not to say I went out with everyone who was interested in me or I was throwing myself into promiscuous behaviour at every chance I got (which goes against the typical hyper sexuality of the bipolar) but I did shoot down those I wasn’t in the mood for and typically cut the dumpers out of my life pretty quick. (Which is why they always come back, right? People typically want what they can’t have. Then I want them to want them just as bad and the cycle repeats itself.)
Between not having a father figure or any positive male role model in my life (my father left when I was 5 months old), traumatic experiences with sex (I’ve been date raped at least twice, attempted gang rape once, and of course the ongoing sexual harassment), I see nearly every man as a threat to my personhood. And I see nearly every man as a thing and not a person — my mother’s mantra was, “Don’t let a man run your life.” Which is WHY when I lose control in the relationship, which pushes the person to dump me (usually), I cut them hard out of my life. Because not all men ™.
My Connecticut therapist noted my sexual behaviour is to be the one in control (I fuck like a stereotyped man — I always make the first moves in relationships or I always initiate sex in those relationships). By being in control, I can direct where it’s going and how it will work without having the conscious effort of someone else being in control or letting them see my vulnerability (which explains why I always need to be the dominate one — which unsurprisingly frightens some of my past lovers. On the flip side, I crave to be dominated by a man and have rarely met one who can dominate me. I have a strong will.).
As long as I can be the best fuck they’ve ever had, they won’t leave. Right? (And my assertive and aggressiveness is why I hear over and over again through the ages I WAS their best fuck. Yay me?)
Literally the moment she said this, a huge weight came off my shoulders and I could enjoy sex without treating it as a means to and end and be my assertive self without the weight of the bullshit. (Women can’t like sex, be aggressive, or want to get fucked 10 ways to Sunday so to like sex was a BAD THING, amirite?)
When I was 15 or 16, my mother pushed me to ask my father as to why he, allegedly, sexually abused me. As one might assume, he was incredulous. For most of my adult life I’ve carried around this thought there was “something” happened but exactly what was never clear. Either something did not happen and my mother merely planted the seed or something did happen with someone and I’ll never know who.
One night, a few years ago, a revelation hit me. Why would my mother push me to ask my father about this particular topic? And if he HAD sexually molested me, and she knew what was going on, why was she continuing to send me to see him every summer? What kind of mother does that to their child? (And if you ever wondered why I’ve divorced my mother four or five years ago, this was the topping on the proverbial cake. )
There’s a lot under the hood in regards to my romantic and sexual life. A lot coming to the surface after years of not discussing it and ignoring it. Thus if I want to have a healthy relationship in the future, discussing it NOW in this place will allow me to forgive what has happened, forgive myself, and finally move the fuck on with my life.
(As an aside: I have no memory of my childhood up until the age of 13. Seriously. I have bits and pieces of “things” like learning how to ride a bike or kissing Jeff what’s his name against a tree when we were 7 but other than that? Not a goddamned thing. This contributes why I loathe people with normalesque families and my desperation to have one of my own verses shunning all blood familia.)
Another behaviour I’m aware of is the tattooing and remaining fat keeps (supposedly) potential suitors at bay as societal norms dictate a fat, tattooed woman cannot find love or sex. A weeding technique for potential future lovers is if your perceived notion of me is I’m a “prison bitch” with all 17 of my tattoos, then I don’t want to date you and I can block you out of my life. If you can see beyond the fat and think I’m beautiful, then you’re someone I want to be with. Being fat and tattooed keeps me safe or so I’ve trained myself to believe. (But obviously it hasn’t or else I wouldn’t be confessing all of this to you.)
This is the antecedent to my reality: I’m called beautiful/pretty/attractive or whatever by scores of different people on a regular basis. Despite the fat, I’m told I have an awesome bod and men want to fuck me, also on a regular basis. THIS is where my arrogance (and also conflicting) behaviour comes in: If I can get dick (as Amy Schumer so succinctly states), then I’m not a typical “fat girl” (yes, I’m fat shaming myself here and others — but it is to make a point), and I can have anyone I want (which tends to also be true). And I’ve been told over and over again my arrogance (or confidence) is what is most attractive about me: If you don’t want me, then fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Someone else will come along who will take your place (as long as I can fuck them into a happy relationship and they never leave says my internal monologue. Joke’s on you Lisa!).
This is cemented with commentary made my ex-lovers and street harassment:

“If you lose weight, you could model.”
“You’re really pretty – for a fat girl.”
“You don’t want to date me? Fuck you fat ugly bitch.”
“You should smile more, you’d be a lot prettier.”
“Nice rack/body/legs/shoulders (?!?).”
“You’re too pretty to wear makeup.”
“You don’t wear enough makeup.”

And so on. (See why I have a complicated relationship with my image?)
There is the exterior dialogue (I know why I behave this way), interior dialogue (I hate myself and no one will ever love me), and the reality (I can get dick anytime I want and 95% of the time always come back. They leave again but they always keep coming back). It’s conflicting because all of it is true.
The self-awareness of all of this, something I’m frequently told from therapists and TheExHusband alike, is rare. When you’re judged for what you are (or who people think you are or how you think people see you), bullied, and what have you — you spend a lot of time analyzing why you do the things you do. You look for the patterns. You muse on the whats / hows / and whys. You see how other people handle their own relationships and you model the good stuff (as you see it) into your own. In short, you psycho-analyze yourself into submission because it is ALL YOUR FAULT, you are the only person you have who can tell you the brutal and honest truth (with commentary from the peanut gallery to confirm or dismiss your findings as either quantitative or qualitative or neither. Or both.)
I stumble as I am human, something I keep reiterating for a very long time as I didn’t believe I was. I also think others think this about themselves as well. It bookends my loathing for the term “stable” as no one is ever REALLY stable. We have our stable moments that could last for months or years, but we all fall at one point or another – often more often than we care to.
This is where the forgiveness comes in: This is not a woe is me type of confession, it’s to clarify and map out those patterns that keep repeating themselves so I can break them. An ongoing theme for the last few years here at EPbaB is to break those patterns so future endeavors can begin, maintain, and end in a healthy way. There are things I cannot control (rape, harassment, my mother) and things I can control (how I react, how I present myself to future lovers, how I treat myself). The goal here is stop trying to control the things I cannot or ever will control.
Once I can work past those barriers that seem to plague me, take responsibility for my own actions (that I can control), is when the healing begins.

xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. I forgot to mention my half-year birthday the other day (December 12), so it’s with a small reminder my birthday is in 181 days.

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2013, 2012, 1999, 1998

only you can save yourself

February 5, 2016: No, you’re not seeing things — looks like I originally wrote this on 12/14/2015 and never posted it — hence the abrupt ending.

Dear Internet,
I’ve started seeing my local L-vill therapist a few weeks ago and it’s going pretty well — which is important when working with a therapist. A shitty one can fuck you up but good.
I can’t seem to shake the, “What the fuck have I done with my life?” mode which is, of course, pissing me off. Again the reiteration of, “it takes time” came from her lips just as it does from TheExHusband, Krazy Kate, and others. I just feel so stalled. Most days, demotivated. Other days, overly excited about the changes that are to come.
I used to not read my old entries as it was often painful to read the bad, even mixed along with the good, as I mainly fixate on the bad that I’ve written. Considering all the upheaval this last year has been (emotionally, mentally, even physically), I need to find those patterns to see where I am going, how I’m doing, and what kind of progress I’m making. Along with my therapist (and commentary from TheExHusband whose seen me at my worst and my best), the following is true:

I’m more mentally stable than I give myself credit for. TheExHusband was on the money when he remarked, “… in comparison to this time last year, hell even six months ago, how I handle things, coping with things, just doing LIFE is a 180 degree turn around.” And it’s hard to admit that I AM making progress because training your brain not to be an asshole is HARD WORK. So the good is:
- I work out four to five times a week and have been keeping at it for the last five weeks.
- I’ve continued with cutting my sugar and dairy intake down and between the exercise and eating better,
- I’m losing 1-2lbs a week. (Down almost 10lbs.)
- I’m getting up, dressed, working out, and having my day every day.
- I’ve been taking care of the dog without nary a complaint or issue (Welll.. more on that in a bit.)
- I’m starting and completing projects ranging from coding to knitting
- I’m leaving the house on a daily basis, even if it’s just to run errands
- I’ve had two fabulous job interviews in the last month which have turned into two fabulous second in-person job interviews.

Some of this seems trivial, even to me even though it’s not, as this is all ADULTING. The takeaway for me is I’ve been able to do these things for some time and I never give myself credit for it. It’s hard when you’ve spent most of you time beating yourself up because your brain is so broken. Or you think it’s broken. Or you’re just being an asshole to yourself.
My shrink, medicating shrink, and others keep remarking on the rarity of my coping skills. I see what’s going on (I’m having a panic attack), I put a coping mechanism into place (This is how I’m going to handle the panic attack), and I self-care when that thing is done (I’m going to meditate).
A month ago I said,

I, of course, sent myself into tizzy if I had to come out to CT for the second interview and should I contact TheBassist and OMGHERD. What would I do?! First, calm the fuck down Lisa and get through the Skype interview. If you have to come out to CT for the in-person interview, so what? It’s a job. You need money. You’ve wanted this position for a year (it’s a repost). The money, even with the higher cost of living, is fabulous. The area is lovely. You’re close to NYC and Boston. The social plans you’re putting in motion in KY can be applied to CT. You’re 43 years old, buck it up lady.

xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2013, 2012, 1999, 1998

antikythera mechanism

Dear Internet,
I scored an in person (second) interview with the Connecticut institution and it’s happening this upcoming week. The length of the scheduled time turns out to be shorter than I was told/planning on, which is leaving me some hours to hang out in and see what’s what in the area. One thing I am not looking forward to is Connecticut drivers as they drive like assholes. Turn signals are not accessories, fuck twats!
The Louisville institution second job interview went well and you can find my presentation here (which seemed to get a lot of positive commentary from the internet). The job is really quite spectacular as it’s a new position in which the person who gets the job can write their own job description and responsibilities, much like the Connecticut position. Both of the positions are super flexible and if there is one thing pulling Connecticut ahead of the job game is the ability to wear jeans to work. As we all know, I’m not a business casual kind of person and oh I can DO business casual but if I don’t HAVE to, awesome. Thanks!
I’m now two for two vis-à-vis second person interviews thus making my chances of a job offer higher than previously thought possible (at least in my mind). I’ve been going over and over mentally how to figure out what to do here if by some miracle both institutions extend offers. If only one extends the offer then it’s a easy choice – I go where the money is but if two? I keep meaning to write down the pros and cons for both so I’m better prepared to make this (if needed) choice.
The backup plan if there are no job offers is to start looking for academic librarian positions, nationally, in January and junior developer courses here in Louisville. I’ve been working with Code Louisville by fast tracking coding courses via Treehouse. This week I’ve spent nearly forty hours spread out over three days on said fast tracking. Code Louisville’s goal is to put people into the work force by giving them marketable skills and if there is ever an up and coming tech sector, it’s Louisville.
Overall, I am excited to be in this position. It’s a long time coming but if there is a chance I can make the choice, that would be wonderful.
I have been evading FEELINGS on a manner of all things these last few weeks. Feeling are vulnerabilities and trying to get some semblance of a life together when having FEELINGS is fucking terrible. FEELINGS trigger anxiety, I take the anti-anxiety drugs to quell the panic, feelings are suppressed. Take anti-anxiety drugs to prevent the attacks, suppress the FEELINGS.
It’s a no fucking win situation over here. (And why I sleep 10+ hours a night on all of the anti-anxiety drugs I’m on.)
I could blame it on a number of things such as not addressing them properly this year, new med adjustments, the weather, time of year — a whole host of things normally attributed to this place I seriously don’t want to be. My paper journal is filled with page after page of how much I hate feeling like this, how I am so desperate to change this emotional space, how I just want to stop treading water and learn how to swim again.
I can’t remember a time when I was feeling this emotionally bare. (I lied. Spring of 2013.) Even with not renewing the contract on my last position, the law suit, the divorce, the constant moving, breaking up with TheBassist — all within the last 18 months — somehow I’ve handled those more or less with aplomb (I thought) and was better managing emotional hiccups. But it’s pretty clear every goddamned thing that has happened in the last 18 months has, finally, taken its emotional toll and it takes every ounce of my being to wake up, work out, plan a day of doing stuff, go to bed at a reasonable hour. I’m trying so hard to put one foot in front of the other, to just keep moving forward.
I’ve got shit to do! People to see! Places to go!
The hardest part is knowing this is all a temporary glitch. There have been worse emotional spaces and I can dig myself back out again just as I had before. I’ve done this dance and I can take it to end coming out smelling like roses. I akin it to growing pains: You know it happens and you have to remind yourself that at some point this too will pass. (Or you get better drugs.)
As I wrote this, I mentally went back through the last five or so years and realized I HAVE been here before and it had everything to do with change in medication (primarily). Circumstances, sure I’ll buy it. Swallowing 18 months worth of feelings and having it resurrect its ugly head? Absolutely. Scrapping down the emotional bone into the marrow?
Drugs. 95% of the time it is always the goddamned drugs having gone awry.
Fuck it all to hell.
Even though I am bipolar-1 (manic), I get bouts of depression here and there, most of the time ranging for a few days and passing just as quickly. In the early spring of 2013 when I went through a med change with my then medicating doctor, I felt a whole lot worse than this. How I was able to function in the capacity that I did is amazing. What we had to do was get me off the drugs by slowly weaning me off the anti-depressants / bipolar as well as the ADHD drugs and get me acclimated to just using Lithium, which then stopped working.
My brain chemistry metabolizes medicating drugs too quickly. What should happen to most people in weeks, happens to me in days. Ritalin last a few days before I had to go off of it. Same with Lithium. SSRIs made me suicidal. Bedrock between desperately wanting some normalcy and a brain that won’t let you have it.
Since that last bought in 2013, I’ve been ever so careful with how I take and manage my drugs. Now I’m furious with myself for not having recognize these signs sooner.
I saw my medicating therapist last week and per his edict, if I wasn’t feeling some relief by the weekend (which is now), I’m to double up on my anti-depressants, which I’ve done. I’m to call tomorrow and leave a message to have him call in more of the anti-depressant. I need to be razor sharp and on point this week and for a long time coming. Fucking around with my brain chemistry is a delicate balance.
TheExHusband agreed this is slightly reminiscent of that time in 2013 but then I wouldn’t leave the house for days on end, I curled up in a ball and cried. A lot. I barely showered or took care of myself compared to this morning where I walked nearly three miles with him and the pug, did six loads of laundry, gave the pug a bath, about to put the laundry away, and chill for the evening. My brain may be fuzzled but goddamned wasn’t I productive.
He also remarked in comparison to this time last year, hell even six months ago, how I handle things, coping with things, just doing LIFE is a 180 degree turn around. And I reject the idea of stabilization — who is ever perfectly stabilized? Life is a hot mess — but being able to handle life with grace and dignity, which despite my whinging on and off here, is what I aim for and what I’m doing.
And I take pride in that.
I stumbled across a post this morning on rejection, the psychological break-down of why it hurts so much (it’s wired to the same place in the brain as physical pain), why it’s prolonged (we take too critical look at ourselves. Rejection is not personal – it’s about “fit” and circumstance), and how to fix it (re-affirming our self-worth by the good things we have to offer in whatever circumstance the rejection comes from). It makes for an interesting read.
This time of year it’s especially poignant to remember not everyone is in a safe space, mentally, emotionally, or physically. I’m lucky, and if you want to call it blessed then so be it, despite all my faults, I’m physically in a safe space, I have mental and emotional support. Not many can say that, especially now.
xoxo,
Lisa