to him who is fear, everything rustles

(Originally written in 2016 and not published for god know’s what reason until 2017.)

Dear Internet,

I’ve been keeping up with everything I’ve laid out in coursework I laid out a few weeks ago. I know it’s not much, but it feels good to know I can set something to task and follow through with it, such as quitting smoking (29 days as today) and keeping a regular exercise program going (3-5 times a week since mid-November) are proof I can do it.  But like any grand plan laid out, there is always adjustments.

In my daily todo, I’ve got a space marked out for keeping up with DBT/Radical Self-Love (first is scientific, the later pulls on those ideas and wraps them in a glittery pink bow) and I think I originally wanted to knock out a chapter a day? Not sure what my thinking process was but it’s pretty clear I’m not going to learn and retain anything if I knock out a chapter a day so I’m thinking knocking out a chapter every few weeks and using the daily stuff to work on what I learned.

(Some of the work will be stuff I need to do regularly every day while other stuff will be for retention only.)

And I also thought it would be a good idea to continue writing about it publicly to not only help me vocalize it to myself but to also help others who may be going through the same thing; to know they are not alone.

(Add on I need to keep my 44 Feedly readers entertained in the life of Lisa. You can say anything you want about me, but you can definitely say I’m not boring.)


I’ve started discussing the agony of taking a compliment and where parts of my self-loathing comes from, so today I’m going to open the can of worms that is fear.

Fear comes in all shapes and sizes and is often co-morbid with other issues. My fear of everyone hating me is tied into my deep self-loathing of myself. My fear of getting in shape and losing weight is tied into not only self-esteem issues, but that i use being fat as a way to protect myself from being sexually harassed. (How’s that working out for me?)

Other fears can also be completely irrational: My fear of heights which is irrational as I love flying. My (new found) fear of driving on highways which I reasoned is just like driving on surface streets, just faster. My fear of walking over grates (because I can crash through them).

Those are the top fears and like many, the fears can go on and on.

As most of you know, being fearful of something (driving on the highway) can activate another issue (anxiety).

This is the picture we’ve forged: We have a fear (mostly irrational), which keeps us tied to not doing that thing and if we attempt to do it, we get trapped in that (seemingly) never ending cyclone of anxiety. If we don’t get the courage to do that thing, we lay guilt on ourselves on useless as if we are like a spread of peanut butter on toast.

Who wants to live this way?

The general we doesn’t want to live this way, consciously we know how silly this fear is but subconsciously, the one that tends to rule our world, says other wise. So the plan, then, is to slay the subconscious and moving forward.

I don’t have a end all be all plan to how to slay mine, but after reading RSL and DBT this weekend, let me offer up a few pithy statements I’ve been using to help me get over the bullshit

You cannot control the past
Sounds simple, right? It’s also pretty logical and unless a TARDIS is available, we cannot change what has already happened. Despite the obviousness, our mind thinks if we keep rehashing that thing over and over again in our brain, we can rewrite the past to our liking to help us move forward. C’mon. This is a bold face lie. No matter how much I want to rewrite a thing from last year, five years ago, or hell, from childhood, my present is and cannot change. (This lends to the other pithy statement, a million decisions brought you to this moment.) So now we’re stuck and nearly crippled in this hell of our own making. So how do we get out of it?

  • First, we accept what we cannot control the past. This is super hard and something I’ve started to practice. When my mind starts to wander of an event, no matter how minute, I catch it and start repeating, “I cannot change the past. I cannot change the past.” What’s the difference between a memory and attempting to control the past? For me it is if I am seeing

xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 20162004, 2001

Your day in tweets for January 26, 2017

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.

love notes into the ether

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 Park or 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 exactly when.

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