diary – Page 6 – A Most Unreliable Narrator

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

Dear Internet,
Yesterday, I was tipped off, by @twobossydames, Richard Armitage¹ does the narration for David Copperfield. After much poking around, I discovered Mr. Armintage also narrated a book of classic love poems², one of which is [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e.e. cummings.
I love cummings’ work but this particular poem has special meaning, which I discussed a couple of months ago:

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.

Which sounds a bit depressing but really is one part hope and another part realistic.
Since it’s coming up on Valentine’s Day, and if you can’t be honest on the 14th of February, when can you?, I thought I would read a few loves poems, one a day, just for fun.
Here is the first poem, which should be obvious:
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e.e. cummings
https://exitpursuedbyabear.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/icarryyourheart.mp3?_=1
xoxo,
Lisa

1. He’s a future husband, natch. But you may know him as Thorin Oakenshield from LoTR.
2. Audible, an Amazon company, has the book for $7 while Amazon itself is selling it for $4.

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2004, 2001

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

Dear Internet,
As I’m hot on the heels of the posts about lack of self-confidence and being mindful, it’s time for me to dissect another struggle of mine: self-esteem.

I tend to re-read previous days worth of entries in my paper journals to see where my train of thought has been and if I have missed any of the minutiae of my day to day life. (Remember I want to be the Samuel Pepys of my generation.) I typically don’t read my back entries on the blog too much with the exception when I link to them inside a new post and I scan the content to verify it matches my point.
I tend to forget what I’ve written on the blog (and sometimes in my paper journals) more often than not thus rereading the content always gives me a bit of a surprise. (I also sometimes forget my back is tattooed and it’s always a delightful revelation when I see the black work.)
The almost relentlessly ongoing theme with my paper journal these last few weeks is the story of moving forward, my sense of accomplishments, and letting myself heal. Because I am me, I wonder if these are actual steps to to convince myself that this is actually happening or if I am only fooling myself.

It is harder still when you believe you are stupid and those (it seems many) think you’re awfully, terribly smart and you honestly believe they are being duped. The irony of the believing you are stupid as historically there is no trauma or pattern of being called or treated as if you were / are stupid. You were in fact told about your amazing abilities of reading (age 3) and writing (same), you were singled out with a few others to participate in gifted children classes. They wanted you to skip a grade, send you to a gifted high school, and you refused both.
Finally the belief you’ve held on for so long is cemented when all the tests you were given as a child, and aced, did not lend themselves to various tests when you were older. You “flunk” your SATs. You “flunk” your GREs. You pick colleges and universities who don’t require those tests. You push to excel then because it was either get a degree or pack sausages for the rest of your life. It is not about testing your brain, rather, it’s about survival.
(You did not know then was the insistence of instructors to teach the same widely used learning style which does not fit you and you were untreated as someone with ADHD far into your 30s. (Typical symptoms of ADHD such as poor word retrieval (cannot remember a word when speaking or writing), difficulty in pronunciation and spelling of words, dropping words in verbal and written communication also firmly take hold in your belief of your stupidity.))
How much would have changed if you had believed in yourself, got medicated, and worked with a tutor to help you.)
If you believe in such things, your IQ is in the 130s.
The reason you hide for so very many years of why you want to be stupid is because being smart alienates you. You’re already a taller than average, bespeckled nerd with very few friends. Those who are beautiful and popular have everything. Those who are smart and nerdy do not.
Denying your gifts at least puts you somewhat with the people you perceive to be normal.
No one wants to be special because it does nothing.

Oh! Lack of self-esteem, how you torture me so.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2004, 2001

you are beautiful because you are here

Dear Internet,
Tuesday is post a silly picture day! You can keep track on the page or over at my instagram.

When I published everything you f*cking need to know to be happy (but were afraid to ask) yesterday, I thought it would be a good idea to start breaking down some of the things I struggle with.
Today, it’s compliments.
The battle that rages inside is when someone compliments me on anything – appearance, work, or whatever, I think they want something. Because when someone tells you something nice, there is a condition attached to that compliment.
Always.
Today is a good example. I take the silly picture and post it on my FB and instagram pages. People compliment how pretty I am.
What do they want?
I struggle to find a way to answer. I used to be self-deprecating about those compliments but then I started thinking people would take the self-deprecation for shilling. So I stopped the self-deprecation and started thanking them instead and by changing my verbal response, I am begin the long road of accepting myself.

The gratitude of thanking people started when TheBassist and I were dating. I would tell him how much I liked/loved/adored X,Y,Z. How very handsome he is (because he is). What a great body / body part / thing he did because I saw it to be true. I know others think/thought the same way about him. So what was the problem? (It’s inconceivable to me others might have self-hatred issues. Everyone else is awesome!)
He always said something along the lines of the years of self-hatred, it’s hard for him to accept the things that people see about him. He doesn’t see them in himself so why would others see them in him?
Thus, whenever you tell him something kind about himself (he’s handsome, wonderful bass player, fabulous intellect, etc) he says, “Thank you.” No qualifiers, no explanation, just two words. He’s learning to start loving himself.
Thank. You.

My self-loathing runs deep and as far as my view of my attractiveness or brilliance¹, I don’t see it. That’s not entirely true — I know there are attractive features about myself physically (I have great breasts, my eyes are fabulous, my hair is pretty killer) and mentally (I enjoy and have conversational skills on many things, I can often make people laugh), but as an overall package? No. I don’t see it.

A couple of years ago before TheBassist came back, the implosion of my marriage to TheExHusband is simmering below the surface. One discussion was already under our belts about how unhappy I was in our marriage and the reasons why. He didn’t want to see a couples counselor. I felt stuck. It wasn’t as if I didn’t love him, but the pain of being married to him was getting to be unbearable and I could not conjure up a reasonable explanation to leave him.²
TheExHusband and I’s love life had already begun the decimation. He said some pretty awful things. I took those awful things to heart. I would silently cry when watching any kind of romantic shenanigans on TV or in movies. I wouldn’t leave my husband, I was relatively young, but then I saw the rest of my life being in a near sex-less marriage. Having passion? Hah. Hah. Hah.
Not long after that discussion, I flew out to California for a job interview. It was a last ditch effort on my part to see if I could get a job before I left my old place of employment (and before getting serious about the writing). An old friend, whom I’ve known since my days with ExFiance #2, lives about an hour away from my hotel. Old friend and I recently got in touch after not speaking for years. We agree to hang out when I’m in California to catch up, have dinner, the usual.
Now I haven’t seen old friend in over a decade at this point. I’ve aged, I’ve gained weight, and I’m nervous about seeing him because I’m already assuming he’s going to find me an ignorant, fat slob which only adds to my loaded self-esteem issues. I need everyone to like me even if I perceive myself to be an ignorant, fat slob.
We make plans for dinner, he gets in touch when he’s in the lobby, and here we go. I swallow the bile of my thoughts and proceed down stairs. As I turn the corner, he’s leaning up against one of the pillars.
He’s grown insanely hot. He’s tall. His intellect is amazing. He plays hockey and his body just simply rocks. The rush of lust confirms I was not dead in the desire department, but logically and reasonably, I knew I couldn’t act on those feelings. I made a commitment to TheExHusband. I gave him my word. Somehow I had to fix my marriage but now?
Now here was lust. Desire. I bathed in it.
So there is old friend and I’m tongue tied. I am lusting after him and yet the bile of hatred is now brimming because there is no fucking way he’s going to want to have dinner, let alone desire me.
What the fuck am I going to do?
We scamper across the Bay Area, I get slightly drunk, and we end the night on hugs. I knew if I didn’t not get the fuck out of there, I was going to make a move and not only was in that moment would I be fucking up my marriage (I gave my word) but I was also ruining the beginning of a close friendship, with the bonus of adding more to the hating of one’s self for being an ass. Besides. He probably didn’t see me with the same lust, so hey, this is all working out. Off to prep for the interview I go.
Cut ahead a few months when old friend and I are chatting online and the only thing I remember about that trip was, other than the fact I didn’t get the job, I had empirical proof I was not dried up. So I tell old friend, with much bravado, if I had stayed later that night or called him after my interview the following night for dinner, I would have made a massive pass towards him – hah hah hah. I am hilarious.
Except he tells me if I had, it wouldn’t have been turned down.
Shut the front door.
Turns out old friend has had a massive crush on me since the days when ExFiance #2 and I were together. ExFiance #2 knew about it, old friend’s wife knew about it, and they would tease him.
Me? No. Fucking. Idea.
(I always act surprised when I find out someone has even thinks I’m remotely attractive. As if I’m not worthy for that persons lust/desire/admiration or they are fulfilling some kind of fetish. When they tell me years later, I’m even more flabbergasted.)

Compliments and admiration are multiple edged sword: They give you the admiration you desire from people, they reaffirm the good work you’ve done on X, they make you feel good, but they can be intimidating as hell. These feelings negate the the admiration someone has just given you, whether you’re looking particularly nice that day, wrote a brilliant piece, or you did something kind for them.
We all want to feel good about ourself but it’s hard to accept this kindness especially for those of us who have years, nay decades, of self-hatred to chip through.

There are a couple of things we need to remember:

When we feel like shit about ourselves, remember these are just thoughts. They cannot hurt or harm you.
Having thoughts about X is a shared human emotion. When you’re not feeling particularly kind about yourself, someone else is having a similiar or exact thought about themselves that very moment. This is not to say you two should have a pity party but that
You’re not alone
You can be kind to yourself by being thankful for what you have. Once you can accept on being kind to yourself, you will be more receptive to people being kind to you

It will take a long time, no arbitrary date can be set, but anyone can forgive and love themselves. I know you can.

Today I am grateful for my readers, far and wide, who share with me their own struggles and dreams. Who feel my word resonate with them. Who find me funny, brilliant, or just a bit goofy. Who think I have much to give to this world and yes, who think I’m attractive.
Thank. You.
xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. As I was writing this, and the second I hit publish, the very first thought in my mind was those reading were going to think I was shilling for compliments. This is why it’s important to ditch the self-hatred because it gets you no where.

1. I have a post on this very topic hanging out in the wings. I need to summon up the courage to post it.
2. He has seen a therapist, he is now on anti-depressants, and we’ve had long conversations about this period in our life and he’s very contrite. He’s not a bad guy – he was just in a terrible place.

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 2013

everything you f*cking need to know to be happy (but were afraid to ask)

Dear Internet,
If you are into self-help, woo-woo, DBT, or are a curious individual, you’ll notice the core of all of these practices contain two main components to help you along the way to being happier and thus having a more fulfilling life.
I’m going to give them to you for free. No more self-help books, sketchy websites, or paying for gurus¹.
Ready?
Mindfulness and gratitude.
That’s it.
Every website and self-help book will bury these ledes in the opening pages of their annals and yet build their entire systems around these two concepts. Yet once you get into the meat of their woo-wooease, you’ll find them all tucked in and ready to work.
How does mindfulness and gratitude work?
To achieve mindfulness, you meditate and if you meditate, you’ll be more in the present. If you’re more in the present, you’ll begin to feel less anxiety and stress, more compassion for yourself and others and a fuck ton of other awesome benefits. Being mindful helps with the awareness of what’s happening in and around you — a thought is just a thought, a feeling is just a feeling; you do not have to react to either one. Being aware of those things helps you make better, and more informed, decisions about what is happening around you. You don’t act on impulses or steer from difficult decisions. You accept that a zillion decisions brought you to this point, you can accept that you can make choices on going forward. It is not “things happen for a reason.” That’s bullshit. You know it and I know it. Stop believing in it.
Gratitude is the complement to mindfulness. Gratitude allows you to be thankful for what you have rather than what you want. It concentrates on the being rather than the material. You are thankful for your parents (yes, even if you are divorced from them) because without them, you wouldn’t be here. You are thankful for your killer hair. You are thankful for the experiences you’ve had to help shape you. You’re grateful for the friends who believe and support in you.
(A good one, for me, is to be grateful for TheBassist breaking up with me (shut it). If he had not broken it off and put clear boundaries on his needs, the cycle would have continued. I would have gotten worse. Crashing that fateful October day is probably the best thing that’s happened to me in years. The cyclical of my relationships wasn’t just with TheBassist but with other aspects of my life. I’ve accepted, and said a zillion times, I may never hear from him again but if there is one thing I want him to know is this.)
You can make it as large (I am grateful for my family for loving me) to small (I am grateful for my friend who rubbed my feet after a long day). The idea is to find one thing to be grateful for, every day, which will keep you anchored in the present and then follow the mindfulness train of thought above to continue on with your enlightenment.
(I know it’s going to take me awhile to get beyond “I have killer hair” and I’m okay with that knowledge.)
At this point you are asking yourself (more than likely) the following question(s),”Lisa, why should we believe you? Sometimes when you write, things sound cray. Seriously. Cray.” or something along those lines. Hey, I get it. I’d have a hard time listening to me too.
I’ve been meditating for 211 days in a row and in the beginning, I thought it was a crock of shit. But allowing myself to be open to the idea, and practicing the tenants, has really helped in the long game. There are a lot of potentially stupid actions I mulled over, thanks to meditation, before realizing they were not in my best interest, so I didn’t act on them. I am less likely to be impulsive then I was six months ago. This is important to note.²
(There is one decision I mulled over for months before finally acting on it. I know others would see it as detrimental to my well being but in the end, making that decision made me feel better and knowing its consequences may not ever be realized also help.³)
I asked my therapist what makes someone who has a mental illness different than someone who has healthy⁴ reactions to stressful things such as having low self-esteem or social anxiety. She said that’s a good question and after thinking about it for a few moments, her response was along the lines of someone who has a healthy relationship with stress is more prepared and better able to handle that stress where as someone who is mentally ill, the stress is heightened and we’re less likely to handle it in a healthy way.
The goal is not to get stable (because no one is really stable) or normal (no one is really normal) but to handle and prepare healthy responses to stressful things.
Which is where the meditation and gratitude come in. It’s all full circle.
xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. I highly recommend reading Zen Habits to get you started. You can also mediate using my favorite (and often my pushy instance of) app, Headspace.

1. I am not a doctor. I am not trained to dispense advice or consultation. If you’re mentally ill, think you’re mentally ill, or have additional questions about your mental health, please seek professional help.
2. TheExHusband often comments how I relate and respond to things is much better in the last 6 -9 months and a lot of that has to do with meditation.
3. Yes, I am being completely vague. No, I’m not going to tell you. No, it’s probably not what you think it is.
4. We kept saying “normal” instead of healthy and we air quoted “normal” every time we did so we decided that “healthy” (sans air quotes) was a better description.

This day in Lisa-Universe in: 2014, 1999, 1999

Gratitudes: February 1 – 7, 2016

Dear Internet,
Something we should all be doing is showing gratitude for what we have in our lives — it’s being thankful for what one has versus what one wants. Writing down gratitudes, privately in a journal or publicly on the interwebs, is an essential part of DBT and meditation as well as being really important for borderlines. Within the last week my DBT book and my mediation guru have suggested writing down one gratitude a day and at the end of week, ending the list with a total of 10.
Gratitudes and things that make me happy are a part of my carding coursework, and I track them everyday, so this should be easy to complete every week and obviously I’ll post them here every Sunday. (And I also acknowledge this is going to take me a few weeks to go beyond “I have killer hair.”)
gratitude

My therapist for understanding
I am not physically ill
I have a large support network
I am tenacious
I have killer hair
I have a big heart
I try to do good things for others
People who have faith in me

happy

The smell and taste of pineapple juice
Trader Joe’s dark chocolate covered pretzels
The “Most Interesting Man in the World” commercials
Key & Peele shorts
Wearing my grey old man cardigan (I have two in separate styles)
Wearing my Black Phoenix Alchemy scents, especially Bliss

xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe in: 2015,1999

50 Things To Do in 2016: 51 – ?

Dear Internet,
But what I need, what I believe everyone needs, is to plan for things and accomplishments in the next year. Some of them can be quite small and others can be amazingly large. One thing I totally want to kick ass at this year? Being silly. I’m goofy as hell but I need to be sillier more and t’ll help with my often crippling social anxiety. A couple of things you may also note in these lists: Nothing having to do with romance and no couple-y things. I’m on dating lockdown for at least a year. It’s all about me, baby! Here is my own 50 things to do in 2016 list,10 of which I’ll reveal over each day over the next 5 days.
In case you missed it, here is 1 – 10, 11 – 20, 21 – 30, 31 – 40, 41 – 50
The list is called 50 Things to do in 2016 and yet here is 51 on forward. Well you know, once a girl scout always a girl scout. Honestly, the biggest goal is to break out of my (self-described) shell and be sillier, more fun, and (safe) risk taking. And as I find these things I want to do, I am going to keep on adding them to the list.
50 Things To Do in 2016: 51 – ?

Color more
1. I started coloring about a year ago and fell in love. But as new hobbies come and go, this one was put by the wayside when knitting picked back up. I’ve received a number of coloring books as gifts in the last year and I like the feeling I get when I finish a page, much like finishing a knitting project. This is a wonderful self-care method.
Create a radical self-love bible
1. Christ. It’s been a solid year since I started writing about this and it’s still on my mind. I purchased Gala’s book when she self-published it last year and started to work my way through it, but, like much of the projects I’ve started, I haven’t moved forward with this at all. But the one thing I have figured out is Gala’s book, along with other similar woo-woo feeling stuff, is mostly DBT. It’s all about self-soothing, self-care, and rewiring the brain. This is stuff I need to do.
Do DBT 3x a week
1. Did DBT come first or did the woo? Probably the woo but I have books written by revered shrinks who provide the science behind the woo and call it DBT. Does it work? Yes. So why in the fuck should I care if it’s “self-radical” or “DBT”? I don’t.
Finish all the projects
1. Well, as mentioned above, I have a hard time finishing started projects. I’ve listed several of them on this list (coloring, knitting) and as individual things and this as an overall thing.
Dye hair a rad color
1. My hair has been many a rad color but usually the bangs or highlight pieces. I’m thinking I want to do an overall color. Not sure yet.
Pick up a new hobby or improve an old one
1. Part of the #54, here I want to finish a knitting project, start/finish a complicated knitting project (#10), and either move forward on improving this hobby or pick up a new one.
Be courageous
1. I know based on past events, people tend to think of me as already being courageous but I want to do more.
Try to clear out my RSS list once a week
1. I have 7500 (and growing!) articles begging to be read. With the exception of personal friends’ updates, I need to get this cleaned up.
?
?

50 Things To Do in 2016: 41 – 50

Join a club
1. This one I’ve been trying to do since I’ve been in L-Ville and it’s much harder than you think. I’ll keep plugging away at it.
Be vulnerable to at least one person
1. This is going to be hard — and choosing who with
Go on a random long drive once a month
1. Similar to being lost in a city, doing something I normally wouldn’t do
Buy sexy underwear
1. All of my bras and undies are just fun colored bras and undies. I want to buy a sexy matching set. For me
Take a myself out on a date 1x a month
1. Well, got to show off that underwear to someone
Show gratitude
1. I try to do this daily but sometimes I need to amp up my game
Beat Zelda
1. This is contingent on when I get a place of my own and can unpack my TV and my console games. I really need to beat a Zelda game
Buy something completely frivolous
1. No idea what this could be but I’d like to see it in the $100 price range. Something to save up for?
Master one programming language
1. I am currently enthralled with Team Treehouse and their coding classes. Free via my library and but if not, I will totally pay $25/mo for their services. With their help, I should be able to master, or at least get fluent in, at least one language.
Don’t be publicly snarky / bitchy / sarcastic for a week
1. I’ve done this before in the past and it was amazing to see how much snark came out of my mouth.

xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 2015, 2014, 2001

coursework

Dear Internet,
How do you learn? How do you change your patterns to not make the same mistakes twice (or thrice, etc)?
If you’re self-aware, how do you change your life from being a pain in the ass and how do you stop sabotaging yourself?
I’ve talked on and on about ThePlan for years; there is a similar version, from 10 years ago (!), that is nearly identical to the one I’m plotting now.

I always planned on conquering the world tomorrow and my past was filled with nothing but those empty tomorrows where I just existed and did not really live.
And I felt that sense of panic, that I would end up dead and alone, eaten by ThePugKids, all three of them fighting to eat my hands and feet. I can almost see them burping with a self-satisfied look on their faces. If pugs could smirk, mine surely would in utter defiance of not being spoilt rotten.

Change “ThePugKids” to “Thursday” and it is still absolutely true.
(And it’s pretty freaking clear I just finished watching Bridget Jones’ Diary before I wrote the above.)
Ten years on and many things have changed: I went on to get a second masters, I got married, I got divorced, I got … well you know how my life has gone. And some things have changed for the better (being on better mood stabilizing drugs, seeing a therapist on the regular, exercising on the regular), and others — not so much.
This got me thinking on how I roughly learn things. During my ill spent youth, I’ve always tested higher than I assumed I would in all subjects. Meaning, I was put into advanced classes where I didn’t think I belonged. I remember the day in 8th grade math when I found out they were bumping me up to honors math in high school. How in thee hell did that happen? I believe I am terrible at math. (low self-esteem)
Everything came tumbling down in high school. I dropped out in 11th grade. Repeated it and dropped out again. I got my GED. My first foray into college was a hot mess – I scrapped by on an 1.7 GPA. I was too busy interviewing rock stars, working on the student newspaper, and trying to start up a college radio station to study.
<a decade passes>
Now I’m 30 and I’m going back to college for the second time. I am desperate to get my BA so I cut out extracurricular activities (see how that did me in first time around) and study, study, study. I pull my overall GPA up from a 1.7 to a 3.4ish and a 4.0 in my second bachelors, letting me graduate with distinction.
I’ve done it.
I apply the same methods to my first and second masters, graduating each with high marks.
So how was I able to change my studying habits, and thusly my life, around 180 degrees? It was not just about passion or wanting something badly, it was more than likely due to wanting to feel the accomplishment of having a goal and completing that goal. (With that only goal the thing in my mind’s eye, I’m less likely to wade off the path.)
This is fine and good in theory but how in the hell did I do it?
Knowing my learning style, how my brain operates, and carding¹.
Not in a “I am too young to buy alcohol I hope they don’t card me” way or “I’m playing poker and i hope they don’t see my tells” way either.
Carding, for me, is where I write something down on an index card, and shuffle through them as if I am dealing hands in poker. My French class cards? Word on the front, permutations on the back. Those cards towered in the inches thick category. Art History cards? Names, periods, movements, paintings — all carded. Name of thing on the front, every little bit of info I could cram on the back.
This went on for all my classes.
Where did I learn how to card? When I started college again, I volunteered to be a literacy tutor through the public library. In the training we were taught about the different methods of how people learned. I never thought about learning styles before or hell, even knew it existed. That’s when it all clicked.
For me to grasp a concept, the following has to happen:

An instructor lecturs (auditory) while I take notes (read-write)
I need to ask questions and discuss it to understand (kinesthetic)
Later, I card my notes (read-write)
I continue to go over my cards to cement the ideas (read-write)
By continually going over the cards, and going through the lecture in my head, I can break down and piece together the thing I am learning into something tangible

One thing I’m often saying is, “I need to figure it out on my own before I can get it.” (kinesthetic). I cannot learn a behaviour/thing with someone telling me how it works; it means nothing to me. For me to learn something, I need to experience it myself. If I want to learn how to fix a computer, I need to take it apart and put it together again. Now I’ve done X (taking apart a computer) and learned it leads to Y (fixing broken thing on a computer).
People have told me how this would work, but I didn’t believe them until I did it myself.
(The whole “don’t tell me, let me figure it out myself” can get a bit messy during emotional entanglements and I’ll just leave it at that.)
Most importantly, what works with learning styles, is my need for structure.
If I don’t have structure in my life, in any form, I flounder. Working a full time gig helps significantly with structuring where as being a freelance writer makes it super messy for me to keep in control. I’ve tried setting up my day to the minute before and that’s too much, I need something between ultra regiment and chaos.This is why it was agreed I needed a co-working space.
Now with all of that laid out, add in my mental disorders: borderline (attention seeking), bipolar (mania, disorganized behaviour, racing thoughts), adhd (fidgeting, boredom, forgetfulness), and our favorite pal anxiety and you see it gets a bit chaotic.
Knowing how these three things (structure, learning style, knowing how my mind works) worked is how I aced my education and kept my life together for many years.
(I am so burying the lede.)
I started the lede in the third paragraph: ThePlan².
I’ve done variation after variation of ThePlan over the years and it’s always starts strong, starts to wane, and eventually fizzles out. How can I change this behaviour and make it last?
That is the ultimate question.
Carding will be my answer.
DBT’s main purpose is to change how your brain works. This idea is also the foundation for most of the self-help books out there. However, DBT is backed by scientists, papers, shrinks, and research³.
The four critical skills of DBT are:

Distress Tolerance Coping better with painful events
Mindfulness Experience living in the moment
Emotion Regulation Being able to recognize what you feel and then observe what’s happening so you don’t feel overwhelmed
Interpersonal Effectiveness Tools to express beliefs and needs; to set limits and work on negative problems

In order for DBT to work, you have to do it every single day. You have to practice some of the techniques to continue to rewire your brain. You can’t do what I did, start reading the book, highlight things, and then forget about it. This serves no one.
This is where carding comes in.
I had clear photo case box with 5×7 and 3×5 cards, purchased for a writing project that never got off the ground. I created the following dividers:

Things accomplished A listing of things I’ve done for that so I keep track of things I would normally forget, like how many times that week I’ve worked out. Each day has it’s own card
Negativity Disputation Techniques Techniques when I’m feeling feelings about something. An example of the ABCDE disputation technique:
- Adversity I can’t write
- Beliefs Everything has been written
- Consequence I have not written a story/article
- Disputation I’m not scheduling time to write
- Energize How can I change this behaviour
Gratitudes and Happy Things Weekly cards of things I’m happy or grateful or both of things from I really love the smell of pineapple juice to I have a large support network
Pithy Statements Those memes we see around the interwebs with such sayings as Dream big. Dream bigger. I have a love hate relationship with these things — hence they “pithy statement” card, but sometimes a girl needs a reminder of such things.
Mind / Body / Soul Cards that I need to fulfill that desire. Meditation and reading everyday (Mind); drink more water (Body); find good in people (Soul). Mind / body / soul each have their own dividers but I’ll probably itnergrate these things into the Happy Things list.
DBT Reminders Distraction plans (do yoga, smell someone else (YES. I will presume I’m weird. I associate people with smells, you smell good – you are a good person. You smell bad to me – you’re probably not such a good person. TheBassist has a specific scent of his deodorant mixed with pheromones mixed with normal body scent. (I’ve been known to sniff his deodorant when I was not feeling so great. Don’t judge me. (He knows.)) Steph smells like patchouli and vanilla. Mini-me smells of hot cocoa and clean shampoo.)), things to put into action (move your body)

My day to day:

I use my Bullet Journal to create my todo lists for the day
I do my todo list
I work on DBT stuff (do my homework, read, go over the cards)
I meditate
I do things that need to be done but are not on the todo list (walk the dog, load and unload the dishwasher)
I write down my accomplishments and my gratitudes
Move my body somehow
Write something

Some days there is more but the above is always the same.
Remember the breakdown I gave on how I learn? Let’s apply that to how to train my brain with DBT:

Someone lectures / talks to me about things: therapist / friends (auditory)
I need to ask questions and discuss it to understand (kinesthetic)
Later, I card my notes from therapy / add to DBT pile (read-write)
I continue to go over my cards to cement the ideas (read-write)
By continually going over the cards, and going through the discussions in my head, I can break down and piece together the thing I am learning/knowing into something tangible

You may think I’m crazy for putting this together. You may think this is a lot of work. You may think this is a load of bullshit. You don’t have to like it, agree with it, or even do what I’m doing. That is all fine. What I can tell you is while I’m just slowly making my way towards the good parts of life, this has been helping. It’s been a week, I know, but having this kind of structure (see above) helps me shape my life.
It looks like a lot of work – it isn’t. Outside of my reading (about a half an hour a day), I spend another 10-15 carding. It looks complicated (it isn’t).
But it doesn’t matter. It’s for me and not for you. The end.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 2015

1. Carding is my fancy way of saying, “flash cards.”
2. Literally the number one reason why the TheBassist left was/is because I am a flight risk (borderline). The plan, as he says, always kept changing. I didn’t think so as I updated him as soon as I knew things, but, I’ll have to concede he has a point as I was so wishy washy. On more than one occasion he compared me to my being Lucy and his being Charlie Brown and the plan was the football.
3. I recommend Dialectal Skills Workbook and DBT Skills Training. While it is recommended you see a DBT specialist, you can certainly work on this solo.

eucatastrope

Dear Internet,
When I write pieces like this, this, that, this, or that all in the manner of two weeks, people get nervous.
They think I’m in crisis.
They think I’m having a(nother) nervous breakdown.
I find I have to keep reiterating that I’m fine, I’m not in crisis, I’m not going to harm myself.
Because I’m not. I’m a vengeful fucker.
Think of it this way: Writing those things is, yes, massive navel gazing, and to some extent, attention seeking¹, but I like to think of writing as a big ugly cry.

Then I feel better.
What is comforting, besides people caring to make sure I’m okay, is those who come to me privately and tell me they have gone or are going through some of the exact same things. It, perhaps you make think this is odd, feels good to remember these feelings are a shared human experience.
(You are not alone.)

I’ve put together a fairly intricate plan to kick my ass in moving forward on healing. I’ll have a post coming up with the exact breakdown, but here is a summary:

I use my Bullet Journal to create my todo lists for the day
I use my carding system (explained later) to
- Track DBT stuff (skill, techniques, pithy statements)
- Accomplishments
- Gratitude lists
I write (or try to) in my paper journal every day (steady since October!)
I exercise 3-5x a week (steady since November!)
Meditate (207 days and counting!)
Therapy every week
I go to my office

So that last part — starting this week I have a co-working place in downtown L-ville. TheExHusband and my therapist agreed it would be a good idea if I had somewhere to go outside of the condo. I researched places where I could work (bookstores, coffeeshops, the library) and it turned out to be far cheaper to use the co-working space than other locations. For $60 a month, I get free snacks/drinks, wifi, ample parking space, business address, mailbox, and locker to name a few perks. Today was my first day and my time went by fast. I loved it.
(I’ve promised myself to not stay on the computer past 5PM at home or at the office but as I cannot access the blog to write here when I’m at work so I’m bending the rules tonight.)
There is only so much one can do in exploring the city, running errands, wandering around, and walking the dog when one has no cash. I’m utterly dependent on TheExHusband and I’m mindful of what I am borrowing², refrain from asking anything outside of necessities.
What is my job? Oh, loads of stuff.

Apply for jobs It takes me 1-2 hours per application (on a good day). I’ve applied for 13 jobs in the last 10 days and that’s 30ish hours of my time already sucked away before anything else
Look for jobs Another time suck
Work on DBT/RSL I need to be doing this daily — I started out strong and withered. This needs to be part of my everyday routine
Treehouse/Linux projects Amping up my back and front end developer skills
Writing Blog, Short stories. Non-fiction. Researching magazines and such to send stuff in. Everything encompassing this section
Other shit I’m probably forgetting

This is a lot of stuff. It feels at times almost overwhelming so. It became pretty clear I needed an away space when working from home wasn’t doing me any favors. If I didn’t wanna do work I just didn’t. If I wanted to not shower and lay about in jimjams, I did. Add in a roommate who works from home and you two end up not working beacuse you’re busy bugging the other and a dog who needs TO LET YOU KNOW THEY ARE THERE, well, you can see how I was starting to slack on getting work done.
Why am I doing this?

Have a place to go to on a daily basis I have to get up, get dressed, do hair and make-up, and go somewhere that is not the general living area in the condo
Feel like I’m contributing to society I’m creating content, participating in daily interactions with people, providing air pollution to the environment with my car
Socialization As I am taught in Thursday’s obedience class, the reason why most dogs bark is due to lack of socialization and getting acclimated to the world at large. I am slowly getting feral if I don’t head out of the big wide world.

That and this is my job.

I’ve written so fucking extensively on ThePlan, even I am tired of the redundancy. But this time around – it’s different.
(You’ve said that before.)
I know. I acknowledge that. I put an arbitrary time frame on something that is not arbitrary. You cannot plan out when your mental/physical health is going to suddenly be awesome sauce. Big mistake number one.
Big mistake number two is where I loaded myself up to fail. I put together a lot of stuff into the rotation and got overwhelmed. This time around I started out small and I’m adding new stuff as it goes.
Don’t believe me?
Look at the schedule at the beginning(ish) of this post. Three things have been in rotation for at least three months (exercising, writing daily, and meditating). I haven’t fallen off the wagon on exercising. Some weeks I may have only gotten one day in, but I did something and I haven’t given up even when I had shitty weeks. I have written nearly 200 pages in my paper journal since October 25thish. I have not skipped a day in mediation.
At times I may not feel as I’m moving forward but when looking at my accomplishments, no matter how small they may be, they are still accomplishments.
Don’t forget: the best apology is changed behaviour.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 2015, 2014, 2001

1. As I’ve said before, borderlines need to be the center of your world. TheExHusband hypothesizes my need to put myself out there on the interwebs is to get that kind of attention. I’m not going to argue that there may be some validity to that argument, but my rebuttal is I don’t have a large readership. I have, maybe, 500 or so readers via RSS and email. I maybe get 100 hits a day. I’m not exactly chasing down gawker.com here. There is also the fact I don’t do large scale campaigns to garner hits. When a post is published, it posts to my Facebook page, Twitter, Tumblr, and Google+ accounts. Once. The only exception is Twitter where I’ll set up an auto-tweet with the post info six hours later. There are a couple of other places a link to the site is advertised (my social media info, my email signature) but that’s it. So yes he’s right but only in theory, not context.
2. The number I’ve borrowed is — quite large. TEH doesn’t see it as borrowing but I do. I am beyond thankful for his help but I cannot live with knowing I have not paid it forward, or him, in return.

and how we’re guilt-stricken, sobbin’ with our heads on the floor

Dear Internet,
I woke up at 4:08 AM today and the dream was innocuous about someone I know on the internets. I was able to go back to sleep fairly quickly. This will make sense further on.

I’m going to apologize and tell you this is another ripping off the bandaid confessional.
It is what I do best

With all of the emotional upheaval in the last few years, I run through my mind similiar experiences to compare and contrast as to learn from my mistakes and not repeat them. I was stuck on ExFiance #1 this weekend because the relationship with him, to me, was almost identical to my relationships to TheBassist and TheExHusband.¹
So I obsess and I stew. Stew and obsess some more. What keeps repeating itself through all of this obsessing and stewing is what a horrible person I am.
It was a good weekend.

ExFiance #1 and I had our first date in August of 1996.

I was working at a Blockbuster and he was working as a welder and he came into my video store 3x a week. I’d flirt with him and he’d flirt back and he will tell you he fell in love with me before we even went on a date! The night he asked me out, we were talking in the parking lot for an hour and “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (and I feel fine)” by REM came on the radio and I had danced in the parking lot like a madwoman.

And our relationship become complicated fast. Up until then, I had never met anyone who was close to being like me in terms of style, desires, and likes. It was heady. He proposed and I said yes, then I ran 3K miles away to San Francisco.
The back and forth started then and got progressively worse. When we had other relationships going on, we’d sleep with the other. When we were engaged to other people, we’d sleep with each other. No matter what state we lived in, we would find a way to fuck. We could not stop fucking our way through everything and fuck all who came between us, they just did not understand.
ExFiance #1 will tell you he put his life on hold for me.
Once I was done being an asshole, a liar, and cheating on perfectly good guys with him, I put my own foot down of my nefarious behaviour, asking him that I wanted to be killed off or made the main character in his life.
He killed me off.

He got engaged to someone else, a Lisa-Lite. “She’s everything like you, but not you. And not crazy” which is always reassuring. By “crazy” he is not referring to my mental shenanigans.
When the fucking between ExFiance #1 and I went completely dead, we tried to be friends and decided to double date with our current partners. I was dating a nice boy from Detroit², ExFiance #1 had his Lisa-Lite, what could go wrong?
Right.
The double date adventure turned out to be a hilarious event or a big mistake depending on who you ask. The nice boy from Detroit looked almost identical to ExFiance #1 and Lisa-Lite looked nearly identical to me.
Everyone noticed.
There was a few embarrassed coughs and remarks made. I don’t remember if we ended up going out or if the nice boy from Detroit and I hustled our way out of there.
I am trying to recall if I saw ExFiance #1 after that, but I don’t think I did.
Until I started working at a bookstore.

2005 was a banner year. TheBassist broke it off with me twice. An old friend removed me from his life. A guy I was locally dating dumped me when I found out that my mother had cancer. I almost flunked the first semester of my first master’s program.
I’m not sure how ExFiance #1 found out where I was working, but he started coming to the store every month or so to see how I was doing. I didn’t think anything about his behaviour. I didn’t read into that he wanted me back, I didn’t read into it I wanted him back. Our toxic relationship was finally over and laid to rest.
Until the day he came in to tell me he had officially proposed to Lisa-Lite, they were planning their wedding (I obviously was not invited), and the big kicker? He told me he bought her a black diamond ring and suggested, seriously, I should go buy a pair of black diamond earrings to match her ring
I looked at him stunned, wished him a happy marriage (What the fuck DO you say in these situations?) and went to the break room and cried. Half hour? Maybe more, maybe less.
That was the last time I ever saw him.

I woke up Monday morning, at 3:20 AM, in a near hysterics. In my dream, I was in front of TheBassist discussing something, of which I do not remember, and but then I mention his (in my dream I presumed this was true) current romantic relationship³. He said the one he had told me was over then, was new now. I said you told me you used to not have feelings for her and it was long since dead. He was silent. I continued on, but now you have feelings for her? He just gave me this look that told me everything.
Then I woke up.
I was emotionally nauseous while I laid in bed and cuddled the fuck out of Teddy.
Sleep was elusive, fits and starts. I woke up 20 minutes before I was to leave for my therapy appointment.
I was not in a good mood.

Being emotionally nauseous is the term I use when I get emotionally shocked. My stomach cramps but I cannot throw up, my throat is a field of acid burn but it cannot be tamed by anti-acids, and my heart aches. Sometimes there is a headache, sometimes not and those cannot be erased with pills.
In the beginning of something ending, I torture myself by sniffing shirts, looking at old pictures, etc. It is anathema to my well being. Then I compartmentalize the emotions, the physical goods, any other reminders of that thing.
It is only then when I feel like I can begin to breathe.

I have never publicly admitted this but I have ExFiance #1 name tattooed on my left calf. It was done when the “relationship” was at its height, when I was convinced I could win him back. Let bygones be bygones, start fresh.
The tattoo was designed as to not look like a name but if you know it is there, it is obvious. When the toxicity was over, the “relationship” buried, I had another tattoo designed to be its mirror now it looks like some tribal bullshit.

And since we are among friends, during the height of TheExHusband and I’s marriage, I had a thorn done on my left wrist to symbolize our love. Why a thorn? TheExHusband was originally to be named Thor and I love medieval history.
Because if I am not anything but predictable, for TheBassist I had one his tattoos influenced onto my right forearm. His reaction was mixed. He loved the idea, but he was grumpy as to my use due to the words come from the first lines of the first song of an album by a band he loves. I argued while that is true, the sentiment is incredibly applicable to me. I believe we left it at that.
(Because I will beat a dead horse into the ground, for months (and it’s scary to say coming up on years), I’ve wanted to do a separate tattoo from to signify TheBassist. I have other tattoos to get, so that one is down the road a bit, but when it is done, it will not be publicly announced and will only be explained when asked.
But I know exactly where I’m going to put it.)
(Because I know you’re going to ask, the tattoos for each of them symbolize a memento mori of the relationship. A reminder, if you will, of what is/was important and what I’ve (fucking hopefully) have learned.)

For ExFiance #1, I threw his engagement ring down a well when I was living in California. The rings were cheap bands we bought at a kiosk in some mall. I have no idea of the things he gave me went — more than likely burned, donated, or tossed out.

Does anyone else get emotionally nauseous? I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever discussed this with someone — ever. I’ve realized over the years the general we do not go beneath the skin to the really ugly parts of our psyche. As long as we are shallow, everything is okay.
It is things like this that despite the bipolar, despite every other fucking malady, I’ve always felt like I was crazy.
Wouldn’t you?

I brain dumped all of the obsessing over ExFiance #1 to my therapist on Monday. I cried when I was telling the story and beat myself up. “I’m an asshole,” I said. “I ruin everything,” I said. “The back and forth with ExFiance #1 was exactly the same as with TheBassist and TheExHusband!”, I wailed. On and on went the flagellanting of my soul.⁴
She disagreed.
43 year old Lisa is not the same as 24 year old Lisa. Were you diagnosed bipolar then? Yes, I said. Did ExFiance #1 know? No, I said. So he had no idea on the status of your mental health? Yes, I said. Were you medicated? Seeing a therapist? No, I said.
You’re not the same. The relationships are not the same.
Don’t forget how ExFiance #1 treated you. He lied to you. If he cheated on his fiancee with you, he would have cheated on you with someone else. Don’t forget the awful things he said to you. (Brain screams, “But he was punishing me for the constant leaving and going!”) He is not punishing you. When you moved back to Grand Rapids in 2003, he tried to coerce you into sex when you didn’t want to (and almost succeeded) which he then turned into constant “teasing” of not sleeping with him. How he was insanely jealous and had problems with your male friends. He had no friends himself and you are his entire world. He had a child from a previous relationship and did not tell you until much later. Every single compliment was double edged and followed by “you should still be so lucky I still want you⁵.”
I was desperate, he said. Desperate for him.
I reasoned away everything with I never knew anyone like him and he loved me and I loved him back.
Yes, you may have had issues but do not forget he was an asshole to you. He treated you shabbily.
He was toxic. You are/were better off without him.
You deserve more.
More importantly? TheBassist and TheExHusband are not the same person to each other and they are not the same as ExFiance #1.
Best thing? You are self-aware of the mistakes made and you want to make sure you do not repeat them in the future.

Half the time I do not know who I am.

When I came home later, I reiterate the entire therapy session to TheExHusband. I left nothing out. Deep breath, sip my drink, more confessions come out of my mouth. I repeat this pattern until the story is told.
He agrees with the therapist. He and TheBassist were aware and could handle (to a large degree) the crazy. I didn’t cheat and the lying that was told were half-truths about shit that was unrelated to my relationships with them. I was on a long manic streak and then I crashed. It seemed complicated but it wasn’t complicated.
Remember, they have forgiven you for your behaviour because they understand it is more of your crazy than the actual you. TheExHusband reminds you, daily, what a good person you are, you are worthwhile, you are loved, and you’re safe.

When TheExHusband tells me my daily affirmation, I say thank you, but I don’t believe it. I often quip I knew I was going to be a late bloomer, my path in life was not going to follow a traditional template, and I am aware of this. There is one time in the whole of my paper journaling career I write down I am beautiful and I really mean it.
Once.

(“You are chaotic good, not chaotic neutral.” “What’s the difference?” “Your do not respond to a situation in relation to how it best benefits you, you respond to how it best benefit the other person.” “Oh.” “And that’s it for your D&D reference.”)

My vanity is not confidence on speed, it is because I feel if I am not following certain protocols, then people won’t like me. I know where it stems from, I am tired of knowing. I just want to fix these fucking issues and move forward.
That is what makes me self-aware. I have the tools, now, to not repeat.
(“I don’t know if your low self-esteem is masked by your blusterness or if you really do have spots of high self-esteem.” “It’s all a mask,” says the borderline.)

It is hard for my brain to acquiescence if what I feel is actually true versus if what I believe is true. I attempt to reconcile that feelings change, even minute by minute; that love is not an either or issue; the world is fallible and I am not crazy if I make a mistake.
These are all things I believe to be actually true but in my head, no matter how reasoned the things actually are, it has been and will always remain all my fault.

Friday night TheExHusband and I head to a local Irish pub that is within walking distance of his condo. I am in a goofy mood, zigzagging across the side walk and playing bumper cars with TheExHusband. Dinner is delightful, I have perhaps found the place to watch English Premier League football and the Six Nations rugby tournament.
Then I hear the bass thump from the other side of the wall. I stop eating. I have grown silent. “I don’t feel good,” I say. “I’ve got TheSads,” I say. “Is it about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?” “No. Yes.” “What happened?” “I heard the bass and…” “Do you want to get out of here?”
First I say no. I am fine, I say. I can do this, I think. As I am trying to make this not an issue, it became an issue as a band, unrelated to the bass thumping next door, brings their stuff in and starts setting up for that night’s entertainment. I stiffen. Flight or fight, I need to get the fuck out of there.
It does not help I am wearing a Green Latern t-shirt.
TheExHusband pays the check and we walk home. No zig zagging. No bumper cars.
I cannot articulate what I’m feeling so I bake brownies.

TheBassist is a good person. I said some awful shit (I am too ashamed to link) about him and now I am repentant. The shit I was angry about with him was typical relationship shit I blew out of fucking proportion. Rationally I know he didn’t do the things I said he did (what did NOT help was the greek chourus saying he “might have”.) He loves/d me the best he could; he tried to help me the best he could — even when I wanted him to save me and I could only save myself. He was not an abuser, he gave me everything he had, he loved me unconditionally and I — I have no idea what I did what I did. Mania? Being scared? Unworthy? Being crazy? Untrustworthy? No fucking idea what I did what I did.
I get emotionally nauseous when I think about my behaviour towards him.
I would have left me too.
TheExHusband is a good person. Could our marriage have been saved? I have no idea. I churn myself in knots thinking he will kick me out even though rationally I know he will not. Why does he give me the daily Stewart Smalley’s? As a reminder that I am not such the beast I have led myself to believe. He helps me anyway he can. He pushes when I need to be pushed and lets me cry when I’m having a bad day. He asks me daily if I took my drugs and how my brain is doing.
But he also knows all the work is on me.

I would have made an excellent moirologist. After recounting Monday morning’s dream to my therapist, I say through my teeth, “Look. I go about my day with logic and reason about the relationship. I’ve accepted these reasons and I am trying to move forward. BUT MY FUCKING BRAIN just cannot let sleeping dogs lie. I was haunted by the 2 AM hour when, without fail, one of us would reach for the other and make love. It took me weeks, and massive amounts of klonopin, to get through that period. NOW, it’s the goddamned 4 AM wake-up calls, dreams surrounding him even if I don’t think of him for the entire day. It’s beyond ridiculous.”
“Your subconsious cannot let it go.”
Irritated sigh.
“Look. I cannot be in touch with him, no matter how minute. My ecosystem is extremely fragile. These wake-up calls are not helping.”
“It will pass. Not in the speed you want it to go, but it will pass. Patience.”
Fuck patience. That’s what drugs are for.

Sometime after I came home from my therapist, I googled the fuck out of ExFiance #1 (“The worst thing about being a librarian is being a librarian.”). Within 15 minutes, I find all of his info: email address, current address, phone number, Facebook page, and pictures of him. He seems happy. The non-partisan assessment of his behaviour is forgotten, I am at fault. I will always be at fault. A wave of emotional nausea hits, dissipates, and then I felt nothing.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2015, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011

1. When relating this to my therapist today, she said they were nothing alike. I’m not sure if I believe her or not because it feels exactly the same to me.
2. I stopped my cheatin’ lyin’ ways before nice boy from Detroit showed up. The cheatin’ and lyin’ was only ever with ExFiance #1. Because I am an asshole.
3. I have asked politely, and was told my wish was granted, I was to never know when he dated again, if he ever moved with someone, or if he gets married. If my heart went through the floor for someone I was once engaged to when I found out (albeit in an assholish way) they were getting married, I would be emotionally decimated finding out about TheBassist’s new loves. At least for today.
4. In case you can’t tell, I was raised in a German-Catholic family. We know how to do guilt.
5. This is second to the, “With your face and Cindy Crawford’s body, you would be great at modeling.” comment made to me by a boyfriend before ExFiance #1.