making it rain

Dear Internet,

I got a job.

A real, in my field, letter of interest signed and sealed with a start date job.

Here’s the bittersweetness: I’ll be living in Connecticut.

OH! The irony.

So the gig is as a digital archivist in a corporate setting.1 I’ll be working with the processing and corporate archivists on a large project that is scheduled to run until the end of the year with an option to be picked up in 2017. I signed an NDA so I cannot tell you who I am working for.

I’m nervous. Excited. Grateful. Nervous. Lots of other emotions.

My start date is May 9th.

I am going to have to wear PANTS (which is anything not Chucks, t-shirts, or jeans). I will be out in the world interacting with other people. I will be paying taxes!2 I will be contributing to society.

I get to be an adult with my own things, my own place, and my own decisions to make.

It’s preeetttyyy exciting.

I made the announcement on Facebook on Thursday and nearly half of my Facebook BFFs liked/loved and some commented on the post. SO MANY PEOPLE are rooting for me. I never thought in a million years I would have this large of a fan base, but there you go — I have proof I am loved and wanted.

I’m leaving L-ville on May 4th, arriving in Connecticut on May 5th. I’m lining up the usual apartment and hotel shenanigans. I’m packing and getting business done here.

I’ve got a lot of shit to do.

Another great thing? I don’t have to look for a job! First time in 18 months I do not have to feel dehumanized and dejected on the job front. Oh happy day!

There is a kind of creepy part to this equation.

The weekend before I heard from the corporation in regards to scheduling my first interview, I decided to color my hair one color and take out my nose ring. That Monday I got the email with the request for the phone interview that afternoon. If I was moving forward they would reach out to my references and schedule the video interview.

References were checked Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning.

They got in touch with me Tuesday afternoon to schedule the video interview for that Friday. After the video interview, the next process would be for them to confer, make their recommendation, and move forward with the candidate of their choosing. I would know by the end of the following week (April 22).

A few days after the interview, I had a discussion with TheExHusband on the need for more profesh clothes as it was spring, nearing summer, and my interview clothes were for fall and winter. He gave me a budget to work with, I surveyed my closet, bought flexible items to fill in the gaps of what I was missing. Clothes had been ordered before I even knew my status.

Thursday the 21st (nearly a week since the video interview), I followed up to find out my status and they said they would let me know as soon as they knew.

They called me that afternoon and I missed the call. We rescheduled the call for 5:15PM and within three minutes they asked if I was still interested and if so, they would like to extend the offer to me. I said yes and here we are!

Time from interview to acceptance: less than two weeks.

Academia can learn a thing or two about the hiring process.

So let’s get to what everyone wants to really know more than about the job: What about TheBassist?

Good question and not unsurprisingly the number one question I’ve received (privately) after my I AM PAYING TAXES announcement. (People worry about me and I love it and I am wholeheartedly always grateful.)

What about him indeed.

On occasion I’ve thought about different scenarios in different contexts if he got back in touch. As my mental wellbeing started to lean more towards being healthy than the crazy, my attitude went from “this is what I would I totally do” (see pre-Wellbutrin) to “I’ll deal with it when it happens. I’ve got shit to do” (see post-Wellbutrin).

Before I continue, let me make one thing clear: I am not getting in touch with him. I’ll be living an hour south of him so the likelihood of us running into each other is pretty slim.

But there is a catch: Many of his local close friends love me and can’t wait to integrate me into their social scene. I’m beyond flattered (and grateful) so I had to put some thought into a scenario where TheBassist and I end up in the same place.3

At first, my thought was, “Oh. No. I hope his friends understand I am not ready to be around him” and “I could never be friends with him after everything that has happened.” When those thoughts started creeping, I took to my journal to write it out.

Within a couple of pages, I had a 180 degree turnaround about the situation.

It’s pretty clear the last year has taken a toil on my psyche and mental health. My self-respect and dignity are making a comeback. I love the sassy me.

Making these wide gestures of “oh no, look at me” is creating drama, even unintentionally. As we’ve seen, even unintentional drama serves no one (especially me). So then I thought, “You know. I can pull up my big girl panties and handle this like a champ. If we’re in the same place at the same time, I can be gracious and kind. It hurts no one and being cruel has never been my forte. It serves no purpose.”

And the job, the move, and everything else? It’s none of his business. It’s my life and he has no say in it.

It came to me I had a choice: I could be a spoilt child having a tantrum or I could be graceful and keep my dignity intact.

I choose the later.

Once I came to that conclusion in my journal, I signed off for the evening and went to bed.

I’m a catch. I’m adorable. I’m funny. I can converse on a variety of topics. I’m kind to people. I’m loyal and I can be naughty as fuck when needed. The list of my good qualities and personality endeavours is as long as I am tall

(I am humble too.)

But there is a crazy Lisa and a mentally healthy Lisa. He came in the beginning of the crazy. If he can’t strip that away, disregard whatever fantasy (I believe) he had of me, and see the real me. Well, his loss.

I will be gracious and kind if I come across him in social situations. But to be coffee meeting friends? No. To wish him ill will? No. To cause drama and strife? No. Do I wish him to have a good life? Absolutely.

Will feelings about what has transpired hurt? Of course they will — my therapist assured me this is normal. How I respond to these feelings is what dictates whether or not my mental health is, well, healthy. To start out a bit panicky about the prospect of running into him in social situations and to come to the conclusion I’ll be fine and the situation will be fine is what differs from then to now.

I will be okay.

I’ve got a hunch he’s seeing someone. No one has told me, and I had asked them not to, so my hunch could be unfounded. But I’ve got a feeling and sometimes my feelings are right. Of course it hurts my heart a little bit to know he could be with someone or he’s pursuing someone. It has been six months since the break-up and while I have taken time out of the dating world to handle self-care it does not behold him to do the same.

In the end, all I’ve wanted was for him to be happy and for me, obviously, to make him happy. If I’m not the person who can do that, I hope he finds someone who can love him the way he wants and needs to be loved and to find happiness in that person. That is all I’ve ever wanted.

As for me? I’m a grown ass woman and I’ve got shit to do.


1. I swore until the ends of time I could never work corporate. Well end time is nigh and I’ve got to make it rain.
2. A friend of mine who is an accountant swore he’s never heard someone get excited about paying taxes before. It’s how I roll.
3. I give myself ideas of potential scenarios to get a vague idea of of how I would react to that situation. I like being, to some extent, prepared for eventualities. It’s what I do.

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2012, 2000

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Dear Internet,


  • I’ve been keeping up with my Silly Pictures goal
  • I’ve meditated for 236 consecutive days
  • Wednesday 3/9 marks my 7th week of smoke freeness
  • I’m making some headway into my 50 Things project
  • I am still exercising, of some sort mainly yoga, a few times a week since November
  • Job application status (Start date: January 24, 2016)
    • Total: 25
      • Academia: 21
      • Public: 3
      • Other: 1
    • Rejections: 4
    • Interest: 2 3 (As I’m writing this, I got an offer to do a video interview. Hell fuck yeah.)

I’m keeping better stats on my job hunt, mainly for my own edification. As for the “interest” bit, the “other,” which was a corporate gig, called me on Friday and left a message to talk about the position in question. I returned the call and two days later, nothing. The other interest was from a public library system that wanted me to complete a civil service test which would last an hour. THEN if I passed the civil service test, I would get a call back for an interview, however, there is no known time from the test to the interview. It’s a 10 hour drive, one way, to the city so I had to politely decline.1

But hey! It’s keeping up with my above average of 1ish in 10 on interest/interviews to applications submitted.

(I have been expecting the deluge of rejections / interviews to start happening around this time. The jobs I applied for at the end of January / beginning of February, closed near the tail end of February so decisions are coming out now.)

I drew up a plan for what I’m going to do on a M-F schedule to keep up with all of my projects. Part of that plan was to write once a week over at the profesh site and in addition to the weekly gratitudes, write here twice a week. We see how well that’s going, but for once I am not beating myself up because things are not on a tight schedule, which is a huge difference from where I was even a few months ago.

Speaking of ThePlan, I had a breakthrough with my therapist this week. For the first time in four months, I sat down and said, “These are the issues I am having and these are the things I want to change.” I know you’re thinking, “Okay, Lisa, you’ve been seeing a therapist for that long of time and you’re just getting to the meat of your crazy?” Au contraire my friend, I’ve been spending the last four months pulling my ass out of the giant hole that exploded back in October. Couple that bullshit with jobs, family, lack of money, and other large topics of discussion, I haven’t had a time to really think about that kind of stuff or really how to fix me. I was more interested in putting out fires.

Along with job hunting process, being crazy is a full-time gig.

I broke down to my shrink about this plan, telling her I was sorting out what I needed to do on a weekly basis (work on TeamTreeHouse, job hunt, DBT, journaling to name a few) into daily chunks and she said, “Lisa. You do understand you’re spreading yourself thin, right?”

Honestly? I thought I wasn’t doing enough. That sounds a reasonable thought, doesn’t it? If you look at my newly planned calendar, I have, on average, six things assigned to each day. Two of them I approximated two to three hours each (and I was being generous). The other four? No idea on time. Just glancing at the remaining objectives, they could last anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour each and that is not including time to yoga, meditate, eat, shower, and housekeeping duties that add-on the daily lists.

My argument to her is, “Look. I need to apply for jobs. I need to work on refreshing / learning new skills using TeamTreeHouse. I need to check my email on a regular basis and I need to keep up with my RSS feeds to keep abreast of library trends. I can not not do these things.” “Maybe something has to go?” “Okay, what?” “That’s for you to figure out and prioritize.”

(This is not a verbatim conversation but you get the general gist.)

When I came home from the session, I gave TheExHusband the tl;dr and he agreed with my shrink. “You’re spreading yourself too thin. You don’t have to do everything right this second and at the exact same time.”

I agree.

Obviously the job hunt is top of that list and it buttresses neatly with the day to day stuff mentioned above. That’s the given.  But as for the rest of it? I have no idea, right now, how to stagger it so I’m not overwhelmed. As I explained above, I don’t have TeamTreeHouse set for everyday, it’s for twice a week. Writing on my profesh blog is only once a week. Writing here is twice a week.

This type of balancing act is what’s been keeping me in my thoughts this week. I’ve been pretty motivated to keep pushing forward because I’ve now got a history of not giving up on projects. The exercise, the meditation, the quitting smoking, and the on going stuff for 50 Things. I am not as susceptible to starting projects and abandoning them as I once was. I’m not saying I’ve perfected the best balance for home / work, as that’s bullshit, but I have a better control on my life than a year ago.

I’ve always been a fighter, that pretty strongly evident through the course of my life, so it’s never been a big concern that I would not pick myself up by my Chucks. I’ve never thought I wouldn’t get out of here. I may have been pissed it was taking so long, but if anything this last 18 months has shown me, I can do this.

Where as before I would think myself as a loser or failure for not following ThePlan or the calendar or whatever I’ve concocted to a T, I get that I’m not perfect, life is not perfect, and if I want to be happy, I need to be fluid on many of my plans.

And if you read anything prior to the last six months on ThePlan, you know to be true.

So all in all, how I’m handling this makes me proud and gives me the hope I can get an even better grip on my life.

After that, “Go get’m girl!” speech, it seems a little spurious to switch gears, but that’s how I roll.

I’ve been pretty open I’ve been having bouts of depression these last few months or so. It’s different from the blow up in October (manic depression) where I was crying on the couch for hours on end, binge eating (skip breakfast, lunch, splurge on dinner or some variant), sporadically showering. No, this was subtle. Quieter. I wasn’t having suicidal feelings. I was able to do things that I needed to do without feeling much issues. I would feel, “Huh. It’s gray outside. I’m gray inside. Whatevs.” and continue on with my day.

It was super frustrating to know this was depression happening and I couldn’t meditate, yoga, or whatever my way out of it.

So when I saw my medicating shrink a few weeks ago, I gave him the above and told him I felt my depression was around 8 out of 10. He put me on Cymbalta, which is fast acting (takes a few days to kick in instead of a few weeks) and hoping this would be enough.

If you’ve been reading my site for a few years now, you know I’m super sensitive to drugs. I’ve had psychotic breaks on ADHD meds, suicidal thoughts on SSRIs, and a whole host of other problems. The currently bipolar cocktail (Lamtical (400mg) and Risperdone (not sure of the amount of but it’s the beginning dose)) works really, really well. The symptoms are in control and I am so fucking aware of my triggers it’s insane. (“You’re one of the most self-aware people I know!”) The anxiety is kept in check with Klonopin and Hydroxyzine, but depression, however, is a whole ‘nother ball of wax based on the aforementioned problems.

I won’t go into too much specifics but anti-depressant drugs fall into three classes: SSRIs, SNRIs, and Atypical. SSRIs are the ones most people know about (effexor, paxil, etc) and the ones that make me, honestly, psychotic. SNRIs is where Cymbalta lives and last week it showed that after metabolizing it for a few days, I felt awesome (3 out of 10) for a few days, and then the rage hit so hard, I would have beaten up the couch if given a chance. Atypicals, where Latuda and Wellbutrin live, are pretty much my last shots. I was on Wellbutrin ages and ages ago and I don’t remember how I reacted to it, but then again, I was on a whole different bipolar cocktail. Latuda, I’ve never been on.

So to finally put this to some kind of ending, the doc put me on Wellbutrin, which I started today, and I should see some kind of result in a few weeks. (And hopefully not in some kind of psychotic rage. 😀 )

Viva la crazy drugs!


1. My clearly out of state address was on the app and the follow up email. I half expected they would reject me based on that information. But nope. Go figure.

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 2004, 2003, 2001

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.


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