Dear Internet,
It’s Memorial Day and while most of you are out enjoying (hopefully) the good weather, I’m in TheExHusband’s condo waiting for it rain. Without access to a grill, and impending iffy weather, we’re keeping it indoors for the day. Pot roast will be consumed, laundry done, and at some point I will be start catching up on some telly. If we’re super honest, I will not get out of my jimjams for the rest of day and I’m okay with that.
I’ve spent the morning doing clean up and restructuring of some things around here.It seemed if I’m going to be coming back with gusto, a lot of the old features should be revamped and reinstated. I’m bringing back Collection of Cunning Curiosities, my breakdown of things I’ve liked that week across various mediums. I’ve dropped the medieval spelling and instead of a line item of things, it will be a summary of that particular medium. I’ve been Pocketing loads of things for months without referencing them after they were saved which was the point of CoC.
I’ve massively updated my Book List of 2015 and while it feels like I’ve been reading more as of late, the list still looks fairly puny to where I should be in order to hit the 100 book mark for the year. If you’re a visual person like me, I’ve also updated the board at Pinterest.
TheExHusband sprung for a new iPad Mini as an early Lisamas gift. Of course, I’m feeling overwhelmed with his generosity but my old iPad2 was becoming slower than molasses in January, close to obsolescence, and often freezing up. Surprisingly, as a second generation tech, it’s still much preferred over the next few generations until the iPad Minis and Airs were released.
I used my iPad2 like mad in the four years I’ve owned it but at some point, I noted it was, in addition to slowness, coupled with only 16g of space, almost too cumbersome for reading and game playing. The new iPad Mini that is sitting next to me is several chip generations ahead, bigger drive, thus much snappier and reading on it, especially comics with its retina display, is a delight.
I’m pretty sure TheExHusband and I do not have a normal divorced relationship, considering how much he’s been by my side through all of my foibles. But we were so integral to each other’s lives for so long, just disconnecting altogether would feel wrong.
My mania pitched this morning. It may be partially due to my intake of Lamictal, which is slowly being upped to 400mg and should be stabilized in the next few weeks. It could also be due to the pot of coffee I’ve had today. I swear, I didn’t feel manic when I woke up this morning and I even went to bed at a reasonable hour with zero problems sleeping! I have been so energetic this afternoon that we went on a walk because I’m even annoying myself. Of course the walk had to have a purpose – to get a waffle cone of chocolate sorbet. Huzzah!
I’ve been interested in tracking my sugars, not because I’m diabetic or even close, but I read a recent article in WaPo that it isn’t exercise or cutting fats that will allow you to lose weight, but cutting sugars. I’ve had success in the past when I’ve been diligent with calories, so cutting those along with watching my sugars seems a natural way to go with changing my eating. It is also bikini season.
The author, a doctor, uses reports and studies to back up his findings, and hell, who couldn’t do better with a more normalized diet? As a starter, I started documenting my food intake today in which the only meals I have had is brunch and a snack, yet I have already consumed 125% of my sugar allowance. Obviously the sorbet didn’t help. So there is that. (And if you’re one of those people, you can find me on MyFitnessPal as biblyotheke. You can also find me on FitBit if you do a search for byvalkyrie@facebook dot com.)
Eurovision was Saturday, which TheExHusband and I watched live. The best way to explain it is American Idol on super speed but with 40ish countries competing instead of 12 hopeful contestants. The pageantry, costumes, and kitschy national pride is what sets it apart from just about anything else. Don’t believe me? Here is a quick recap of all the contestants from 2014.
Rising like a phoenix,
xoxo,
Lisa
Tag: TheExHusband
2771.7/divorce
Dear Internet,
The last few weeks have been jammed pack with excitement and drama, so let me catch you up.
Epic Trip
Couple of weeks ago, Kristin and I drove from Michigan to DC to see Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit. But to add even more excitement to the trip, we drove up to Connecticut to take care of my stuff in storage, got caught in a mini-blizzard and ended up crashing at TheBassist’s house, then the following morning we drove to New Jersey to see our friend Val. Then we came home. The epicness of this? We did this over five days.
If that wasn’t enough, I was home less than 24 hours before I drove to Kentucky for a job interview at a $museum and came home that weekend.
Over the course of 13 days, I drove 2771.7 miles. I am not leaving the house unless I have a REALLY compelling reason.
Next week I’m flying (thank fuck) to the east coast for an in-person interview with $college, which will be my second interview with them. Fingers crossed.
Then I come back in time to head to Chicago with Kristin, again, for our yearly mecca to C2E2. She scored us a photo op with Jason Momoa, so if you never hear from me again, you know why.
The Case
While I was in Kentucky, our retraction of #teamharpy statements went live and a few days later, I posted the essential case facts to get everyone up to speed. I know I said that I wasn’t going to comment on it, but I think what happened after the retraction is fascinating. Namely,
- No one reads or listens. After the plaintiff publicly accepted the retraction and asked for people to stop trolling so that we can move on to heal, after I wrote a follow-up to the retraction explaining the outcome in curt facts and posted it publicly with permission for others to copy it to their sites, speculation and trolling are running rampant. Within the librarian community, on larger community sites, even after the “this is what happened” post went live, people are still running their mouths on what they think they know. Only those involved in the case know, but suddenly everyone is an expert on Canadian law and apparently received their JD by sending in two box tops and a dollar. It’s just fascinating how the mob just turns even when those involved are like, listen here are the facts that we can provide you.
- Nearly everyone is a troll I wasn’t privy to the trolling of the plaintiff, but allegedly it was bad. #teamharpy was trolled on a pretty regular basis, and I know that got worse with time. Once the case settled, the trolling of everyone involved boomed through the roof. It wasn’t just librarians in our online communities, but nearly every MRA and GG realsie and sock puppet accounts. Here are some of the examples:
I RT’d most of the threats, abuse, and harassment I received. People were shocked, but, having known that regardless of how the case was going to end up this was going to happen, I am not.
If you’re curious to the extent of the harassment, here is a complete list of every tweet about #teamharpy archived.
The trolling wasn’t just about online comments, but attacks on my life. EPbaB had several hundred malicious exploits attempted, which were blocked by TSTBEH as an example.
- Safe spaces are slowly becoming unicorns I know a lot of people are working tirelessly to end this, and this is not disregard their work (and I am not being passive aggressive here — just so we’re clear), but (isn’t there always), a lot of folks told me privately they don’t feel safe coming forward if they have been harassed by someone, regardless of who and where, in any manner. It didn’t matter how the case ended up, the backlash by humanity at large is still forcing those who are oppressed, suffering, and etc., to not move forward. We’re being stripped of our humanity, even as I write this, because if you put forward your voice on $x, there are those who will denounce you and silence you until you are metaphorically beaten. I’m not even referring to the case, but being a woman in general, my voice has been silenced in lots of ways because I’m willing to show the world that I am human.
- Support comes in unexpected ways Thank you to everyone who came forward with hugs, kindness, and public support during this crazy time. You are very much appreciated and beloved.
The Divorce
As of March 31, 2015, the divorce is now final. TSTBEH is now going to be referred to as TEH. It was a bittersweet moment in court, even more so after seeing those who went before me. I cried last night, threw up this morning, but handled it pretty well. Thankfully. TEH and I are still very close and amicable, so as it was said to me today, I am very lucky that this pain is not going to be so much anger as it is heartache.
Now how have I been feeling? Surprisingly pretty zen. Accepting how things were going to be (the case, the divorce) and what to expect in the realm of emotions, I’ve been doing pretty good at keeping myself together. I haven’t had any breakdowns in the last month (other than some anxiety which is typical for me regardless of the bipolar) and that is also to say, when I have had breakdowns they have been less frequent and much shorter time span than before.
Here’s to moving forward.
xoxo,
Lisa
marsupial
Dear Internet,
Apologies if I’ve been silent lately — a lot has been happening on the Lisa-front. TSTBEH came up for a visit, sign his share of the divorce papers, and help me recuperate from my minor surgery that same week. He made me dinners, stocked up my pantry, did the dishes, laundry, and was basically at my beck and call.
Why am I divorcing him again?
The surgery was to marsupialize the Bartholin cyst, which is the gland that helps with lubrication and is conveniently located in the vagina, near the lips. In the last six months, I’ve had to have the gland drained twice and it still keeps coming back. The surgery consists of flipping the gland inside out and sewing it back. The surgery was painful, and I was out of commission for a few days. After that time, it was difficult to sit down for long periods of time in certain positions and when a few days later I went to my first spin class, OH BOY. Was that a good time. (Not.)
This week I’ve signed my share of the divorce papers and in the next few weeks, I go to court to make it official. With the house sold and now this, two of the big three things happening in my life will be complete.
On the case front, which I can’t say much about, things are progressing and hopefully at some point, that too will soon be closed.
So things are finally coming up Lisa! Which, after the last 12 months, is a relief.
My latest tattoo:
Tomorrow, I start my tour of the east coast again. Kristin and I are driving to DC to see Angela Lansbury at the National Theater and then it’s up to CT so I can meet the movers to get my shit shipped to TSTBEH (I’m giving him my furniture and in April I will go down to his place to sort through my shit), then on to Jerz to see Val, then back to Michigan. We’re doing this over five days.
Don’t call me on Monday, for I will be dead.
xoxo,
Lisa
the end of the affair
Dear Internet,
I wrote the below on September 9, 2014, a week after TSTBEH and I had split up. What I was so sure then has changed dramatically over the months that what I’m so sure of now doesn’t look like below.
But if you’re curious as to the demise of a marriage and why, here is where you begin.
I’m sleeping on the couch we bought for $3K and imported from Italy, which is doing a fine job of jacking up my back and hips. I thought after decades of being poor and making less than $12K a year, the trappings of having a big girl job and disposable income would cure most of my ills. Because that is how it works. You get your degrees and your post-new-American Dream life, and your world comes easy. Because NOW you have money.
Except, they forget to tell you your friends find it awkward to hang out with you in your fancy house (or you lose friends because now that you’re “successful” you apparently wipe your ass with $100 bills). The same friends who were with you when you were poor, ditched you when you’re rich. The same friends whom after you announce your seperation, with the exception of 2, did not offer you any kind of help.
That your soon to be ex-husband wouldn’t take a vacation or go on vacation with you since your honeymoon 4.5 years prior because it would eat into his aggressive plan for retirement savings. And if you can only hold out 15 more years! We can live in Europe — that’s what is really important. We do not live for today, but for 15 years hence.
The same person who stopped having sex with you two years after you got together because they had already been down that road before, so why bother? Then claimed to be asexual, then told you you could have lovers on the side but knew you wouldn’t because you wanted the big love, not the casual fling. (But through all of this, still found it appropriate to touch you in a sexual manner and was, teehee, just joking and really Lisa, we’re both just too fat to have sex.)
But on paper, everything was grand! You were walking around with 0 balance $30K in credit in your purse, driving a $40K car, and owned two properties in beyond desirable locations. And so what if your husband wouldn’t fuck you, or go out with you, or meet your friends, or who told you after you tell them you are getting sued for standing for what you believe in, “Oh fuck, we’re going to lose the house!” OR a myriad of other things — life could be a lot worse.
I had big love 9 years ago and it went away. I swore to myself I would never go without again or settle. But I compromised and settled. Because we’re adults and that’s what you do. Big love is for Romeo and Juliet, not aging alternative hipsters. Then big love came back, with book in hand, and quietly tells you it’s only been you all this time.
There was never anyone else but you. And you know this is true because you’ve found big love’s notes, piling up for years, across the internet. Searching for you. Waiting for you, for when you’re ready. Figure your life out, big love says, and come to me when you’re ready.
xoxo,
Lisa
This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2014, 2012, 2010, 2003, 1999
vine/shuffle/jumping jack/hook
Dear Internet,
When I came up with ThePlan, part of the mind/body connection was to get in shape. I’ve been in shape on and off for years, but after being laid up for nearly 18 months from my surgery a few years ago, the in shape part has thrown me ever so far for a loop.
Doing ThePlan has been a massive struggle. I’ve started out strong, fall back, start out strong again, and fallen back again. I’ve made huge mistakes and have claimed some small victories, but it’s been hard to really gauge how I’m doing. I know the bipolar is a mess, even with the drugs it’s been so sporadic, I’ve often wondered if my best bet is to put myself into a psychiatric hospital. But then I’m not really sure what it will do for me outside of what I’m doing now, which is drugs and talk therapy. I am so desperate to have some kind of stability to get me moving forward that I’m willing to do just about anything to grab at it.
I do not want to be at the head space I was late in 2014. Never ever.
So many people are upset/angry/disappointed in me right now, that normally I would find myself begging for forgiveness. With some of them, I have. But the most important thing is to get my head and body into some semblance of stability so I don’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again.
Which is why I was at a 6AM kickboxing class this morning.
I have been walking the track at the local Y every morning this week, and meditating, even on the days when I felt like I could barely get out of bed. Yesterday morning was particularly bad as I felt like even doing my 8 laps around the inside track was going to do me in. Even having heart raising pop music to make it fun, wasn’t doing it for me. When I got home, my brain was on such fire, I planted my hands on the kitchen sink, huffing cold air via the open window to calm me down.
And like a switch, it’s off again and I start to feel better. I’m sure the Klonopin helped.
The issue with me is that for most of the time, I present as high functioning (as well as a medical curiosity). I’ve been able to accomplish a lot in my life that most bipolars cannot: I’ve finished school, not once but thrice. I’ve had long term relationships. I’ve held down jobs. I’m not on drugs and I’m not promiscuous (two massive bipolar traits).
But it’s a struggle. It’s all a struggle to do these things and stay on the golden path. I’m not sure where I get the strength to push myself forward, but it’s there and it’s real. I’ve grown up with having little or no support for this disease and the only person I could count on is myself. Even those who are close to me, who have given me support and understanding, can only do so much.
I have to continue to save myself. No one else can do this for me. At times, I’ve been wholly naive to think they could, but they can’t. I’m going to go forward and I’m going to fuck up again. But I have to recognize, really recognize, that I am human and I’m bound to make mistakes. The goal, then, is to catch myself during these mistakes and right them before they get out of hand.
Throw in my other conditions (borderline personality disorder, anxiety, ADHD), and I’ve got a delightful cocktail of fire happening in my brain.
TSTBEH recently finished my book and found it weird and insightful. Weird because he was there during that year in San Francisco, my love, and insightful because he was able to judge me then versus me now. Then I was careless, an asshole, out of control, and financially unstable. I’ve made extraordinary strides not to be that person and he did comment on that. I’m much more able discern when the crazy is coming and how to do some kind of self-care, even when it feels like I’ve fallen off the wagon. But there are a lot of patterns still being repeated, that I’m continually self-sabotaging my own happiness by believing that external things will make me happy (which, to be fair, I’ve discovered they actually do not). That I don’t allow myself to take pleasure in the small things or accomplishments (woo! I have three degrees! Who’d see that coming?).
I can do a lot of things.
Some have called this site nothing but navel gazing, which to be honest, it is. This site is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it is my own form of talk therapy and a curse because it has all of memories from it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Most of all, it’s a crucial reminder of my own humanity.
I’m not asking anyone for forgiveness. I’m not asking anyone to stand by me, but what I am asking is that you understand. You understand that for me, daily existence is a struggle. That for what some of you seem like simple tasks, for me are sometimes monumental journeys.
But I can taste the joy. I’ve seen it and I’ve felt it, the closest I’ve come in a very long time, if ever. Working towards that joy, no matter what methods I use, is my new drug.
I hope to be addicted for a very long time.
xoxo,
Lisa
sunshine / eye cancer
Dear Internet,
The weather in the greater Toronto area on my way to the airport this morning matched my mood: cold, grey, and snowy. There is no party like a lisa-pity party, and I am the queen of the revelling.
Back in the winter of 2010, when TSTBEH and I were living in a hotel for a few weeks while waiting to hear about whether or not we had Throbbing Manor, a piece of fluff landed in my eye. I could feel its prickliness in my eye socket and I could not, for the life of me, get it out. I took out my contacts, drowned my eyes in saline solution, and I still could not dislodge the fluff.
By this point, I started to become hysterical and nothing could calm me down. The fluff went from being fluff to my own convincing I had eye cancer. TSTBEH could not calm me down, even after several great examinations revealed nothing, I was convinced I was dying, or at the best, would lose an eye. TSTBEH forced me to take a Klonopin and within 20 minutes I was snoozing on the bed, calm for all the world to see.
I tell this story with great relish, and TSTBEH and I laugh at my own monstrosity of thinking I was dying. That’s how panic attacks work, in a nutshell, where something as innocuous as a piece of fluff in my eye speeds up within nanoseconds to be a death threat.
My world is always ending.
Last night was a night that rivaled eye cancer to the point where I called TSTBEH from Toronto hysterically crying. My world had crashed, again, and I had no one to hold me. No one to pet me. No one to make the pain go away. TSTBEH, not one to miss a beat, had me sing the 12 days of pugmas, to the tune of 12 days of Christmas, inserting the word pug for the items. E.g. On the first day of pugmas, my true love gave me to me, a pug in a pear tree. From one to twelve, I sang the entire song between hiccups and the odd crying, which finally calmed me down. I was hung over from all the Klonopin I had taken that week, so that was out of the question.
I was sitting in my seat, head pressed against the inside hull of plane, thinking about all of these things and lots more. The last week had been beyond emotional draining. I couldn’t cry anymore, couldn’t think anymore, and I had no idea where my life was going to go.
The plane speeds up and I love the feel of gravity pushing me back into my seat. This is how emotional flight feels; the pull of my stomach back that feels like I’m being manipulated by a puppeteer. I have no control over the emotional flight just as I have no control over the real one. I just let it go.
As we climb through the clouds, beyond the snow, my face began to feel hot. I cracked an eye open and saw the sun, shining so bright and clear, I had forgotten the feel of warmth against my skin.
I realised then, something that I’ve always known but had misplaced, that even when the sky is cloudy, that above the clouds the sun is always shining.
xoxo,
Lisa
So Long, and Thanks for all the Pizza Crust (Part III)
Dear Internet,
Today marks the one year deathversiary of our beloved pug, Wednesday. In requiem, upon her death, TSTBEH wrote a series of vignettes detailing her life. Below is the next chapter in her life story.
Previously: Wednesday is born, she fights with Leonidas, and she becomes king of the yews. She then has questionable business acumen, hoards grain, and writes the instant classic, Pug and Pugjudice.
In the early 20th century, Wednesday took her fortunes to America. She quickly became enamored with aviation. As the first few generations of aircraft evolved, pilots were competing for a wide array of speed and distance records. Wednesday set her sights higher. In 1932, she would be the first pug to fly solo across the Atlantic ocean.
“I figured that I had one enormous advantage over the other pilots,” she said during a 1995 appearance on Die Harald Schmidt Show. “I’m a pug, I only weigh 20 pounds. Less weight means less fuel, which means I can fly further than my non-pug competition. After I completed the Atlantic flight, a lot of pilots came out of the woodwork to complain about my weight advantage. I told them to ‘Shove it where the pug don’t shine.’ I never bitched about their fancy opposable thumbs, or the fact that they are only toting around two nipples, I have eight nipples for chrissakes! EIGHT! Do you have any idea what it is like to have eight itchy nipples at the same time, with no thumbs to aid in the scratching? It ain’t pleasant.”
After conquering the skies, Wednesday became an international sensation. Her new found celebrity opened up many opportunities in Hollywood. Wednesday ditched the flying game for the life of a movie actress.
Wednesday adopted the stage name Puglores del Rio. Early in her career she had bit parts in several B movies. While she hat yet to find much theatrical success, she did have a lot of success courting famous young bachelors. She embarked on a four year relationship with Orson Wells, which was detailed (gratuitously) in Welles memoir Three years in del Rio.
“I just want to make sure you understand my book title, Three years in del Rio.” Welles said for a New Yorker feature, “by saying ‘in del Rio’ I’m referring to penetration. So basically, I’m making it clear that I hit that shit for three years. I blew that pussssay up, there was nothing left by the time I was done. It was like Hiroshima….Are you going to eat those peas? No? May I also assume that your fish fingers are also available?”
Wednesday finally enjoyed big screen success in 1943, starring in Journey into Fear with Joseph Cotten.
The film was a commercial success, but mostly for the wrong reasons. Controversy arose when Wednesday appeared in cat face during several scenes in the film.
“The portrayal of Feline Americans in Journey into Fear does nothing but perpetuate the demeaning stereotypes that Feline Americans have struggled against for decades. They reinforce the oppressive dogtriarchy that is pervasive through our society,” said famed feline rights advocate Purrrrsephone Yarnball in an op-ed for The Dallas Morning News.
This was the end of Puglores del Rio. Wednesday retired from acting after Journey into Fear. She reflected on her acting career in the memoir, A Lost Pug in Hollywood. “I never considered that I could hurt anyone by acting. I thought I had chosen a profession that could only bring joy and contemplation to all of mammal kind. I am sincerely sorry to any Feline Americans that I have offended with my performance.”
The cat face controversy compelled Wednesday to join the fight for feline equality. She was a featured speaker at the million cat march and she fought tirelessly for feline marriage equality.
xoxo,
Lisa
daily entry: January 28, 2015
Dear Internet,
Interestingly, the top posts on this site are either HOW TOs (whether about librarianship, packing, or whatever) and raw posts about an uncomfortable subject. With that in mind, and as part of ThePlan, I put together a list of things I need to do everyday, no matter how benign. Some I’ve been lackadaisical on, such as meditation, but others such as a single self-affirmation have been in play since I’ve been here.
One thing I wanted to do during this period was two fold: start a series of rituals I would do everyday to create a stable infrastructure and then journal about my day later. I need to see how I’m keeping time and if I need to either add or remove more structure.
To that end, I decided to keep the journal public, so hopefully these will be daily occurrences. This will not replace my usual written vomit on my feelings, but will supplement them.
- Morning ritual: Wake up, use the facilities, pop contacts in, take drugs, turn kettle on for tea, figure out breakfast. While the kettle is heating up, fill last nights Bopple and also the humidifier. With tea and breakfast in hand, check email, Facebook, Twitter. Respond as necessary.
- Today was divorce court day and there was a chance we would not have to go, but turns out we are. Get dressed (black fleece tights, grey skirt, chambray button down, black tshirt over the button down, brown ankle boots). I showered the night before so all I had to do was fluff hair, put on makeup, and clothes.
- Hilarious story: The fleece tights didn’t stay up the last time I wore them, so I assumed it was because of the fabric of the dress I was wearing and that I was actually wearing underwear beneath them (I typically go commando in tights). Test drove them again around the apartment before leaving for court and they were staying up just fine. Except. Except. They started to fall as I was leaving court and by the time I got home, they were below my ass, taking my skirt with it. Good thing I was wearing a long coat.
- Head to divorce court, meet lawyer. Turns out the referee agreed we didn’t have to meet but didn’t bother telling anyone, my or TSTBEH’s lawyers. Divorce lawyer and I talk about future steps (mediation, which will be easy peasy since TSTBEH and I are incredibly amicable about this whole process).
- Head home and depant.
- The rest of day flowed kind together. I worked on book #2 for awhile, read on marketing and promoting as an indie author; cleaned up and submitted a short story (and submitted a short story the day before as well). Applied for volunteer work at GRAM in their library. Eat lunch and dinner. Watched TV for awhile.
- I ordered my print proof for my book! YAY!
- Prepped for bed: refilled humidifier, grab Bopple for the night, take contacts off and wash fash; use the facilities, turn all the lights off, and hit the hay.
The second reason for this daily journal is also to let those I talk to daily via the intertubes is that I’m doing okay. I’m always talking or texting someone whether it is TSTBEH, TheBassist, Krazy Kate, or a host of other people. I don’t feel alone and I definitely don’t feel lonely. Sure I have bouts here and there, but most of that comes from the overwhelming sense of the enormity of the situation.
I lead a quiet life and I don’t miss the drama filled Lisa from July – December.
At all.
(Let us thank the drugs for that one.)
xoxo,
Lisa
This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2011
State of the Lisa Address
Dear Internet,
TSTBEH and TheBassist have been very concerned about my state of well being now that I’m living alone. Others have also expressed concern so it seemed like a good idea to do an update.
I’ve been busy every day with errands since I’ve been here, so I’m getting out of the house. Today is the first day in over a week I don’t have plans or errands to run so I decided that I’m going to couch all day watching Father Brown, and we all know I have a thing for crime solving priests.
I had a meeting with my business accountant on Saturday and he’s suggesting it would be far easier for me to get a co-working space rather than trying to build out a home office (as you’ll see in a moment, there is no space for me to build out a home office). My talking therapist, Dr. P., is encouraging me to not do home workouts but head to the gym. Originally I was going to sign up for yoga at a local place that Bethums have scouted out for me, but I have to go to the Y so I can get walking AND swimming thrown into the mix.
Those two things are on my agenda this week.
Mentally, I’ve been okay. Thursday night I started crying because the enormity of the situation has finally taken its toll. The tears didn’t last long but knowing I was here alone, without two people who care about me the most. I have friends here, close friends, but it’s not the same.
The interesting thing is that I’ve not been getting myself in knots about any of the messes I’ve gotten myself into. And for that, I am grateful.
I saw my GP last week and she’s upped my dosage of Lamictal, so instead of 25mg three times a day, I’m now taking 50mg in the morning and 25mg in the afternoon, and another 25mg in the evening along with 10mg of Abilify. The ability to feel rational and not overwhelmed emotionally has been fabulous. So far, this has been the best bipolar cocktail I’ve ever been on. If this is what “normal” feels like, I’ll take it.
I’ve been on this particular cocktail since November and this is the longest I’ve felt stable. I had some of the cracks starting to show about three weeks ago which signified that the drugs were starting not to work, which is why I went off to see my GP. I have an appointment with a medicating therapist in February to for her to manage my scripts and see about possibly getting on ADHD drugs (again).
Creatively and productively, I’ve been feeling good. When I’m home, I’ve been working on my book(s) almost none stop. I think I’ve calculated I’ve spent 50-60 hours in designing the cover, editing, and more. Working on the print version has taught me a lot about book design and formatting; I have made numerous mistakes getting it just right but instead of getting super frustrated, I kept chugging along. Hence I know the drugs are working.
Last week I had an interview for an entry level IT position for a local corporate company here in GR. This was approved by everyone (TheBassist, TSTBEH, Dr. P.) because it would get me out of the house, interact with humans, and plus make some extra scratch. My budget right now is super tight but this would give me some breathing room.
With my name being dragged in mud due to the lawsuit, in addition to changing my last name, I’m looking at changing careers. It’s been over a decade since I held a pure IT job, so this look like a good entry point and the money isn’t bad.
The first interviewer said this is the first time in his career he’s interviewed a person with a double master’s for the position. No one asked me with my education and background, WHY I applied until it was time to ask questions of the interviewers. Eight candidates are interviewing for three positions.
So the apartment. Here is a tour.
The building was built in 1870 and was used as a hospital in the area and pre-dates other hospitals in Grand Rapids. There are five apartments, which are cobbled together from patient rooms. Though my apartment is #2, #10 and #9 are on my doors. The buzzer doesn’t work and I will have to make arrangements for shipping items, but all and all, the front of the building is gorgeous.
The apartment is only 600sqft but it’s cozy enough for my needs. All the mouldings, floors, and appointments are original to the house. The transom windows are adorable but the landlord leaves the lights on in the hallway so light is always shining through the living and bed rooms.
The apartment faces north and west, so I don’t get early morning sun. Even when it’s sunny out, I have to keep the lights on at all times.
Most of the furniture and accoutrements are from Throbbing Manor, what TSTBEH didn’t want or was going to sell to consignment, so it worked out. The couch, bed, and TV were bought specifically for the apartment. When I move out, TSTBEH is going to take some of the furniture (mainly the TV, bed, and possible one or two pieces of furniture) for Throbbing Cabin, which works out for both of us.
Interesting, neither of us miss Throbbing Manor. Nearly four years and we don’t miss it one bit.
The kitchen is tiny, there is no getting around that bit. The oven temperature gauge doesn’t work (yes, I know. Go buy a manual one) and the stove is a bit sketchy. Thankfully, I am a grazer which means my meals are simple and not overly complicated. If I need something more substantial, I have instant meals (soups, frozen, packet Indian, etc) at my disposal. I was planning on crockpotting meals and freezing them but I haven’t bought a crockpot yet but that is on the list of things to do.
The bedroom is basic and does its job. Teddy enjoys it very much.
I’ve started getting into rituals, which after the last seven months, have been a godsend. I get up in the morning, use the bathroom. Contacts get put in; slippers found and slipped on. I turn the kettle on for tea and refill the humidifier so I don’t strangle myself in my sleep from the dry air. Breakfast is procured and then I check email, Facebook, and Twitter.
I plan the rest of my day, which typically includes appointments and errands. I get dressed and do what I need to do; come home and depant. Then I do the household things and once those are done, work. Work on my writing, work on my books, work on myself.
It’s a quiet life. No drama. After the last seven months, it’s a welcome relief.
xoxo,
Lisa
here I am, don’t tread on me (have a banana)
Dear Internet,
Can I just tell you I find it a leetle bit hilarious that I’m wearing my Captain Canada tshirt while wearing Agent Carter’s lipstick today? Consider I was crying over my breakfast earlier about not having had my teddy bear in almost a month, well, any bit of laughter is better than none.
TSTBEH and I have concluded my drugs need to be adjusted, but it is going to be some time before I can see my mediating therapist (about a month). I see my GP in the week following of my arrival back to GR, but she will most likely just renew what I have and not make adjustments. Thus, I need to keep it together for another month. While I know I can, here’s to future epistles on navel gazing from yours truly. Oh. Joy.
I’m not all over the place like I was before the drugs, thank fuck, but the cracks are definitely showing through and it’s making me feel uncomfortable. Mainly, I feel unmotivated, listless, and tired all the time. To prove how tired my body thinks it is, the other day I had 1.2L of hot coffee, a glass of iced coffee, two venti coffees while we ran errands, and I still fell asleep watching TV later that afternoon. With that much caffeine pulsing through my system, one would think I would be wired and bouncing off the ceilings.
One would be wrong.
I haven’t worked on my line edits for TLC project in awhile (I will regret this, I know) but I have been working on another bit of the project and one pattern emerging from my work is that all of my existential crisis’ start in the fall and go through winter. Every major break-up, bold moves, and the like always happened during the fall/winter months. TSTBEH pointed out that part of his depression was ruled by the lack of Vitamin D in his system, which he now supplements with pills and he suggested, and I agreed, that I should get my Vitamin D levels also checked to see if I’m having the same issues. This was also, incidentally, brought up with TheBassist shortly before TSTBEH suggested the testing. As both men present as physical depressives, I surmise they may be on to something.
Bearing in mind I’ve cut off all contact with TheBassist (which coupled with #teamharpy business meant I deactivated my primary Facebook account and started a secondary, non-Bassist filled, one using my potential new legal name), TSTBEH pointed out I should cut off all contact with him in addition to TheBassist. I heartedly agreed because what was right for one must be right for the other. TheBassist was aghast that I wanted to do this self-care work alone while TSTBEH is in fact encouraging it, but with trepidation. Both men feel that my being alone could be problematic in that I could get wrapped into some kind of manic cycle, and I see their point. But the fact and truth remains I need to pull a Gabor and fix me before committing to anything or one.
Even with all of this going on, in my head and in my heart, I am over the moon about my apartment and my things (hellllooo teddy). My stuff. My garbage. My shit. My dirty laundry. I’m excited about laying about in my own filth and not having the worry that I am impeding on someone’s time. I’m thrilled that all of what entitles this sojourn will be laid on me and me alone, that any decisions or processes I require can be forged by me and me alone.
So even when I’m crying for TheBassist, or pining for TSTBEH, or in desperate need of a kiss that will never come, I will do all of this in the luxury of my own place.
xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. Today’s title comes from the now defunct radio show, Cabin Pressure.
This Day In Lisa-Universe: 2014