Burning of the Soul

I haven't written in almost a month.  I was doing really well, and everything seemed to be going fine, and then I fell apart again.

You see, guinea pigs are expensive.  6 guinea pigs cost about $250 a month to feed when you add up the hay, pellets, and fresh veggies they need.  We couldn't afford that anymore.  So we made the difficult decision to give them up.  That's when I fell apart again.  I told my therapist, I can't keep having psychotic breakdowns everytime something bad happens in life.  That's no way to live. 

We gave the guinea pigs up to one of the best adoption centers in the Northeastern US.  Within 2 days all 6 girls had been adopted.  I have mixed feelings.  I am glad that they will have the nutrition that they need.  I am glad they will have someone to love them the way I couldn't when I got depressed.  I'm glad they will have someone to clean out their cages instead of me who could just not keep up.  I am also relieved that I no longer have that responsibility.  But I am broken-hearted.  I loved them, all 6 of them, with their own individual personalities.  My husband and I have cried on and off for weeks.

But the truth is, we had to stop being selfish, and do what was in their best interest. 

Now I don't know where I'm at.  I'm feeling depressed for sure.  But I'm not sleeping.  I have nightmares and stress dreams.  I am awake or half awake most of the night.  Then during the day I can barely keep my eyes open.  I am still having hallucinations, though they aren't as bad as before.  A few weeks ago, I heard the Devil singing Christmas Carols on the way home from a brunch with my in-laws. 

Today, I felt like painting.  But I didn't want to paint a landscape, or a happy picture.  I painted a self-portrait, with fire for hair, and blood for tears, pouring down my face.  Am I in danger?  No.  Am I sad?  Yes.  But I am not going to hurt myself.  I have expressed my pain creatively.  I perhaps have scared all my friends, but they will soon forget about the strange painting their strange friend did.  They always do. 

There is so much going on.  I don't know how I can present as "normal" when my mind feels like it's tearing itself apart at times.  I have found some good distractions.  I saw Star Wars.  I'm reading Carrie Fisher's book Shockaholic.  I am going to read some of Wil Wheaton;s work, and Jenny Lawson's book Furiously Happy, next. 

I will be okay.  That's the important thing.  I am sad now, and as much as I hate the saying (I want to punch the people who say it), this will pass. 

I have survived 100% of my worst days. 

Symptoms Vs Side Effects, the Pros and Cons of Latuda

I have finally found a pill that takes away the night terrors, the delusions, tames the magical thinking, makes me more aware that my thoughts are just altered because of my illness, not that they are real and everyone is out to get me.  I am not so afraid of the dark.  The magic pill is called Latuda.  The magic dosage is 120mg.

But.  There's always a but.  I can't drink.  Well that's nothing new, I can't drink with most of my other pills.  I am sleepy or drowsy 24/7.  If I lay down I will be asleep in 5 minutes.  Answer to that?  Don't lie down.  I gained weight.  This is perhaps because I have to eat 350 calories with my Lautda dose.  That's not much in the grand scheme of things, but my appetite overall has increased.  Ugh.  Answer to that?  Exercise more. 

The answers may sound simple, but well, frankly, aren't.  I can go without drinking for the most part.  I cheat every now and then, which causes me terrible anxiety that I'm going to die in my sleep, so I don't sleep.  Hmmm....  Being sleepy all the time is a problem because I fall asleep a lot.  I also sleep well at night, so if I nap in the day, it's not keeping me up at night.  I fall asleep in the car on the way to and from doctor's appointments (don't worry I am not driving).  But I find if I have to be out and doing something to focus my energy on, like errands, I can do them.  So while I'm not sure I could hold a 40 hour a week job, it seems probable now, not impossible. 

And then there's eating.  Latuda itself does not cause weight gain.  But if you don't take it with 350 calories or more, it doesn't get absorbed properly and I get nauseous.  It's amazing how few doctor's know this, and I have to educate them.  Like when they put me on a liquid diet and I'm like, "Excuse me...but how do I get 350 calories on a liquid diet once a day?"  So why am I gaining weight?  I think it makes me hungrier.  And I think I'm eating more than 350 calories with it, because I'm afraid of getting nauseated.  I haven't gained a huge amount, but enough for me to keep an eye on.

So exercise more.  Ugh.  There are about 1,000,000 reasons to do it, and I have about 500 excuses not to.  I'm not going to list them.  Everyone tells me to exercise more.  I just have to suck it up and do it. 

So cost vs benefit analysis.  Do I want to live in fear, or do I want to live with side effects? 

I'm going to go with the side effects.  Unless I get Type 2 diebetes or high blood pressure that can't be treated, I'm staying with the 120mg of Latuda. 

DBT Skills And A Haircut

I used my DBT skills in a dream I had a few nights ago.  I dreamed that someone told me my mother died, and I was in a mall, so I began shoving people out of the way angrily and tearing down the escalator to jump into a fountain.  A DBT skill for when you're at the moment of crisis when you just can't handle your feelings, is to stick your face in cold water for 30 seconds.  Sounds weird, right?  Well, it works.  Something to do with making your body thinking you're drowning and it physically calms you down.  I was all set to share my dream with my DBT group, until my medical transportation company couldn't get their act together and get me to my group.  I will have to wait until next week to share.

Today I cut my hair off.  To explain why would sound crazy, so I won't try and explain.  Suffice it to say, I had black and gold hair a year and a half ago to support the Bruins, which in fact, only cursed them because they sucked after I did it.  I haven't dyed it in a year, so I had about 5 inches of silver and the rest was faded black and blond, about 10 inches of it. So I cut off all the hair dye.  My husband was not amused.  The plan had been to grow it out until it reached my waist.  But I had to do it.  Again, I can't explain the rationale without coming across as "crazy", so I won't try.  My mother is going to even it out next time I see her in a few weeks.

I had individual therapy today.  It was a good session.  Talked about loose ends not being tied up.

I lsiten to music 24/7 while I'm home.  Not sure if I've already shared that.  I can't not have music playing.  I have a Jenn's Greatest Hits Playlist in iTunes that is literally over 1.2 days long.  Distraction is a DBT skill.  Music helps keep me sane.  It drives my husband insane, but he bears it with patience and love.  I also now have 2 candles burning during the day. One is Evergreen Spruce, and the other is Pumpkin Spice.  I get the generic (cheap) candles at Walmart.  That DBT skill is called Self-soothing.

I feel like I should send the link for this blog to the Psychologist who runs my DBT group.  He would be thrilled to know I am using my skills.

Here's a picture of my long hair prior to being cut, and a picture of it post-hack.  I might add, I am only 35.  Gray/white hair is genetic.  I expcet to be completely white-haired in 5 years, just like my grandmother.

#PrayForParis #PrayForPeace

Even one death is too many.  Now they are reporting over 150.  It is terrifying, but that's the point isn't it?  The terrorists are trying to create terror by definition.  I pray for those in Paris, for those souls lost, and for those families affected.

So now what?  Does France join in the War on ISIS?  First they will have to determine it was in fact ISIS who carried out these attacks.  In fact, France could already be involved in the War on ISIS, I don't follow along in International Affairs as much as I should.

All I do know is that Twitter and Facebook, and I'm assuming all social media, has lit up with supportive words for Paris.  The Red Cross has a link set up to raise money to help those affected.  Facebook has activated their Safety Check App for France.  Twitter is using the hashtag #PorteOuverte to help people find shelter from the streets.  People are tweeting the phone numbers of embassies.

But people need to remember, that what this will lead to should be a war on Terrorism and not on Islam.  Many Muslims believe in peace.  Not in the same radical ideals that these terrorists believe in, which make many Americans believe is the face of Islam.  A few weeks ago, in Burlington, MA, a Boston suburb not too far from where I live, two teenagers vandalized a Mosque.  Instead of coming out and condemning the attacks, the leaders of this Islamic religious center invited people of all faiths and backgrounds to come and paint positive messages on the building.  Messages of peace.  I might not have the details of the story, but that's the general idea.  And yet these two 18 year olds will not be charged with a hate crime.  I think that is the crime.

What do we do in a time of Terror?  We hold those we love close to us and tell them we love them.  We pray for those in the line of fire and those affected.  We offer support where we can.

Self-Doubt Cannot Win

The trick is to not internalize.

My day started out okay.  I had DBT group this morning, bright and early.  I found out that a member of my group, who also has a blog, has 8,000 followers!  Holy shit!  She is like 15 years younger than me, and also write about mental illness amonst other things.  How did she get such a following?  I want to ask her?  Damn, I want to read her blog, but I don't know her last name, or even how to spell her first name.

Next was coffee with my father at Dunkin Donuts.  We talked about my Mental illness and symptoms.  He asked me a lot of questions as though he didn't believe my diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder.  He thought that my hallucinations might be dreams.  I adamantly insisted they were not, nor were they tricks of light.  They are very real and terrifying.  I gave an example of a psychotic delusion I had as a child, and he just said that could be the result of a weird child.  Sigh.  I pointed out that was one of many, and I was only willing to give one example at that time.

I also told him I didn't think my grandfather liked me.  Everytime I call, he hands the phone off to my grandfather.  Every time I see him, he asks when I'm going to go back to work.  Last time I attempted to work, I was convinced the customers were sent by the government to push me to the limit so I would crack and they would lock me up again.  I vomited in front of customers because I was so anxious.  My dad explained that I present as "normal", which is why people are easily confused that I suffer from mental illness.  I explained that I spent my whole life desperately trying to fit in and appear normal so that I wouldn't stand out.  None of my other friends would run away and hide behind bushes every time a car or pedestrian passed by the house, so I learned to stop doing it, even though in my head I would be terrified that I was about to be murdered.

I think I reached some kind of understanding with my father.

I came home and did some writing.  I spent some time talking to people on Facebook.  I wrote some emails.

Then I was filled with Self-doubt.  I don't know where it came from.  A combination of things.  An email I got, I internalized too much, my Facebook notifications weren't working and I thought no one was "liking" my pictures that I shared about Veteran's Day.  It turned out that Chrome was having a seizure so I closed it and reopened it and I had 8 notifications waiting for me.

I feel better now.  I just need to remember not to internalize everything.  It's hard to remember that I am not that important, which is hard, because of some of my more paranoid delusions.

Anyway, I want to conclude this post by saying thank you to all the Veteran's of all the wars, who fought for this country, and who fought for the Allies in the World Wars, which included my family.  I can't thank you enough for your bravery.  Without you I would have no freedom.

Baby Steps

7 Weeks ago, I fell to pieces.  My therapist and my psychiatrist wanted me to do a Partial Hospitalization Program.  I resisted with all my might.  Eventually they told me either I did the Program or they were going to Section 12 me (force me in-patient).  I agreed to do the Program.

I wasn't sure how on earth I was going to commit to getting up every morning and stying in groups for apporoximately 5 hours every day.  I have agoraphobia and sometimes the idea of leaving the apartment is just terrifying.  But I did it.  And over the last 3 weeks, I've had structure and socialization.

Today I graduated from the Program.  Now I am trying to get into a Day Program in Downtown Lowell.  I think this Program lasts 4-6 weeks.  I want to keep the structure and socialization going.  Then I want to start volunteering somewhere.  Maybe just a few hours at first, but slowly building up to a few hours a day several times a week.

It seemed impossible to commit to one day.  Now I'm thinking about giving my life some meaning again.  But I don't want to get too far ahead of myself.  Take it one day at a time.  Baby Steps.

"I have survived 100% of my worst days"

I learned a lot in the program, but I'm not going to write about it because of the Anonymity and confidentiality of the Program.

Is 5 Years A Lot These Days?

Today is my 5 year wedding anniversary.  It is my first marriage, and really my first long term relationship.  But I'm not sure that's the norm these days.  I know some of my High School classmates are like me and waited until their 30's to get married, so they too are in the early years of marriage.  Then there are some High School Classmates who have married and are divorced, but I think there aren't many of those.  And there are more still who married in their 20's, have children, but have experienced the "downs" in the ups and downs of marriage.  Not to say they aren't good marriages, just normal marriages.

I haven't, in my 5 years, experienced the "downs" of a marriage yet.  We're still in the newlywed "marriage is great!" stage.  Sure we argue and get mad and yell.  But only once have we gone to bed angry.  After we get angry, we take a few minutes, calm down, and have a discussion.  I hope we can continue this process for a long time.

I'm not sure what most marriages are like.  On Facebook, no one ever talks about their marriage, except on occasion to say how fantastic it is.  And on TV and in the movies, on Tabloids and in the media, marriage life is so distorted it can't possibly be "normal."

So I've decided that 5 years is great, but not to worry about making it to 10 years, but just to take it day by day.  Take life day by day.  Because that's all we have, today.

Family Is So Important

Tomorrow is my 5 year wedding anniversary.  I am very happy in my marriage and very blessed to have found such an amazing supportive spouse.  Today I am also reminded of how much family support means to me, whether it be far off family in California and Canada, or family right here in my state.

I have learned in life that not everyone has what I have.  Many people don't have loving families, so I just want to tell my family, I love you.  And I hope that those who don't have a biological family who loves them, can create their own family by finding a person or people to share their life with and build on.

This summer I'm going to have a new sister, as my brother is getting married.  I am very excited and since I love weddings, it is especially exciting!  She has essentially been a part of the family for years anyway, since she has been dating my brother, but also because she is my sister-in-law's best friend!  She did my manicure and pedicure for me the night before my wedding.  Which was exactly 5 years ago, almost to the minute!

I am sitting here typing, listening to some new music, mixed in with my favorite music.  It has been a good day, and I am happy to end it on a positive note.

Desperate To Connect

I think I wrote something like 7 Facebook status updates, 3 posts on people's timelines, and multiple comments today.  I need to connect with people.  I am desperate to connect with people.  Ideally I would like to connect with people who are going through similar stuff that I am going through, so I sent an email to my Schizoaffective email group.  So far, no response.  I would love to talk to people from my Partial Hospital Program, but no one there wants to communicate with me outside the program.  Which is okay.  I mean we're not really supposed to hang out until we've finished the program so that people don't feel left out.  People do, and of course I feel left out.  I would love to connect on Facebook with some of them, but I can't because of the whole anonymity of the program.  No one knows anyone's last name.  But there are a few people who I wish I could be friends with afterwards.

I need friends who have my symptoms.  Or at least understand them.  I don't know how to find friends that do.  I don't need to hang out with them.  I don't hang out with anyone.  But to chat with online, or maybe...maybe text with.  I don't know about that.  I wish I had someone to call when the cameras are on and the world is watching, when the rays are boring into my head, reading my thoughts and broadcasting them to the world.  When the tall broad-shouldered man comes into the apartment with his heavy footsteps and his flashlight, to kill me.  Every night.

I don't feel safe.  Not in my apartment, not in my Therapist's office, not anywhere.  Not because I'm going to hurt myself, but because I feel exposed.

I'm told these are "delusions", and hallucinations.  But these are only the tip of the iceberg, or so I'm told.  I'm not going to say any more because I have to protect my privacy.  But it makes it pretty damn hard to function normally.  I can give the appearance of "normal".  I've perfected it since I first experienced "delusions" when I was about 7.  Over the years I learned to act like everyone else and I thought my thoughts were "normal."  It's only recently that I discovered they weren't.

Sure people think they're jinxes and certain superstitions can cause their teams to lose.  It is literally ALWAYS my fault when the Bruins, Pats, Maple Leafs, Blue Jays, Red Sox, Kings lose.  It's my fault the Blue Jays aren't going to the World Series.  I can't explain why.  I just know it.

Is this TMI?  Of course.  Do you know I take it personally when people don't like or comment on my posts?  I think it's part of a conspiracy to puch me to the breaking point?  I think people have blocked my posts.  Anyway, my brother's going to be pissed that I shared so much.  He's trying to teach me to filter my thoughts before I post them.  Sorry R, but Crazy Jenn is in charge tonight!

Short Blip Of A Post

I haven't written in over a week because my mind has been too chaotic.  It's still pretty chaotic.

I am spending my days in a Partial Hospital Program.  It provides structure, group therapy, coping skills, and socialization.  It is a safe place.  I am getting a lot out of it.

I don't like being lied to by my doctor's office.  I found out I was lied to by one of the 24/7 clinicians.  She told me one thing, then called the ER I was going to and told them something else.  It was not cool.

The Bruins have started off the season really badly.  I hope it gets better.  Tuukka is just not performing at his best.

Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving!

In a few minutes, it will be Monday.  Here where I live, most people will be celebrating Columbus Day, or as some more enlightened communities in the US are calling it, Indigenous People's Day.  But Over the border to our North, it is Thanksgiving.  And since my mother was born and raised there, this is the big holiday my family celebrates every year.  My siblings and their spouses and children, and my mom's closest friends, gather in my mom's apartment, and eat a traditional Thanksgiving meal with all the fixings.  She usually makes something like 20 pies.  This year she had to cut it back to 12.  I think we'll manage.

If you're read my posts over the last few weeks, you'll know I haven't been doing too well.  I was starting to feel better last week, but alas, my mood and psychosis are out of control.  So I'm telling myself, just make it through Thanksgiving with my family, then figure out necessary treatment options.  I haven't seen some of my family in 2 years, because last year we were unable to attend.  And this year I will be meeting my nephew for the first time.  He was born in January, but without a car, I've never met him.

Tuesday morning, first thing, I have an appointment with my Nurse Psychiatrist.  We will talk about my unmanageable symptoms and figure out how to move forward.

So what am I thankful for in such a time of desolation and insanity (I may sound sane while writing this, but I assure you, my hallucinations and beliefs are bad right now)?  I am of course thankful for my family.  Every weekend, either my mother or my step-father, drives up 20+ miles to where we live to take us grocery shopping and to run errands.  I am immensely thankful for that.  I am thankful for the friends and family on Facebook who offer support even when they don't always know what to say or how to deal with me.  I am thankful for my health insurance and Health Care Team, who make sure I am taken care of.  I am thankful for my loving husband who has stood by me through the good times and the bad times.

But most importantly, I am thankful for my life.  I may not always value it.  And I may not always think I want it.  But truth be told, I am grateful for the chance to live my life on this planet, however long I may be here.

Rest In Peace Gary And Jenn

I need to talk.  To anybody.  3 weeks ago I lied to one of my friends about who I was having lunch with.  I knew he would disapprove and when he started asking questions, I panicked and started telling more lies.  Not one of my best moments.  I went to lunch.  The next day my friend of 15 years asked how the lunch went.  I admitted I had lunch with someone from my past who I had lied about.  My friend then accused me of going in the hopes of having an affair to spice up my boring life.  I said that wasn't true and my friend called me a liar.  I said that if he couldn't believe me when I told the truth I had nothing more to say to him.  I said good-bye, he said good-bye, and we hung up.

The next two weeks I went through a very severe depression and couldn't deal with this fight with my friend.  A few days ago I started feeling better.  So last night I wrote a very long email, apologizing for lying and stating what wasn't going right in our friendship, and offering solutions as to how to fix it, so I wouldn't feel the need to lie anymore, because normally, I don't lie.  I sent it last night at about 6:45 pm.  I still hadn't heard anything by about 11pm so I sent a text, "I sent you an email.  Did you get it?"  Because sometimes he doesn't check his personal email. 

This morning I woke up and found I had a text message from him.  "I did.  I'm done.  Good-bye meant good-bye.  I hope you get the help you need and can learn to live a meaningful life."

That's it.  15 years, gone.  He was my boss for 7 years.  He was my friend for longer.  I helped him through his divorce.  I saw the pictures the Private Investigator took of his wife with her lover at a restaurant.  I listened to Drops of Jupiter with him and listened to him talked about how it related to his wife.  I saw him shed tears for his marriage.  And he helped me.  He helped me through the breakup of my first adult relationship.  He helped me through the ups and downs of undiagnosed mental illnesses.  He believed in me, promoted me, taught me, mentored me.  I worked my ass off to please him.

Yes I even had a crush on him for years.  It made it hard to work for him because I knew that he didn't feel the same way.  But I couldn't leave.  I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing him every weekday.  And then the layoff happened.  We were both let go, although they kept extending him.  We would have lunch once a week until I got another job.  For years we would talk on the phone. 

We would play pool, both at work and outside of work.  People at our company even thought we were dating just because of our closeness and how we interacted.  We were friends.  And he was essentially my best friend. 

And now?  Now it's over.  No more weekly phone calls. Nothing.  I am left to mourn a relationship that had turned toxic in the last two years.  With him always putting me down, calling me lazy, calling me a teenager at least 20 times a conversation.  He didn't understand mental illness.  When he went through a depression over his divorce, he kept working, so he couldn't understand why I couldn't work through my illnesses.  It caused tension.  I would feel worse after talking to him.  I suppose it was only a matter of time.  But it still hurts.  Rest In Peace Gary and Jenn

From Bipolar To Schizoaffective Disorder

In 2010, my Psychiatrist, my PCP, my Psychologist, and a number of specialists, all met at my doctor's office to discuss treatment for me,  I don't know exactly what they talked about, but what came out of that meeting was to put me on Clozapine (Clozaril).  It is a drug that is only available at specially registered pharmacies and there is a national registry to be on it.  Once a week, the patient is required to have blood work done to check Complete Blood Counts.  I didn't know much about the drug, but agreed to try it.  I was on it for several months.  My husband and I call it the Zombie Drug.  I would sleep 20-23 hours a day.  I ignored phone calls, friends, family.  I missed therapy appointments and was eventually dropped by my therapist.  Then I lost my health insurance.  I stopped taking it.

This last weekend I decided to google the drug.  It is used to treat severe schizophrenia.  This confused me because I don't have schizophrenia.  I asked my nurse psychiatrist about it on Monday,  She said that they most likely put me on it because I was having severe psychotic symptoms.  Today when I saw her, I worked up enough courage to ask her what my official diagnosis was.  For the last ten years, I had been told I was Bipolar.  I've been identifying as Bipolar.

She told me, I had Schizoaffective Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia, and PTSD.

Holy shit.  I just sat there in shock for a minute.  It turned out my previous Psychiatrist had diagnosed me as such years ago, but neglected to tell me.  That's why they put me on Clozapine.

For those unaware of Schizoaffective Disorder, it's like a cross between Schizophrenia and either Bipolar or Depression.  For more information, check out this link:

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/schizoaffective-disorder/basics/definition/con-20029221

So now here I sit.  Desperate to talk to someone, but unsure what to say.  I have therapy tomorrow.  I'll have to talk it out then.

The weird thing is that it fits.  I'm not questioning the diagnosis.  I just wish someone had bothered to inform me.

Minute By Minute

People talk about getting through one day at a time when feeling depressed or going through a rough time.  But when Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Psychosis, etc. take over, you're living minute by minute, just trying to survive one minute at a time.  That's where I'm at.  When I'm hallucinating, even a second lasts a lifetime.  A week ago I had one of the most frightening visual hallucinations of my life.  I'm not going to share it, as my psych team thinks it is trauma related.

My delusions, paranoia, and magical thinking are back.  Again, my psych team thinks this has been triggered by multiple stressful events that took place over the course of the last 3 weeks.  I have been taking all my medications, and going to all my therapy appointments.  But it's not enough.  I have engaged in self destructive behavior.  So I have finally agreed to a Partial Hospitalization Program.  My intake appointment isn't scheduled for another 10 days, which is the soonest they could get me in.  I just have to try and hang on until then.

The other option, is of course, in-patient hospitalization, which my psych team has also been telling me to consider.  I don't want to do it for a number of reasons.  They almost always change medications, which is not necessary as these episodes were triggered by outside events.  There's no therapy in-patient.  And there's nothing to do.  It's a lot like prison.  On top of all that, my husband can't really manage on his own.  He can't feed himself because he can't cook, not even pasta, and I manage his medications for him (though he has figured out his medications in the past).

The biggest fear I have with going in-patient is where they will send me.  Most psychiatric facilities are okay (though none can rival McLean's, minus the food), but I am terrified I will end up at Baldpate, which is a substance abuse facility.  It's good for people who have substance abuse problems and dual diagnosis, but they don't have a program for non-substance abuse patients.  I was sent there because it was literally the only bed in the entire Eastern Massachusetts.  I was forced to go to AA 4 times a day.  I faked getting better just to be released.  4 days later I was admitted to McLean's to get treatment specific to my illnesses.

I'm putting a lot out here, and maybe I shouldn't, but if you're like me, and you're really struggling almost every minute of every day, get help.  If you don't have help, call a helpline.  I have a mother who cares about me and I have a very supportive husband, who is doing the best he can to keep me safe, while undergoing his own stress.

I get asked a lot why I can't work.  There are even times I feel normal enough to work.  I go on interviews and I even get jobs occasionally.  I worked at iRobot for a week before the anxiety set in and I got so sick to my stomach repeatedly that I was sent to the ER and then admitted inpatient while they ran tests.  They did discover I had physical gastro problems, like gastroparesis, and possible Celiac Disease, but I think the anxiety was what triggered the getting sick.  The same thing happened at CVS.  When I started vomiting in front of customers, I knew I couldn't handle it, even such an easy job.  And that's when I would feel "normal".  Times like these would cost me my job if I had one.  I was laid off from Millennium for my deteriorating mental health, though they'll never admit that.

It actually is very hard to talk about this because people feel uncomfortable, helpless, and don't know what to say.  I'm not looking for advice, I have my psych team for that.  All I want is words of support, which a bunch of friends have already given me.  It feels very lonely and isolating.  And I just want the pain to go away.

When You Can't Go Back

You've come too far, there's no turning back.  You can't stray from your road no matter how much you may want to.  It's time to let go.  Like Frodo said as he entered Shelob's Cave, "I can't go back."

The wheels are in motion.  It may hurt for awhile, but in the end it must be this way.  "It is the only way."

I have done all I can do.  If you love something, then set it free.

Sometimes There Are No Words

I have to do something on Monday.  I feel it is time.  I am looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.  I have had a tumultuous couple of weeks and they are finally coming to a close.  I have realized that someone whom I thought was bad is actually good, and someone I've looked up to for a very long time, is actually quite toxic.  It's time I said goodbye to both.

I saw my mother today.  She brought us pet food and took us grocery shopping.  She also brought me something that I asked for, something I haven't seen in about 6 years.

In my Freshman year of High School I took Art.  One of the projects was to take a block of clay and turn it into a head.  While everyone else was making aliens and monsters, I just made a man's head.  I made him crying.  Then I hollowed out the inside, and the art teacher put it in the oven for firing.  A few weeks later we got them back and I painted my man purple, except for a single silver tear escaping his left eye.  It has survived these 20 years, and I hope it survives the next 20.

A few years after I made the purple head, I made two more clay heads on my own.  I made a bust og Garak, the Cardassian from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and a Ferengi.  I couldn't fire them in an oven, so I let them air dry.  Eventually I painted the Ferengi.  They only lasted about 6 years before they were knocked off a wobbly bookcase and shattered on the floor.  One day perhaps I will recreate them.

Love Our Wedding Photos!

We were so lucky when it came to our wedding pictures.  We had a great photographer to start with, but the timing was just amazing.  The big day was October 30th 2010, when there were no hurricanes and no blizzards.  There were still leaves on the trees but some leaves on the ground to make a pretty carpet.  We took our pictures on the Waltham City Common and I am very happy how they came out.  Here's a small sample.

My God, It's 2am Already

Where has the time gone?  My husband and I have had a long day and I would have thought we'd have gone to bed early.  Yet both of us are still awake and on our computers.  I have taken my nighttime meds and can feel them kicking in, so I will be going to bed shortly.

I have a lot on my mind.  My grandmother is giving away her belongings, bit by bit.  Last time it was her photographs.  This time it was valuable family heirlooms.  She told me I could sell them but I told her that I wanted to keep them.  It makes me sad to think that she feels like she's near the end of her life.  She is 94, and I know she's tired.  But she and I are close and I'm a selfish creature.  I don't want her to suffer (I don't think she is) but at the same time, I don't want her to go yet either.

My computer is running especially slow.  I'm not sure why as I freed up about 20GB on it in preparation for Windows 10, which I still have not received.  I cannot get a new computer this year like I planned either, because I have to pay old excise tax that I forgot about, before I can renew my license, which needs to be renewed in January.  So there goes all my Christmas and Birthday money.
I updated my LinkedIn Profile to include a sample of my artwork.  I had to edit out the really crappy ones and the ones of people with no clothes on.  Oh well.

Time for bed.

Moving On

I share too much.  On this blog.  On the phone.  In person.  On Facebook.  I can't seem to help it, it's like I have poor judgment.  But it's almost always about myself.  When I do share things about other people, I don't mention names.  I try to mention names on this blog anyway because it's public.  I wish I hadn't set it up so my real name was attached to it, but I can't figure out how to change it without disconnecting it to my google account.

I'm learning about my past and myself this week.  I'm finally getting answers to questions I've had for 20 years.  I will finally be able to begin the healing process.  I've been hurting over something that happened when I was a teenager, and I have got to move past this, because no matter how hard I've tried, I haven't been successful in letting go.

My husband had surgery on Monday.  He had his gall bladder removed.  The surgeon said in addition to having gall stones, the gall bladder was really inflamed and ot was a good thing he had it out when he did.  It has been causing him pain for months now, and his first attack was over two years ago.  Until yesterday, he was in a huge amount of pain.  Today he is doing much better.

Gluten Free

I have been feeling depressed the last week (see yesterday's post) and today I just felt like my professional supports are against me.  I know that's just the depression talking, so I'm trying to move on from that feeling.

My PCP wants me to try a Gluten Free diet.  She said at this point, it's worth a try.  I will have to wait until next month to start though, because I have spent most of our Food Stamp money for the month on regular groceries.  I will miss a lot of my favorite foods, but if it works, my digestive system will be happier.  It's worth a try.

Depression Hurts

The funny thing about depression, it sneaks up on you and before you know it, you're over your head.  I've been having a lot of trouble with my sleep patterns which is wreaking havoc on my ability to take medications on time, and my mental state.  Some nights I sleep too long, other nights I only get a few hours of sleep.  So I'm trying to go to bed early every day, and waking up early every day.  I have to be up early a few times a week for appointments so it's easier to maintain consistency if I do it this way.

But now I just feel lousy.  My husband's surgery is only a few days away, and while I know it is routine with low risk, it still gives me some anxiety.  But that's not the worst of it.  I just feel lost.  Like I have fallen off the path of life.  Forgotten, alone.

All people get down, but not everyone knows what it's like to have depression take over.  I have some friends who don't understand mental illness at all.  One friend went through a depression during his divorce, but he still understands nothing about it.  It's hard when people tell me to get up and get a job.  Or even volunteer somewhere.  It seems like such a monumental task.  Impossible even.

I'm not lazy.  But I get called lazy.

Life is hard.  I get that.  And I know this feeling will pass and I will feel normal again.  At least, as normal as I ever feel.  I just really need support right now.  I have professional supports in place, but I've lost touch with so many of my social supports.

3:00 AM Labor Day Musings

It is a little after 3:00 am on Labor Day.  I think about many things on this cool morning.  A heat wave is coming in a day, I'll have to keep a close watch on the piggies.  I don't like the heat.  I prefer the cool of Autumn.  I don't even mind Winter so much, as long as I'm not waiting at the bus stop for over an hour as I did last Winter.  I'm looking forward to wearing my sweater dresses again.

I'm thinking about Eliot, the kitten that the Wheaton's were fostering but decided to keep.  Such a cute and affectionate kitten.  One of the people in my guinea pig Facebook group just got a new kitten and shared a picture of her guinea pig licking the kitten.  I don't need any more pets, but I like to imagine getting a kitten or a dog to cuddle.  My guinea pigs are good to cuddle with and they are very therapeutic to hold.  Penny, Bernie, and Amy are almost 4 years old.  I hope they have a lot of life left in them.

Life is so precious.  I think everyone deserves some shot at happiness.  It makes me sad to think about how lonely my husband's life was before we met.  I was lonely and I had a few close friends and many friends.  I was missing something.  Something I found when I fell in love with my husband.  I wish everyone could find that something.

I hate Labor Day sales.  No one should have to work on Labor Day.  Especially those who work in retail.  It's like the stores that open on Thanksgiving so people can shop Black Thursday sales.  It just doesn't seem right.

Soon it will be hockey season again.  I hope against hope that this new Bruins team will be up to the challenge.

The Misadventures of Visiting The Doctor Part 1,075

Why is going to the doctor's office so hard?

I have to go to my doctor's office, which is a huge office building with 35 specialties housed inside, at least 3 times every week.  I have Individual Therapy, Group DBT Therapy, and Physical Therapy for my knee.  I also have appointments with my psychopharmacologist every 4 weeks or so.  I see my Orthopedist every 6 weeks, which will be changing.  And I have other appointments as they come up.

My Physical Therapy for my knee is going nowhere.  My muscles are strong but the pain persists.  So I saw my Orthopedist on Wednesday and she ordered an MRI and set me up with an Ortho surgeon.  Not that I will have to have surgery, but because he is a specialist.  After I saw my Orthopedist, I had PT, but she said that there was no point in continuing until we had the results of the MRI.  So I managed to schedule the MRI for Tuesday.  I have a condition in my knee where the knee cap doesn't sit on the knee where it's supposed to.  It's supposed to be fixed by strengthening the muscles in the thigh, which I have done.

On Wednesday I had DBT, Ortho appointment, and PT, like I said.  I showed up for DBT and there was a meeting going on in the conference room.  When the therapist who runs DBT showed up and told them that we had the room, they claimed it wasn't booked, to which he responded it was booked every Wednesday.  So we had to go to a different conference room as they had entrenched themselves.  DBT ran 3 minutes late.  I rush down to Orthopedics to discover that they had taken the person whose appointment was after mine, before me.  I was like WTH, I have PT at 10.  She finally comes in at 10, examines me, orders an MRI, and sends me to PT where I've missed half the appointment.  Grrr.

Come on people, it's all the same company, with all the same computer programs and scheduling system.

It wouldn't be so bad if I had my own car, but I have to have at least 24 hours notice of a doctor's appointment to set up medical transportation.  If I wake up with a fever of 103F, amongst other symptoms, I can't just go to the doctor's office.  I have to wait a day. Or call 911 and go to the ER.

A Day of Remembrance, The Day The British Rose Died

I remember it quite well.  I was sitting in the sunroom where we lived on Wachusett Ave in Arlington Heights while my mom was finishing up her Jane Fonda aerobics video.  She shut off the VCR and before she could shut off the TV, we heard the News anchor cut in that Princess Diana had died.  My mom froze and I got off the couch, moving closer to the TV.  I don't remember what the information was at the time other than she had been in a car accident and had died after being in surgery for 4 hours in a Paris hospital.  It was after midnight our time.  My mom called out, "They killed her!"  I'm not sure who she meant.  The royal family?  The paparazzi?

It's been 18 years, and still, every August 30th and 31st, the media drags out the story.  As if Prince William and Prince Harry needed a reminder that this is when their mother died.  She was 36.  I am 35.  That's just scary.  Of course, she married young and had children young, so the idea that she had two young teens at my age is possible, even though I can't imagine it.

I read an article on People.com this week about her and why she went to Paris with Dodi.  They didn't portray him very well, and said that Diana wasn't serious about him.  That she never would have entered something serious without consideration of how it affected her two boys.  Well, they got that part right at least.  If only she had worn a seatbelt.  If only the driver hadn't been drunk.  If only the paparazzi weren't chasing them.  If only...

My First Panic Attack

In 8th Grade I was the Set Director for the School Musical, a family friendly version of Once Upon A Mattress.  As a gift for all my hard work, I was given a Cast t-shirt with the title "Set Director" scrolled on the back.  I loved it.  It made me feel so special.

I was leaving school late on one of the last days of school, and I started walking across the upper field to take the path through the woods, which was actually forbidden because apparently drug deals took place in the woods there, but I was tired and it was the fastest way home.  I had gotten maybe ten feet onto the field when I saw a massive dog, a mutt that must have been at least part Saint Bernard.  It saw me and began galloping towards me.  I made the fatal mistake of taking a step back.  It took that as a sign I was going to fight, or something.  It reached forward and grabbed my precious shirt with its mouth, tearing it.  Then it lunged forward again, this time sinking it's teeth into my left thigh, just above my knee.

By this time the owner (dogwalker?) had caught up and grabbed the dog by the collar, pulling it away and smacking it on the head.  She asked me if I wanted to come over to her house to get cleaned up.  No way in hell was I going anywhere with that beast from Hell.  I shook my head, unable to talk.  Here's what I should have done.  I should have turned around and gone back into the school.  I should have asked if the monster was current on all its shots.  But I didn't.

I walked as fast as I could across the field and up through the trees.  I couldn't breathe.  I got to the top.  I would never make it home without breathing.  I thought about turning left and going to Sam Thrope's house.  But what if he wasn't home?  I'd never met his parents.  And I couldn't breathe.  The world was spinning.  I had to get home.  I crossed Gray Street and stumbled onto Oakland Ave.  Maybe I could knock on someone's door and they would let me call my mother.  I couldn't breathe.  How could I talk.  I got to Park Ave.  I was almost home.  I began to breathe.  The monster was far behind.  It wasn't following me.  A few more blocks and I was home.  I told my mother what had happened and she called 911.

The police officer showed up a short time later.  He got angry with me when I told him I didn't think to ask if it had been vaccinated for rabies.  I tried to explain that I couldn't talk, couldn't think.  He told us they would look for the dog, but in the meantime, I would have to get rabies shots.  The officer left and my mother called Harvard Vanguard, which back then was still Harvard Community Health Plan or Harvard Pilgrim, something like that.  They told my mother they could squeeze me in and I wouldn't have to go to the ER.

Upon arrival at my Pediatrician's Office, she informed me that rabies shots no longer had to be delivered in the stomach.  However, the first one would need to be delivered in the bite itself and one in the butt.  Then every other week for eight weeks in the arm.  She put the needle in the bite and couldn't get all the liquid in, so she took it out partway, re-positioned it, and put it back in.  It hurt.  I was so embarrassed about the shot in my butt.  It was my first that I remember.

The Police and my mom looked for the dog, but the owner must have changed where she took the dog because she did not return to that field for the next few weeks.  I got my shots.  Years later, I saw the dog in a different part of Arlington Heights.  I started to panic until I saw it was on a leash.  I was on my way to High School and just kept walking.  I never saw the dog after that.

Whatever Happened To The Victoria's Secret I Used To Know And Love?

This blogpost is about Classic Lingerie.  If that makes you blush, perhaps you should move on.

Whatever happened to the Victoria's Secret I used to know and love?  I haven't been able to fit into their clothing in like 15 years but for fun, I thought I'd take a stroll down memory lane.  I used to wear these satin bras and matching panty sets, and I had some satin nightgowns.  I went to the website and was appalled.  They no longer carry the bras I used to wear.  Nothing even close.  So I move on to the sexy sleepwear.  Whoa!  A little too sexy for me!  I like the classic slip like style, but these were all lace and slits and peekabo this and that.  Which is totally fine if you're looking for a sexy romp with your significant other.  But when I shopped at Victoria's Secret, I was in High School.  Now, they have the PINK line intended for college students, which is a little more toned down.  But I want to know what happened to the classic basic sexy looks.  Did they go out of style?  Or did Victoria's Secret go in a completely different direction in the last 15 years?

I suppose 15 years is a long time.  It's hard to find bras that make a plus size woman feel sexy.  I get all of mine at Lane Bryant's Cacique shop.  They're not satin, but they fit well, they look good, and usually they come in fun colors.  The price can vary depending on the style and the deal at the time.  But I've looked at other places and not only are the bras completely ugly, but they cost an arm and a leg!

As for sleep wear, I get my PJ pants at Walmart for $8 a pop and wear it with a $3 tank top.  Why waste money on a $50 sleep set from a department store?  I wish I could find a fun satin nightgown to wear in the summer (not a sexy one, I like satin for the way it feels)  but I can't find one that isn't skanky.  Or affordable.

A Simple Day

Last night I was so tired I shut my computer down, took my pills, and shut off my lamp at 8:30 pm.  By 9 pm I was asleep.  After such a long day yesterday, it was most welcome.

Today is Thursday.  I had no doctor's appointments to go to, nobody scheduled to come by my apartment.  I could just stay home and relax.  I did some dishes.  I got my husband breakfast.  Soon I'll make us dinner.

Tomorrow I have to schedule our medical transportation for next week.  The cleaners are coming sometime in the late morning.  I have to figure out how I'm going to get groceries for the next week when I don't get Foodstamps til Tuesday and my mom can't really come up on Tuesday.

Oh, and my husband has to get an EKG done at the hospital before his surgery, so we have to figure out if he can take medical transport for that or if we need to take the bus.

I need to renew my paintings for sale on Etsy, but I think I might wait to do that.  It's not like they're hot ticket items.

This weekend the MSPCA is waiving adoption fees for all adult cats over 1 year old.  I know I can't afford a cat, and a cat would probably kill the guinea pigs, but they are cute still, and one day I would like a cat.

An Early Start To The Day

Today the alarm went off at 6:45.  I hit snooze and fell back asleep.  8 minutes later it angrily went off again.  I grumbled and woke my husband up and we got dressed.  My ride on Wednesday mornings has been known to show up as early as 7:20 so I wanted to be sure we were ready.  We got dressed and headed outside to wait by 7:25.  When the ride hadn't shown up by 7:45, I called the transportation company and was told that they were told my appointment was at 10:30 with a return time of 10:30 which makes no sense.  We went back inside, it being clear we were going to miss our 3 appointments.  At 8:00 I called my insurance company who said, yes they recorded the time as an 8:30 appointment, but yes, they told the transportation company 10:30.  I said thanks for nothing and told them that if I got charged for missing the appointments, they were going to call and get it sorted out.

A lovely start to my day.

I checked my email and went on Twitter and Facebook as I always do.  A reporter and photographer were shot live on television this morning in Virginia.  That's just awful.

Today is Chris Pine's 35th birthday.  I had no idea he was my age.  I don't know if I thought he was older or younger.  It's also Melissa McCarthy's birthday.  Her new line of clothing is coming out soon.  It includes plus sizes, but it's incredibly expensive!

Oh, and it's National Dog Day!  So if you've got a dog, give him or her an extra special hug today!  I saw a Dachshund at the MSPCA Nevins Farms location that is really cute.  He's four years old but needs a little training in his behavior.  Hmmm.  We can't get a dog anyway, but boy is he cute!

Tales of Gall Bladders Gone

About 13 or 14 years ago, my friend Courtney called me up on a Saturday morning and said she didn't feel well, could I drive her to Urgent Care in Somerville?  I said of course I would and off we went.  While at Urgent Care she was sick to her stomach and it was green.  The doctor she saw suspected it might be her gall bladder, so off we went to Mount Auburn Hospital to the Emergency Department in Cambridge.  Sure enough she had a "sickly" gall bladder and would have to have emergency surgery the next morning to remove it.  We called her family but they wouldn't be able to get there until after the surgery so I said I would be back first thing in the morning and would be there until her family arrived.  I did just that.

Then in 2005 I began to have abdominal pain, nothing like anything I had experienced before.  I went to the ER, also Mount Auburn, and they told me I had Gall Stones.  The attack passed and I was set up with a surgeon by my doctor to have my gall bladder removed.  The Saturday before the scheduled Surgery, I woke up at about 4:30 am and called my mother to take me to the ER as I was in too much pain to drive myself.  I got there and the pain was so bad I was screaming.  They shot me up with more pain medicine while my mom looked on helplessly.  Then my dad showed up at about 8 am as my mom had called him.  I apologized for waking him up so early on a Saturday.  He said he had already been up.  Then he told me that my step-mother's mother had passed away that morning.  I cried in my drugged out state, as she was a very nice, kind lady.  The next morning I had emergency surgery.  Courtney came to visit and ended up driving me home.  We had to go to two different CVS's because the first 24 hour CVS was out of Percocet.  I got home at about 1 am.

Two years ago my husband had horrible abdominal pain.  I took him to Newton Wellesley Hospital.  They did a CT Scan and sure enough, found Gall stones.  The attack wasn't severe enough for them to do emergency surgery so we followed up with his PCP.  He wanted my husband to go see a surgeon but with my husband working, and the expensive copays and parking at the hospital, we never really got around to it.  The last several months he has been having mild to moderate abdominal pain with some nausea, so we went to our new PCP and she ordered an ultrasound.  Sure enough he still had gall stones.  So today we saw a surgeon and in 3 weeks he is getting his gall bladder removed.

A Typical Saturday

Today is Saturday, my day for running errands.  My step-father has been taking us mostly because my mom has needed to do schoolwork as she was a teacher.  Well she's retired now, so she's going to start taking us, but today my step-father took us.  We went tot he Burlington Mall first.  Two weeks ago I dropped off my engagement ring at the jewelry store because I had smacked my hand against something and bent a prong.  The ring has six prongs, so the diamond didn't fall out (thank God), but I didn't want to take any chances.  So the ring was ready and I picked it up today.  Then at a different jewelry store we picked up my husband's wedding band which had been resized.  He went down a whole ring size which is great!  We're not really sure how he's losing weight, but it's great that he is.  The best thing about all of this?  We didn't have to pay for any of it.  When we bought the jewelry, we bought the lifetime protection plan, for a fraction of the price resizing, redipping, and repairing is.  Which is quite handy.  I highly recommend it with any fine jewelry.

Then we went to Market Basket for a few items, CVS for a few items, and returned home.  We were only gone a couple of hours.  I put the milk and eggs in the fridge, and took the rats and mice out of the freezer to thaw so we can feed the snakes tonight.

When my mom starts to drive us, she's going to take us during the week so the stores won't be so crowded.  We will have to co-ordinate that with doctor's appointments and such.  It gets overwhelming, having 3-4 appointments a week.  I'm not going back to the dentist to get my last 3 fillings until I'm done with physical therapy because it's just two many appointments a week and I'm burnt out.  Maybe I can get my mom to take me to the dentist on a day she takes us out to run errands and then I won't have to take the bus.  That might make it more manageable.

It was supposed to be a rainy, stormy day here in Massachusetts, but so far it's just cloudy.  I could use a thunderstorm.  There was one yesterday morning.  The Natick Commuter Rail Station was under water.  I'm glad I don't need to commute through there.

We used my Handicap Placard today.  Jason's back was so bad he had to use his TENS machine and his cane.  If my ankle's not too bad, or if Jason's back isn't too bad, we don't use it, because exercise is good for us, but recently his back is so bad we need it all the time.

The Ghosts Of Old Loves Past

Where does fantasy end and cheating begin?  I write stories, fictional novels, in which a character loosely based on me goes through all sorts of adventures, but always falls in love with characters loosely based on hot celebrities.  Is that cheating?  I call it fantasy.

But what if the imagination starts thinking about scenarios involving real people from the past, people that one really knows.  Is that still fantasy?

I love my husband.  But that doesn't mean I can't have fond memories of my ex-boyfriends.  For instance, I will always remember one magical night of just walking through Quincy Market in Boston, hand in hand on a cold November night with my new boyfriend.  The Christmas lights were already up and it was just beautiful.  I think that memory is fresh in my mind because recently I've been talking to that ex-boyfriend's best friend on Facebook Chat, as we are now friends.  So naturally a lot of old memories and feelings have come up.  That doesn't mean I love my husband any less.  On the contrary, that ex-boyfriend couldn't handle my mental illness (at least I think that's why he dumped me), whereas my husband is patient with me, and helps me get the professional help I need.

I don't love anybody the way I love my husband, but there are a small handful of people who will always hold a special place in my heart.

Locked In Dream Land For 24 Hours

Dreams can be frightening and they can be stressful.  Sometimes I am trapped in them and forced to live out the horror.  I slept for nearly 24 hours the other night.  The dreams that followed were long and tedious, but some parts were especially bad or eerily prophetic.

Part of the dream involved two of my ex-boyfriends, Pat and James.  They were both kidnapped and bewitched by a coven of witches who made them invisible and impossible to touch.  I was frantically trying to save them as they were being raped.  Charming, eh?

I died twice in the 24 hour period, once by drowning and once by falling from the top of a staircase into a busy intersection.

I saw my elementary school crush, Pat Allen, whom I am friends with on Facebook, but seldom see updates on.  When I woke up, he had posted that he had been hit by a car while cycling.

I was in a movie which earned me an offer of a billion dollars from Universal Studios, so I called Hugh Laurie who invited me to India as his Valet.  He traveled in a China Cabinet.

The MBTA Trains were obsessed with me and kept chasing me.  Soon the City of Boston was a video game where you had to cross the train tracks of all the subway and commuter lines safely.

There were more bits, but they weren't very interesting.  I woke up, made chicken curry over brown rice, checked Facebook and email, and went back to sleep for 10 hours.  Pretty lame, eh?

University of Toronto, My First Mania

I went to the University of Toronto for a year.  I also got into University of Western Ontario and Northeastern University in Boston.  I picked U of T because it was in a big city, it was a big school (55,000 undergrads), and it was cheap with the US/Canadian exchange rate at the time.  Not to mention the fact it is a bloody great school.

I spent all of high school being shy.  I was depressed and lonely, and didn't know how to interact with people.  When I got to U of T, I was really alone.  My dad dropped me and my things off and left.  I spent the first night wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake.  The first morning I was there, I went to the co-ed bathroom for our floor.  Upon exiting the bathroom stall, I saw a young man brushing his teeth, which startled me, even though I knew it was co-ed.  He introduced himself as Amit, and he was the President of our house, Ferguson House.

My roommate showed up late that date.  She was from South Korea, I forget what her actual name was but her Anglicized named was Kristina.  I didn't realize I'd just met my worst enemy.

As Frosh Week started, we did things as a house and as a College.  I was in University College.  We marched through Downtown Toronto chanting things I can't remember, and we sat down in the busiest intersection in all of Toronto for one full traffic cycle, just to show how rebellious we were.  We also went to a Blue Jays game, and a Booze Cruise.  I met Kate, who was also on the first floor of Ferguson House, and she snuck me a Labatt Blue.  I was 18 and the drinking age in Ontario is 19.

I came out of my shell a little bit and was soon elected the person in charge of the Vacuum Key for Ferguson House, earning me the nickname, "Vacuum Jenn".  I became friends with Bruno, and his friend (who is now his wife) Jacqueline of a neighboring House, Jodi, Julie, Moti, Nick, Kate, and Heather.  Heather I met during Frosh week, I think.  We were eating across from each other and she had her hair covering one of her eyes.  As I got to know her I found out that she had an artificial eye.  She had her eye removed when she was a baby because it was cancerous.  She was an Art student.  I wish I could find her on Facebook, because I'd love to catch up with her, but I can't find her.  I can't find Kate either.  None of us can remember her last name.

As the year progressed, I got less and less sleep.  I wanted to go to bed somewhere between 10 and midnight, which is what I put on my roommate matching form.  Kristina however wanted to talk to her friends all night long on the phone.  I could not sleep.  I didn't realize it at the time, but another reason I couldn't sleep was because I was going manic.  Not just a little hypomanic, but full blown mania.  I thought I was above going to classes, that I could ace them without trying, I thought that I could drink as much as I wanted without any consequences, I spent my money as though there were no limits, I would go out clubbing and dance for hours without stopping.  I talked to EVERYONE.  I would drop by anyone's room if their door was open. I even befriended some of the jocks.  What were their names?  Povi, Andrew, and Patrick?  Now this may sound like typical college student behavior.  You know, first time without parents and such.  I thought I could fly I was so high.  I was lucky I didn't jump off any buildings.

In February, I brought Jodi home with me so she could see Boston.  I was a complete bitch.  If you're reading this Jodi, I'm really really sorry.  I think we went into Boston and Harvard Square once.  I was a bad host.  I was just really agitated.  I babysat the five boys I was a Nanny for in my Senior year of High School while I was home, while the 8 month pregnant mother went out.  Jodi and I had taken the bus.  18 hours of uncomfortable hell is the only way to describe it.  I was just walking into my dorm room with the phone ringing and I answered it.  It was something like midnight.  It was my mother to say that the baby was born and had died.  Katherine was her name and there would be a funeral in a few days.  Well I lost it.  I called my father and begged him to pay for an airplane flight home so I could go to the funeral.  He did after some convincing.  I flew home and the Philbins were so appreciative I was there.  And yes, it is the same Philbins as in Joe Philbin, the Miami Dolphins Head Coach.

That triggered the crash.  I fell from my mania into a pit of despair.  I started cutting myself and after awhile my friends noticed and told the Senior Don (head RA) who got me an appointment with a Psychiatrist the next morning.  I was put on medication and the Dean was notified, who notified my professors, who gave me extensions on my papers.  I squeaked by with grades ranging from C- to B+, which were actually pretty good since I never went to class and barely studied.

The biggest lesson I learned however from my time in Toronto was that Canadians do not like the U.S.  In fact they hate it.  And all I heard, non stop was how evil it was, and how stupid Americans are.  It wore me down and after a year, I decided, along with some health factors, that I did not want to go back.  I am still friends with Jacqueline, Bruno, Jodi, and sort of Julie and Moti, though I don't think they're on Facebook much.

Where To Find Friends?

I have a doctor's appointment at 8:20 am.  My ride is picking me up at 7:40 am.  It is 1:08 am.  If I go to sleep now, I will not wake up in time.  So I guess it's going to be an all-nighter.  My husband is on a backwards schedule.  He goes to bed when the sun rises and sleeps until 5 or 6 in the evening.  I usually go to bed at about 1 and sleep til 3.  I know, I know.  I sleep too much.  It's not healthy.  I get it.  But with all the pills I take it's hard to just sleep 8 hours.

I've been reading the "Strictly Platonic" ads on Craigslist, looking for friends.  Yes, that may seem sad, but all my friends live far away and we have no car.  But even though it says "strictly platonic" it's comprised mostly of horny men looking to hook up or have affairs.  I don't think they know the meaning of the word "platonic".  So since I'm not having any luck there, I'm looking on Meetup.com.  Most of the groups I would be interested in require a car or money, neither of which I have.  Maybe when I can finally afford to have a car, my husband and I can join one of the couples groups.  I saw one that looked like fun.

Tomorrow (later today?) I am seeing my High School Best Friend, the famous Shawn Boyle, MFA.  He is taking me to the 99 Restaurant for my birthday (it was January 11th, but hey, who's keeping track?) and I'm really looking forward to seeing him.  I don't think I've seen him in a year.  Possibly longer than that.

I cut my bangs tonight.  I should not be allowed to cut my own bangs.

They are short and crooked.  And gray.  I wanted to buy hair dye this past weekend but my husband didn't want to spend the money, so gray I will continue to go.  I am only 35.  My Paternal grandmother was white haired by 40, my maternal grandmother was white haired by 45, and my mother was white haired by 50.  I started going gray when I was 13 years old.  I started dying it when I was 15.

I think I shall wear my contacts and makeup tomorrow (today).  I may even wear a hat.  I'm not sure what to do with my hair.  I could leave it in braided pigtails since I'm not going to be sleeping on it.  Oh wait.  My eyes will be super dry because I won't have slept.  Scratch the contacts and makeup.

I can't wait for the Fall.  I miss my sweater dresses.  That sounds silly I know, but I love the way they look and feel.  I have two summer dresses that I really like, but other than that I wear gym shorts and tank tops.  I see dresses on LaneBryant.com that I really want but I can't afford them.  Such an expensive store!

Random Thoughts And Happy Birthday Pat!

I just have some random thoughts at 2 am on this Monday Night/Tuesday Morning.

My mother is going to drive me and my husband to my brother and sister-in-law's house to meet my new nephew.  He was born at the end of January and because we don't have a car, I haven't actually met him.  So now that my mom's retired, she's going to take us.  Yay!  He's a real cutie, judging by the photos I've seen.  At first he looked a lot like his mother, but now I see a lot of my brother in him.

Is hockey back yet?  No?  How about football?  No?  Damn.  Well let's hope those Patrick Kane rape allegations turn out to be false.  And let's hope Brady's suspension gets overturned.

I'm with the Florida news anchor who stormed away from the news desk after saying she was sick of the Kardashian family.  Cheers!

My oil painting of Severus Snape was posted on the Alan Rickman Facebook page as their weekly fan art piece.  It got 165 likes and 4 positive comments.  I'll take that.  I kind of want to do another oil painting but I haven't anywhere to do it without suffocating either myself and my husband, or the piggies and the snakes.  I guess I could try in the kitchen...  Not sure what I would paint though.  Grrr...  Stupid Painter's Block.

The Wedding Photographer who did my wedding, took her family on vacation to her native Honduras, and judging by the pictures, they have had a fantastic time.  I've been to Belize, Costa Rica, and Guatemala, but never Honduras.  It looks beautiful.  But they seemed to eat a lot of fish, which I could do without.  I'm very picky about my food and even more picky about my food from the sea.  I eat salmon, some haddock, scallops, clams, and lobster.

Today is the 35th birthday of my 1st boyfriend.  I dated him in 7th grade.  If you could call it dating.  We went to the movies once.  We saw Forever Young at the Capitol Theater in Arlington, MA.  The rest of the 7 months we were together, we just hung out after school.  We would sit on the bike path by the Grove St bridge.  We kissed once and it was a disaster.  I'll leave it at that.  For our 6 month anniversary, he wrote me a poem and got me a teddy bear, "Fuzzy".  I brought him as my guest to my father and step-mother's wedding.  I'm friends with him on Facebook.  He is happily married with a beautiful daughter.  So Happy Birthday to the first guy who broke my heart!  Ha ha ha.

Pain Tells Us We're Alive

My husband lives his life in pain.  He has chronic lower back pain, and arthritic hips.  He can't walk far, can't carry things, can't lift things, he can't even put his shoes on normally.  So when he tells me that his side has been bothering him, it worries me.  I ask him where?  He shows me his upper right abdomen.  We make an appointment to see the doctor.  She orders an ultrasound and sure enough he has gall stones.  He had gall stones 3 years ago but they haven't bothered him in years.  She put in a referral and we're waiting to be scheduled for an appointment with the surgeon.

That was Tuesday.  While he was getting an ultrasound, I was getting checked out by a nurse practitioner for a UTI.  By the end of Wednesday I was nauseous, having abdominal pain, dizzy, and shaky.  I called Friday and the nurse I spoke to wanted me to go to the ER.;  I declined, stating I was only in a 5 out of 10 on the pain scale, and didn't have a fever.  So she scheduled me for an urgent care appointment for Saturday (today).  This morning I show up and see the doctor.  She listens to what I say, feels around my belly, and starts asking me GI questions instead of Urinary questions.  She learns I have  Diverticulosis, and tells me she's going to send me for a CT Scan.  It ell her I'm not supposed to have any unless it's absolutely necessary.  So instead she sends me to the lab.  When the results come back I have a high White Blood Cell count.  So she said she was going to treat it as Diverticulitis and give me Cipro, the nasty tasting antibiotic that wreaks havoc on your GI bacteria, the good and the bad.  Oh, and I'm on a liquid diet for 2 days.

We finally leave the doctor's office and go to the Burlington Mall to get our wedding rings inspected, repaired, redipped, and resized.  Not all today, some of that needed to be sent out for.  It took forever.  Next was the laundromat followed by the grocery store and CVS.

UGH.

But my husband bought me a dozen red roses to make me feel better.

Turning 35 Can Be Intimidating

But it doesn't have to be.  My husband just turned 35 on Saturday.  For his birthday, we went to the pet store, bought frozen rats for the snakes, went to the grocery store for the first time in a month, and then went home to put the food away.  A few hours later my in-laws took us out to Chili's.  My mother-in-law was very friendly and engaging, while my father-in-law said nothing and stared into space the whole time.  Whatever, I can't be bothered by such nonsense, and neither can my husband.  When we got home, half the rats were thawed out so we fed the snakes.  They were most grateful.

The next day my husband went to Mirabella's Bakery to pick up his cake.  He can't carry it the 1/2 mile home so he brought our shopping cart and taped the box to the bottom of it, wheeling the cake home.  It actually survived pretty well.  Only one side was slightly smushed.

It was a lemon cake with lemon mousse filling and buttercream frosting.

On Monday I had a doctor's appointment.  We then went to the bank, Walmart, and then caught the bus to the other side of our town to go mini-golfing.

We were both really really bad.  I one by 2 strokes.  But we had a lot of fun.  We enjoyed a bottle of water inside after roasting in the 91 degree heat.

Next we walked to the Chinese food restaurant where we had Chinese Buffet for dinner.

While we waited for the bus, we popped into the Dollar Tree and Advance Auto Parts.  Then we headed to the bus...  Which costs a dollar....

Overall I made sure my husband had a great birthday.  Turning 35 doesn't have to be scary at all.  And we had a lot of fun!