Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Teacher blog

I haven't bveen posting much lately. My mind is full of school things. If you'd like to read about my school updates, and non-sex things, go HERE and read my awesome blog there. I'm not closing this or anything, but I needed a family friendly place to update people about work which is what I am doing most of the time now.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Coming home


That was all I had written since Monday afternoon and now it is Wednesday. It's very difficult to explain this. But I will try. I feel like I'm coming back from something. Coming home. That reminds me of Ellis's song Coming Home to You. She's my favorite musician. I've seen her in concert twice and am totally in love with her. She makes me all giggly and starstruck when she's in the same room.
Ellis (ignore the grain, I accidentally left the ISO at frickin 1600):

Back to the point. I've been horribly irritable for several weeks, which followed a depression of about a month. I was irritable until last week. I would yell so loudly at my students that I scared myself. Everything set me off. I wasn't even fit to be teaching to be honest, but you can't take a sick day for being angry. Part of it had to do with my aide being out. She has missed probably a total of almost 4 weeks of school and it's only December. But either way, I was just plain angry. I could hardly get myself to school. I decided I needed to go back on Risperdal, I hated my job, I cried a lot, and I just wanted it to all be over. I called Mom all the time in the mornings so she could talk me down and I could start breathing normally again. Not last weekend, but the one before, something flipped the switch. I started to feel better. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. And then Thanksgiving break happened, which was wonderful. It was such a good time for a break. And then Monday I started to think about the difference in my words and thoughts. These ruminations were a combination of having to make a hair decision (appointment is on Friday) and making Christmas lists and deciding what style of clothes to ask for (my grandparents and parents require a rather specific list).

On the way to visit my therapist, I realized I may not want to make my hair neon anymore. And as I talked to her, I realized I felt this urge to grow my hair a little and not be so edgy. I do enjoy my bright hair, but sometimes I am edgy on purpose. I just want to calm down. And I want to wear some less masculine clothes. I don't want ruffles or anything, but I feel the need to be pretty. And it has to be pretty, not just attractive. I want to feel like a girl again. I want to be recognized as a female, as feminine, as a woman.

And now it is Thursday night. This is taking me forever.

Part of me looks the way I do because it jut comes naturally. I haven't been overly feminine in years, and I dress for comfort. But a lot of what I say is a result of what I've experienced. Loren asked me where it started. It can all be summed up in this name: Grace Marie. When I was still a part of this Christian community, I was asked not to date for a year. I decided that was ridiculous but decided to try it. Around the same time I fell for The Creep. To make a long story short, I just wanted to have a relationship, I kept getting stricter and stricter rules, people were watching me and analyzing me, and I rebelled on purpose because I felt so boxed in. I've never quite gotten over that.

Aaaand it's Friday night.

And just like I said before that I put up the gay shield so that people can hurt that, but not the real me, I realized I'm tired of putting up shields. And more than that, I'm tired of trying things on. I don't want to try anything else on. I just want to be ME. That's why I feel like I'm coming home. I'm coming home to ME. I don't know who I am, really, but I am starting to find out, and I want to continue finding out. Whoever I am, I can't be myself when I'm trying on all these different personas. I am who I am. `And for whatever reason, who I am is a lot quieter and calmer and less rebellious than I seem to people.

My fear is that I will never stand out again, if I stop wearing and dyeing and professing like I do. I don't want to be looked over, viewed as just conforming, or seen as a normal average girl. If I give up all of these things I put on, what is left?

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Em the Femme the anonymous

I got a little hurt tonight. I was with BFF eating dinner and she told me she'd read this blog. I was saying blog readers, plus her, were the only people who would know why I didn't go to MN over the weekend, and that's when it came out. She then got sheepish or something and said she unsubscribed. My stomach dropped.

See, here's why I don't tell anyone about it. For most people, it's because I get explicit and want to be out of the closet. Seriously out. And for those people to whom I am already out, there are just some things that don't need to be said. And most importantly, when I know my friends are reading it, I get sort of exhibitionist and I say things for their benefit, and when I am writing it is 100% tainted knowing that my friends will read it. I try not to think about who's reading it but it doesn't work. For some reason with online friends it doesn't matter. The lone friend reader reading this I've almost gotten used to him reading it. But not BFF. I felt betrayed. So I started furiously knitting very tightly and it came back to bite me the next row because it was almost too tight to work with. She said she was being nosy and wanted to know what was so secret I couldn't tell her. And she also said she wanted to understand. That's all fine and good, but ASK me.

I tried not to outwardly sulk. I was seething. A friend, well, fine. I'll deal with that. But her? That really really hurt. I was very explicit about wanting to keep my real life friends away from there. I even posted about it. So I sat there knitting, angry, and when the pizza came I got up to get water and must have looked upset. As I was walking into the kitchen she asked if I was upset. I said yes, but I'd get over it. She told me she understood why I was upset and that it was OK. And then she did what I had been waiting for this whole conversation. She apologized. And I felt better after that. She said it was OK for me to be mad at her for a while. But I told her she said what I needed to hear and so then I was OK. I felt better. I just wanted an apology. I didn't want her to feel bad (OK, maybe a little) but the apology signified that she knew she had hurt me and after that I could move on.

I'm grateful for my ability to post without real life repercussions. I'm sure they exist but with me trying so hard not to reveal personal information about my work/hometown I'm hoping my chances go way down.

This discussion about anonymity has made me realize how long it has been since I've taken any nudes. It is about time I do that. I haven't taken any self portraits in ages, save for the ones of my hair. I'm sad. I don't know if I lost my groove, or what. Maybe I just need to get back in the practice. I let my entire life revolve around my medication side effects and I am obsessed with going to bed early. Early means getting more than 8 hours, which means being asleep before 9:45. Ouch. I don't NEED to leave here until 7, but having an hour and 15 minutes to get ready is nice. I can check my mail, take a shower, eat some breakfast, pick out clothes...etc etc.

Anyway. I'll get on that and post some deliciously work inappropriate photos.

Monday, November 16, 2009

I'll try and make this quick, as my goal is to turn my lights out in 10 minutes.

My therapist was so proud of me today when I told her what happened over the weekend. She thought it was a really good decision for me to be home. I felt really pressured to go even though there were so many things there that would have made me uncomfortable, but mostly due to the long drives and getting back so late, and my severe issues with traveling like that. And I'm a terrible passenger, especially with unfamiliar people who intimidate me. She congratulated me on keeping myself together and not cutting.

We talked about why I rebel sometimes. I don't always. At school, for example, I follow the rules and if I think someone is unhappy with me it freaks me out and I bend over backwards to fix it. Around other people, for example the people I would have been with this weekend and other similar acquaintances, I am scared to death. And I put up the gay shield. By the way, I just figured this all out today. This was a huge revelation.

See, if I put up the gay shield, and make it loud and clear I like girls and activism and Buddhism and falling asleep next to hot women after crazy sex in the candlelight (OK maybe I don't mention that part but man that was hot and I will explain it later), then they can judge that part. I KNOW how to respond to people disliking my sexuality. I do NOT know how to respond when people just don't like ME. I don't want them judging ME. See, I'm a shy and quiet person who is uncomfortable around unfamiliar people. I don't make good conversation with them. Therefore, I look pretty boring and awkward. And even without the gay thing, I don't buy into their brand of Christianity and I don't want them judging me for that either. So when I'm around people who intimidate me, and who I think might judge me, I put up this gigantic wall of gayness or Buddhism or whatever and then they can judge that and I'll deal, but the real me is safe. I can name 4 people with whom I can be myself, for real: Mom, Dad, LittleBrother, and BFF. That is IT. Anyone else, and I'm probably putting on a show or a mask.

I was going to wear a blazer and tie this weekend. It would have been cute, but it was also a "take that" to P (brother of the bride, friend), who said I would look good in blue (back when I liked him) and so at the time I decided to get a blue dress. He and I ended up being completely incompatible, and we ended up arguing and haven't talked a lot since. So when I thought about this weekend, and that, on top of which I would have been surrounded with tons of people who intimidate me over the weekend, I was like, no. What's the opposite of a nice feminine dress? So I was playing THAT role. The "I'm gay and rebellious and you can't hurt me" role.

Now the real me IS gay, and might be Buddhist, and is working on being sexually free, but I don't shout about any of them ALL the time.

Part of the problem is that I have trouble feeling like I have an identity. I know that everyone deals with that, but I have no idea. I can be one thing or another, like a teacher, or gay, or a photographer, or whatever, but I can't be all of them. It doesn't make sense to me. It's a trait of borderline personality disorder. not that everyone with this issue has BPD, but I do have it, and when I got my psych testing the doctor made sure to mention my identity diffusion, most common with adolescents.

OK, that was past 1o minutes, but I had to find my phone, and then talk to my brother about how I made a kid cry today. He was touching the only color printer in the school NOT owned by the office, and he would not stop. I physically guided him away from it and he insisted on going over there just to bug me. Normally I'd ignore him but it was expensive stuff. Finally I just screamed NO, and I mean screamed. He started to cry. I didn't feel bad. He has beat up on me and my paras SO much and has been a little snot. So no sympathy for him.


Friday, November 13, 2009

A depressing post 100

I was hoping my 100th post would be really super awesome. That's why I hadn't posted it yet. I was still planning something. But right now I need to just talk about this.

I sort of told white lies to everyone about why I'm not off in MN shooting a wedding this weekend. My mental health is not awesome right now. I am still coming out of a depression. It's not as bad as it was, but I'm not feeling my best. As much as I wanted to take pictures, I wasn't looking forward to the rest of the weekend. And I wasn't the primary photographer. She specifically asked me to be there so that I could take "my" kind of pictures. And I was flattered. But first I had to get the day off. And then I had to be in a car for 9 hours with people. Twice in a weekend. And to top it off, I wouldn't be even leaving my hometown until 1, and the same goes for going home, and losing an hour, it would make it pretty late getting back. I get up at 5:45. And the thing is, if I have zero time to decompress, I would have been a MESS the next day. It would have ruined my week. I can't just be cooped up with people for that long, go straight to bed, and then get up early the next morning to be with my students. People get confused when I try to explain it. Anyone know what I mean?

And then there was the problem of the wedding itself. I'm highly uncomfortable around such strong spirituality. And I would be driving up with people who were pretty hardcore and we just have so few things in common. I was just hoping no one would bring up anything remotely religious because I would get so uncomfortable. I just don't know about God these days. The thought of being with them in a car for a combined 18 hours scared me. It panicked me. I wasn't just trying to be ridiculous when I said that. It really did make me panicky. Plus, a dinner that involved a ceremony with things to say that I'm not sure I believe anymore and it just freaked me the heck out. I couldn't handle it.

But I decided to go. I sucked it up and decided to go because she wanted me there. I took the day off, packed a lot, and got into the van. I started to get nervous when I saw all the other camera bags. I got in the car and started knitting. We talked, and didn't end up actually leaving until 40 minutes later. Grr. As we got onto the toll road, I found out that there would probably be about 4 photographers total not even including me. That was the last straw. I just felt so insignificant. It was selfish, but that's what I felt. My heart starting racing and I got teary eyed. I texted my mom and told her I was going to cry because she didn't need me. The only reason I decided to go was because I could treat it as work, and I could just do my thing. But the thought of having to compete with all those different people just made the trip seem not worth it. I don't know. I can't justify it anymore. So Mom told me she'd pick me up. I told them to drop me at the rest stop and I'd stay. I just said it was an emergency at home. So there I was. Such a sad sight...with my bags and clothes on a hanger sitting at a McDonald's in the middle of nowhere.

It would break my heart if she ever found out why I didn't come. It would probably really get to her brother too, who is probably reading this even though I asked my RL friends not to read. I'm not sure she (or he) would understand. People who don't have serious mental health issues often misunderstand those who do.

I'm going to just take my medicine and go to bed. I have nothing planned for tomorrow. I'm beginning to regret my decision but there's nothing I can do now. And I'm aware that I would have been very unsettled on Sunday, having spent the whole weekend away from home. But now my stomach hurts and I am upset I stayed here. She will be sad, and I will have broken a promise. I wish I didn't have those panic attacks. I totally freaked out. I made a snap decision. I should have delayed, just like my therapist told me to. And Mom was just trying to help by offering to pick me up. But I didn't delay. I panicked and got out of the situation as fast as I could. So now instead of being miserable on the drive, I will be miserable at home feeling sorry for myself, having nothing to do. And I mean nothing. I'm tired of my computer and my apartment.

Boohoo. Pity party.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

12 Steps for Buddhists

I've had such a hard time on the codependency boards. They all view God as some all powerful saving thing who can make things better. I don't WANT to rely on a higher power. And I truly believe that I can deal with my codependency issues and borderline personality disorder without believing some mystical higher power is somehow going to help me. For me, God doesn't help me through much of anything. I don't think he works that way. I mean, what's God going to do that I can't? It's not prayer-in, help-out. God is not a candy machine. I refuse to believe that I can't help myself in the way of medicine, therapy, and skill building. It has turned into a discussion about higher powers and what I've found out is basically, there IS no way around addiction that does not involve a spiritual awakening and thinking that something bigger than you has to help. What happens when an atheist, for example, becomes addicted? Are they just screwed?

All I wanted were some books that would help that don't involve the 12 Steps because those take a view of God that I don't. I hope I never become alcoholic because I'd hate those steps and would need to find another way.

I'm Catholic, but with a Buddhist soul. They're not incompatible totally. Buddhism relies on understanding more than faith, so you see how much religion doesn't work for me.

This is so disheartening. I WANT to get better, but there has to be a way other than lying about my spiritual beliefs. There's no way I can change them. They are what they are. Even if I say they're changed, they won't be.

How does anyone who's reading this deal with crisis without surrendering to a higher power? Is there another kind of higher power? I even believe in God but not that I need to surrender anything to him. It's all so confusing.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Photo post

What do I feel like writing about? I've written two very heavy posts and I feel like I need to write something lighter. No one likes a whiner. But sometimes things just need to come out.

Maybe it's time for some photos. Yes, that is a good idea. I don't take enough lately. I just don't go out anymore. I need to make time. I just have to get up early and I hold my bedtime so sacred. I work out twice a week and I take my violin lesson on alternating Wednesdays. But in the time I have, I HAVE to go out more. This is my sanity. It makes me so happy to take the pictures and edit them. So I'm going to make a goal for myself to take pictures once a week, and it doesn't matter where. Just anywhere.

So here are some self portraits.

I hated this picture because I screwed up the focus, but then I made it into a Holga-like picture and I like it now. This is by my parents' house.

My new medicine. We'll see.

My student had a seizure the day I took this. It was so scary. It was long, too. She has a nurse with her, luckily, so I didn't have to do anything, but I just felt so helpless standing there watching her jerk and hear her holding her breath and almost squeaking. Normally she doesn't make a peep. She's not only nonverbal, but practically mute. It freaked me the fuck out.

This is from Sunday when I was still fairly sick. I knew something was different and something was very wrong. I had just called Dad and started crying because my chest hurt and I had a fever (I hadn't had a fever since practically childhood).

Friday, October 23, 2009

H1N1 update.

Just a health update. I either got a mild case, my immune system is great, or I started taking the flu medicine early enough because I felt almost totally fine all week. I was pretty miserable over the weekend but the antivirals plus treating the symptoms seemed to make it mostly better. And of course today, my last day off work, is when I'm starting to feel nauseated, but I'm hoping that passes. It could also be my mood stabilizer, since my dosage was increased yesterday. Either way, I hope this doesn't last, because I have to make it to school on Monday or else. Mom is bringing me some Coke (which helps) and I am sitting up and distracting myself so that I don't throw up. I know no one enjoys it, but I am terrified of it. I avoid it at all costs. Even if it would make me feel better!

That is all.

Also, one of my dirty little secrets is that I listen to obnoxious rap music while cleaning and driving, and I totally rock out to it.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

see me bleed

I used to cut. It seems to be the self-injury method of choice among women my age and comes with a stigma. Something people do for attention only. I have a picture at the bottom that is NSFW and involves self injury. Just FYI. But it's beautiful.

I used to cut a lot. I still want to, sometimes. Maybe now is the time to talk about it. I just feel like putting it out here. I'm not looking for sympathy. I don't feel bad about it.

The first time I did it it WAS for attention and not as therapy and that was senior year of high school. I discovered the rush of endorphins freshman year, and I used a knife The Creep gave me. It was a wavy blade thing that flipped out in a really cool way. I didn't really start for real until maybe '05. I don't know what happened right before I started. I had to think first, because I went out to buy boxcutters. And some people say they're numb and they can't feel it. I felt it. And it hurt. But it was a quick hurt. I would gasp with the pain and then it would be over. Each time I did it, I felt a little more relief. I probably needed stitches in a few of the cuts but never got any. I only went to the health center once for it and he said I would live without them. Normally I got no help though. I wanted scars and I never put anything on them to help the cuts heal. I did this over and over. When I was done cutting I would feel this sense of relief and exhaustion. I could finally sleep. I would try not to, and then I couldn't handle it any more. I was at a prayer meeting even, and in the middle of the meeting I walked to the bathroom and cut my shoulder. The buzz lasts for a little bit and then I would crash and be sleepy. It's by no means a permanent solution, but it takes away the inside pain for a while.

Part of why I did it was to relieve the tension when I was angry. I got angry a lot. Another was to relieve tension because I couldn't feel anything when someone tried to touch me. At the time, nothing felt good. I remember an ex boyfriend trying to hook up with me and it just was NOT happening. As soon as he started touching me I lost feeling. So when I got back I cut and I felt and I was better.

People tried to help, but didn't. My best friend pretended like she was cutting and basically baited me and got me to talk about it that way, saying if it wasn't OK if she did, it wasn't OK if I did. That was probably the worst way EVER. I ended up feeling so much more shame. I already knew it was wrong. And then I resented her and never wanted to tell her when I needed help. Don't ever do that. I have a sneaking suspicion she found this and is reading it, and it would really hurt me if that were the case. I've already asked more than once for people to stop reading (and she would be in that group of people I don't want reading this). This is my safe space, where I can finally talk about the things I never could on my public blog. In fact the last time I cut is because she got on me about something on my old blog and I ended up feeling hurt and angry so I went out and got blades and cut a LOT. That is part of why I have this blog, so I can talk about my situations with my friends and be angry if I feel like it without repercussion. But that is beside the point.

I haven't done it in a while. But every time I see a razor blade or box cutters I have to make someone move them. I've looked in the aisle at the store many times. Sometimes I scratch my face when I'm angry or sad instead but that's still a dangerous road for me. Sometimes I want to do it even when I'm not hurting. It just feels good. That feeling you get from it is addictive (addicting?). And no one really understands. They try but in the end they get so confused that I end up feeling worse about doing it. My pain and pleasure centers are all mixed up, which is why pain during sex is a confusing subject for me. I dont want it to turn into self-injury. Because once I start cutting, it's hard to stop.

Cripple (NSFW possible trigger photo that is good photography but very much a trigger)

I want love to hurt. Hurt me, bruise me, bite me, use me.

I don't know if that's because I don't know what sex is other than pain, or that's just me. Maybe it's because he used to bite me and bruise me. But the real damage was nothing you could see. Last year even, whenever we were together we would be frantic. It was all consuming and scary. We would lie together in bed and I would let him just bite me because I couldn't feel anything else. But then later I would see myself in the mirror and not know who that reflection belonged to. He never understood what he did to me, inside OR out. I didn't want him in my bed in the first place. He usually conned himself in there and almost forced me to sleep with him.

I don't know if it's a good thing or not. I don't know if I'm just submissive and that's what I want, or if this is my way of not being numb, or both. When I was with Cat, I made her scratch me so hard that I was almost bleeding. I made her pull my hair so hard. She was so afraid she would hurt me, and even though I hate this phrase, it hurt so good. It didn't really hurt at all, but felt good. It's like in the L Word, after Dana died, Alice (her best friend and former girlfriend) and Lara (her most recent girlfriend) had sex, and Alice said "I want to feel something. Make me bleed."

And I don't know how to love without pain. Sometimes I need it to feel. But I'm strong and I can take it. Pull my hair and scratch me and hurt me.

I will grow back like a starfish.

(L. MacCool, how do you always know what to say? Or in this case, what music to post about. We're so different, except sometimes not. This song may hold different meaning, but it's still important to me. Thanks.)

This song is probably about BDSM but it holds a separate meaning for me.)

Mr. Muscle forcing bursting

Stingy thingy into little me, me, me

But just "ripple" said the cripple

As my jaw dropped to the ground

Smile smile

It's true I always wanted love to be


And it's true I always wanted love to be

Filled with pain

And bruises

Yes, so Cripple-Pig was happy

Screamed " I just compeletely love you!

And there's no rhyme or reason

I'm changing like the seasons

Watch! I'll even cut off my finger

It will grow back like a Starfish!

It will grow back like a Starfish!

It will grow back like a Starfish!"

Mr. Muscle, gazing boredly

And he checking time did punch me

And I sighed and bleeded like a windfall

Happy bleedy, happy bruisy

I am very happy

So please hit me

I am very happy

So please hurt me

I am very happy

So please hit me

I am very very happy

So come on hurt me

I'll grow back like a Starfish

(Antony and the Johnsons, Cripple and the Starfish)


My gender expression is shifting again. I feel really uncomfortable if I wear button down shirts anymore, at least without them being open with a T shirt underneath. I feel like with my short hair, those two things make me look so masculine and right now, that's an uncomfortable feeling. This is so strange, because that's exactly why I wanted those shirts. I just feel like right now I want to look more feminine. I don't want to look masculine. I can either look badass, or feminine. Nothing else. I can't explain it, but that's what I feel like and I have to do what makes me comfortable. But even when I say feminine, I don't mean very feminine. But, moreso than before I guess. I'm wearing more makeup, but my uniform is still khakis and T shirts, I'm just letting up on the button downs and not using my tie as an accessory as often. I don't really understand this, but I am just going with my gut. I've enjoyed feeling "pretty" lately.

Also, I feel fine. I am so mad I have to take 5 days off of school just for this. I'm only really taking the days off because I'm contagious and it's already widespread. If I felt like this normally, I'd be at school. As a new teacher, I don't have many sick days used up. I'm so bored. Today I am putting on a mask and driving to get Taco Bell. It's not exactly healthy, but I'm tired of chicken soup and orange juice, and I have zero stomach issues. And I'm dying to leave the house. I'm glad my dad bought me some crossword puzzles. That has helped. And I still have a few shows to watch on On Demand. I should be sleeping to get myself better faster, but I'm wide awake. I think the confinement hasn't helped, but I also think I'm getting a little hypomanic. I'm full of energy now. I should be sleeping a lot because my body is healing but instead I'm only sleeping with the help of my codeine cough medicine. I don't know what my deal is.

I AM SO BORED. Time to take a shower and eat some chicken soup. I will get my unhealthy food for dinner.

Monday, October 19, 2009

My last post, translated into 12 year old aol speak. It will hurt your eyes.

Find the generator here.


Sunday, October 18, 2009

So I have h1n1. And I am SO SCARED of dying. The doctor at the clinic seemed so nonchalant about it. I guess I'll be fine? I'm afraid though. I know people have died from it. But I caught it pretty early, I think, so maybe that will help. I'm actually feeling OK right now, all of my medicine has kicked in, but I'm afraid of what I'll feel like later. I'm otherwise healthy, so I'm guessing maybe it won't be too bad. I don't want to jinx it. I'm just so afraid. I knew this was different right away. I came home from Indy early because I had a cough and was dizzy. Today my chest hurt so much.

And this Tamiflu I have to take? Can cause vomiting. I HATE HATE HATE throwing up. So much. I'm so scared of it. I know, my priorities are screwy.


Sunday, October 11, 2009

Holy cow.

Both my aides emailed me. They're both going to be gone tomorrow. I teach kids with severe disabilities. It's not as easy as just handing someone the activity and their group. It takes so much explanation. What the HELL are we going to do all day? I am not confident in this job enough to just take it in stride. This is new, and I'm a new teacher on top of it. And my kids are so different from one another that large group instruction is not always an option.

Commence freak-out.

New hair!

Here is my orange streaked hair for fall.

This is my goddaughter A. She just turned 2. I took her two year pictures yesterday. She was moody for a lot of it so I didn't get many, but here was one of the clearest ones. Tell me she's not just adorable.

Friday, October 9, 2009

I must really be somewhere on the continuum of sexuality. I like the word gay, but it's a misnomer, because there is the occasional man I like. Which brings me to my point. Because I just had this dream about a coworker. I have a thing for him. He has a girlfriend, but that doesn't stop my imagination apparently. I just woke up having had this dream and I was disappointed I woke up! A was writing poetry for me, for some reason, but not any sort of romantic poetry, just funny, like him. He works in the cafeteria and does copies. He's hilarious and is always in some sort of banter with someone. I like that in anyone. I'm really attracted to that. Of course now it might be weird talking to him after totally making out with him in this dream. Good thing nothing else happened, just for the sake of peace at work! I'm much more into witty than romantic, to be honest, unless it REALLY calls for it.

Just thought I'd share. Nothing else to do at this hour. I'm starting to wake up nightly around 2:30 which is something I do during the winter. I get hypomanic in the winter. Just my cycle. So I'm up now. I'm going to try and sleep now I think. I don't know how that will go.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

half and half

Since I left you with such a gloomy last post, I feel I should write a happy one. Sorry! Well, there is a happy part. I'll leave that for the end. That way it ends well.

I'm starting a mood stabilizer. My doctor practically made me pinky swear I wouldn't have unprotected sex with men simply because of the very high rate of birth defects. I told her I was women only for right now. I'm not closed to men in general, but I might be right now. I can be attracted to a few, but the idea of sex with them isn't always a great thought for me. But that is beside the point. This medicine helps mostly with bipolar depression instead of hypomania. But conceivably, I could just take my antipsychotic when I'm hypomanic. Hypomania is low grade mania. Mania is what most people think of when they think of bipolar. And that;s bipolar 1. I have bipolar 2, more depression. This CAN cause a really bad rash so we're starting slowly. I'm hoping it doesn't happen. I should have chosen the other one instead, the one that's better for mixed episodes. But hey. I made a call and I will see how this works. I also have to give up caffeine, mostly. It makes my inner commentary worse and revs my mind up. I hadn't even though of cutting out caffeine. It seems to be helping.

But I'm really in a low right now. And the weather being colder and grayer is making it worse. My sleep is screwy. I get hypomanic in the winter. Most people get depressed. I get hypomanic. Irritable and sleepless. Guess that's my cycle.

Why so honest? I need SOMEwhere to talk about this really personal stuff. I really do. And this way it is recorded.

Good news? S used sign language! S is usually off in what we call S-land. I don't know where she goes, but she goes places and we lose her for a while. Also keep in mind that as well as working with a few kids with autism, all my students have a moderate or severe cognitive impairment. She always shoves her Doritos and strawberry milk in my face to get me to open them. She is a very picky eater. I got tired of this and showed her the sign for help. She used it and I opened her milk. Then, SPONTANEOUSLY, today she used it twice! I didn't even have to prompt her with "ask for help" or something similar. She used to talk more, but for whatever reason, she lost some of that. It's rolling around in there somewhere, but I don't know how to get it back out.

The SLP wants me to use picture symbols with her, which is fine, and she didn't seem pleased I was using sign language. But I use it in my teaching all the time, so if she's picking it up, and communicating, I'm all for it. I'm doing the picture symbols too.

Anyway, so gloomy, then happy. Yay for me. And yay for S.

Also, I ate half a bag of caramel corn rice cakes last night. Don't judge me. They were delicious.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

What did I do with my friends?

I saw The Creep"like" a status on facebook about some mutual friend's status about going on an errand, with a bunch of smiley faces after it. She knows what he did to me. I would like to think I'm mad that she would dare even talk to him after she knew what he did, but it's not that. I'm mad that he gets to have a normal friend life. I'll get into that later. Also, my BPD makes me blow little stuff out of proportion so if it seems crazy, there's a reason.

It's weird, how I feel about him. He was not only my abuser but my thread that connected me to life. He was everything to me. I hated him and I loved him. I still feel guilty for wanting to even connect with him at times. And not many people understand that. It makes them sick and angry. I'll always feel a connection to him and I hate it. I feel guilty and I hate it. I want to hate him. I also want him to suffer. But not go away entirely, because I am still tied to him. I don't know why. I wish I understood. It's like he was a part of me for so long, and he sustained me as well as sucked the life out of me. He sucked it out, and then nurtured the thin fraying thread that was left.

I wish I had someone to call. I only have BFF and I can't just rely on her, and I don't want to. I need someone else. I cut off a lot of my friends because our values clashed, so I'm down to just BFF. Even maybe email. When I'm depressed (not even including the thing about my aunt), I need someone to call in the car while I'm going places, or an email to come back to or something. I need to just talk. And I don't really have anyone. It's lonely. Depression comes with bipolar and it can get pretty bad, and it is. Plus, with my aunt and all? It's pretty bad. And people offer but they don't think I'm serious. Oh, I am. I WILL call or email. Then they get all standoffish and I get even more depressed.
My aunt needs a lung transplant.


The doctor here had her on prednisone for so long and it ruined her bones. 1 She walks hunched over now, and has had back surgeries because her spine is weak. M@y0 Cl!n!c told her yesterday that she would need a one lung transplant and would need round the clock O2. She said she feels much better with the oxygen, which is great, but a transplant is huge, and survival rates for lung transplants suck.

I got teary when I heard the phrase transplant team from the phone when my dad was talking to her but haven't cried since. I'm not good at crying. I cried Wednesday because one of my former students is being expelled for being so violent. But that was it.

And my medicine is making me miserable. It is helping the down swings some, and definitely calmed down my thougts, and made my head quiet, but the restless legs are unbearable. I hope this is temporary. I can't keep taking Xanax because it's not really a long term every day drug. At least that's what I thought I heard. But either way, I can't handle this.

But fuck. My aunt needs a lung transplant. And Dad wants to be a donor. Because you can live with one lung, even though it's not ideal.

I don't even know how to handle this.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Question of the Day

Fellow teachers and anyone else who brings work home with them: What helps you work at home? I need to clean house and I know that would help, but I don't have a ton of time for that. I will do that in the near future. I am going out to work at the moment but I can't do that every time, because money is tight right now with the new computer and my loans and all that. I think I will go to Starbucks because if I go to the nice gay-friendly coffeehouse with good hummus, I will spend more money, and I don't think they're open long on Sundays.

I am going to plan 2 days worth of lessons and then go back to sleep.

Mental health update, if anyone cares: I'm off Risperdal due to the weight gain, and on Abilify. It is making me a zombie. I can only hope this is temporary. But the voices are better. Well, not voices. I don't hallucinate, but the racing thoughts and inner commentary. It's another anti-psychotic, the only one that won't cause weight gain. Even the anticonvulsants used for bipolar cause weight gain. We'll see how this goes. I'm in a depression now and I want to swing out of it so badly. I prefer hypomania to depression even though it's a weird feeling. I'm seeing my doctor again in a week and a couple days, and we will re-evaluate.

Time to go plan lessons. Somewhere else. Taking a bunch of crap with me: Syracuse Community-Referenced Curriculum Guide, Moderate and Severe Disabilities (both textbooks), the LifeSkills guide for this district, and my notebook I am using until there is absolutely no white space left in it.

All day workshop Wednesday: means I get to rant and share stories with my best teacher buddy from another school!

Friday, September 25, 2009


I fucking hate euphemisms.

Use words. We are adults.

Breasts are breasts. I hate the word tits. I can hardly type it. Call them breasts. Not "celestial orbs" like I just heard, not funbags, not jugs, not anything like that. I can handle boobs. But that's about it.

It's called sex. There are a few terms I would use, but they do not include: doing the horizontal mambo and yes people use this, banging, nailing, and I even had an ex call it playing doctor.

To each her own. But if you want to get any with me, use real words.

Monday, September 21, 2009


Turns out I do know what to write about. I was lying in bed, trying a new relaxation technique I learned in therapy today. I'm on Risperdal, which is an anti-psychotic. It's pretty common these days, especially in children (don't get me on my high horse about heavy duty meds in children). I think I might be ready for the next dose. I'm getting more tense again. I'm not psychotic really, just a little bit. Thought disorder generally means schizophrenia and speech patterns, but in me, he talks about it in terms of my thought trains. They don't match up. My thoughts are totally disorganized and I get flustered so easily trying to think things through. I don't always get reality and I misinterpret things. That's low level psychosis. I don't hallucinate, I'm pretty firmly grounded in what I see and hear, but my thoughts don't take the normal pathways so an anti-psychotic could help.

Why am I so open about this? I don't know how NOT to be. And this is a safe space for me. I need someone to read about this, or if nothing else, I need a place where I can write about it.

So on to the problem, which is why I am writing.

When I was a teen, I started to hate praying because I could hear voices coming right back at me. I never regarded this as anything, and never answered yes when doctors asked me if I heard voices. I knew it was myself and not some outside entity, including God. It's annoying to hear yourself answer right away. I wanted God to answer and I was pretty sure answers to prayers didn't work that way, especially when the answers sounded like things I could have thought of on my own.

How does this apply to tonight? As I was trying said relaxation technique, I couldn't shut up the inner commentary and motion. The exercise was to imagine three dimensional numbers, one by one, 1-10. I was doing that, and as I silently reminded myself to do them one by one (in therapy I tried to imagine them in a line and the line got too long!), I could visualize the other numbers coming up and running away. And then the commentary would start, telling the numbers to just go back and wait their turn.

Now, I know the numbers cannot hear me. I am grounded in reality tonight! And everyone talks to themselves, right? At least sometimes. What do we do on blogs some of the time? But for me, I can't turn off the commentary. It's like I'm narrating a movie of my life and it is ANNOYING. I can't relax when my mind is going like that. I can't sleep.

My mind is going and I thought maybe if I could narrate myself into my blog, perhaps my mind would shut the fuck up so I could go to bed. Can you imagine how annoying this is? I can't concentrate!

I see my doctor in the morning. The other reason I'm writing is to remind myself to tell her these things. I just sent an email to my school email of all the things I need to bring up. I'm taking the afternoon off for this appointment because she doesn't do late appointments. Sigh. Oh well. Not like I'll actually be using my sick days as sick days. I can't afford to be gone whole days! My class goes nuts.

PS- Keep scrolling and look at my photo post.

Picture post

Nothing much to say right now. Job is getting better with that kid, still confused about orientation, but whatever. Just wanted to post some pictures. I'll write more another time.

I like this. I'm in my classroom while my kids are in gym and I like the out of focus. And the way you can see my purple hair.

After a particularly bad day with my unholy terror.

On the way back from Purdue visiting my brother.

On the way TO Purdue, I insisted we pull over.

My brother. He's pretty awesome

Just feeling the urge to get naked in pictures that day.

Caramel apples with the parents.

On the way to school. LOVE this.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Honest Scrap

Tagged by the suave, articulate, and now Dr. Leo MacCool! I subscribe to more than 10 blogs but here are a random 10 for you to read.

There are three rules for this award:

First, link back to the person who gave you the award.

Next, give the award to ten other bloggers:

1. Don't let's talk, who is honest in her own very charming way and whose blog you simply have to read
2. Butchtastic, who is unapologetic and honest and delightfully butch.
3. Freedomgirl, who wrote me the fateful email that discussed femme and helped me get more comfortable in my own femme
4. Namaste by Day, whose outlook towards her job sounds so much like my own that it's scary (and who understands what I say about mine!)
5.Vixen Kitten, who is beautifully open about her sexuality
6. Mina, who inspired me to delve into my submissiveness
7. Green Eyed Girl, who likes to use pictures to express her honest self
8. Amelia, who is honest even when it hurts
9. Sinclair, who started my whole gender inquiry in the first place
10. Alphafemme, who honestly explores the various ways for her to express her femme

10 Honest Things

1. I have borderline personality disorder. It makes every little comment, cancellation of plans, tip that I have something on my face, etc. seem like they hate me and want to leave me. Seriously. It's hell.
2. I loved my Hitachi, and now I hate it. But I have yet to find something that really feels good.
3. It is going to absolutely kill me to teach the 5th grade Sunday school class about the sacrament of marriage. I might pass most of that one off to my co-teacher. I treat this as teaching doctrine, not what I necessarily believe (even though I am Catholic) but it will bother me anyway.
4. It weirds me out to have cats following me into the bathroom. I won't have it. I won't even undress if they're looking at me.
5. Too much of me is tied to my best friend and if they move the way her husband says they will someday, I will fall to pieces and no one will be around to pick them up.
6. I have very few other *real* friends in real life. Most either think I'm weird and don't like me, or I end up leaving them because their conservative views make me uncomfortable with myself.
7. Once I had a dream that I slept with a coworker who was my support staff person last year. After that I couldn't look him in the eye for a while. It didn't help that he smelled good and was all friendsy with me (he always was and that used to be fine). AWKWARD.
8. I don't dress up properly for school because I won't wear stretchy dress pants, silky pants, blouses, or heels (I'll only wear heels to a bar). I'm a little autistic. If I wear those fabrics, I am so uncomfortable and out of sorts all day I can't concentrate. So I have great empathy for my kids with autism who need to jump/chew on something/wear only cotton/etc.
9. I have to end a flight of stairs on the right foot. I count to myself and if I think I'll end on the left I take two at a time to get it right.
10. I'm perpetually afraid that someone will come take away my labels about gender and sexuality. I'm so confused and still exploring and I want community and I want support. But as a bisexual, even though I really call myself gay because I like the word better, sometimes lesbians hate on me. The straight world, too, because they don;t think it's for real. The fake ones are called "barsexuals." :) Anyway. I subscribe to so many gender/sexuality/queer blogs just so I don't feel so alone.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Invisible Illness

1. The illnesses I live with are: bipolar disorder type 2, borderline personality disorder, provisional diagnosis of intermittent explosive disorder

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2009

3. But I had symptoms since: Childhood signs of some BPD, but mostly since age 17, on first 2 counts

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: learning to distance myself from difficult situations and people, times where it would trigger rage or severe fear of abandonment

5. Most people assume: that I'm just not sucking it up enough, or that I just have a bad attitude and I'm seeing reality all wrong (guess what...this IS my reality).

6. The hardest part about mornings are: waking up while on an antopsychotic. makes me so sleepy.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: House

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: Laptop

9. The hardest part about nights are: calming down my nerves which give my stomach the butterflies feeling, which is much easier on the Risperdal

10. Each day I take _2_ pills & vitamins. I cut out my other stuff, this may change starting Tuesday when I see the doctor again. 2 isn't bad. Risperdal and a B complex.

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: think they can be helpful but I'm not willing to go off all medications due to the symptoms of the disorders

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Visible, just non psychiatric. People with psychiatric diagnoses often get told they're lazy, whiny, etc. They aren't "real" disorders.

13. Regarding working and career: Sometimes I need to stop the obsessive cycle of thoughts that is making me anxious, and I take Xanax mostly at work to calm myself down.

14. People would be surprised to know: I can only control so much, and some of my actions are truly beyond my control.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: That medication doesn't help BPD too much....it involves learning effective coping skills. Shoot. No easy answer there.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: be a good teacher.

17. The commercials about my illness: make it seem so cut and dry.

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Nothing, because most of these symptoms have been present for as long as I can remember.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: nothing.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: meditating with more purpose

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: say what I need to say when I need to say it without the fear of that person abandoning me forever

22. My illness has taught me: that our bodies are imperfect and so are medications

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: telling me that I'm just seeing it wrong, and I need to have a better attitude.

24. But I love it when people: ask me what I need, how they can help, and ask me to explain myself so that they can understand more, and don't judge me when I answer honestly.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "Your silence will not protect you." I know I need to speak up and advocate for myself.

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: that there is hope, but nothing is perfect.

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: the side effects of medication can be so crazy.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: BFF agreeing to have child-free time with me once a week.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: I have recently been diagnosed with invisible illnesses.

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: grateful for people who don't just write me off as a crazy unstable confused-about-religion/sexuality/life person

Sunday, September 13, 2009

OK, so if I'm not straight, I'm....

What the hell am I? I've always vehemently denied being lesbian because I can name some men to whom I am attracted, and at least for one time in August, had intense attraction to a man with whom I later had sort of consensual sex (he was whiny and pushy and sort of maneuvered himself in and I decided to let him continue to shut him up). So that right there invalidates my lesbian status. But see, here's what I've been thinking about lately. When I scope out new people, it's only women. Only rarely do I notice a hot guy. I'm more confident around women, and my relationships with Cat and Tiffany felt so blissfully normal, conversation wise. We just talked and I felt more natural. But I was telling myself that was because they were less threatening, as women, so therefore that was a case for me being straight.

And as for sex, I've only slept with one person, and that was an all around bad experience once it involved me doing any touching of any of the important areas, but maybe that has more to do with the trauma in the past. I feel like I can't be a lesbian because I WAS abused, and then it will feed the myth that all lesbians have been abused. But I can't lie and say it didn't affect my relationships. The actual sex, the act of penetration, I have no issues with that specifically, so that didn't turn me off when I was with The Creep. That was the only part that was any good because I didn't have to look at it or touch it. Again, maybe an abuse thing, maybe not. Strapons don't seem to have the same disgusted reaction with me. When I slept with Cat and Holly, I remember being sad that I couldn't really feel their arousal like you can with a man when you press up against him, but that was really the only thing I missed. Partly because it was a symbol of their attraction, and it also just created friction. So in the sex area, it's not clear either.

I don't know who I am. I don't know who will attract me with a real attraction. I do know I'm happy calling myself femme, and that I'm happy with my standard outfits of tanks and cargo pants. So hey, I'm at least clear on something!

Monday, September 7, 2009

Unholy TERROR.

I don't want to go back to school. It's a bad feeling. I've felt so great so far and now there's this new kid. First of all, I'm not supposed to have kindergartners. Secondly, he's mean and will probably end up with a label of ED. I'm not convinced he's really in the best placement right now, even though he's mine in the AM and with the autism RR in the PM even though he isn't really autistic, she's just doing a special reading thing in the afternoon. The para who followed him and is turning out to be a 1:1 from the RR coddles him. He has what looks to be a behavior disorder (as opposed to an emotional one). He's manipulative. He shouldn't get comforting hugs for being a jerk to me and throwing things at me. He knows what he's doing, he feels no remose, and doesn't care about pretty much anything. "I don't care" is one of his standard answers. So I have to go talk to my principal and see what we can do. This other teacher is great and is always on the same page with me. Her way of dealing with him is the same as mine would be, but nothing like what this one para does. I want to do a lot more ignoring than she is. We'll have to have a discussion.

Also, why the hell doesn't he have a behavior plan? Sigh. You know, it's just the adult thing. The three of us in there can deal with unholy terrors. They've gotten good at that. My Alex used to knock desks over and throw food on the ground when he was mad at them. When I babysat him as a little kid he would pull my hair and bite and kick. It's having the extra adult in there who isn't with us, and who thinks she's God's gift to troubled kids. I understand some kids need that nurturing, but he isn't one of them. So I'm off to speak with my principal in the morning. I'm scared because she used to be a lifeskills teacher and so she'll expect nothing but the best from me, and she WILL know what that looks like, or thereabouts. I want her advice, but I also want to do something about this para. Either make her go back to the other teacher's room, send another para entirely, or leave the kid with us. We can handle it. And we'll do it our way.
I'm going to ask nicely now. If you are a real life friend, please please PLEASE do not read this. I suppose if you've found it once, I can't stop you, but I would hope that you would respect my wishes. I would just feel awfully betrayed if private things went to the wrong people. I feel much safer with my online friends knowing this. Besides, sometimes I have things I need to say about my friends and want opinions from other people. I have so few friends in the area I really rely on all of you to hear me out.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Evil Plan Generator

Congratulations on being the creator of a new

Evil Plan (tm)!

Your objective is simple: World Domination.

Your motive is a little bit more complex: Sadistic pleasure

Stage One

To begin your plan, you must first seduce a wealthy heiress. This will cause the world to whisper among themselves, stunned by your arrival. Who is this threat to our children? Where did they come from? And why do they look so good in classic black?

Stage Two

Next, you must vaporize the white house. This will all be done from a haunted woods, a mysterious place of unrivaled dark glory. Upon seeing this, the world will fall into catatonic trances, as countless hordes of mean english teachers hasten to do your every bidding.

Stage Three

Finally, you must reveal to the world your unholy weapon, bringing about an end to sanity. Your name shall become synonymous with sheer dementedness, and no man will ever again dare steal your woman. Everyone will bow before your dashing good looks, and the world will have no choice but to grant you three maidens of virtue true.

Make your own evil plan here.

Friday, September 4, 2009

On Autism

Years ago, at the beginning of my special ed degree sometime in sophomore year, I got very upset reading websites of autistic people who were insistent that they wanted everyone to leave their autism alone, be called autistic instead of "having autism" and were generally bitter towards people, special ed teachers especially. So I emailed my dad frantically, thinking I was doing everything wrong, even though I thought I was doing it the right way with my accommodations and modifications and person first language. This was his response (and it was wonderful, especially coming from someone with only third hand knowledge of autism):

You are not studying to put square pegs in round holes. Use a different analogy. Think of the world as the block that contains the round hole. This hole works for many kids. That doesn't mean that that's the only portal into the world. You are looking for another way to engage the autistic child with the world. It may be a hole of another shape that no one sees because the round hole worked fine for most kids. It may be another part of the block that is more malleable
and will adapt to different shaped pegs. In severe cases maybe engagement isn't possible so you look for ways to touch the block without entering into it giving you contact without engagement. Maybe you try to change the world to accept the square peg. These are ways to find the optimum fit for each child. This is a noble goal and a noble profession (and a good mission!).

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Things I Cannot Believe I Have to Say in my Classroom

I say things every day that shock me and make me laugh. A lot of them are from one person. There's always one....She's a sweetie, except going through early puberty, so there are a lot of mood swings (more than the usual). She has autism and is still "in her head" a lot. I am trying to get her in touch with me as much as I can so we can actually accomplish something. She drives me crazy but at the same time, she does so many funny things, and is so loving at times, that I have to just love her. She is nonverbal but finds plenty of ways to let us know what she wants. Plus, she is the loudest kid for being the least verbal! Ha!

Volume 2 coming later, after this week's shenanigans.

  • Stop licking the glass!
  • Don't lick me, either!
  • Put your clothes back on!
  • Move along kids, move along. No students in HERE only wearing diapers because they've taken up defiant stripping.
  • Eat that pureed hot dog. (Followed by: OK, you know what? That's gross. I won't make you eat that. At least there were apricots on the menu today and those aren't bad pureed.)
  • TAKE those hands OUT of the urinal! Oh we are so washing our hands.
  • Please remove your nametag/crayon/shirt/alphabet card from your mouth. Here, use your chewy instead.
  • Try not to grope me.
  • Could you please not grab my butt?
  • Knock off the Joker laugh please.
  • Do not giggle and say "that's not me" EVERY SINGLE DAY when we identify names at circle time.
  • Please don't run us over.
  • Fingers out! No fingers should go in ANY....uh...anythings.
  • Hmm. You have Wednesday underwear in your locker as backup. Well, better than nothing, even though it's Friday.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Wait, I'm not straight? (NSFW)

Here's when I knew. I like this story because I like remembering the feelings. I think it's hot. It's also my first time with a woman. It was going to be a short explanatory thing, but I'm turning it into sort of erotica, because I've always wanted to write it. It's not perfect erotica, because it didn't even go that far, and no one came, but it was a huge deal for me, and the feelings were very intense. So here goes.

I had sort of thought about me perhaps not being straight for 2 years before that, ever since I roomed with a lesbian. But I didn't spend much actual thought on it, my mind just wondered about it every so often. I was after this guy who was an aide in my student teaching room. After I changed placements, he was fair game. He invited me to his Halloween party. I thought I was getting somewhere with him. I drank a lot of cheap alcohol. I began running around with his neighbor Holly. She was cute. Short, small, and athletic. The more we drank, the clingier we got. After a while we just ran around, literally, holding each others hands asking people embarrassing questions. She ended up getting pretty drunk (I was, but it wore off quickly) and she went next door to her house to sleep. I honestly DID want to check on her even though I was mad she was sitting on the guy's lap and hogging his attention. So I followed her into her garage.

We were in her garage and she leaned up against me and wrapped her arms around me. We just hugged for about 5 minutes. For some weird reason then we were sitting on the floor and she was leaning against me. It was at least 2am and we were both tired. I have no idea how that happened, honestly. At some point, we were standing up again, and her arms went around my waist. When that happened, I touched her hair and started to stroke it (why I was doing this is beyond me, it just felt right). The longer I stroked her hair, the lower her hands got. It was so slow that it was almost imperceptible but I could feel it. I stopped stroking her hair and I put my hands on her waist. As soon as I could feel the curve of her hips under my hands, I could feel her breathing change. And when I heard that, the familiar feeling came to me. The tingling, fiery, feeling that made all of my muscles down there tense up all of a sudden. I should point out that while I was drinking, it was starting to wear off, and I was cognizant enough to take full responsibility for my actions. I'm sure I was a bit less inhibited than usual, but I knew what I was doing. As I felt her breathing change, I had a very clear conversation in my head. I said that I could do two things. I could go home now and be done with the whole thing, or I could stay and see what would happen. I was too curious to go. I didn't understand why I wanted to stay. But I did, because I didn't know if I would ever have another chance to explore these feelings.

Holly said that we should sit on the couch. We did. Who the hell keeps couches in their garages? Whatever. You know how when you are so close to someone, and you are new together and you are just hypersensitive? You can tell when someone moves or puts pressure on you even a tiny bit. We could feel this in each other and would move closer and closer until our noses were almost touching. We were in the delicious moment before a kiss, where you can feel each other breathing and are breathing the same air. Your noses are brushing and your hearing even goes a little funny. The whole time our faces are so close, I feel like I am going to just burst. It had been so long that my body had responded this way to anyone. "I have a boyfriend." she says. "I know." I don't move away. Neither does she. We don't speak again for another few minutes. Slowly, our hands simultaneously move to each other's backs. Our movements mirror one another's, taking cues from the other person's movement on our body. She moves her hand just barely under my shirt. I do the same, and continue up her back. Even though we are mostly equal, I'm the one going a bit further each time. As our hands go from each other's backs to the front, she whispers "It's OK," over and over again. And then for the first time in my life, I feel someone else's breasts. I imagined that it would feel strange, but it didn't. They were smaller than mine and felt foreign but not. I began to kiss all over her chest; her collarbone, in between her breasts, and up to her neck. She mimicked my movements on me again and I closed my eyes. We did this slowly and shyly, with the hesitation of new lovers. Why didn't this feel weird? Why didn't I feel guilty? "I have a boyfriend," she repeats. "I know. I'm sorry. But we've done so much already." Our foreheads touch and lips touch, and I almost wish I could say it was a long passionate kiss. We slowly touch lips, and I put my hands on her face. We're just trying things out, seeing how we feel, trying to fit together. Her hands run up and down my back. She puts her leg over mine and I pull her closer to me. We can't get close enough. My memory gets a little fuzzy here. The next thing I remember is our conversation.

"I even wore special underwear because I thought R was going to see it," I said. "Let me see it," she said. Holly clicked the button to turn on the headlights which flashed briefly and then shut off again, quickly revealing black lace boyshorts that I'd bought "for" a previous boyfriend right before we broke up. "Can I take them off?" I lifted myself up and she did. We wrestled with each other sideways on the couch and just explored each other. It was a surreal experience, feeling on someone else all of the parts that I had on me. She was much smaller, and inside her my fingers were surrounded by something so hot. I wondered if this was what I felt like at the time. I'd only ever let someone go down on me a few times in my life and none of those times felt very good (although I think it was a mix of bad company and inexperience). I was dismayed that I wasn't immediately ready to come. See, in the few experiences I had, they were all bad, and everything related to sex caused shame and certainly no good feelings down there at all. But I could FEEL something so I wanted all of those feelings right away. But I knew that neither of us had the energy to finish anything. I kissed her and flipped her over and did the same thing to her. I was so new at this and so worried I'd get something wrong. I did the only thing I knew to do, but saw that she was so tired and I wanted her to sleep. So we put our clothes back on and began to process what had just happened. That last part, even though it should have been the most memorable, was not. I think I was so exhausted I just coudln't remember any more.

We got up from her couch and I said "That was kinda hot." "No,"she said, "that was REALLY hot." We kissed one more time, and she walked me back to my car.

And that was it. I knew she had a boyfriend, and I wasn't planning on this being anything permanent. I was OK with it. I didn't anticipate the kind of aftermath it had, and it took me a few months to decide that yes, I was bisexual. I talked it out with Emily for a long time and she pointed out that it was the first time I'd been involved in anything sexual that didn't involve shame and pain. And it just felt so normal. The guilt I felt came from something else, I don't know what. But not that. I think I was in shock. I didn't really know what to feel. I'll get into that another day.

Note: Holly was conscious and we had conversations during all of this so I am not worried about consent. I still maintain that there was nonconsensual sex after the consensual sex in the situation I've discussed in a previous entry. I was passed out and I made it clear I didn't want to continue. OK.

I like writing things out as stories. I think I'll do that again. I already have ideas.

Life update, Photo Edition.

I can't decide what to write about. I want to talk about my mental health issues more, because I have more information now, but I also want to talk about my new classroom. I'll go with the new classroom. As you know, I am no longer in an ED classroom. Last year was so full of stress and crying and stuff. Most of my students made great progress, but at the expense of my health. I'm now teaching in a different school (same corporation) in a 3-4 (well, they moved a couple 2nd graders to my room) LifeSkills classroom. This includes students with severe disabilities. It's hard to explain. We are working on functional academics and daily living skills. Because these kids are still working on recognizing and writing their names, matching identical items, identifying shapes, colors, survival words, etc. You get the picture. I have a couple of medically fragile students as well. They both have grand mal seizures frequently, so I have to keep an eye out for that. People ask me why I work with these kids, they tell me I have patience, and that I must be some sort of angel. Well, not really. The real angels are general ed teachers. I loathe teaching general ed. I did it a few times subbing. I dropped that degree early on and stuck with special ed. Anyway, I love these kids. I feel most comfortable around them. I've really gotten attached to one already. Sweet little J (I assign random letters for my students if I talk about them) is in third grade and unfortunately her seizure meds have really lowered her functioning. But even on day two, she was more alert, and she was holding eye contact with me for almost 10 seconds at a time. She isn't tracking too well with objects, but then again I wouldn't really want to look at a cup full of Pediasure for too long anyway. Who knew they made banana flavored? I have quiet kids, except for one. S has a loud cry that suspiciously sounds like a lot of other autistic kids I've worked with (I don't get hte similarity but all of them make my ears ring). They're all pretty sweet.

I feel peaceful. I know I will have hard times, but it won't be anything like last year. I feel somuch better. I visited my old school to meet with someone and as soon as I walked in, I felt the huge weight on me. I forgot what that felt like. It made me realize I made the right decision to leave.

Unlike last year, I have two wonderful staff members in the room to assist. They actually do what I ask them to do, and have a good balance of respect/love and laying down the law.

This is the week before school...I'm just pretending to work on stuff. Really, I'm freaking out.

I take the best pictures when I'm feeling some intense emotions. Sometimes it's anger, sometimes it's sadness, and sometimes it's lust. It happens to be anger here, after this ridiculous conversation I had that made me want to just throttle someone. It was around that time I completely cut off a whole bunch of my friends. I feel better for it.

Last bit of info: I've started playing my violin again. I played for about 8 years and then stopped in college. My goal is to play in a symphony within the next couple of years, either in my city or the next over. However, when you stop playing, your fingers get all soft again. I'm trying to reacquaint them with the strings. Note the string markings on my fingertip. I do love this picture.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

My mental health issues are really getting me down right now. Thanks to some new testing I've been requesting for ages, I've been diagnosed with bipolar disorder (just not the "classic" kind everyone thinks of), a secondary of at least having borderline personality traits, and a provisional diagnosis of intermittent explosive disorder. My therapist explained it like this: maybe if I get on some bipolar med like Lacmictal, Depakote, or whatever (they often use anticonvulsants), it might take care of my giant temper so therefore the IED as well. I don't completely understand the psych report I read. I told my therapist to read it and she said she'd translate it for me. Basically, I have a lot of mood swings. I have a terrible temper. I take everything personally. Loren said she's not surprised at that. I got yelld at in high school for dating behind my parents' backs. They monitored my email and phone calls and we were not on good terms. In college, everyone I knew, everyone, got all bitchy with me about dating this jerk. Yes, he was a jerk who hurt me, but I needed friends, not more rules about when and where i could see him. I didn't need people following me, and I certainly didn't need to be kicked out of the one place I thought I could trust people. So hte reason I'm paranoid now? That's because I got a bunch of crap dumped on me all at one time. Of COURSE I feel like I'm being judged all the time. Because for a while, I WAS. So now it manifests itself in me having very thin skin, and thinking everyone is insulting me when they're making general statements.

It's so hard to go through life thinking everyone is out to get you. As much as I tell myself it's notr ttrue, it doesn't work. For a while, no one really cared enough to really hear my side of the story. And now, with all this other stuff going on, I can go from normal to raging mad in under 10 seconds. If I don't get out of there ASAP, and sometimes I get no warning, I will scream at people uncontrollably and pound my fists and cry and claw at my face in frustration. It makes me want to cut all over again. Now I just scratch. It feels cathartic. I'll discuss self injury anothe time. If someone criticizes me, or even so much as postpones something or changes a plan, I break down. I feel like they don't like me, and also, my schedule is changing and I simply cannot handle that and I get panicked.

Right now I'm stressing about school. Yes, I love teaching kids with severe disabilities. But I've never had to plan a classroom all by myself. I'm very worried. It's all new for me. I have a principal who is supportive but has very high standards, once being a special ed teacher herself. I hope if I seem proactive and ask questions maybe she won't mistake me for being lazy. I'm just new and need to know things. Nothing can REALLY prepare you for having your own classroom.

My Xanax I took is making me tired. I got some water on the computer and the mother(fucking)board is done for. I needed a new computer before December anyway because my warranty ends, and I NEED that warranty. Guess I am getting a new one now. I screamed at technical support because the salespeopleweren't going to be there until Monday. I then cried, no, sobbed, uncontrollably for a few minutes. I didn't settle down until I took Xanax.

If you know any of my friends, please understand my mental health issues are completely confidential. Please respect that. Don't even allude to them. I'll share when I'm ready if I ever do.

It's scary going through life when you are at the mercy of your emotions. All I want is a little bit of control.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Reality: I am not ready to accept you. Go fuck yourself.

Today's blog entry brought to you by: school starting in a week, emails from the office asking me questions about new responsibilities (which reminded me that vacation was over and I needed to be an adult again), special ed meetings, psychological diagnoses from my doctor that I may discuss later that are troubling me, and Adam Savage of Mythbusters who says "I reject your reality and substitute my own."

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


I fucking have pinkeye. What am I, 8? *grumble grumble*

That is all. I will have a recipe to share with you later.

(Grandma's house through my old Kodak Duaflex viewfinder)