A Friday Fill In to Fill the Blank Space

1. Jeopardy is my favorite TV show (or movie) because I adore trivia, and it makes me feel like I'm giving my brain a workout.

2. Go to page 45 of the book you're reading or of the book closest to you; go to the 6th paragraph and make a sentence out of 7 words from it: Our ancestors offered to deliver horrible emotions.

3. I am getting married.

4. Usually I like long walks.

5. Take some time to think about the effects of your words.

6. My meds need a bit of adjusting before moving.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to dinner with my fiancée and mom, tomorrow my plans include being sexy with my fiancée and Sunday, I want to have a peaceful Mother's Day lunch with my grandparents who actually invited both of us to lunch!

Guess WHAT????

So I'm getting married!!! To the girl I've posted about a few times. It started out as a very rocky thing, because we moved in together way too quickly, she'd decided to go off her meds, and I needed a new one. So it got a little crazy. And it will always be complicated with both our problems, but I love her so much. No one has ever understood me like she does. No one really sees me like she does. I don't let people touch me and I don't open up to people like that. So everything is good.

Fuck U-Haul.

So let's skip most of the backstory here. I ended up getting back together with R, it has been wonderful, and now she is living with me. I feel cliche with that, but she had to be out of her current place really soon, and I thought this could work. We'll see.

Holy cow. She has as many space/emotion issues as I do. Well, more really. I don't regret having her here, it was my idea although she was right there with me thinking about it, but it's hard not having control of everything in my house. She is an adult and makes her own decisions and has her own needs, and it's very hard for me not to get angry when she makes decisions I don't like. When we have issues about emotional stuff, she thinks it through by leaving for a while. I get hurt that she doesn't want to be with me, even though I often do the same thing. I love being alone sometimes. But now that she's here it's like my fucking borderline came right back. I don't want to start being manipulative. And right now she's on my couch crying. And it looks like she wants nothing to do with me. Deep down I really do like someone there when I cry, but only when it's a very trusted person which explains why I rarely cry in front of people. I am hurt but really the worst feeling is being out of control. I can't make her do anything. I'm just exiled to another part of the house because she wants to be alone. And yes, I know. She is perfectly entitled to alone time, especially in a small apartment. But I have such a fear of lack of control AND being left behind that things like this really get me. When she gets out of bed in the middle night to go "think things through" on the couch, I can't sleep after that. I stay up tossing and turning, wishing she would just stay in bed and talk to me.

Will it be like this every day? I can't handle that. We all have our moments but every single day of this will be so hard to live with. I need my home to be calm. And if this is going on, plus getting up in the middle of the night all the time, I will spend ALL my time tired and tense. I can't do that. I spent last night with awful tremors and a racing heart. My doctor says it is probably a side effect of one of my meds but maybe not, you know? I have some tremors when I am totally relaxed and about to go to sleep. But last night it was so scary. It's never been like that before. And when we were having sort of almost sex kind of, my right arm shook in sets of three as if there were 3 separate muscles there and it made my arm shake violently. It was scary. And afterwards I didn't just get the usual shaking like you do after some good time with your girl, it was more violent and it lasted for a long time.

I'm exhausted because we've hardly slept, mostly due to the fact that she has had issues and has either needed to talk or has gone on the couch, which means I can't sleep. So I think my sore throat is partially due to that. I cannot HANDLE this. I want to be able to handle it. I love her, I really do. But I don't know how to make this work. I can't do the serious stuff every day. I need fun and lighthearted. When I get back from school I need calm. I feel like I am losing my independence. How do married people do this? I do want her around but it is sinking in how much I am giving up and changing to do this.

I'm tired and sick and I don't know what to do.

Girl advice. Oh women and their estrogen.

Hi, I'm back. I need to vent and I have questions. So this girl, R. We've been doing email for over a week since she's been on a retreat. We don't know each other REALLY well, although we've accomplished 8 hours of talking in 2 days (in person). So we're getting there. And we feel close. She feels the connection too. I really like her. But I just saw even more red flags. If I'm being ridiculous, please tell me. If you have any advice, I'm welcoming that as well. I won't get upset or anything, I'm just wondering what to do. I don't want to just leave this without a good reason. And keep in mind this is after she insisted she was like a certain TV character who carries a lot of emotional baggage and takes it out on others (and has a really annoying voice, and is a doctor, hint hint). I can't fault her for having her views on sex shaped by her past because mine is too. And she's alluded to past trauma and how she opens up to few but she feels she can to me which is great but hey it's very early for serious talking and now I feel responsible for her mental health. Anyway.

Late last night I got an email from her saying that she needed to wait a few days to see me after getting home, and said her deep dark places came up and she needed to take care of those before seeing me. I guess she had been crying and she just wasn't in the right place right now to see anyone. I get all that. Sometimes we need a few days. But that combined with all of her insinuations about past trauma and making jokes about her life being one big crisis just makes me wonder. I responded to her last night by saying something like, if you have to do your thing, do your thing. I have to be getting ready for school but at some point let me know you're around around and we can do something then. If there's too much going on to get me all up in it, that's OK too. I just need to know.

I thought that was fair. I was half asleep but I got the point across. The last thing I want is to be in a position where I'm playing therapist. I want an equal. I have trauma too. I still have times where I need to go be alone because something brought up a flashback. But it has come up so many times in this very new thing (we have only gone on a couple dates and been emailing for a few weeks) makes me think that it's way too new to do anything with me.

I like the idea that we can grow together, because some things can't be dealt with until you can actually apply them. For example, a lot of my sexual issues can't be dealt with until it actually happens, and then I can help retrain myself not to dissociate. But I am so scared that it is going to turn into something where we both can't live without each other and get all wrapped up in each other's trauma. Can't do it. Back in the day I would have told her my life story already. I've learned to STFU. And I love the new healthy me.

I typed that I wasn't sure if it was a crisis that precluded being with someone, because at the time she hadn't explained it (she was moving and was really sad at leaving her roomie's dog behind). She had started typing, but as soon as I said I was leaving she just said goodbye. I'm afraid it might be the case.

Any ideas on how to proceed? How to find out if she's ready? If this can be healthy? Like I said, because of our connection, I'm reluctant to just cut it off. At least not unless I KNOW it's bad. and I don't know yet. I am just scared. I'm scared of getting into something I can't get out of. I'm scared of the thought of sitting around rehashing stuff I've worked for years to put behind me. I'm just scared. I'm ready to handle a healthy relationship. But I need her to be the same way. Or at least willing to work really really hard.

Also, check out the new tattoo! It means I have conquered. It's directly below scars on my wrist. So yes the tattoo is visible but easy to cover with bracelets, and the location is significant. I'm totally in love with it. What I like about this picture is that it's evident how much happier and calmer I am. It feels so good to be alive and healthy and bright and shiny.

I'm back!

Hi there. Remember me? I have all sorts of fun things to tell y'all. First of all, I'm FINALLY happy. Truly, honestly, happy. I haven't been this happy, satisfied, and calm in 10 years, almost exactly. And it's because I kept demanding a proper diagnosis and didn't rest until I found one, and then not until I found a doctor who validated my fears about medication side effects. I finally found both of those things. I'm on a blend of medications that is perfect for me. I've also lost 20 pounds. Mostly due to eating less meat and just being aware of what I eat and not going above my calorie limit. So life is good. I FEEL better as well as looking thinner.

I also met a girl. Before you make any assumptions, I was just as happy with life before I met her. I'm extra excited right now but my happiness is not tied to other people. I feel very connected to her for many reasons. However, she compared herself to a TV character who is generally noted to have lots of drama and lots of baggage. That sent a major red flag. I have had drama in my past as well, but I'm over it. And I couldn't even think of dating someone until I was happy with myself and not constantly be affected by my past. I just hope that her past is behind her enough to really have a relationship that isn't codependent. Nothing is wrong now. I just keep steering away from serious conversations because we've just met. It's not time for that. I am not ready to make myself vulnerable to her, nor do I want her to open herself up THAT much to me now. There is time for that. Right now I'm just enjoying being with her. We enjoy talking and that's new for me. The whole talking while sitting on opposite ends of the couch thing. People do that? But at the same time, like I said, I'm keeping my emotions to myself. At least the complicated heavy ones.

It's strange looking at relationships this way. I was always the one pouring my heart out to people, jumping into bed with them, and forming strong attachments very early on. I was the essence of borderline. Inside sometimes I still feel that way, but not overall. It's hard for me to believe that I'm the one guarding myself. But it's truly what I want. The last thing I need is to get so involved and codependent that I lose focus. I can't afford to do that with the kind of job I have. But right now, it's going just fine. I think she got the hint that I'm not ready to talk about these things. Someday.

I get the feeling she will want to wait a long time before sex. That's hard for me to get my mind around, but I think it will be good for me. I don't want to push her, and often when I start the sexual part of a relationship, the other parts go out the window. So maybe if I wait, there can be a proper balance between sex, conversation, and just being with each other without touching.

If you've read through this whole thing, congrats. I suppose I'm long winded since it's been a while since I've posted. But here's me. I'm thinner and very happy. Also, my cleavage looks fucking awesome.

I just came so hard my hand is shaking. Just one, for some reason. I have it really bad for a straight girl. My gaydar went WAY off when I saw her and when I found out she wasn't gay, I was shocked. We spend a considerable amount of time talking and man. She's hot, athletic, and likes teaching. Perfect! Except for the straight thing. Don't get me wrong, I love my straight friends, but when I want to date them the straight thing gets in the way.

She came to the bar with me the other night when I was hanging out with my brother and uncle. And today my mind just wandered and I imagined she followed me into the bathroom and kissed me, and then I did something totally un-me. I put HER up against the wall and made her arch her back and yell as loudly as she'd dare.

Operation Toaster Oven has commenced. I want this girl. And now that she is no longer subbing at my school, it's open field.

And if the sex is anything like this just was, I won't want to leave my bedroom all summer. I have a blissfully child free summer. I love being a teacher. And I love liking girls.

Tumblr

Still alive. Entry coming soon. To hold you over, I got a tumblr, and it's full of pretty girls in varying degrees of nakedness. Find it here!

My thoughts on self injury, the day after

"I was trying to get equilibrium from two extremes: either I was so upset that I had to cut myself to relieve it, or I was so numb that I had to cut myself to get back to being there." Women Living with Self Injury

Well, there was that. The marks were gone this morning. I was disappointed. I like marks. I carry my history on my skin and I'm a little proud of that, as twisted as it is.

I know why I'm feeling weird about this cutting business. I had a revelation, driving to Taco Bell to get some cheap comfort food. I talked to BFF earlier and sounded very calm about the whole thing. And I was last night, in a way. See, the ache was inside. The butterflies were. But my head was calm and my voice was even. I explained that I think of it like my X@n@x (I'm hoping this will help eliminate spam commenters): a quick fix that works, even though as a habit it's bad. I'm using pain to medicate my anxiety. And it works quite well. To me, it's like taking my medicine. No stigma. To me, that is. But since I've been on this L@mictal, my speech is even and calm. My thoughts move at a normal pace and do not make me dizzy. I can think about things in a logical order and contemplate the possible effects of my actions.

However, my medicine does not take away the feeling. The feeling that makes me cut. It's hard to imagine. I feel my ache in the same spot, near my stomach, and I point to it when I talk about it. Think about the achy feeling you get when you break up with someone. The panic you feel when you think you're losing them. The dread of something looming in the future. All of those feelings put together is what I feel like when I'm scared or sad and I want to cut. Cutting makes it go away. Not forever, but for the moment. And it helps me sleep. But my speech belies my emotion.

Before I took medicine, I was a much more intense person. Not to say that I'm boring now, but there was a definite difference. That's part of both bipolar and borderline. I don't get the rushes I did then. So even though I want to cut, I don't get the rush of thoughts that come out in my speech, making it seem like I'm faking. And this whole slow thing makes me WANT to cut. I miss that feeling.

I want my rushes back. I want the adrenaline, the heart pounding, and the swirling thoughts. I felt alive. So yeah, I'd cut to get that back.

Now that I've figured that out, maybe I can find other ways to calm down. I don't know. But it scares me that I'm so calm about it. It means the next time I feel bad, I'll feel no qualms about just going right ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Relevant Quotes I got from here

The plain fact of it was that I was miserable—though my misery wasn’t so much sadness as it was a shrieking unease, a gnawing despair, which I had been trying that morning to cut out of myself. –Caroline Kettlewell, Skin Game

I started cutting because at a particular point in my life I ran afoul of a certain unique set of circumstances for which neither experience nor my own emotional constitution had equipped me. I can’t say what precise conjunction of factors led me to choose self-mutilation as my recourse, nor can I say how my life might have been different if any one of these factors had been otherwise. All I can say is that my skin itself seemed to cry out for an absolution in blood.
I kept cutting, because it worked. When I cut, I felt better for a while. When I cut, my life no longer overwhelmed me. I felt too keenly the threat of chaos, of how things can get away from you in a thousand ways… Entropy keeps eating at the ramparts, and I cut to try to shore them up. –ditto

I stopped cutting because I always could have stopped cutting; that’s the plain and inelegant truth. No matter how compelling the urge, the act itself was always a choice. I had no power over the urge, but the act itself was always a choice. I had no power over the flood tide of emotions that drove me to that brink, but I had the power to decide whether or not to step over. Eventually I decided not to.
Stopping, however, was not at all the same thing as ending the desire. Even now, I still sometimes ache with a fierce, organic need for cutting’s seductive, minimalist simplicity. I expect that I will always be the kind of person who is too much aware of the boundlessness of chaos; it’s like having an unfortunate sixth sense, alive to the teeming, invisible undercurrents of anarchy streaming past us as every moment. I don’t say it makes me stronger, or more interesting, or gives me character; it’s just a part of my fabric of self. –ditto

It serves a lot of functions in my life. I use it as a way to punish myself, I use it as a way to medicate myself, I use it for the tension release when things get too strong or too built up. –Meredith, in Jane Wegscheider Hyman’s Women Living with Self-Injury

When I’'m done, after this big huge buildup, then there’s an overwhelming feeling of calmness, an overwhelming sense of peace. –ditto

My wounds
do the weeping
I cannot.
–S. Marie

Help.

I went through things in the attic. I found old joiurnal entries, some marked with blood from when I cut while I was writing. It brought back vivid memories of nights that I've talked about so often that I feel numb to them, but when I read these pages, it was written so close to the event that it seemed more real to me. I felt off for the rest of the day.

I went to The Creep's facebook page (we're not friends but he's friends with a lot of mine). His profile picture is him with some girl. This girl is very attractive. She's someone I would hit on. She has better hair than me. I got all funny feeling.

And now I want to cut. I haven't wanted to this much in a while. I avoided the hardware aisle in the drugstore because I knew I'd want to buy razors. I have sharp knives here but I have to be careful with those. I don't want to cut too much. It is very controlled.

The scars on my legs are like tally marks. How many times have I felt chaos inside? How many times have I needed to make it go away?

I need to go to sleep. I want to be rested for school. If I start the Monday off tired, it throws my whole week off. But I want to make my insides quiet.

*five minutes passes*

I tried to cut. It didn't work. The blade is too dull and if I pull it along my skin, it's a long knife and I'm afraid it would make a long cut. One that would need medical attention, which I want to avoid. I'm very careful and methodical about this. I always have been. So I scratched. I didn't draw blood but I left a lot of red stinging skin. I feel a little quieter. Not as good as if I had cut, but better. Maybe able to sleep.

I hadn't self injured in 2 years. Fuck.

A long goodbye.

I don't really write here anymore. I suppose I don't know what to write about. I wish I didn't have to compartmentalize my life and my blogs.

I think I'm going to leave this one be for a while. Come visit me at this address here to read about my daily life adventures with being a teacher and having mental health issues. This blog has served its purpose. I will come back to it when I need to. So don't unsubscribe it from your reader or anything. If you come read, read my other blog. I'm on my way to updating it right now.

Wait, who?

So, you know how I said I was so happy?

Yeah, I take that back. I cried in therapy Friday for the first time in a long time. I don't cry much anymore, but before I knew what was happening, I felt tears not only in my eyes but sliding out down to my temples...my head was tilted sideways, in my hands. I was starting to talk about how I am fitting into my new identity, and figuring out what that is. Loren asked me how I felt about that. Cue the tears.

How does it feel? Well, it feels like I've stepped into someone else's skin. It doesn't fit. I can move around like I did before, but the way my body responds is unfamiliar. I look at myself in the mirror. I see hair growing out, a nice sweater, and nice makeup. I have a counter full of vegetables and tofu in the freezer. These might all be objectively good things, but they are foreign to me. Me, the fresh-faced, hoodie wearing, spiky haired, Taco-Bell eating person.

What I cannot figure out, and what's impossible to ever know, is if this is really Em minus bipolar, or if this is Em On Medication; medication that changed my personality and preferences. I hate the thought that so much of my identity was wrapped up in bipolar. I WANT to feel wild and crazy. I want my spark back. I'm boring myself. I used to be opinionated and interesting. Now I sit at home eating tofu reading books. I'm not ready for this. I don't want to take my medicine. I can't even take pictures. I can't see things anymore. I miss the person I was. I'm grieving for her.

The more people tell me I seem different, the worse I feel. I just want to know if this is the real me. What IS the real me?

And I still get irritable so it's not as if I'm a zombie with no mood changes. I guess my lightning fast flashes are gone. I should wait and settle into myself for a while, I know. If I go off this particular med for 3 days, I have to start all the way back and titrate back up. That would really screw with me, as well as make the side effects resurface. And also, that means I'd have to get the prescription for the starter pack and that means telling my doctor. She would not be happy. And I'm a people pleaser.

It all just feels so strange. I'm glad I don't spend all my time angry or down, but I'm not sure about all these changes. Just not sure.

Hey beautiful people
I know I've been gone. I've been too busy to really consider many of the things I discuss here.

I'm so happy. Lamictal saved my life. For the first time in, oh, 8 years, I feel...sane. Normal. I'm not being dragged around by my emotions. My entire identity revolved around my emotions and mood swings. So much of it was tied to my bipolar. Now that it's taken care of, I don't know what to do with myself or who the hell I am. I'll write more about that later.

I want some vegetarian recipes. I'm not sure I'm actually going totally veggie, but definitely cutting down on meat. And also, how do you people eat vegetables? I grew up in a meat and potatoes family. No idea how to eat veggies except in salad, and that can get boring unless it's spiced up. Help!

PS-I've been having trouble with spam commenters. I might have to add the word verification on here, even though it's a pain. Sorry. I'm just tired of deleting the spam.

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.

Coming home

Well.

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?

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.

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.

Bedtime.

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.

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.

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).

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.