29 December 2012

I can feel!

I's just sittin' here, thinking about stuff like I usually do. And it dawned on me.

I can feel! I'm not a bloody zombie from these meds. They're actually working. Although I'm not convinced I'm not going crazy. But I'm having fun right now, accomplishing things in life that have greater meaning than myself.

I feel like I have complete control of my life back after losing that control in September. I decide whether I'm going to lead a happy, fulfilling life filled with meaning and teaching or whether I'm going to be a twatasauraus rex and be negative all of my life, never accomplishing anything more than more heartache, drama and turmoil.

I'm determined to live a healthy, positive, happy, fulfilling life achieving my dreams and goals step by step. I have Bipolar, it doesn't have me. Of course, most psychs just reading this would mistake this as me being manic. This isn't me being manic. This is me feeling comfortable and happy with a sense of meaning I've been searching for my entire life. This is me taking control, this is me finally sitting down to write my Nyla saga after 4 years of putting it off and myself down thinking it was too crazy a  notion that I would be able to write something memorable. You know what? I can, I will, and I am.

I'm not living my life according to the stereotypes and norms forced upon me by society, family, peers or the mental health profession.

I almost bought into the notion that I was a bad kind of different recently. That people are always going to be scared of me because I'm open, honest, blunt and bold about, well, everything - including suffering with Bipolar Disorder. I almost bought into it that I should just lay down and be quiet and don't try to do or say anything because they can and will lock me up for no honest reason. Yanno what? Locking me up only made me and my resolve stronger. I will be a great person that entertains people, educates them and accepts them. I may not become J.K. Rowling famous, but I'm going to do my damndest to make my dent in the literary world. If that's me being crazy because "normal people have more realistic dreams and goals" then let me be crazy.

Let me feel the pain of grief, the warmth of sunshine, the bonding with Dad. Let me be me, at my peaceful haven where I'm loved and accepted for all of my eccentricities and faults.

Just let me feel damnit.

27 December 2012

to a friend.

You're having a rough time right now. Your emotions are going haywire, the stress you're experiencing is dragging you down. You're being forced to face the mortality of your parents. You have more questions than answers and you feel alone.

Did I pretty much nail it?

What you're going through is normal. You're not going crazy, you're beginning the grieving process.

Denial. Nope... can't be dying.
Bartering. Ok I'll give you x, God, if you give me y.
Anger. Oh you're going to get pissed.
Depression. You're going to face clinical depression.
Acceptance. You'll be ok with the death.

Those are the stages of grief as I remember them. It's taken two years to really accept mom's death. Each person grieves different, yet there are similarities.

You're going to experience every step at least once and in probably a random order. You're probably going to experience it many times at random. Sometimes you'll experience two or three steps at the same time such as denial,  depression and anger.

You will feel like you're going crazy... and you'll probably believe it. You're not. Take it from a Bipolar ... you're fine. If you do crack I have super glue, silicone, duct tape and jb weld.

You're going to cry a lot. I saved my tears until I took my famous 30 minute shower. It's ok to cry and have emotion and be "weak".

I got your back and I'll be your guide through. You're not alone.

26 December 2012

I feel great!

I feel great. I made it through the holidays. I enjoyed myself in spite of the drama. I remembered Mom. I grieved a little. I shared that grief with a little girl. I learned a lot. I grew a little. I took control of my life after having illegally been placed on a 96 hour hold based on lies.

I didn't let that defeat me, I didn't let them shut me up. I still believe I did the right thing. Nothing will change my mind on that.

I've been told that because I wrote those letters that I was crazy and having a psychotic episode.

Because of those letters outing corruption and ripping the sheeps clothing off of the wolves I lost 5 days of my life, a considerable legal bill, 3 ex parte orders that I beat, and everyone thinks that I'm a violent, crazy psychopath that has threatened to kill kids, doctors, patients, staff and it even went around that I was going to kill my father in his sleep.

I've heard that I hear voices.

I've been told I was/am delusional and making shit up about the sex abuse and what the 2 dildos down the road are doing.

I've been forced to face some of the most bigoted hatred towards me simply because I have a mental illness. I will not tolerate that.

I've learned how the other side thinks and what they feel.

I'm going to bridge the gap and erase some of this stigma. I started a support group for people with mental health issues. I will grow it into an advocacy group as well.

I will succeed. I am doing the right thing. I will stand up for the 1 in 17 adults facing serious mental illness. I will stand up for the 1 in 5 adults that have mental health issues at least once. I will be a voice for the children suffering.

I believed I was going crazy at one point between October and now. I started buying into the bullshit of maybe I did have a psychotic break. Maybe I was imagining the 2 asshats down the road doing and saying shit. I was told that because I brought in everything they've done, giving a voice to the voiceless or the unwitting victim that is what made me be labeled as having a psychotic episode. Because normal people would have just wrote letters complaining about what was done to them. Because normal people...

I'm not crazy. This shit's really going on. There's too much tangible evidence to say that it's not. I had a weak spot in my armor apparently and it was exploited.

That armor is now fixed and reinforced. My spears are sharpened. My woad is upon my skin. I lay in wait now.

I will use the experience of Hell that I've dealt with on a smaller scale all of my life and on a much larger scale, the last 4 months or so.

I will use it to change the world one person at a time. I will use it to help others heal, to navigate the mental health system, to change that system.

I've been a champion looking for a cause for a long time. I have found that cause... and I will fight for it.

Rise my warriors, for today we have Legions to take out. For today we stand for our rights as human beings. Rise and revolt!

Christmas 2012

OK, So I went to Grandma's today and nothing bad happened. I was pretty stressed and anxious, but I muddled through it fine. I was apparently tired because I took a 5 hour nap. My back hurts like a bitch, but I'm used to that. I'm still fighting my sinus infection, hopefully I'm winning. I'm not sure at the moment.

Grandma was excited to get her presents. Dad and I got her an Amaryllis bulb that you grow yourself on your kitchen table. We also got her an indoor strawberry bed. She was so excited that we had to plant the bulb immediately and take 30 minutes to find a cat safe place for it. Man she was like a little kid that just got the perfect thing. I finally got pictures of her where she's not all pissy and mean looking.

Dad liked the knife the best... but he immediately opened and thumbed through the Spongebob calendar I bought him. Asshole even has me secretly watching Spongebob now. He'll love it when his version of Uncle Tom's Cabin comes in the mail this week. I think I spent $3.50 on it. He's got 2 more books too, but I won't say what they are, yet.

Aunt Lynn loved her presents. She's so easy to buy for... and the joy she felt by being loved enough that I made sure to get her some presents too showed in her eyes.

Everybody ate and had a good time Christmas Eve. There were some emotional moments. My niece was overwhelmed with feelings of grief and missing my mother when she got to the back living room and saw that it was pretty much the same as it was the last time she was here to see her adoptive Grandma. It was at that time that I finally knew what to do with some of the jewelry Mom had. B got a nice probably CZ ring that kind of looks like a flower. T chose the setting with a Sapphire in it. Poor B told me that she felt bad for taking the ring and cameo  because she thought that Dad and I could use them. I just explained that neither of us would wear it and Grandma would rather someone that's going to use it have it.

I almost had to go to the bathroom for an extended cry session. I fought it back though. Both girls seemed quite pleased with their spontaneous presents. And I'm glad they'll be used and cherished.

I've had a lot of good memories be made over the last few weeks. I'm happy my Dad decided to be a part of the good things, the spirit of the season. 2012 will go down in Spiers history as the year of the duct tape because we duct taped everything, including the garland and the lights in the living room.

Just seeing Lynn smile and be her happy, almost aloof self makes my heart smile. She was excited about her surprise presents. She even gave me a hug and a kiss over the fruit basket I made for her. I think she had a good holiday season too.

Now, to the more serious portion. I was moved by the emotional reaction Christmas Eve. Like I said, I was about to cry like a baby with a 20 lb diaper. I felt the need and that the time was right to impart some wisdoms to my nieces. I can't just keep the guidelines to myself, though. So here it goes:

We all lost someone special when Mom died. Unfortunately that's a hard part of life, and one I had difficulty accepting. I put myself in the mental hospital to get better a few months after Mom passed. I turned to Tramadol, klonopin and a lot of alcohol to help me get through. Foolish and irresponsible, I know. I just had to kill the pain somehow. I know you want to kill your pain. It's ok to feel. You can feel that pain and emptiness as often as you do. You're allowed. Cry. Talk to Mom or Dad. Talk to me. Talk to R. Play softball or the saxaphone or whatever.
See, when Mom died, I took on a special responsibility. The responsibility of being a good role model to you girls and A. A for a different reason than yours. Either way, it is my duty to instill into you the values Mom held and taught me. It's my duty to love you and be a part of your lives, to watch you grow and learn and hurt and heal and love and be loved. I probably won't get to know the joys of motherhood myself, but I can contribute to the next generation (you) and make sure you know that you're loved, cherished even, that you're valuable, that intelligence, kindness, empathy and standing up for the right thing or against injustices far outweighs looking pretty, being skinny, materialism.
I didn't know how to take on that responsibility. I wasn't emotionally ready to either. I even cut ties with R for awhile because I feel the same responsibility towards her. It freaked me out. I accept it with open arms now. Keep these things in mind:
Cherish warm moments and memories.
Don't hang onto negativity.
Harbor positive thoughts and emotions.
Don't kill yourself asking why other people do what they do. We'll never know until they're ready to face reality.
Your life is what you make of it. If you want a positive, happy, drama reduced life you have to be positive, happy and relaxed.
Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself or other people. She told me at least a million times that she wished she had the courage to stand up that I do. I can hear her saying it right now.
Make every moment count.
Don't forget to have fun, explore, enjoy life.
Accept no boundaries. Do not let anyone, ever, pigeonhole you into thinking you can't do something great with and in your lives. My principal in high school told me that I'd end up being a nobody, a nothing all of my life. It may have taken me awhile, but I'm beginning to accomplish things... great things. I started a support group for people with mental health issues so we can have a voice in things too, I'm stable enough with the bipolar that I can write these novels that I have in my head and become a famous author Either way, I'm touching people's lives in a positive way now. It's great knowing that if I succeed with the support group I can literally change how mentally ill people are treated. And I'm going to be a nobody forever. Pffft please.
Don't be afraid of aunt Sarah. She has a disease in her brain that makes her emotions do crazy things like be really depressed for weeks, sleeping 20 hours a day or so or she can get so excited and happy that the world is perfect sunshine and rainbows. Or she can be both at the same time. I know that when she feels threatened or provoked into defending herself or someone else (especially kids) she yells and screams and threatens. She's really a soft-hearted woman that will lay down her life for any child. The mental illness she has is really a bad one as far as what it does to people, it's difficult to treat, sometimes the medicine makes you so sick you'd rather just be crazy, sometimes the medicine makes the disease worse. She also didn't have a great childhood so she feels more defensive over kids.

22 December 2012

2012 Apocalypse Survivor!

Well, the apocalypse came and went. People celebrated the solstice yesterday. The moon reflected off of the snow, emitting a curious beauty. Fitting for Winter Solstice.

As I put as my Facebook status: 12-21-12 isn't the end of the world, it's the beginning of my new positive life.

A positive life in which I defend the rights of others... especially the mentally ill. I will do my damndest to educate the public and work on destigmatizing mental illness. I will defend my right to live as I see fit. I am a writer, I will write. If you don't like the topic, don't read it... or read it and get educated. A positive life in which I help others because it's the right thing to do. Right is right, wrong is wrong and it's time the wrongdoers get called out. Advocacy. I'm all about advocacy.

I have completed the hardest part of writing historical fiction, now all I have left is to write the books. These will be my legacy. I will leave a huge footprint on this earth.

I've learned that a fulfilling life for me means a life of being an advocate, speaking out, loving my boyfriend, loving those close to me, having a relationship with my Dad, cutting certain people out of my life because they're unhealthy to be around. A fulfilling life is what I make of my life. I won't be happy unless I'm helping others and teaching. It is my destiny. It is what I was put on this earth to do.

All of the shit that I've endured over the last 32 years has stuck with me. I have learned how to turn off the negative memories and flood my brain with the positive ones. Reprogramming my brain. 

For instance, I could be all pissed at Grandma still and destroying myself mentally and emotionally, or I could do what I am doing... forgiving her. 

If I didn't love her I wouldn't have put up with so much, I wouldn't have gotten as happy as I did when I finally found the right Christmas card to give her, I wouldn't have planned her fruit basket (with 2 Milky Way bars) the way I did... hell I wouldn't have gotten Dad to allow me to have the tradition Mom and I started back... we drove all the way to Lowes just so I could get her an Amaryllis bulb kit and window sill strawberries. She's going to have a good Christmas too.

I could be dwelling on the latest incident with Mom's sister. Instead I'm just keeping her at arms length and forgetting she exists. She no longer has any control over my emotions, I have taken that power back.

I could be negatively processing the whole ex parte, babykiller, mass murderer, father killing, involuntary commitment, being lied about because I have Bipolar thing. Or I could do what I'm doing now... I will use the experience to bring positive into the world. I will use it to educate the public and to make the point that we mentally ill have rights that aren't always granted to us. I will be an advocate.

I could be Grinchy and hate the holidays like I usually do. But I'd made my mind up Thanksgiving Eve that I was going to have a good holiday season if it killed me. Instead of harboring ill will and negative memories I'm concentrating on the good things from past holidays and the little things that are happening this year. I mean, come on, my Dad, King of Scrooge Grinchland hung decorations with me... and smiled while doing it. He has a shitton of presents by the tree and the stocking is overflowing, literally... and he still has 3 more presents on the way.

I am accepting my eccentricities as part of me. I'm transitioning from author wannabe to writing a series that I will seriously try to get published. I'm learning to trust Dad. I'm learning that life is what you make of it. If you want a negative high drama life, you're going to get one because of your actions. If you want a positive and peaceful life, you're going to get that because of your actions. The choice is ours. I'm choosing happiness.

19 December 2012

Tylenol 3 Induced Ramblings for December

Right now I'm feeling pretty damned good. I'm happy. I'm relieved. I'm relaxed.

I saw my counselor today, that helped me get back to trying to be the person I want to be and really am. So, back to the positive.

Despite the road bumps, I am having a great holiday season. I've been through a lot in the last few years, or through my whole life. I could (and used to) think of the past as an excuse for pessimistic and negative life view.

This year, recently, I decided to stop that and be more positive. Positive in my outlook on life, positive in my expectations from life, positive in how I handle myself. I've failed in the last one a few times, but overall it's going good.

If you asked me what I thought of the holiday season last year I would have told you I hate it, there's no joy in it, it's just my dysfunctional family coming together to fuck with me, it's Dad bitching, it's mourning the loss of Mom, it's just a shitty time of year.

Not this year. I've decided to cut some people out of my life that aren't positive for me right now, until I get stronger and work through some issues. It sucks, it doesn't mean I don't love them, they're just unhealthy for me right now and I have to keep my distance.

This year is different than all of my other years.

I control my environment.

I control my happiness.

I control my life.

With that I am learning to control my reactions, retraining myself to have rational, logical and calm reactions to issues rather than just yelling back to deaf ears.

I accept the responsibility to control how I view the world and how I respond to it.

Furthermore, it is my duty to bring joy to those around me this year. I owe a big thanks to my friend, Karla for giving me $25 so I could get Dad Christmas. I also owe thanks to T. and Lynn for covering for me the other night moneywise.

Dad is going to have a great Christmas morning and that is where I get my joy. The joy in seeing Dad's smile and hearing his chuckle when he opens the cute presents or hearing him excitedly yell "UNDERWEAR" when he opens the traditional underwear present.

My aunt, cousins and friends are going to have a great, positive experience Christmas Eve. That brings me joy.

It is far more fulfilling to live to create joy in others than it is to be selfish and negative.

17 December 2012

Grinches and Bitches

So my aunt on Mom's side decided to fall back into her old ways again. Now I have drama and full enemies on both sides of the family. Nothing new I guess.

I have been accused and blamed for a lot of shit lately. What supposedly started it this time was Facebook (which she knows nothing about). I made a status inquiring about how to get my old dog to stop peeing on the floor and that removing the rug didn't help.

No big deal.

Until... I put in the comments that he didn't start it "until my aunt moved" the hospital pads that were on the floor that still smelled like Mom and he was certainly her dog.

Jesus fuck she started reading into shit. She psychotically responded with "so put them back... glad to get the blame for something else."

I happened to be Christmas shopping with a different aunt and cousin at the time and her response pissed me the fuck off. I could tell she had decided to be her old un-enlightened, negative, accusative, grudge holding self. I don't want to be around it or her and her mind games. She needs anti depressants or something.

Anyway she's stupid enough to start her shit while she was here yesterday. Dumb bitch was pissed about "being put on blast on Facebook" when I'd done no such thing. She ran her mouth that my Mom had treated her like shit for 40 years and I play the same mind games she did.

Mom's been dead for over 2 years... get the fuck over whatever bullshit you think she did to you. ffs.

Bitch then went off about a chapter in my Heart of a Survivor book that entailed her and her family completely discounting the fact that what she read was an unedited rough draft and that chapter was to be taken out. ok she read this months ago and read excerpts of the chapter on my blog like 2 fucking years ago. We've hashed it out 3 fucking times already but she won't move on.

Then she wants to bitch about me talking about writing my book on Facebook not even pulling her head out if her ass long enough to realize I'm not talking about the revised version of Heart of a Survivor but my Nyla series which has nothing to do with her or anybody else.

She said that certain people had read it and there's a list of people that read it and I need to go check (like I'm going to spend my time going through 200 blog posts to appease her majesty).

The list she's speaking of is the networked blogs widget on the left. It is not a list of people that have read that post or any other post. in fact the only way to tell who's read what is if they comment. That's it. Fucking hell know what the fuck you're talking about before you try to jump my shit.

Anyway this is twice she's pulled this game on me and I'm not playing. She and her shit stirring daughter are banned from my life for life.

She is the most negative, pessimistic, bitchy person I've ever met. She's miserable so everyone around her has to be too. Yeah I'm remembering why I dropped her when Mom was dying. It's all about who has done what to hurt her and how much. She holds lifelong grudges and pulls them out every couple of years starting shit followed by a period of the cold shoulder and silent treatment followed by her feigning forgiveness and let bygones be bygones only to repeat the cycle again and again.

There's something wrong with her mentally but according to her it's everyone else that has the problem and if they'd just bend to her every whim everything would be ok.


That's not how the world works. Her immediate family may tolerate the violent snits, the yelling, the walking on eggshells because you have no clue what's going to set her off... but I'm not.

She reminds me of Mom before Mom changed and was put on Bipolar medicine. That's not a good thing.

I'd prefer surround myself with people that love me UNCONDITIONALLY, see the positive in life, don't have such drastic mood swings, are capable of rational and logical thought and that aren't so prone to the degree of negative emotional outbursts she has.

People like:
so many more of my friends.

The Grinch even learned how to not be a hateful twat. She has yet to receive this epiphany. She probably never will. She's going to be miserable, hateful and a royal bitch forever.

11 December 2012

What's Up?

I realize I'm probably typing to nobody, but here it goes.

I started this blog to journal the ups and downs and my thoughts. I chose to let others know what's inside my mind to educate the public about mental illness. It was began to help me communicate to a friend what I go through every day... how much pain I was in while dealing with grief and bipolar. My meds had stopped working and we began the long journey of finding the right medications for me.

This blog has been my life. It helped me through rough times, and hopefully it helps others in theirs.

See, I'm an open book, but a complex one. I'm not afraid to say what is on my mind, nor am I all that concerned about who hears me say it.

On the outside I'm a more masculine looking female metalhead with a big mouth, lots of attitude and quick to call injustices out. On the inside, I'm the same person, but I'm a big softie. I have a ton of adopted animals. I care about others. I have feelings. I am a person just as you are, only I have a mental illness.

Living with this mental illness is hell. The stigma is worse. Because I am who I am and have what I have rumors have been spread over the last few months. People with no knowledge of me whatsoever, who probably wouldn't read this blog if they can even read, who recoil in judgement and fear at the words "mentally ill" have been running their mouths.

She's crazy.
This is crazy.
She has to be stopped.
This is insane.
She's going to kill my babies.
She hears voices.
She's going to kill her father in his sleep.
She said she's going to kill me, my staff and my patients.
She's been more and more unstable as the years go on.
She's a threat to society.
People lost their jobs because of her.

All I did was out corruption and HIPAA violations. I got 5 days in a mental hospital, a new doctor, a new counselor and labeled as having had a psychotic episode.

All people see is a crazy person. They don't see that I'm espousing the truth. They don't hear what I'm saying. They just say OMG SHE'S BIPOLAR. SHE'S HAVING A PSYCHOTIC BREAK! OMG SHE'S GONNA KILL US ALL JUST BECAUSE SHE HAS A MENTAL ILLNESS! LET'S GET RESTRAINING ORDERS BASED ON NOTHING!

You know, that kinda pisses me off.

People that don't know me, even a tertiary knowledge of me through this blog, can have so much power over me. I'm not free. Not only am I bound by this blasted bipolar, I have to wonder if I'm going to be picked up and thrown back in the looney bin for no reason other than retaliation and picking on the mentally ill. My constitutional rights to freedom were stomped on based on lies and hearsay and nobody cares. If they do care, they can't do anything about it.

It pisses me off that people feel they have the right to talk about me and my illness like they know what they're talking about and they don't know me. They know OF me... but they don't know me.

That even goes to my Grandma.

At least Dad has made enough of an effort to know what it is I go through every day. Lynn has too. Ladona learns every day.

Few people really know me, and the rights to say that they know me are reserved for them.

09 December 2012

Life is what you make of it...

The Holidays are what you make of them.

If you want the holidays to suck, they're going to suck. If you expect it to suck, it's going to suck. Stop projecting negative into your life, and start projecting positive.

Take, for example, myself and the holidays. Fated enemies with a blood feud. I hated the holidays. I knew it was just going to be Dad bitching and bitching which was followed by Mom bitching and just ruining the whole day.

This year is different. I am determined that these holidays aren't going to suck. I'm calling it "Operation NO SUCKAGE." OK not really, but I am going to make this the best holiday season I've had in my entire 32 years of life.

My secret?

My outlook.

Thanksgiving Day and the following week and 2 days sucked for me. It left me in a quick but not so painless depression. It was vicious. It sucked balls.

But, you know what? I have a secret weapon: the memories that were made the night before.

In my brain I am forcefully replacing the negative memories I associate with Thanksgiving 2012 with positive memories with the same brain association.

Now, I look back and think "This was the best Thanksgiving I've had in a long time." Last year, I would have still been pissed about the roll fiasco drama. This year... no stinkin' thinkin' allowed.

Dads bitching is going to be replaced with the smile he gets when he finds out he has presents and he didn't pay for them. It's going to be replaced by his laughter when he sees what it is. The family drama isn't going to affect me because I'm not going to be around it. Positive vibes only from here on out.

I actually put up a Christmas tree. Every ornament I used except for 1 was made by Mom. The angel that tops the tree was passed to me from her.

Dad bought me the tree (because my credit card sucks). He doesn't see how much it means to me. Yes it was $40 for the tree, lights, a nutcracker dude and a couple of villagers for a village mantle scene. Oh, and ketchup. The most important thing on the list lol. But to me, the tree is priceless because of the sentimental value.

I assembled the tree. I fluffed the tree. I strung it with lights and garland and I hung ornaments. I decided this is how I will honor my mother's life... with a Christmas tree.

I could remember all of the horrible Christmases filled with yelling, screaming and crying...
I could remember the peaceful Christmases that Mom and I valued. I can still hear the "Oh you didn't have to get me anything" as she unwraps her gift with the biggest smile she could have on her face.
I could remember the quick little grin on Dad's face as he opens the new knife, tools or underwear I bought him.
I could remember getting presents for and from my cats, Santa, Mom and Dad.
I could remember baking pies with Dad or helping Mom with her candies and baking.
I could remember hanging garland this year with duct tape because we couldn't get the stapler to work AND both of us going for the duct tape at the same time with no communication between us.

Screams or smiles. Your memories are what you make them out to be.
I'm going for option 2... Smiles.

How 'bout you?

08 December 2012

Christmas Spirit

Yeah, I've been hit hard by the spirit of the season. I even want to put up the Christmas Tree. I haven't wanted to do that since before Mom died. But, in truth, I miss seeing the tree with its twinkling lights every year. I've been in a baking frenzy and have taken on putting on my own dinner. 3 days of baking for Christmas Eve. But it's all worth it.

The warm feeling I'll get just from being around people I respect, admire and love will be worth it. Preparing an Anglo-American feast for those that I consider safe and fill me with positive energy is actually quite fun. I'm enjoying setting little goals for myself, planning the logistics of when I'm baking what, arming myself with a grocery list... all the way to cooking the meal. The satisfaction I get when I achieve one of the goals or steps is great therapy.

I will have a Merry Christmas this year. I will have my tree decorated. Unfortunately, I have to clean the house now that I'm expecting company. Worth it.

07 December 2012

Christmas, Thanksgiving and stuff.

I've put no planning into this blog post, so we'll see what happens with freestyle. I've given myself the topic of the holidays.

Yes, the season is upon us. And all that entails. Family. Work/Unemployment. Ups. Downs. You get the idea. Life during the holidays has always sucked for me. Then Mom and I came up with our own little traditions like baking certain things at certain times, putting up the tree, watching holiday episodes of Criminal Minds, The CSI's and Bones.

Just little things that had great meaning to myself and Mom.

Even the Crabby Patties I always get for Dad has big meaning to me. It's my way of showing him I do love him and I don't know what the hell I'd do without him.

Well, there was a big to-do about breaking tradition on Thanksgiving. It involved me and these rolls:

I destroyed tradition this year. I said I was going to bring the rolls since I had recently rediscovered Mom's recipes.

I did the most horrible, vile, evil thing ever to be done to dinner rolls.


COLORED THEM! *maniacal laughter* Orange, Yellow and Green. Those rolls had the most vibrant fall colors. They went over great with my family... except for 2 people. One of which was, Grandma! Whooo Doggie.... Grandma did not appreciate the creativity that inspired those rolls.

So, anyway... griping ensues. I feel belittled and picked on. I regress. I suffer a 2 week depression followed by a mixed episode. I write Grandma a letter explaining things from my point of view, how things make me feel, setting her straight on my mental illness - yeah it probably wasn't too pretty. She refuses to show it to anyone so they can see what she's so upset about because it'll just cause them stress too because I treated her so badly. You get it. Not in a good spot. Not pretty either.

I told her that until I am treated as an adult with a brain I won't go to family dinners. I don't remember if I did or did not make the - Thanksgiving was so stressful for me that I regressed and battled a short but effective depression - connection to her or not. I at least implied it heavily.

I have to look out for myself. I can't expect anyone else to do it for me. I'm a big girl  now. Treat me like one please.

Anyway, my aunt and I had a blast Thanksgiving Eve. We baked MY rolls and made a batch of orange colored cinnamon rolls with walnuts specially for my Dad. They were supposed to have yellow icing, but I sucked at making icing from scratch so it ended up being a glaze. Still tasted good.

I made the decision that I am going to start my own traditions and I will, in fact, have a happy  holiday season. Instead of fretting over Thanksgiving and the Grandma thing and letting the negative impact me, I'm remembering the positive: the kids giggling... "I'm stayin' the night now, I gotta see how these turn out!" amidst chuckling and giggling... My aunt cackling at Charlie Brown like it's the first time she'd ever seen it.... Making her scrambled eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches and serving it to her while she watched Chuck.... the big Thank You and MMM OM NOM NOM This is good! OM NOM NOM. Yeah, that's what's influencing me this holiday season. I might even have Dad drag out the tree if we still got one.

Christmas Eve I will hold my first in a series of Sarah's Christmas Feast! I invited those I feel close to, a kinship with and a warmth from to attend the feast. On the menu:

2 Ducks (Grape glaze, apple walnut stuffing)
Fried Fish
Brown Rice
Mushy Peas
Roast Potatoes with Green Beans, onion and a bit of bacon
Baked Beans
Dinner Rolls (Red and White like a peppermint)
Apple Pie
Cherry Pie
Chocolate Pudding Pie
2 of Aunt Elsie's Cheese Pies

We will Feast and BE MERRY!

Next Thanksgiving... I'll probably do what I did this year, spend it with my aunt, cook her dinner and listen to her cackle at good ole Charlie Brown. Only instead of going to Grandma's for dinner on Thanksgiving, I'll stay home and watch football. I can't handle 3 klonopin days.

06 December 2012

Updates and stuff.

Boy has it been interesting to be me in the last few months.

My family members are doing what they've always done.

My aunt Lynn and I rekindled the relationship we once had. I don't miss Mom as much with Lynn back in my life. We've already shared a lifetime of laughs in the short time we've been reconnected.

I had an involuntary commitment and 3 ex parte orders put on me. The plaintiff's were denied the restraining order. It got brought out that I was not only going to shoot the doctors, the staff and the patients, I was going to murder my ex doctor's children as well. Shit, not just a mass murderer in the making, also a potential baby killer. All because I have bipolar disorder.

It has been getting around that I was going to kill my father in his sleep. Yeah. They sunk that low.

Apparently I hear voices now. Too bad I've never heard them.

I had a bad reaction to Effexor and Effexor XR. I thought I was going to die. I didn't. I got new meds that seem to be doing great.

I have a new GP.

I outed my sex abusers, and confronted one. That pissed a lot of my family off. Few believe me, the rest just think I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy to the rest of the world. Maybe I am crazy to my family. Who cares. I am me. I have always strove to be myself and I've finally reached the point where I accept me and my illness and the joys and sorrows that entails.

I'm honest if nothing else. That's my downfall.

I think I have the beginnings of Fibromyalgia.

I remember what it's like to feel loved and accepted by the important women in my life.

I started a support/advocacy group. I had to change the name to St. Dymphna's Mental Health Support Group. I intend to slaughter the stigma and ease people's suffering. Nobody has to battle alone again.

I have a new counselor, and he's awesome.

I wrote a letter to the editor, yet to be mailed out:
During the last three months I have been made out to be a potential mass murderer and baby killer.

I was committed and had 3 ex parte orders put on me based on these lies.

Due to the abuse of authority and failure to follow Missouri's laws I lost 5 days at the taxpayer cost of $13,500.40.

The authorities decided that I was a threat without any
input from myself or the two people that know me. They refused to call my father who would know best.

These events have dampened my ability to help reform the mental healthcare system and interfered with my ability to effectively run the support/advocacy group I began for mental health issues.

The bias, ignorance and stigma against mental illness needs to end. This isn't 50 years ago when people like myself (or any of the 1 in 17 Americans living with a serious mental illness) ran the risk of being institutionalized and subjected to shock therapy, ice baths, insulin shock treatment, lobotomized and tranquilized.

We mentally ill have the same constitutional rights as anyone else. Having a mental illness, especially one like Bipolar, is difficult enough without stigma and ignorance.

 I had a serious depression.

Thanksgiving Eve rocked my world.

Thanksgiving Day and the following week and a half sucked balls.

I wrote Grandma a letter getting the feelings, thoughts, emotions, anger, hurt out that's been pent up since I can remember.

Grandma's pissed at me, again.

Colored dinner rolls are apparently not fit for consumption at a family gathering. Though for some reason people ate them and took them home.

I have the fire in the pit of my belly again.

I feel human again.
I feel strong... vindicated... valiant...
I feel...
I feel.

25 October 2012

My Island - Guided Meditation with Two Sisters Reiki

Stick with me here, wall of text incoming, but did you expect anything less of me?

It's Thursday, OCT 25, 2012. We begin our guided meditation session. We are told to do something (I don't  remember what) and I immediately begin thinking of me riding Boudicca, my blind horse. We're told to walk down a pier to the boat. I do so while staying mounted. We ride up the plank onto the boat (which I imagined to be almost like the ships used by the Britons in the 1st century BC). We take a magic boat ride with the sun warming our face (amazingly, my face did get warm) and the wind in our hair.

As we arrive at the island we are instructed to envision our past, our present and our future. My brain was already well ahead of the guide.

What did I see, you ask? Well, this is where the story gets interesting.

I saw a mass of men with woad (the blue stuff the Scots and Britons put on their faces) and spears. They are wearing blue and gold plaid kilts. I see 1st century Briton chariots with horses behind them. In the background I see a beautiful green forest with a creek running parallel to the shore. There is a pig on a spit over a huge fire. A few of the women in the group are made up as warriors as well.

We are told to greet our past.

Boudicca and I step off of the boat, into the water and walk onto the land into a mass of cheering people. I greet the leader. Get this, though, she is what I imagine the real human Boudicca to have looked like. There she stood in front of me, smiling and cheering the return of a warrior. She had her blue plaid kilt. She had her wool cloak with the clasp in front. She wore her torc. Her hair was medium brown, wavy and long with two small braids to keep her bangs out of her face.

Boudicca raised her spear in the air and cheered again as I rode to greet her face to face.

We are instructed to communicate with the people and listen to what they have to say.

The warriors, their Queen and the women tell me to keep fighting, that I am a true warrior and have earned my place in the world.

Boudicca (the horse) and I eat until our stomachs can hold no more. My mother flashes into the picture briefly. I mount the horse and we get back on the boat, ride back down the coast with the sun in our faces and wind in our manes and I come back to the real world.

Now, let me give you a bit of a history lesson. Boudicca was the queen of the Iceni tribe in the middle of the 1st century AD. Her husband, Prasutagus, passed away and intended to leave the land, treasures and what little wealth the tribe had to his two daughters with Emperor Nero as co-heir. No big deal, right? Yeah, not where the Romans were concerned.

In Roman culture women were worthless slaves, whores and baby factories. We couldn't vote or hold land. The Romans seriously owned Britain from 45 AD forward (they invaded in 43 but it took them a couple of years to conquer it). The Governor (a general - or Primus Pilus) was busy with most of his legions and auxiliary troops killing Druids on a small island north of Wales called Anglesey. This Governor was named Paulinus.

While Paulinus was occupied with killing the evil Druids, Prasutagus dies c. 57 AD. The procurator (basically the financial guy), Catus Decianus decided it would be a great time to decline the will, call loans that were forced upon the tribes due with interest and his buddies that included Seneca the Younger called all of their loans, also forced upon the tribes, due with interest.

Boudicca was livid to say the least, and that was before...

Catus decided to take his guard and some troops with him to pay Boudicca and her two daughters (probably 12 years old) a visit. During this friendly visit the two girls were raped and Boudicca was scourged. Yes, scourged. Tacitus uses the Latin word for scourge. Scourging is what the Romans did to Jesus Christ. It's basically a cat-o-nine-tails with metal or balls attached to the ends and the lucky person receiving the blows has to suffer 39 lashes. 40 and above would have to be cleared by people higher up the food chain. I will never be convinced Boudicca was just flogged with sticks... but that's another dialogue.

Boudicca decided to take action after that little visit.

She raised an army of native Britons. They planned their assaults. They built weapons and chariots. They trained hard. They even neglected to plant their fields because they were going to steal the Roman grain stores for their people. Beginning in c. 59 AD she and her troops razed 3 cities, burning everything Roman, impaling people like Vlad the Impaler did well before he made it cool, and they destroyed the countryside - their targets - Romans and Roman-friendly tribes.

One day she met up with a group of Roman cavalry. Her troops destroyed them and made them run back to their base camp. Boudicca and her troops continued harassing the countryside.

Governor Paulinus catches wind of this from the leader of the cavalry she destroyed and decides it is a good time to stop killing Druids and go kill Boudicca. Paulinus and Boudicca finally meet in pitched battle c. 61 AD. Because Boudicca probably got cocky, she let Paulinus pick the battleground. She lost to the far better trained Roman legions. Rather than be taken alive, tortured, scourged again and probably crucified she drank poison and died on the battlefield.

Boudicca was >-< thatclose to kicking the Romans out of Britain.

A woman, a warrior, a Queen, that Dio Cassius says "was possessed of greater intelligence than often belongs to women" almost took back part of the Roman Empire.

A woman who was probably my age when she did this. A woman who would stand up against injustices, even if it meant taking on the biggest empire in the known world did this. She is my hero.

But here's the weird thing... remember we were instructed to greet our past? What if I was Boudicca in a past life? From how she's described I probably look a lot like her. In fact, this is how Dio Cassius described her: "She was huge of frame, terrifying of aspect, and with a harsh voice. A great mass of bright red hair fell to her knees: She wore a great twisted golden necklace, and a tunic of many colors, over which was a thick mantle, fastened by a brooch. Now she grasped a spear, to strike fear into all who watched her...…"
-Dio Cassius (Dudley and Webster, 54)

We obviously have the same personality and we both fight for the little guy - in both of our cases that included ourselves (mine's ongoing at the moment though). The name Boudicca keeps popping up in my life. I named my blind horse, who against all odds, came back from being neglected, not fed and looking like a horse skeleton with fur to being mostly full weight, happy and able to hold my weight on her without it doing damage.

I call myself Boudicca on the internet because I feel a connection with her. If you Google Boudicca Gruaim my blog pops up all over the place. Gruaim is a Gaelic word meaning Stern or stoic look... which I have. I am a warrior. I am my own queen. I am Boudicca. Anyone who has overcome what I have and fought for their lives has a piece of Boudicca in them. We. Are. Boudicca.

Just things I ponder in my "insane" head.

12 October 2012

Truth at all costs.

Mahatma Gandhi said "I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent." He also said "One needs to be slow to form convictions, but once formed they must be defended against the heaviest odds." Martin Luther said "Peace if possible, truth at all costs," "Justice is a temporary thing that must at last come to an end; but the conscience is eternal and will never die," and "Nothing good ever comes of violence."

I believe in non-violence when it comes to changing the world or reforming my area of the state. My doing what I believe to be right and bringing corruption to the attention of people that can do something about it has put me in the mental health unit under false pretenses, caused so called friends and family to cease having anything to do with me, it has even caused issues between my father and I. But that doesn't really matter, what matters is I know in my heart that I did and am doing the moral and ethical thing. Aldo Leopold said "Ethical behavior is doing the right thing when no one else is watching- even when doing the wrong thing is legal."

Whatever negative has came about from this situation is minimal to the positive. While I didn't need to be hospitalized, I learned exactly where I am in my journey with mental illness. I have gone from being helpless and needing others to being a teacher and helping others. My hospitalization cost appx. $13,500.00 but it kicked off the mental health support group I'm starting with the blessings and adoration of the mentally ill, their caregivers AND professionals in the mental health system.
Locking me away did not do anything but make me stronger, smarter and learn exactly where I am in being responsibly mentally ill. Of my 12 steps, I've been on the 12th step for years. The 12th step is - Use your experiences to educate the public. I live with a mental illness and I do what is needed to live a happy and responsible life. Mental illness does not equal dangerous or criminally insane.

While I realize that I will contend with stupidity and ignorance, those people with closed minds and an inability to learn or show compassion for others are not my target audience. People like that will never learn nor hold themselves to the ethical standards I expect out of people. My target is people who WANT to learn and better themselves and the world around them.

All Martin Luther wanted to do was reform the church. He did so with only the backing of the Prince of Saxony at first. His wanting to translate the Latin Bible to German turned out to spawn the Protestant Reformation and the Lutheran Church. One man's idea fundamentally changed the world and religion.

He was also bold when calling out the Church on their false ideas and corruption. He nailed a copy of his 95 Theses to the door of a church. When he was excommunicated and his writings ordered burned, he burned the excommunication. What he had to go through to reform the corruption of the Church meant nothing to him. He saw the end goal and went for it.

To think, all I did was write 3 letters and stirred up all of this negativity and hate towards me because I refused to let the corruption of certain people go on any further. Unfortunately people have taken the word of a known meth addict and someone with no moral ground rather than use logic or their knowledge of me to make their decisions.

Right will prevail. Corruption will crumble. Reformation will happen. I will use this experience to do good in the world, help others and educate the public.

03 October 2012

Involuntary Committment and Support Group

Hey everyone, I was in the hospital for 5 days (not of my free will, nor was I suicidal or homicidal) however I learned from the deal. I learned how far I've come from the days of crying in the counselor's office throughout the hour to I'm using my knowledge to help people, impressing mental health professionals and the like with my knowledge.

In fact: it has been placed upon me (and I took it upon myself) to begin a support group based on 12 step programs and academic conferences to help those with mental illnesses, their caregivers and to educate the public.

I attended an AA meeting to see how they're ran and the like, yeah, well, I learned what NOT to do (not that I didn't already know that) and was even told I'm not a real alcoholic, I'm just a hard drinker. Whatevs. I saw the rift between "mentally ill" people and "alcoholics" although alcoholism is a mental illness. I didn't bother arguing or showing how smart I was, I just talked to other people and left. I'm never going back and I wouldn't recommend Al-Anon 401.

This crap of "I'm blahblah and I'm an alcoholic" every single time you speak is stupid. I understand the reasoning but it detracts from the conversation. Plus if you're dealing with mentally ill people the fact they're curious enough to come to a meeting is good enough for me. I figure give them time and let them think and gain courage through other people conversing and they'll speak when they're ready. Pushing them would cause problems and set them back.

Anyway, OCT 30 will be my first meeting at 7 pm as soon as I can find a home with technology so I can do powerpoints and shit like that. Meetings will last 2 hours. For more info (aka the handbook) one can go here:  http://cagedbird.bravesites.com/ I'm also trying to plan a chili cookoff fundraiser for Dec. 1.

The “Caged Bird” Mental Health Support Group will implement two styles of meeting:
1)      AA/NA style
2)      Academic Conference Style
The first 30 minutes will be an introduction and support system building session, the next 15-20 minutes will be an informative presentation given by Sarah Spiers, other mental health sufferers, mental health care providers, caregivers and the like. After the presentation will be a 10 minute break followed by an open forum/Q&A session until a total of 2 hours has elapsed.

08 May 2012

My Response To A Very Bad Threat.

To the Wormsley's (Don and Robin) from St. Joseph, Missouri (originally from Cosby, MO), this is in response to Don's veiled threat: "Message to Sarah Spiers who lives at Maysville , Mo and attends MWSU , Are you familiar with the Cyberbullying law that was passed inot law when Matt Blunt was govenor ? Kepp it up and you will become very familiar with it. So if you know her pass this bit of info to her."

- Since you made yours public, I'll be an asshole and make this public, I'm sure it should get back to you.

Also, since I'm an asshole: lives *in Maysville, MO. There's no space between MWSU and the comma. Actually that comma should be a colon. *into* *governor* No space between "govenor" [sic] and the ? *Keep*

- Oh you mean RSMO 565.225 and RSMO 565.090? Yeah, one can say I'm familiar with them. I'm even looking at the statutes right now!

Crime of stalking--definitions--penalties.

565.225. 1. As used in this section, the following terms shall mean:

(1) "Course of conduct", a pattern of conduct composed of two or more acts, which may include communication by any means, over a period of time, however short, evidencing a continuity of purpose. Constitutionally protected activity is not included within the meaning of course of conduct. Such constitutionally protected activity includes picketing or other organized protests;

(2) "Credible threat", a threat communicated with the intent to cause the person who is the target of the threat to reasonably fear for his or her safety, or the safety of his or her family, or household members or domestic animals or livestock as defined in section 276.606 kept at such person's residence or on such person's property. The threat must be against the life of, or a threat to cause physical injury to, or the kidnapping of, the person, the person's family, or the person's household members or domestic animals or livestock as defined in section 276.606 kept at such person's residence or on such person's property;

(3) "Harasses", to engage in a course of conduct directed at a specific person that serves no legitimate purpose, that would cause a reasonable person under the circumstances to be frightened, intimidated, or emotionally distressed.

Key word: "Reasonable Person". Robin is far from reasonable, especially in the state of mind she's been in for the last several months.

2. A person commits the crime of stalking if he or she purposely, through his or her course of conduct, harasses or follows with the intent of harassing another person.

I have not harassed or followed Robin, ever. Unless you consider me telling her she needs serious psychological help because she spazzes out over stupid shit, then won't let it go, then takes it out on everyone else, accuses everyone of some perceived wrongdoing to her in her egocentric world, then has whatever friends he has left convey messages to people that have essentially told her to go fuck off (or vice versa) after she's been told to cease and desist, then and maybe then I've harassed her
*********** Side note: I doubt posting 2 or 3 pictures to facebook referring to deleting/blocking someone from your facebook then using a friends account to spy on said blocked person is considered harassment, and quite frankly, it's the truth. Robin has gone as far as making dummy accounts, adding the friends she deleted and blocked just to see if we were talking about her and what we were saying.
*********** Another side note: Bitch is crazy and needs psychological help. And you, Don, are doing nothing but enabling her and allowing her to continue on the path of self destruction.

3. A person commits the crime of aggravated stalking if he or she purposely, through his or her course of conduct, harasses or follows with the intent of harassing another person, and:

(1) Makes a credible threat; or

(2) At least one of the acts constituting the course of conduct is in violation of an order of protection and the person has received actual notice of such order; or

(3) At least one of the actions constituting the course of conduct is in violation of a condition of probation, parole, pretrial release, or release on bond pending appeal; or

(4) At any time during the course of conduct, the other person is seventeen years of age or younger and the person harassing the other person is twenty-one years of age or older; or

(5) He or she has previously pleaded guilty to or been found guilty of domestic assault, violation of an order of protection, or any other crime where the other person was the victim.

I've never made a credible threat against Robin, I've never threatened her wellbeing or that of her loved ones/pets/livestock. I've never had an order of protection against me, especially not from Robin (whom I avoid as much as possible). I'm not "walking paper" so 3 does not apply to me either.

Robin is 54 fucking years old and although she has the mentality and emotional age of a 5 year old #4 does not relate. #5 does not apply since I have not pleaded guilty or been found guilty of anything.

Numbers 4-7 refer to classing of the crime and therefore is not relevant to this argument.


565.090. 1. A person commits the crime of harassment if he or she:

(1) Knowingly communicates a threat to commit any felony to another person and in so doing frightens, intimidates, or causes emotional distress to such other person; or

I have never once threatened yourself or Robin. Again, I have indeed told her (on several occasions) that she needs serious psychological help. I don't think of that as a threat. The only thing that may get me here is "causes emotional distress" which is impossible not to do with Robin, who takes everything as a threat or some semblance of bullying and puts HERSELF into emotional distress.

(2) When communicating with another person, knowingly uses coarse language offensive to one of average sensibility and thereby puts such person in reasonable apprehension of offensive physical contact or harm; or

She cannot be offended by my language if she uses it herself. Again, I have never used course language to threaten her, her loved ones, pets or livestock.

(3) Knowingly frightens, intimidates, or causes emotional distress to another person by anonymously making a telephone call or any electronic communication; or

I never intentionally frightened, intimidated or caused Robin emotional distress, and I certainly did not do it anonymously if I inadvertently did.

(4) Knowingly communicates with another person who is, or who purports to be, seventeen years of age or younger and in so doing and without good cause recklessly frightens, intimidates, or causes emotional distress to such other person; or

Just because Robin has the emotional age of a selfish 5 year old does not mean she falls into this category.

(5) Knowingly makes repeated unwanted communication to another person; or

Nope. I haven't done this either.

(6) Without good cause engages in any other act with the purpose to frighten, intimidate, or cause emotional distress to another person, cause such person to be frightened, intimidated, or emotionally distressed, and such person's response to the act is one of a person of average sensibilities considering the age of such person.

The only thing that may get me here is the fact that I posted 2 or 3 pictures referring to deleting/blocking someone from your facebook then using a friends account to spy on said blocked person. I did not do so to cause Robin to be emotionally distressed, however she is ALWAYS emotionally distressed and it is impossible to not do something to further this state of being.

Furthermore, I would like to draw your attention to the 2nd part of the sentence: and such person's response to the act is one of a person of average sensibilities considering the age of such person. - Robin is far from a person of average sensibilities considering her age. She is always looking for some perceived threat or act of "bullying" and when she finds whatever it is she's looking for she goes off of the deep end. I cannot control her reactions to anything, and really if I bothered her that much she wouldn't listen to a fucking thing Ruth has to say, or look over Ruth's shoulder while looking at my profile.

Point 2 refers to classing of the crime and is therefore not relevant to this argument.

TLDR: Shut the fuck up, Don. If you are going to threaten me then at least have read the laws that you are trying to get me caught up on. Also, if you are going to threaten me, do so with some semblance of literacy and I "may" take it seriously, though I doubt that because you are ALWAYS threatening to sue somebody for some reason. Furthermore, your wife is fucked up in the head. Seriously.

14 February 2012

I Really Need My Abilify

I really need my Abilify. I've been out for like 5 days. Nobody at the Dr. office seems to be overly concerned with calling in a refill to the pharmacy. It's my fuck up that I'm out though. I was used to taking two 5 mg tablets so when I got the 10 mg tabs I kinda kept taking two instead of one so I'm out.

My niece, in continuance of her drama, has cut me out of her life because I treat her like shit and don't want her around unless it's convenient for me. I suppose it's supposed to hurt me. Really it doesn't.

I guess I am an asshole for that. I get really tired of her telling me that she's the only one in the family that doesn't think I'm a piece of shit and her trying to change me, make me more open and caring and all of that shit.

If one really gave a shit about me they would accept the fact that I'm not close to anyone but Dave, and that's only because he's been my boyfriend for almost 7 years. The only other person I remotely let close, and really she was kept at a distance as well, was my mother.

One should accept it that when something is pissing me off or depressing me, I don't want to talk about it unless it's with one of my counselors. Even then sometimes I make them work for their money. I may blog about something but this is my blog and I can say whatever I want here, not many people read it anyway.

One should accept that I have different views on family. We're not the fucking Waltons or Bradys. Our shit's dysfunctional as hell. I'm not a great aunt, nor do I really want to be. It's too much time and effort to be someone's emotional punching bag or go to gal. My role in this family is not to be everyone's best friend but be the truth-bringer, and the truth isn't pretty.

I have other shit to do, like actually graduate college, marry Dave, become a professor of History and live my life to my ideals and passions, not someone elses.

All of that said, Dave gets the result of his CT scan today (he had lymphoma which is supposed to be in remission now) and he sees the diabetic doctor. Hopefully all of his issues are due to diabetes and not lymphoma coming back for another visit.

07 February 2012

Apologies for Overreacting

The last blog of course created more fucking drama. This is the bullshit I got from my niece who apparently didn't read the entire thing. "Not trying to start drama, but what about overreacting to your niece, who has never done anything but try to help you, having any association with her father or uncle simply because they mistreated you in the past?" "You may not have asked for my help, but you didn't have throw it back at me without any type of even slight appreciation that someone in your family doesn't think you're a piece of shit. What I was mainly talking about was that when I overreact to someone, I at least apologize. It sets you off huh... do you remember back when you used to go fishing with Jeff? Yeah, the cousin who touched your precious niece that you claimed to care so much about? Do you ever think that that never hurt me or bothered me? But I never held it against you. It wasn't your fault he decided to lay his fingers on a 7 year old girl, his cousin at that. I never said anything about trying to be your mother. And age honestly doesn't matter as much as people think it does. Just because I'm nineteen doesn't make me fucking stupid... All I was mainly commenting for was a simple apology and then I was going to leave you alone and leave you to your life."

You want a apology? Fine. I'm fucking sorry that I ever let you anywhere near me. I'm sick of you trying to be my mom or my best friend. You don't understand your boundaries. I've tried to explain them many times but you overstep them. 

I'm fucking sorry I stuck my neck out on the line so you could get your GED and go piss away your college education because you would rather have hung out with friends instead of doing homework and getting good grades. Where's the appreciation I got for that? Do you realize how much shit I took from your beloved sperm donor and his wife? I'm sorry that I thought you were more mature than you are.

I'm sorry that you having a relationship with my brothers makes me trust you less. If you only knew the kind of people they really are you'd hate them as much as I do. But what does it matter anymore, family is shit to me. 

I'm sorry that you seem to like to throw it in my face that you're the only one who doesn't think I'm a piece of shit. I'm astutely aware of the fact that everybody but "you" thinks I'm a piece of shit, so why the fuck rub it in? You do everything in your power to try to trigger me and then talk down to me when I react or overreact.

You're not my fucking mother. You're not my best friend. You're not that close to me. We don't have that much in common. Stop expecting a fucking fairy tale family.

05 February 2012


I was going to call this blog Overreactions and Bipolar or OMFG DRAMA, but people in general are prone to overreactions and drama naturally finds me. I've overreacted plenty of times myself and am by no means perfect but at least I've learned from my mistakes. There are lots of ways to tell if you're overreacting to something or someone. There are also telltale signs that you are in the frame of mind to overreact.

First, if you're wearing your heart on your sleeve it's bound to get stabbed. Second, if you're even slightly depressed over whatever issue you're likely to overreact. Third, if you have a history of overreacting you're likely to overreact. Fourth, if you have some mental illness, like bipolar, you're definitely prone to overreacting.

How to know you're overreacting?
  1. You have the desire to call the party that "hurt" you 10-20 times in a 2 day span.
  2. You overreact to someone telling you that you're overreacting.
  3. You can't stop thinking about whatever it was that hurt you.
  4. You have your significant other call the person that hurt you to go off on them.
  5. You continuously talk about whatever it is that hurt you.
  6. You're so adamant about telling your side of things that you can't see what you did wrong which hurts and enrages you more.
  7. You think your actions are acceptable and normal when people in the real world would say you're losing it.
How to stop overreacting?
  1. Stop using the excuse of "I have a mental illness"
  2. Shut the fuck up, breathe and actually think about the situation and whether the reactions you're having are considered acceptable, would you want someone doing this to you?
  3. Drink a cup of Earl Grey and calm down before you do or say anything.
  4. Find something to distract you from the "pain."
  5. Call your therapist.
  6. Sit in a room with your favorite music blasting for an hour with no interruptions.
  7. Take a walk and burn off some energy and get the endorphins pumping.
There are many things you can do to stop overreacting, I've only named a few. People prone to overreactions make everyone else feel like they have to walk on eggshells around them. That's just not cool. Other people should be entitled to their opinions. People call me an asshole because I'll call bullshit where I smell it, but it needs to be called. If I think you're overreacting I'll tell you. Listen to those around you. If they're telling you that you're overreacting then you probably are and need to step back from the situation for a little while. And let's just let it be known that I'm still pissed about being told I was grieving wrong, like there is a right way and a proper length.

16 January 2012

Ugh, tomorrow.

So, tomorrow is the day I get to see Frank. The first day for a 16 week emotional ride. I'm pretty sure he hates me. I'm going to have to deal with him showing favor towards other people while I'm a piece of shit. I wish he'd talk to me. I wish we could have our friendship back. I wish he'd talk to me again, that we could start over. I wish he didn't lie to me by telling me he'd be my friend forever.

My anxiety level is quite high right now. I almost want to cry. I don't want to look into his eyes. I want to be invisible. I just want to get through the next 16 weeks without becoming depressed because of this shit. Watching Sam Kinison is only reminding me more of him. He liked Kinison. At least I'm getting a laugh once in awhile.

Tomorrow's going to suck.

13 January 2012

4 Days

4 days until classes begin. 4 days until I have to see Frank again. That's really pushing the anxiety level up considering how things went South last year. I'll have to see him 2 days a week for an hour and a half at a time. There's no getting out of it. On top of that I have to deal with him next Spring semester too. I wish he would accept my apologies for going psychobitch... but he won't. He never wants to talk to me again... which is my fault. I lost a good friend in him and it still hurts. I wish we were friends again, but I don't see that happening as he told me never to contact him again.  I really don't know how to handle this and it's driving me nuts.