Friendly Deseparation

Sometimes the deseparate nature of my life overwhelms me and consumes me beyond the ability to breathe. I wonder why I don't fall but it seems I've built up such forward momentum it continues to push me forward even when I am unable to draw air into my lungs. I struggle and I fight through the thoughts. The unending supply of thoughts that run through my mind.

The suffocating fear that at times is so paralyzing it freezes me in place and takes the life from my body. Immobilizing me until I'm little more than a seeing carcass. Understanding the chaos that is swirling around but being unable to do anything to slow down its destructive path.

Fear of losing friends, of all I've accomplished. Fear of falling just short.

Crippling, overwhelming fear. Unbearable at times. Suffocating at others. Always present. Always churning. As I deseparately clutch at straws made out of air. At times I'm ready to give in to allow the madness that swirls in my brain to take full control. but that's not an option. Too many people depend on me. Too many lives are at stake.

The only thing stronger than the fear is the worry. the worry that eats away at my stomach. My constant companions. My only allies and faithful friends.

Til the end.

Can You Hear Me Now

I'm loud. I don't mean to be.I do have an inside voice. Majority of the time people have to ask me to repeat myself because I speak so lowly. But sometimes when I feel safe and free, when I'm emotional, even happy emotional, I get loud. I don't mean to. I don't know why that is. Jigger  thinks I'm "yelling". I try to watch it. To always be aware of how many decibels are exiting my mouth at any given moment, but that's exhausting. Like trying to walk a tight rope made out of egg shells. Sometimes I forget. 

To be aware. 

And the decibels leak out and Jigger thinks I'm yelling at him and he gets angry and "yells" back. Which causes me to actually start yelling. I don't know why this happens. It's another one of those life isn't fair moments. Where I pout and whine and stomp off to the corner wondering why it is I'm being forced into the world's concepts of right and wrong. So what if I leak more decibels than you. Why shouldn't I be allowed to? In my own home? In my own room? Why am I monitored within the confines of my own four walls? 

Because that's life. So I'm aware and I count the decibels because Jigger puts up with all of the temper tantrums. So for him I count the decibels.

Gooballs

I've been busy lately. Like extremely. So busy my brain is seeping out my ears and my eyeballs are in need of replacement. I'm exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally. I want just a moment away from the roller coaster of thoughts that race through my head. Just a moment. A single breath. To be able to sit down the burdens upon me for just a moment. Free. Unchained. But life's not fair. We don't always get what we want. That's just how it is so onwards I go. Retreat. Surrender are not options.

This is Sparta! 

Panic Room

Panic is an odd thing. Addictive. I've lived my entire life in panic mode. I didn't know it until recently when I stopped and then went into withdrawals. I no longer had to make decisions based upon what was absolutely necessary in order to simply SURVIVE for the next 24 hours. I no longer had to toss things aside in order to simply be able to exist beyond the next five minutes. It became my normal. Now it is not and well it's weird. 

At times I find myself, bored? No, not bored, confused? Yes, confused, definitely uncertain. Always waiting for the next catastrophe. Even creating  a few when none occurred because what the fuck else was I suppose to do? Just sit here and be "normal".  That was too weird. I need panic. I need chaos. Not really. It's just I know what to do in the panic and chaos. Without them I feel like I'm lost and in unknown territory. 

It's fucking weird to be normal.

Irritated Fuzz

Stupidity drives me beyond my limits.. I hate stupidity. I seem to attract stupid people as clients in my work. I find it extremely frustrating because I am unable to communicate and instead just put up with whatever stupidity they bring. I wish I could sort out boundaries but so far I haven't been able to figure it all out and it creates enormous amounts of frustration within me. Because when someone tells me they want it "dark, with no color but not black and white" I want to punch them in the face because omfg what the hell does that even MEAN?!

My frustration level is beyond maxed out. I need a vacation from life.

Friend or Foe

In my world, there is only black or white. You're either friend or foe. I trust you or I don't. There is no middle ground no room for error. If you're able to walk the tight rope and cross over into friendom, then I constantly fear I've "misjudged" you. That you're really a foe and at any moment you're going to show your truth hidden within. 

This is all in my head. A battle of good vs evil that replays itself constantly. Even when the person hasn't done anything wrong I push them so hard and make them jump through so many hoops they eventually walk away because seriously who has time to put up with it and to constantly prove themselves to be something they're not. But then when they walk away I shout "ah-ha knew it" they were foe. But there is a hollowness in that victory. 

As irrational as all of this is I know it and while I"m working on controlling it, at times it controls me. Even though I know it's all irrational the what if game always wins. "What if I'm wrong", the earth will spin off its axis and we'll all be plunged into the sun and everyone will be melted and it'll be all my fault.

All. MY. Fault. This thought is embedded in my DNA thanks to my father. The many gifts he's bestowed upon me all of these years. My parents divorced because of his alcoholism and abuse. They divorced because I ran away to my grandparents and refused to live with them. My mother reluctantly divorced him. It was all my fault. Which is why he tried to kill me several times. All my fault. 

Even today, any wrong in the world no matter how far removed from me it is, I feel responsible. I feel I have to fix it to correct it. Then I'll be "good" again, but it doesn't ever work out that way. 

I'm not sure why all of these things are coming up now. I've been having nightmares this past week. Haven't had them in awhile either. Whenever the nightmares come, they fuck with my head for awhile. Then they disappear and I tend to settle down and be less irrational. Take enough sleeping pills and not even Freddie can get you.

No Reason Just Cuz

I cried today. I don't know why or what brought it on. I just went to pee. Sitting there,suddenly a death sob exploded from me and the harder I tried to push it back in the further out it came. Until my face and floor were soaked with saltiness. Then as quickly as it came, it left. Sucked back into the black hole from whence it came. I walked back into our room, smiled at Jigger, and went on as if nothing had happened. Yet my head is spinning and my heart hurts and I don't know why.

Alone

I want to be alone. To scream. To sit naked. To laugh. To cry. To breathe. I am never alone. Never silent. Never free. Today my tethers feel more like shackles. Manacles. Connected to the earth that will neither release me nor consume me.

I want to breathe.

Nibbles n Bits

Ack! I have issues with food. Not just disordered issues but like real physical health issues. Sometimes the two cross boundaries and I get stuck in the middle of their feud. It drives Jigger fuckana nuts. Not only do I not eat certain foods because of texture. The few foods I do eat have suddenly started to make me sick. Not suddenly. Almost eight months ago I started developing heart burn. Like raging, alien gut bursting heart burn. I started cutting foods out until I narrowed it down to two specific foods. I no longer eat those foods. I also no longer have heart burn and no longer vomit daily. My IBS has also VASTLY improved by eliminating those two foods. 

But then there are days when there are foods I do eat, but I'm just not feeling that hungry so I just eat a little. Which upsets Jigger I should EAT the way he does. This makes me feel out of control so in order to gain a little bit of control I just STOP. EATING. altogether. I'll show you. I know this is wrong. I know I am wrong, but it's a reflex action. I'm working on it. 

So now I'm trying to patch things up because I didn't eat dinner. It was one of the two forbidden foods. There was almost a fight, but it fizzled as quickly as it began. I'm trying, but sometimes I get pissed that I have to try so hard. Why only me? The little two year inside of me stomps her feet and sticks out her lip and wonders "why does she have to play by the rules when no one else does"? 

I wish I had an answer for her.

Lost in Translation

I'm often misunderstood. Not in the teen angsty kinda way, but in the "I think I'm displaying one emotion but people interpret it as another". As if I hear myself speaking English but everyone else hears Chinese. This happened today and I must say I am extremely proud of myself for how I handled the situation. My current project has offered me insights into myself and I've come to realize things about how and why I react the way I do. I still have the reflex within to react but I'm better able to catch and keep it from coming into existance than I was before. 

Today Jigger asked me a question. If a certain something was possible to do in our current project. Because I'm a much more visual person and have difficulty explaining why things do or don't work, I decided to just design what he was asking so he could see why it wouldn't work. At the end of it, I did say "if you don't like the current design, just let me know and I'll change it". I even giggled a little as I said because the design is a bit goofy and doesn't 100% fit our theme but I liked it so I put it in. However I realize I'm not the only person working on this and if it was really just out of place I was more than happy to put something else. It was a moment I was in it. 

But apparently the "joking" I thought I was portraying came across as "bitch slapping pissed". Jigger got angry with me because he thought I was "angry" at him for asking me why I did what I did. This isn't the first time this has happened. 99% of the time when I'm joking/teasing/being playful I'm taken to be very serious. I cannot joke with anyone or tease them because my appearance and the way I sound is interpreted as me being angry. Which is odd for me because I feel as if I'm being playful. In my ears I sound as if I'm being playful, but apparently it doesn't come across that way. My expression for "playful" and "so pissed I could cut your head off and dig out your brains with a spoon" are exactly the same. I don't know how to change this. 

I admit I'm not a giggly bubbly airheaded hair flipping "oh my gawd" type female. I get that I'm more Pink than Snookie and I like that.  I like being strong. It's who I am. I don't want to change who I am fundamentally but at the same time I also don't want to start fights with people because no one gets what I mean. I'm unsure how to approach this or what to do about it. 

Is it my fault or does the other person bear some responsibility? I mean should they not at least "ask" if I'm pissed instead of assuming? I don't know. I'm still learning how to be human. I know I have trained people to understand 99.9% of the time I am pissed so this new found playfulness is strange for them. It's not something they're use to. I get that, but when does it stop being 100% my responsibility to ensure everyone around me understands I'm not about to fucking rip their heads off?! 

So today when Jigger flew into a rage, angry because he thought I was angry I instead got up and kissed him. Before I would have picked up the nearest object to me and began throwing until I couldn't lift my arms or until I was dripping with blood. On certain occasions I've even managed to do both simultaneously. But not this time. Even the rage I suppressed inside was not at atomic levels the way it would have been before. Somehow I've just come to a point where it's not worth it anymore to be right. Fuck it. I just don't want to fight anymore. No more yelling. No more throwing. No more bleeding. I'm tired. I'm done. Now how do I convince others of this? 

I have no fucking clue.

Confessional Rites

Lately I've been feeling the need for confessing. The rational part of my brain tells me this is unnecessary, but the other 3 billion irrational brain cells don't seem to understand that. The last few days I've spent confessing to Jigger. Things he didn't really want to hear or need to hear but I had to get out of me. In order to move on. I needed him to know so there's no surprises in the future. While I know it won't matter one way or the other, I NEEDED for him to know. But he doesn't get that. It irritates him when I get this way. He wants me to "let go of my past" and "not let it control me" but what he doesn't understand is that in order to do that I have to in a sense get rid of it physically and the only way I know how is to "confess". By telling, by putting it out there, then it's no longer a dark secret hidden in my closet. I think part of the reason I feel this incessant need for him to know maybe has to do with PTSD in a way. When I was younger I learned secrets were dirty and made those who kept them dirty as well. So by confessing to him in a way I feel like I'm ridding myself of the dirt and grime of the secret, but he doesn't get that. He grew up in a normal house with normal kid things. So at times he gets a bit frustrated with me but I think he's starting to see that it helps me in the long run if he can put up with the momentary unease. And snot. There is always lots of snot involved in these confessions which just pisses me off. I don't know why it is you snot when you cry or at least I snot when I cry but I become the human snot factory. It's bad enough I'm baring my soul but does it have to include bodily fluids? So yea I've been confessing the last few days I think I'm about done and can move on. Until the next one comes.

Jitter Bug

I am a big nervous furball of energy. Blah I hate when I work myself into these anxious moments. In my head I know it will be ok. I know nothing truly horrific is going to happen. It's a few minutes. An hour tops but yet my whole body is trembling with anxiousness. There are several reasons. All of which have combined together into the perfect storm. Breathe. If I tell myself enough maybe I'll remember to.

Blind Leading the Deaf

here the words flow droplets upon the page one after another emptying the rage

there they disappear lost amidst the sound unable to unravel they begin to drown

No matter how hard I try to explain my thoughts, they usually go misunderstood. It's hard for people to understand that what lies in my heart is not what lies in my head or that the words that exit my mouth do not necessarily portray the entirety of what I wish to say. It's hard sometimes. Being lost. I've been trying to share more with Jigger. To trust in him the darkness, but I realize I can't. He doesn't understand. How can I expect him to understand something he's never seen, felt, or heard? Something he's not quite sure exists in the first place. How do I make him understand I'm a combination of body parts that don't quite fit together and don't always agree with one another? How do you make a blind man see? You don't and it's time I accept that and give him  a walking stick instead.

Prioritizing Distractions

My brain never turns off. Not even during sleep. It's constantly going. Never tiring. Never ceasing to function. Constantly processing thoughts and ideas and ways and whatifs and whatnots and maybes and shouldve's or wouldve's. An endless vortex of synapses firing sparks into a pit of nothingness. 

Occasionally these sparks drift down out of the crazy half of my brain into the small somewhat normal part, and when this happens, if you're close enough to me you can actually see the little light bulb appear over my mind and see Wile E. Coyote run by. I get ideas the way others get gas after eating beans. I'm constantly starting projects that are "totally awesome omg I have to do this" only for a few days to pass and the high to fade. That's when the realization of "this isn't quite what I really wanted to do sets in and the project gets scrapped". 

Now I have several ideas. Actual real to goodness ideas of things that not only ignite the crazy who is easily distracted and bored but ideas that have ignited the not so crazy part of my brain. The part that says "this is a really great idea. We like this. Let's do it." The only problem with this is that the crazy part is spitting out ideas faster than the non crazy can implement them. Kinda like when Lucy took that job in the factory on the conveyor belt and she couln't keep up. I'm Lucy in this scenario in case you're not following that well. 

I really want to do all of the things in my head. What is even more bizarre is the fact I have no doubt in my ability to accomplish these things and to possibly have a bit of success in them. What is tripping me up is that I need to prioritize, pick one project, begin on it, and work on it until I get it rolling. Then start the second project. Except I don't quite work like that. I get bored my ADD kicks in and I need something shiny new to play with. It takes ALOT to keep my mind active and non bored. Not alot of gossip or "omg did you see what  she was wearing" but real thoughts, real conversations, REAL things. 

So now I'm left trying to figure out which of these ideas to pull out first. Which to begin on until my brain can't work on it any longer, then I'll start the second. I know I'll be working on these various projects simultaneously, but I need to figure out a way that I can actually get a couple of them completed relatively quickly without fucking them royally. This is much more difficult than it sounds. Kinda like going to juggling school and on your first day the teacher throws you a chain saw, an egg, and a baby and says "GO!". Which one do you drop?

Triggers Not the Horse

Knowing your triggers. Absolute must for anyone with any sort of bipolar, BPD, PTSD, anxiety and more big medical words I don't know or have forgotten to mention. Triggers are to insanity what peanuts are to allergies. Know your triggers and avoid them or at least have 911 on speed dial so you hit the button before going into anaphylaxis shock. Yes, they're that bad. 

Triggers. I have many. Some I know. Some are hidden. Some sneak up on me when I'm not looking. I try to avoid them, but somehow they always find my hiding places. The last two days I've been triggering HARD. My safety nets were being pulled from under me. Even though they aren't real safety nets, they're actually harmful to me. In all truth, my so called safety nets are one of my biggest triggers. Fear, rejection, and abandonment. 

Yesterday the perfect storm was created. A long time friend who in many ways has helped me and in many ways not, I confronted. I stood up for myself. I refused to be treated like a steaming pile of dog shit he was scrapping off his shoe, but for ten years he's my one and only friend. The only person my insanity hasn't driven away. Even though he was at times verbally abusive, I clung to him because he was always there. I didn't fear him leaving me. Abandoning me. If that meant being called names, told I was stupid, and used, then that was ok. Because I wasn't alone. 

Except now I have started surrounding myself with people who don't use me, don't abuse me. Who respect me. Who see my flaws, my  broken pieces, and accept them. Who look over the frazzled me and see what lies underneath, and I like that. I don't want to be treated like dogshit anymore even if it means I'm alone. I'd rather be alone than be someone's dogshit. But still it's a trigger. 

Then there are normal worries, financial worries, that pretty much every person who sucks oxygen on this planet has, but when you put those worries inside of a mind that works overtime they become blown out of proportion. So I fight to keep my grip on reality. While things aren't great, they're not that bad either. While some things haven't worked out exactly like I wanted, they are at least working and I'm constantly looking for other ways of gaining income. At the very least I don't feel entitled. I don't feel that it is ok to sit on my ass while others support me. I might have little but it's all fucking mine and I worked through insanity to get it. It's mine fuckers and you can't have it. 

So I'm on a bit of a roller coaster. I'll have to start taking sleeping pills today. I've been awake for two days now. Not good. Not sleeping is definitely a sign. So today I'll take little pink tablets with my grape juice so my mind will slow at least enough for my eyes to close and for a few moments the ping pongs bouncing inside my head will lay quietly on the floor. Shhhh......

Even My Dreams Aren't Normal

So I have to write this down because I'll seriously forget it and it's too bizarre to forget. I don't dream. I never have not really. Maybe it's because I don't usually fall deep enough into sleep to dream or that I fall asleep with some major narcotics in my system and sleep so deeply the dreams sort of fade away upon waking up, but for the most part I don't dream. Last night however I did. I only remember the end part of. About 4 secs in time of it, but it was so fucking weird that it woke me up with a "wtf was that all about" coming out of my mouth. 

I dreamed I was updating my Facebook status and for the 3-4 of you who happen to be my "friends" on Facebook you know I haven't actually signed into Facebook in months let alone updated my status. Doesn't seem too weird, right? Well my status update said, "FYI to all my co-workers who are visiting me. You can still visit if you're lactose intolerant. Just because I'm breastfeeding the baby doesn't mean I pass out samples when you all come to visit. Unless of course the price of diapers goes up, then I'll be freezing that shit and selling it as ice cream." 

I shit you not that is what it said. I have no idea what part of my subconcious mind that came from but it was full on weird. Just weird. Anyways not what this was suppose to be about. It was suppose to be about mania and how I'm sitting on the edge of a major manic episode.

I can feel it's familiar tickle up my spine, the panic slowly starting to whirl and twirl through my veins. I can the 3 normal brain cells trying to calm the other 3000 down and telling them it's ok. Don't panic. Everything is ok, but they're not listening. I have worked very hard to get where I am. I don't want to undo it. A few of my safety nets have been removed this week. Even though they weren't real safety nets, at least I could pretend they were and I've finally cast them aside and I think that is contributing to the frenzy that is building inside of me. 

Panic. It's the worst feeling a person can have. If you're a parent, and you've ever turned around for 3 secs and then turned back and not seen your child standing there, that feeling that starts to rise from the tips of your toes and then courses through your entire body. That is what I feel like inside. For a few moments as the panic rises I'm coherent, I shout my name. Then the panic takes hold and I run around crazy in my underwear for no apparent reason other than the crazy told me to. It doesn't help but it calms me. The part of me that is freaking out. The part of me that is coming unglued because of some minor reason that my brain has magnified into a full on catastrophe. I am my own worst enemy. 

So this time I'm fighting back. Fighting back against the panic that is slowly rising within me. I don't know how much of it I'll be able to hold back before the dam breaks, but hopefully it'll be long enough the damage will be minor and 3 normal brain cells will be able to climb to safety. Hopefully I won't destroy all I've worked so hard to build.

For Those Ten Minutes

Every morning Jigger gets ready for bed and as he turns the light off, I snuggle in beside him. I rest my head in the crook of his arm and we conversate. For just a moment. Usually we don't talk to each other. Not because of anger or disagreements, but just because. Neither of us are chit-chatters. We both are comfortable sitting in the silence that floats between the words. We don't feel the need to fill the void with idle sounds and letters.

Except for those ten minutes. 

They demand to be filled and we willingly oblige. Then as quickly as the letters come together, they disappear and the silence takes its place once again. And I lie there, safe, knowing that I'm protected. For those ten minutes. 

Then sleep comes and Jigger turns over and I get up. Turn my computer on and continue to work for another 4-5 hrs before finally I climb back in beside him. I gently tickle his hair and he turns and back into the crook I go. It's a dance we both know well and we each play our part. Willingly. Without fear, without worry, without doubt. For those ten minutes.

Confessional

I don't talk much about religion on this blog, and while I don't follow the ritualized dogmas of religion, I do have a very strong set of core beliefs. My every non crazy action is based upon those core beliefs and values. This is why next month I'm taking a week off of work. Because it is more important to observe my beliefs than to earn money. While I believe this to the very depths of my being and existance and have no desire to actually work, the crazy part of my brain is freaking out. I recently started my own business and after a lot of hard work, it's doing pretty well. The crazy part of my brain is paranoid that if I take a week off work, then people will think I've disappeared and I will lose all of my business and all of my hard work will be lost. 

Even IF that happens I'd still take the week off work, but having such conflicting thoughts troubles me. I want to be firm and strong in my beliefs, but when these thoughts appear it's hard to know if it's just the crazy talking or if there is a crack in my foundation. I don' t really know and while I hope people don't forget me so easily I worry so much that they will. It's a strange place to be. Wanting to be seen while remaining invisible.

Five Days Since...

I first noticed the leak in the kitchen sink.

Four days 23 hrs 59 mins 34 secs since I first asked my husband to call the plumber to fix the leak in the kitchen sink

Two weeks 6 days 10 hrs 37 mins 23 secs until he'll probably call the plumber to fix the leak in the kitchen sink I noticed five days ago.

1,231, 432,678,416,397,001 that's the number of times I'll have to yell at him during the two weeks 6 days 10 hrs 37 mins and 23 secs before he actually calls the plumber to fix the leak in the kitchen sink I noticed five days ago. 

What it'll take for him to get his ass out of the dog house after he finally calls the plumber to fix the leak in the kitchen sink I noticed five days ago:

Shit Happens

It's been ten days since my last post. I feel like I should recite some hail maries or something. I need to make a concious effort to write here more, but I have people in my life that allow me to email them 25 times a day if I need to. So the need to write here has lessened. But sometimes I just need to write. To flow with the words. To bend and twist and twine with them. To let them tickle my toes and blow whispers on my lashes. Sometimes I need to let go. 

Let go of the constant need of perfection. And of the constant fear of rejection when my imperfections are seen. I've made mistakes this week. Not life shattering mistakes. Just tiny little errors in my work. No major catastrophe ensured. They were rectified immediately. But yet I felt that gnawing pain of failure eating away at my insides. Consuming me. Trying to suck me back in. I could feel the wetness of its tongue as it slid over me. Then I pushed it away. It's still there. I can see its shadow. Hears its breath as it draws it in and out. I see him and he sees me, but there is a distance. A distance I wasn't able to put between us before. A distance I'm struggling to maintain, but somehow it remains. 

While in many ways I'm alien, I'm still part humanoid. I'm going to make mistakes but that's ok.. Shit happens. That's why they invented bleach.