Same Old Song And Dance


My laptop has once again gone on the fritz. And of course it does right after I get my brand new DSLR Canon Rebel T3i, or the 600D.

I have so many photos I have taken I want to share, but obviously can’t. There are photos of my dresses, our latest project at the house and Disney fireworks that I am really proud of!

The time when my psychologist will be closing her practice is getting closer and closer. She has a surgery next Friday. When she does close it I will be very sad as I gave developed some what of a connection with her and feel she really has my interests in mind.

But my new psychiatrist has been working out really well! I have only seen him twice but that is because he doesn’t expect a change every single week. I am currently on Lamictal, the Zyprexa is halved every night. Added in Buspirone for anxiety twice daily.

I am back at work, kinda. I go to work, suffer multiple panic attacks that have chest pain accompany them as well nowadays, and drive home, arriving around three in the morning.

On Saturday, I messed up. I told one of the newer managers everything during one of the more severe attacks. And before I even threw in the towel, I could see the change. Questions with a lilt of, “psychosis?”

Told you I messed up.

I work tomorrow and am debating leaving early to go to Animal Kingdom for some photos before work. I dunno.

Thanks to the frustration with my behavior behind the scenes and the mess that is my sewing room, a lot of things have come to a stand still. My emotions are still a crazy roller coaster and anxiety is still extremely high.

I went to Target and did a bad thing. Thursday is pay day and obviously I should be saving up for a new laptop. I spent close to a $100 getting new clothes. On one hand, I need new clothes. My lower half has exploded in weight gain from the Zyprexa and I am in desperate need of clothing. I haven’t made a pair of shorts or bottoms yet and the dresses I have made are getting almost too tight for wear. Even the ones I just made two weeks ago.

I got a pair of shorts, three t-shirts, and a purse that I have had my eye on for almost two months. It is big enough to hold my new camera, wrapped in a scarf, my notebook and planner with room to spare. A pair of athletic shorts also made it into my cart but I bought them without trying them on figuring if I didn’t like them I could simply return them.

Well, I don’t like them and they will be going back. So yay, $16.99 back onto my card.

Anyways. I took photos of the photos with this phone and I hope that can satisfy you for now!



Old Singer sewing table legs





Everything is shorter thanks to my butt getting bigger. We will just let that be my disclaimer.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

I Don’t Know What Is Wrong


Yesterday was Hell Day, and I think I was the only one who remembered it.

Seven years since Robbie died.

I didn’t leave the house other than to go to the library to pick up the books that came in. I had placed Bipolar: A Survival Guide on hold as well as various photography books on hold in preparation for Thursday.

This past Wednesday when I found out I was scheduled three days in a row, my mother offered a bribe or reward of sorts. Her suggestion was a serger, but I knew there was a chance it would be untouched. I knew what I wanted. A real camera. And not a point or shoot either.

I loved taking photos with my SIII, but it is very restricting. For years I have been wanting a DSLR, something within the T*I series from Canon and the T3i was on sale.

I had realized soon after that, that I had managed to transfer my obsessive anxiety from my fears about work to my absolute desire for this camera.

And guess what?

I made it through all three days. It was rough. Very rough. On Saturday I was feeling a bit of mania towards the end. It was two AM, I hadn’t slept since Thursday and I was willing to keeping going and do the 3rd shift if someone called in. I wanted to go go go.

Sunday was the worst. I had a break down towards the end when I had a cash payment and realized everyone else would be gone if I did something wrong. I pulled aside an FSA I trusted and asked to speak in private. I had come to him with health usually physical issues before he had been receptive.

I explained my diagnoses and the panic attack I was about to have. It was almost twelve thirty at night and with the lack of sleep it wouldn’t be safe to take any dosage of Klonopin as I had already taken half a tab about four hours previous.

The closing manager popped his head in to see what was going on and that’s when I broke.

I told the FSA he could explain what was going on by pointing between them from where I had turned around to face away when I was crying.

I hate crying.

By the end of the night I wasn’t the only one.

But before that, they offered to let me bank out early and walk me through it.

I took my second break after to try and pull back together but before my break was over I was walking past the back office when I heard someone consoling, “it’s okay. You’re not in trouble…” And I saw one of our girls that had been there for a while. Very socially awkward, and well, a lot of people talk about her.

Immediately my own instincts kicked in and I held my arms out for a hug.

Just like my mother, I take care of others better than myself.

After making sure it was okay and seeing the signs of a panic attack on the rise, I showed her my hiding spot in the stock room where it was dark and quiet.

And I just let her let it out.

After a moment she confided that the on duty manager was the only one she felt comfortable with, I encouraged her to speak with him and seek assistance.
He was with a guest so I took her back and had her sit down again and waited for him to find us.

I was commended for helping her but I didn’t know how to explain it was instinct and empathy.

He then spent the next hour or so in the office with her, talking with her as he did his closing paperwork. Every few guests I would check on her and get a thumbs up and a small smile.

Anyways. I made it through the three days and earned that camera.

Now I have to wait til Thursday. Just two days.

On Sunday before work I made an order on Amazon for a wireless remote, an SD card holder and well, an SD card. Sony 16 GB class 10.

It made the $35 free shipping option and I am still waiting for it to ship. It has never taken Amazon, as all are by Amazon, a full day to ship out and it has been a day and a half. I am just being very impatient.

Yesterday, I kept checking my email again and again waiting for that shipping notice. Hoping the high of my items shipping would help me forget what day it was. I was feeling exhausted and couldn’t shake it. Eventually I fell asleep around three PM and didn’t wake up til 8 AM this morning. I still feel exhausted and depressed and down.

Tomorrow is my last EAP visit with Georgia Peach and another week closer to her practice closing.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

Simplicity 1606


A few days ago I actually completed my third dress, ever. Yes it took me a year, but hey – at least it is done!

Usually I will get eighty percent of the way done with a dress and when I try it on, my OCD is triggered and then I cannot make myself finish it. Feeling like all that effort was wasted. This time it almost was.

But before I tell that story, let me introduce you to her.



Now, I did have enough of both fabrics to make two of each in just the selected fabric alone, but something just called about this purple and red together. And as of late I have gathered a habit of making just the bodice first before cutting out my flared/circle/huge skirts just in case I throw another fit and waste over a yard of fabric on a skirt that will never meet the bodice.

And when I finished this bodice, I had just come out to the living room to check on my mom and close the front door for the night when I noticed she had chosen this purple cotton for the doorway this time and I couldn’t stop touching it and looking at it.

So I stuck it to my bodice and fell in love. Even more so when I hemmed it and added the lace seam tape.


You may also notice if you are familiar with Simplicity 1606, that there is no hi/lo option and then skirt is just three pieces, not five.

I may have been a bit hack happy and chopped the hem to impropriety.

It was a very uncomfortable time in the library after I realized, and some kind folks in a passing car made sure I was very aware about the length.
No, really. They thought I had it tucked up on accident or something and pulled over to try to help me and let me know. No sarcasm.

I know. No sarcasm? I might as well be speaking French for all it is common to me.

But I fixed the skirt as soon as I got home. I had luckily saved what I had chopped off the hem in one big piece and simply graded it out to the side seams and then sewed it onto the two skirt back pieces and continued the red hem tape.



I have already worn this dress out three or four times, but I haven’t been able to get a picture of me in it. Maybe tomorrow when I take my mom to the Flower and Garden Festival before my doctor’s appointment.

What do you guys think  of the dress? It was my first time lining a bodice fully, as well!

I am now at the library (of course, my favorite place ever) and researching school for Fashion Design. I finally had made up my mind.

Journal Entry 5/9/14


I wrote this up on my laptop around noon on Saturday. The day previous I had spent twenty-two hours driving to and from Tennessee.

I don’t know what it is with today but even within the first moments of waking up, I just felt… heavy.

Heavy heart.

Heavy Mind.

Heavy Soul.
It was just past eight thirty and I had made sure to at least get up and make sure my mom was awake as she an appointment at ten. But she was already gone when I found my dad downstairs tucked behind the dryer working on.
“I guess you washed a receipt or something and it gunked the entire thing up.”
Oh the freezer across from the dryer were balls of compressed paper about the size of… do you know/remember those little bouncy rubber balls? About seven or either balls of that size.
From a receipt? Even though I was certain I hadn’t washed anything paper in any of my recent loads with my compulsion of checking pockets and zipping zippers.
But it was automatically me and mind fault.
Just like when Mom decided to wash the portable burner and refuses to light now.
Quickly, I felt the feelings of worthlessness and depression sinking in.
Last night I had made plans as we were driving on the last stretch from Tennessee through Georgia to get on the ball. Get all my cleaning done, organize my sewing room again, and hit the library in the morning to do all research for fashion design programs.
But I just couldn’t even feel the point. The excitement, the desire that these things should have fueled me into. All I felt was weak, depressed and nothing was worth it.
Even talking felt like too much.
I tried to force through it.
Folding fabric, gathering scattered pattern tissue, tossing garbage but it just served to deepen my darkness.
I just tried sinking into mindless game play via Fall Out for a couple hours but here I am, typing away still enraptured in my dark thoughts.
My body is so tired and worn out. I didn’t take my prescription until almost midnight last night as I was doing the night driving. So, I don’t know if maybe this is just a chemical reaction in its entirety.
Maybe I should go on ahead and just force some sewing.
Even as I typed that I know it isn’t going to happen.
I don’t want to do anything.
I just want to sleep and fast forward past this day and these feelings.


EPCOT Flower and Garden Festival 2014


I had a little bit of free time yesterday since my appointment with my psychologist wasn’t until three in the afternoon and I took the opportunity to head to EPCOT and get some photos of all the gorgeous topiary displays around the park. And I may have gone selfie-happy.



This upcoming Sunday I will be joining up with a friend and will be hitting the Magic Kingdom and I take loads of pictures then, too. If you have any comments (*cough cough* compliments) about my mad skilled photography please say something!

Am I the only one who feels like they are at the¬†optometrist when editing photos? 1… or 2…? 1… or 2…?¬†

There is This Thing Called “Bipolar”


Those that have been with me on this blogging journey for a while know that I have been self aware of almost all of my problems my entire life. I had even started to give my demons names. Names like:

  • OCD
  • ADD
  • Depression

Calling them “quirks”.

Lists upon lists of my symptoms and feelings.

I had eventually learned how to handle and work around this “quirks” of mine and live my life as what I felt would simply be how my life would go. Until it started getting in the way more than it ever had before.

I was not going out to see friends, I wasn’t even speaking to people. For over a month and a half my phone was on ‘airplane’ mode. Nothing in, nothing out. Then, I was having trouble working. Finishing a shift was a nightmare and I felt very weak by the end of even the first half of my shift. Soon enough, I couldn’t work a single shift at all. Just the thought terrified me.

So, I sought help.

Went to see a psychiatrist recommended by a friend and had taken along a few sheets of paper from a legal pad where I had written down to the best of my abilities all my symptoms and problems.

On that day of March 31st in the year 2014, I was diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder.

It kind of sent me for a loop and yet it didn’t at the same time. I was familiar with the illness. Many of my non blood related sibling that my mother had taken in were diagnosed as Bipolar.

I took the psychiatrist at their word and believed that yes, indeed, I was Bipolar.

The problem was convincing myself that I was Bipolar.

I didn’t figure out why this was such an issue until yesterday during my appointment with Peach (my online nickname for my psychologist).

As I had mentioned before, I was listing all my problems singularly as they came along. Lists after lists. Points after points. I simply could not understand how so many pages, so many entries could be wrapped up in this one little box that is Bipolar Disorder.

To help me come to terms, Georgia Peach went through a diagnostic exam asking me all the questions that would prove whether or not I was in fact Bipolar. Questions about kleptomania, obviously about moods, anger, depression, energy, insomnia and Obsessive Compulsive tendencies.

It definitely did help and it was in the middle of this evaluation that it hit me.

Poor Georgia Peach was slightly confused when all of a sudden I gasped and said, “I get it. I understand.”

Usually I try very, very hard not to interrupt people (one of my “rules”) and yet here I had. I excused myself and urged her to continue with what she was doing. After finishing reviewing the examination, I told her.

“And there you go. I knew you were a smart cookie.”

Bipolar Disorder, especially being diagnosed as Bipolar Severe, is something that will never, ever go away.

You can treat it. You can develop tools and ways on how to handle your episodes as they come.

You may be successful or you may not be successful.

But I have the power now to try. I have the power to do everything I can to actually try working with this illness.

Before, that power was unavailable to me.

But now I have it and now I am ready. Bipolar is not a disease a lot of people understand.

“Mood swings? You call what just happened with the excuse of a¬†mood swing?”

Well, yeah, but it is more than that.

As mental health comes more and more into the light, there is some understanding and easing of the stigma that clouds mental illnesses like a miasma.

But Bipolar Disorder is one of the disorders that continues to remain misunderstood.

And because of this, it isn’t something you can easily share. Not with friends, not with coworkers or even family.

So far… in my personal circle I can count on one hand how many people know about my recent diagnosis and I intend to only share it if it is indeed very necessary.

Just remember though, I have the power to live my life without this demon on my back.