Trash Only. No Recycling.

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There is a realization for myself that I have been avoiding, yet expressed for years all at the same time.

Music is vital for my sanity. It is well known that I never, ever, go anywhere without my high quality headphones. Music fuels my emotions, and brings perspective to my surroundings. It translates my pain, my hopes, and my dreams into something that does require a shared language.

And precisely because of that… communicating my language is so hard. You feel isolated. I try sharing my music.

This means something to me.

                “But, I cannot understand what they are saying.”

                “I can’t really sing along to this.”

When I share music – I am sharing myself. Offering a deep emotion that I feel I cannot express in words otherwise. It has been a running joke for quite some time on,”Lara Language”. Since, communication is such a trial for me. My vocabulary is vast, and I have to constantly adjust in the moment, so others can understand the terminology and context I use. I learned to communicate in a short hand due to this. Either via gesticulations, music, or images in hopes that by removing the challenge of my words – one can understand my meanings universally.

Yet, this never seems to happen.

One of the worst feelings in the world is the that of oppressed silence. An empty room where the vibrations bounce off the walls to echo for an audience of none.

Listen to me.

I have something to say.

Will you please listen?

                My composition professor today, after class, sympathized saying it must be difficult being the smartest person in the class.  It is, and it is not limited to the classroom. With which an astounding intellect that seems to be inversely proportional to the rich social interactions that are possible. Add in a (very misunderstood and difficult) personality disorder… It is difficult. You spend a lot of your time feeling lonely, and yet there is a dichotomy of preferring the solitude over the lackluster interactions you would have to face otherwise.

I am a very articulate and intelligent person. So, why is it that I am so often misunderstood?

Or is it no one wants to understand.

Check, please.

 

Just the pits, man.

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Today marks two weeks until Mike flies in. I should be happy, excited and dancing around with the giggles.

But I am not.

Today has been filled with depressive thoughts with a suicidal filter like a bad instagram selfie.

I feel locked away in my house. Even if I didn’t have crippling agoraphobia, I have to plan weeks in advance to be able to use a car and leave.

For the past few days I have been trying to lightly ask about using the truck the Friday before Mike flies in so I can go get my hair done. I have had money set aside since November so the next time I saw Mike, I would not have two to four inches of roots showing.

Since my mother’s plan to buy my father a crappy car fell through she is in a bad mood.

We will just say, I am not getting the truck.

I spent four hours non-stop cleaning and cooking trying to have her in a good mood when she got home since Dad decided he wanted to save up more before going car shopping and I knew that would upset her.

My cleaning that was started hours before she got home was in her way of her putting down her garage sail finds and groceries.

Me offering her food made her upset and grouchy.

Asking if she wanted me to fill up her Pepsi cup sent her for a loop.

You cannot be nice to this woman, I swear.

It was expressed once again that they (my mother, really) are upset I am not seeking school, work or a doctor.

I can’t see a doctor because I do not have a car to go to the appointments, nor do I have the money for the appointments.  The majority of the last three months I have to without food and other necessities (I had to beg for tampons twice now) because I do not have the money to buy my own.

I cannot get a job because once again I do not have a car to actually get to and from nor do I have the imperative mental and emotional stability to be able to function in a work place since I cannot get to or pay for medical assitance.

I do not have a car because this family is entirely “you’re on your own”. Everything, from reading, washing your hair,  how to drive a car or cook your dinner because what they make, makes you sick – you have to teach yourself. Well.

I had to teach myself.

My brothers all had multiple cars given to them. College funds they chose to spend on not college. My mom and dad took turns teaching them how to drive and taking them out so they could practice.

I sound so whiny reading this over.

I am just hurt, I guess. I feel like the entire stack is against me and is going to fall over into a mess anyways.

Every day I have multiple panic attacks and thoughts of why bother? Absolutely and truly, why bother?

Why bother going to the doctor when they all say they can’t help me or that I don’t ‘seem’ sick simply because I am “articulate and sociable”.

Why bother looking for work when all it will do is compoud my illnesses and further my depression when I fail?

Something about me makes people dislike me. I ask everyone, ‘what am I doing wrong?’ I am polite, I always did my job well and apologized when I did not do well. I was always on time and offered to stay late and take shifts for those that needed to give them away.

And yet I always get pulled for discussions. When I would ask aboyt furthering my position in the company, ‘maybe not right now.’

Everywhere I go.

What the hell am I doing wrong?

After my family history and the issues at work I question everything I say and do.

If someone doesn’t respond to me, it breaks me down.

I curl up on my bed and cry.

Though to be honest even if I am talking to people I will probably still be curled on my bed crying between messages.

Now, I am fighting with every core of my being to not let Mike know what is going on in my head. I am terrified if he learns just how screwed up I still am, he will leave again. When he contacted me again, I was working and in therapy.

Now? I don’t leave my room. I don’t leave my bed.

The only people I talk to is my friend Michelle and Mike.

Today started with fighting not going right back to sleep. The rest of the day was fighting against the urge to take aspirin pm I have been holding onto.

I gave in about an hour ago.

My prayers are for sleep.

As Usual

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Let’s see. Since we last spoke I have quit my job, my meds, been to Jersey, got back together with my ex-boyfriend and more than few times nearly gave up on trying all together.

On a calm day, I will usually suffer an average of two panic attacks a day with a heavy dosage of depression and self-hate. I am not sure what to do about this as my psychiatrist seems to be at the edge of his abilities in trying to decide what to prescribe me since I refuse to attempt Lithium or Depakote and quit the Latuda due to costs.

Since he wasn’t willing to put me on medical leave, it quickly came to the point where I was given little choice of either quit my job or be fired due to attendance. So, on October 23rd of this year I quit my job at Walt Disney World. This is what everyone told me to do. This is what everyone including the medical professionals said would be best for me. And yet after I quit, everyone is immediately hounding me to get a new job. Even though literally two days before (it was on my birthday I got the lecture) I had quit my job due to being too mentally unstable to be able to even leave my house most of the time.

The week after my birthday I did a double duty of dog sitting and house sitting at two houses on opposites sides of town. I was promised payment for my services, and yet I did not even receive a thank you from either family. Later on I learned they were spreading rumors that I had trashed one of the houses and front yard. My sister, ladies and gents. The same older sister that had hosted me for my 23rd birthday and made me feel special for a short bit.

Know my family is very manipulative and scheming. We all know each other very well and how we all work. By hosting me for my birthday, I feel too guilty and uncomfortable confronting her on this. Good job. You win this round.

That weekend I was dog sitting I also had a countdown on my phone for a spontaneous trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey. See, on New Year’s Eve this year twenty minutes after the clock struck twelve a very important person to me passed on. Pop was the paternal grandfather of my ex boyfriend. While Mike’s parents (just his mother, really) and I never got along – his grandparents and I hit it off. Gram and Pop are and were so sweet and nice. Cliche amazing grandparents. Since Pop passed, Mike moved in with Gram to help watch after her and take care of her. Up until maybe  September our communication was very sporadic and I had a very clear line drawn in the sand to protect myself. I treated every text as if it was the last just in case it was the last. Then I don’t even remember what it was but we started talking again.

Oh, that is right. Chairforce (the coworker also named Mike) had been agitating me and Mike called me on the phone when I texted him while on the phone with Chairforce thus giving me an excuse to hang up. They both get off at work at relatively the same time and have usually an hour drive.

After that it was texting all day and phone calls at the same time every day. I would usually talk to whomever called me first unless Mike called me while I was speaking to Chairforce which then I would hang up. I always feel a smidge guilty but I can only listen to someone toot their own horn for so long. And that is all Chairforce does while talking.

“I shocked someone doing this.”

“I surprised them with my super human intelligence like this.”

“They were really amazed by what I did doing this.”

I am sure you know someone like this.

He is a very nice person and seems to constantly be doing  something for someone else (especially his ex’s finances) so he must talk for himself. And almost all of it is extremely inflated and exaggerated. You don’t take a pinch of salt with his stories, you chuck the whole handful.

Anyways. So, Mike and I were talking again. And he asked if I wanted to come up and see Gram who had been asking after me. He gad gotten an email for a 40% off coupon in Atlantic City so it would be really cheap for me to stay. Since it was so sudden, and I am truly the worst at booking travel, I asked if he would look for flight and book for me and I would pay him back the booking and everything.

So there I was. Just barely over three weeks before I would be getting on a plane to see a place and people I thought I had sworn off for the rest of my life. While the countdown ticked away, we were talking constantly and lots of flirting was happening. I didn’t admit to anyone that I was as excited to see Mike as I was to see Gram. Especially my family and Chairforce.

The night before my birthday I was at the first bonfire being held for my birthday where Mike said something along the lines claiming. I told him only if I got to do the same. He could call me his if I could call him mine. I wasn’t going to play that game again. I was going to demand a real relationship this time with full exposure. He said that was fair and we would talk about it when I came up. Long distance relationships are hard and shouldn’t be taken lightly. We both have trust issues.
It got to be that time. I was at Orlando International Airport waiting for my flight on Spirit Airlines to Atlantic City International Airport. I was doing okay. The entirety of the two weeks prior was filled with constant anxiety. Not over the flight or what would happen afterwards. But before. The airport itself. TSA. Boarding the plane. Would I be in a good seat? Would I find a seat near an outlet so I could charge my phone while I waited for two hours?

Even with all my lists I forgot my toothbrush. Yup.

When we pulled up to the drop off, I took a Xanax tab and another one maybe a half hour before boarding. I ended up falling asleep for the majority of the flight but of course you know I recorded the take off.

For all of what I had heard, Spirit Airlines wasn’t so bad!

I was staying at Harrah’s Casino with a water view.

On the last day while we were walking and driving around waiting for my time to go to airport, all I could think of was the talk we had had yet to have. I was incredibly nervous and worried about the entire thing. If he wanted to have it. Should I even bother. When should I instigate the conversation cause I knew he sure as hell wouldn’t. While we were walking on the fishing pier on the beach I finally came out with it and just asked ‘are we going to do this?’

He told me he was unsure of long distance relationships and a girl had recently screwed up all of his trust by going to back to her ex boyfriend the same day she had said they should try dating. And yes. This was one of the girls I was always paranoid of him messing with before he did his disappearing act. (Little sister, my ass.)

I reminded him I already told him my terms and if he wanted to try this I was willing to.

We decided to give it a try.

It soon after that came to be time for me to go the airport.

It was really fast since the airport is so small. Only ten gates in comparison to O.I.A. (or MCO its airport code) with two terminals and close to forty gates at each terminal. I still got pat down by TSA because Sally, Mike’s mustang peed on me. -.-

That car hasn’t done that to anyone since it happened to me in 2011 and my dad fixed it for him. Of course she had to say goodbye to me. Thanks, Sally. I missed you, too.

Everything was peaches and sunshine until we got on the plane. We’re moving along. I had a window seat on the wing with the seat next to me empty and a pilot hitchhiking in the aisle seat. I was cool and hadn’t even cried. I was ready for the crying but that wasn’t til later. Anyways. Chugging along and boom plane stops. Lights. Engines. Everything. Well. At least we were on the ground.

We get back to the gate and are kicked off the plane. We were told at minimum it would take an hour but who was willing to get back on the plane that suddenly not only lost power but refused to turn back on?

We ended up waiting for over seven hours. We were given a food “voucher” four hours in for $7.00. I had immediately after getting off thr plane bought a bag of combos. Another couple went and had sandwiches and a drink each. My very small bag of combos were five dollars. Their dinner? $45.00. Voucher my ass.

The entire time we were sitting there, what I had dubbed as the “bitch line” was constantly filled. I was avoiding it. I didn’t want to give up my prime seat along the wall where I had an outlet keeping my phone charged. I spent a lot of that time on the phone with Mike who was freaking out.

I am not sure if you remember but I have severe Agoraphobia. Fear of crowded and open spaces. And here I was locked in one for the unseeable future. I was eating Xanax like candy. Not really. But seeing as how I try to rarely if ever take it, taking those two tabs sure felt like it.

I called each of my parents (dad first of course) and Chairforce who was going to be my ride.

About two hours in a couple whose phone I watching for them whole they waited in line came over and warned me that the flight was probably going to get cancelled entirely and the flight to Ft Lauderdale leaving in forty five minutes was quickly filling up.

That’s when the real panic began.

Was I going to be stuck in the airport for the night?

Would I have to get a hotel?

How would I get to the hotel?

How would I pay for the hotel and cab?

I had and have zero money. I had some quarters left over from tolls in my purse and the two pennies change from my bag of combos and water bottle.

At that point I knew I would have to get in line. I explained my situation to the attendants at the desk when it was my turn and did my best to keep my voice level (trying not to cry. Not anger. They had no control over the situation. You learn that working in customer service your entire career life) and explained my situation. I was informed that unless the flight was cancelled they would not comp hotel or the rebooking of the flight. They possibly were going to be bringing a plane up from West Palm Beach that would be getting there around ten hopefully, a pilot that was with the girls informed me. But until that plane landed and they decided they were going or not going to use that plane, the flight wasn’t technically cancelled and thus I would have to wait.
Back to my seat on the wall I went. I had to lend out ny phone to a couple people. One’s phone wasn’t working and another didn’t have service. One had a three month baby by herself and another was an older woman who was utilizing a flip phone.

I had become queen and angel of that little charging podium.

I was doing my best to remain calm and just keep the mindset that I would eventually get on that plane and I had a place to charge to my phone.

I know it is very first world but some of my worst oanic attacks are when I lose my phone. Whether it is signal or if it dies, I freak. Every single possible emergency situation I could think of where I would need to be able get in contact with someone starts running through my mind.

Close to eleven pm we board the plane after I had been holding the three month old baby for almost an hour while the mother took a much needed nap.

The flight was fine. I fell asleep after taking another Xanax and after a little over two hours we landed at MCO a little after one in the morning. Chairforce was awesome and took a nap while waiting for my plane and came and got me. I gave him twenty bucks that my parents had stashed in the taurus for when he dropped me off at the taurus at a middle ground so he was more than reimbursed for his gas eco car and tolls.

I got home just ready to collapse in my bed and just compartmentalize this weekend. But my mother was in my room. With a trash bag. In her night gown. My bed was gone. My shelves and dresser was gone.

“So are you going to blow up the air mattress or am I?”

I hadn’t even said a word nor had she besides that sentence. I just turned around and walked away and downstairs to the laundry room where the love seat was for Timber and collapsed there.

I was down there for about an hour. I had cooled down and little and say to her “I am trying very hard to not be mad right now but I expect wherever you put my bed it will be back in my room in one piece tomorrow.”

With that I turned around gathered my blankets from the laundry room in their pile and made a bed on the floor. I can’t sleep on air matresses. With my arthritis every time I do, I can’t move afterwards. I prefer to sleep on the floor. Not an exaggeration or dramatization, I truly prefer it.

So for the next two nights I slept on my floor. I had found my bed in the dog pen and bleached the living hell of out and let it air out. I was angry in a very unsual way. A very physical way. I was throwing things. I broke a mirror while the house was empty.

To be honest that anger is still simmering but just bubbling below the surface.

My brother is now here on leave and why I am writing this post actually. As with every year whenever my brother comes home, I become the shame of the family. Not sure if you picked up on that by being made to sleep on a trashed floor.

Yesterday when I came home from a friend’s after a day of baking with Olive Garden left overs and a ton of pizelles (Italian cookies), my mother was in near tears. She couldn’t decided what to make dad dinner and didn’t know what she would eat. So I just quickly gave her my chicken parmesan, dayquil and tissues. Letting her think I believed it to be allergies otherwise she gets worse.

I made Dad dinner and explained what was going on with Mom.

I hadn’t spoken to my brother yet, he hadntw even been at the house as usual with some girl, but I texted him while I made fish for Dad.

I said I wasn’t trying to be snarky or nasty but was wondering if he would spend a day with Mom while he was here. It would help her feel better.

He showed up that night.

And he didn’t even do anything wrong today. But as usual my mother showed her preference. Today every moment I came out of my room and James was in the same room. “Your room stink. You need to take another shower. What is wrong with your hair? When are you getting a job. You need contribute. Go do the dishes (again. I wash them but she always puts them back in the sink).” So I was petting and playing with Moses and blows up on me.

I just walked out of the room. And here I am.

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View from the room

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I still don't understand the appeal of gambling.

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Mike snuck this into my bag cause he knew I loved it. I feel a smidge bad but love it too much.

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Pizelles

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First time I had worn this apron in four years.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.

Tiny Little Things

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So things are still on a downhill slope. Where do I start?

Let me disappear for a second and find out where I left you off.

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Okay. So to start off.

Work

Work is not happening. I have called in every shift for the last two weeks. I get severe panic attacks at just the thought and I cannot drive let alone for an hour to even try working the shift. Thus, I just give up – give in – and call in. There is no idea as to what is going to happen. I had an emergency visit with my psychiatrist to see if he could excuse me or put me on medical leave. He wrote a general excusal note but did not put me on medical leave. I only mentioned it the once and I guess he forgot to readdress it at the end of the appointment. The only thing that changed was I am now on Xanax twice a day and I was suggested to quit Disney and get a job that didn’t involve coworkers or patrons. Where the hell is that?

I have come to the conclusion that I feel like all of my medication is failing me. My emotions are no where near stable, my anxiety is out of control and my obsessive tendencies are on the rise.

So, I spoke with one of my managers Thursday night as I had a shift Friday just to see what should I do, what could I expect. And all he could suggest was to call Health Services and see if I cannot get an appointment with them and possibly have restrictions or medical leave induced.

Well.

I called.

And was denied assistance and was immediately transferred to a therapist who then immediately jumped into trying to force me into self committing myself into a ten day program.

I never mentioned suicide. Or any of my diagnoses besides my anxiety.

I was informed by another separate party that I could only be committed if I was suicidal. And I would never deny having suicidal thoughts. I do have those. But I have never attempted to act upon them or self harm in general.

So I just said I would speak to my parents about it and tried one more time for an appointment with Health Services and was once again turned down. After that, I simply ended the call.

While speaking with my Cigna Healthy Pursuits Coach, Becky, yesterday she helped me conclude that I don’t feel like I am in control. And when I don’t feel like I am in control is when I give up any control or stability I may have had left. She also suggested I go get a physical and see if maybe there isn’t anything physically wrong with me. That is an idea but the idea terrifies me. Beyond simple past experience, the money as always makes me jittery.

I have an appointment with a new psychologist tomorrow to see if that helps. “Joan”. I find it slightly funny. The psychiatrists are reffered to as Dr Last Name. The therapists are referred to by their first name. Which is very awkward for me. It seems very informal and slightly disrespectful.

Makes me wonder if they actually have their doctorates. The office does refer to them as therapists only as opposed to psychologists.

Outside of all this?

I was pretty fine.

I don’t know if any of you wonder why I haven’t named or even nick named my coworker turned friend since he has made his entrance to my posts. Well for one! His real name is so damn common I nickname all of them. Michaels. So many in the world. And another his nickname is one that would offend unless you know my military backstory with my family and our friendship. I call him Chairforce cause he is in the Air Force reserves. My family is Navy based. So… Chairforce.

I’ll call him Mike to limit the possible insult-ability.

So, Mike is a good friend. any chance he can he tries to get me out of my house. Distract me from everything going on and still push my comfort zones just that little bit to get me working on my anxiety a little at a time.
My friend Sassy doesn’t like that but we face our anxiety in two very different ways. And that is fine. We are two different people with different needs. After I explained it to her in a bit more detail she understood a little better.

He tended to call me every day during his drive to school from work and then from school to home. So he was hearing about everything that was going on first hand. Even as he is making his arrangements for his deployment to the desert he worries about his friends. My friend RL (red lipstick), has become slightly MIA amongst her own problems and he worries about her. He worried about me and even Sassy if she was having a bad day.

His solution for my anxiety was the last day before he left was to surprise me with a day… Somewhere.

Wouldn’t tell me where.

Or even when.

Just “you’re going to love it”.

Eventually he would give in and give me hints. Birds (he loves birds), I could get wet (so no dresses and wear a bathing suit), and it was in Orlando.

And there would be horses.

Horses? Where the hell are horses in Orlando besides Disney’s Triple D Ranch? And I know he wasn’t taking me to Disney.

Turns out it was SeaWorld. He bought me a day pass after we had some Dim Sum for breakfast.

He managed to talk me into going on all three rides (whoa) and feeding sting rays and dolphins. The dolphin feeding was easy and I really enjoyed it.

The sting rays?

Terrified me.

They felt weird.

They smelled.

And were… Kinda mean.

“Give me the shrimp! *splash*”

We did the entire park excusing the water shows in about four hours. Just spent the day relaxing and walking around.

We ended the night with dinner at the Turf Club. For once my drink somehow managed to be stronger than his. He almost always gets a rum and coke made with Bacardi 151. (Can I get an ick?) And I know now to order a mojito with Sprite. Somehow mine was stronger.

I now pinch myself when I didn’t buy his drink. It was going to be his last for at the very least a month and I should have after all he did.

One day I will do things when I should and not regret not doing them later.

Over all it was a good day.

Sassy will be here in 27 days.

Mike will be back in (hopefully) 35 days

My birthday is in 59 days.

I am trying to keep my head up and just take each day as it comes.

Posted from WordPress for Android. As much as I try to proof read, typos and grammatical errors will more than likely occur and I hope you can graciously forgive them and me.

I Wish Upon A Star

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It seems to be almost a promise that if I write that things are looking up, of course my next post will be about how things didn’t look up. Though this could be a simple continuation of the last post and my worries about how the medication may not be working when I am on the job. Like I said, it seems to work whenever I am at home but when I am at work it is a different story. 

I reported for my shift this Friday ready and excited to get through the weekend especially since I had some new dresses for trying dim sum for the first time the next day. 

It was okay, at first as usual. I did my pacing thing in the back office waiting for my shift. Which no one even questions any more. They just accepted that I can’t sit still very well. However there was one manager that I have always some issues with did not like it, His solution was to have me start early. I didn’t know how to say “no” to that so I went ahead and clocked in interrupting my ritual I guess you could say. Within two hours I noticed that I wasn’t able to finish my sentences. I couldn’t catch my breath, the room was spinning and I was developing chest pain. A few more check ins were attempted as I figured it would go away as these symptoms usually do with my panic attacks. The strange thing was that there wasn’t any feelings of panic beyond why was I experiencing these symptoms and why weren’t they going away? Over an hour I struggled through and eventually had to tap a manager on the shoulder and let her know what was going on as bare bones as I could – especially since we were on stage at that time. 

I asked after a possibility of an early release quickly and moved on to attempt working with another guest, during which my symptoms began to escalate. After finishing with the guest I moved to the managers office where I found the manager I spoke with earlier and quickly just said that I have a panic attack disorder and believed I was experiencing a panic attack. I explained the symptoms and that I wasn’t positive I would be able to make it for another five hours to the end of my shift. 

My Klonopin was in my purse so I grabbed that and filled my cup with water to sit down in the proffered office to hopefully work through the attack and see if I can talk myself into finishing my shift. 

One of my compulsions is writing as many of you know and tends to calm me down so I began to write out my symptoms and thoughts. One set was the realization that it wasn’t a matter of being able to finish the shift it was a compulsive thought line of “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” I could but I can’t

I hadn’t told my manager about the chest pain until another manager came in that was already familiar with my situation and told her about the chest pain and the pain that was psychosomatic-ly moving along my left arm centering at my elbow.

Which prompted questions if I would like paramedics and that I would need someone to pick me up as I would not be able to drive home.

Of course I turned down the offer for the alpha (paramedics). What if this was once again all in my head? Paramedics show up and my blood pressure is normal all that stuff. Plus paramedics, just for a panic attack? It just seemed silly.

And once again, of course came along the questions if this role was right for me. Should I transfer. (Get out of their hair).

“I’m doing better. Really. I don’t know why this is happening. I feel confident in my job. I was fine during the morning shifts. Which you would think would be the opposite for the lack of sleep I was experiencing due to the shift change. There is no reason to be feeling like this. No reason.

Eventually I called my mom and told her what was going on so I can make an appointment with my psychiatrist to look at my meds and get him to write a note for what was going on. And as usual for me the moment I got on the phone I started to blubber. Following that call, I called my friend Linda that I was going to be staying with that night anyways to see if she would come and pick me up.

So we left my car there, picked up some food on the way to her place and I hopped into the tub for a bath when we got back. And just sat in the water for maybe two hours, refilling the tub when the water became cold.

My coworker has become a close friend and has taken to calling me almost every day whenever he is bored and tends to have freaky timing. The moment I got of the tub and plugged in my phone expecting to not get a phone call, **ring ring**.

I told him about what happened and how I was feeling and he already started making plans on how to cheer me up. We were already meeting up for dim sum the next morning but since I wasn’t going to be able to work he was working with more time.

We ended up going to the M&M super store at the Florida Mall because “I need chocolate. Stressed backwards is desserts.”

Which took me a long time to figure out. For someone with dyslexia, that was pretty sad.

It had begun to rain a little bit but the beauty of Florida is that it never lasts long usually. We went to Gatorland. I had never been before. Bad Floridian, I know. But the number of gators they had astounded me!

So many gators!

So many gators!

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This poor guy was missing a foot.

This poor guy was missing a foot.

Gatorland also had birds. Lots and lots of birds. 

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Small birds.

Small birds.

Slightly bigger birds.

Slightly bigger birds.

Frou frou birds.

Frou frou birds.

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Native Florida birds.

Native Florida birds.

Then the creepy bird.

Then the creepy bird.

They sold little bags of hot dogs you could use to feed the gators and of course the birds were interested as well. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Free food! Except there are some birds that are determined to get your hot dogs. That is when the stalking began. This creepy freaking bird started to literally stalk us. 

Stalker.

Stalker.

And because my friend was the one holding the treats… he seemed to get the brunt of it.

Even with the emus

Even with the emus

IMG_2871His new found loves made for great photo opportunities however. 

I found out the weird vulture stork looking thing was actually called a Woodland Stork and they are the most aggressive of the varieties that were found at Gatorland.

Aggressive? These birds? No. They just want a hug. From a hot dog…

We ended the day with dinner at The Wave found at Disney’s Contemporary Resort. I of course have never eaten there before same with many of the restaurants my friend takes me to. He has taken me to the Sci-fi diner, dim sum, City Walk and T-Rex at Downtown Disney. 

The forty five minutes waiting for a table was spent talking about DAAR and my relationships with my coworkers, how I started at Art and should I stay. If I shouldn’t stay, where should I go?

I apparently had a bad start. Immediately singled out by (his words) jealous people that got the ball rolling for how people would interact with me the rest of my DAAR career. Just like Speedway it seems. 

While we were sitting down, an adorable little girl was playing “capture the daddy with a big squirt gun” and it was very cute. She would come into the area we were sitting in and chase after him. Eventually the father surrendered and corralled her off saying “They are trying to have romantic time. Let’s leave them alone.” 

Immediately. 

“Uhh.”

Me: Not exactly but sure let’s go with that!

We tend to get that reaction a lot and it doesn’t even phase me anymore. 

Soon after our little buzzer thing went off and we found our table. 

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Wonderful fluffy multi-grain bread served with soft butter and salt.

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He ordered the lamb with a substitution of Jade Rice and Caramelized Mushrooms.

He ordered the lamb with a substitution of Jade Rice and Caramelized Mushrooms.

I ordered the Flat Iron Steak with fingerling potatoes and a substitution of onion mashed potatoes.

I ordered the Flat Iron Steak with fingerling potatoes and a substitution of onion mashed potatoes.

As always I let him order my drink since he is the expert and has yet to lead me to a bad drink. I learned I prefer Mojitos made with Sprite as opposed to just soda water. But look at this garnish!

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And here is the dress I wore.

And here is the dress I wore.

By the end of the night, I was feeling a bit better. Still stressed. Worried. But definitely feeling better. 

Let’s Start Off With This

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Arthritis sucks. First and foremost. My knees and shoulder have been screaming for the last couple hours.

Things have been good, though! Not bad at all; considering. I have been doing my best to be positive and fight through the currents. Maybe this attitude is thanks to the medication combined with actually getting hours at work.

At work, it has been a bit of a struggle working a full day but I am getting better. The more I do it the easier it gets. There are times when I get out of balance and take things personally when I really shouldn’t but it is progress. The whispers are no where near as abundant and the paranoia is minimum. Every once in a while I have to pace and circle around or go to the stock room and sit with my back to the corner but it isn’t every hour like it used to be.

All this positive and happy feelings keep throwing me off. My naivete keeps me wondering if maybe I am in a manic phase or if the meds are actually working. The happy go lucky side of me is saying it must be the meds.

I worry about my friends.

One is being deployed to the desert in nine days.

One is severely depressed and in desperate need of hugs.

And another I just miss and worry about her because she is so far away.

Such delicate balances to be watched and taken care of.

I am still trying to decide what I am going to do for my birthday. It will probably be a small individual affair again but that’s okay. I will spend some time with my Aussie, early, since she leaves before the actual birthday. And then some time with my friend comes back from his deployment.

On another note, I went shopping today. I bought some dresses and a couple pairs of shoes. Maybe I will take some pictures before work and upload them this weekend.

As a close out. Everyone is already aware of the passing of Robin Williams.

Like all of you I grew up with him on my TV in my home. My mom called him a prince. There were two princes according to her. Steve Irwin and Robin Williams.

When the need broke she just rocked back and forth crying because “there aren’t any princes left.”

“They have all left.”

Robin Williams was a hero of mine. He made his illness work for him. Brought so much joy and happiness and all the right emotions to millions of people every day. The knowledge of his apparent suicide sent my positive thoughts down the drain.

“If he couldn’t do it, how can I?”

If he couldn’t be strong, how can I, weak as I am.

But as I always say – we can never fully comprehend another’s pain. So for that I now say, we all love you Robin. You were strength and light for me during times of darkness.

Thank you.

Bangarang.

Posted from WordPress for Android. As much as I try to proof read, typos and grammatical errors will more than likely occur and I hope you can graciously forgive them and me.

Okay, So Not Tomorrow.

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Now we all know very well I am not the best at keeping things straight on my to do list.

I wish I could say that I have done and seen so many things! But of course not. I just got distracted reading and cutting pattern tissue.

So the first night taking a split 50 mg tablet of Trazodone along with a ginormous 200 mg Seroquel tablet, went fine. I obviously became very drowsy quickly and fell asleep within about four hours.

The second night… There was definitely stomach pain and the like but I was not sure if maybe it was something I had eaten that day. My insides are notorious for being finicky.

Should I have called the psychiatrist about that? I mean, they have a twenty four hour line set up.

But I didn’t want to call over a stomach ache.

Ya dig?

Now last night… Most of the day yesterday, I was feeling anxious, frustrated and on the verge of a sensory overload.

I had bought a bunch of patterns at JoAnn’s five for seven dollars sale and I was really, really excited. McCall’s dress patterns this season are entirely up my alley.

But as they almost all have ‘flared’, ‘circle’, or ‘full’ skirts, they require a bit more yardage. I just don’t feel like I look good in a slim or fitted skirt generally. Just brings all that bad attention to my thighs, you know?

And almost all the fabric I have or have bought recently are two yards at most and three yards at best and most of the patterns require 2 5/8 yds, or 3+.

So, I was feeling pretty frustrated. The numbers were not working. The fabric was not working. And I was starting to get the itchy nigging feelings that I was again a failure, that it was worthless to try, that I would just ruin anything I touched. Those feelings and I was going down faster and faster. It may sound stupid but things have to be just right and fit a perfect order for me. It has to be perfect. I have to be perfect.

Obviously I am not. It doesn’t mean I am any better at accepting it.

And last night I had to cut the strings of yet another friendship and my last standing tie to Tomorrowland and Speedway.

It sucks that once again my very teensy circle of ‘friends’ has become yet again smaller, but it isn’t worth it to stay in a friendship where they do not respect you or even themselves.

In the face of trying to bring some understanding I opened up about my recent diagnosis, including the Agoraphobia.

What do I get?

“It must be so hard for you.”

From such wordy, gossiping Yanks, that is such a quiet attitude.

You could feel the, “let me break out my tiny violin.”

And thus it has been decreed.

Hear ye, hear ye!

Fuck you and your righteous bitch of a wife!

I shall naught to with you forever more!

Thanks to them, the depressive and anxious feelings seeped into today. It has didn’t help that I notice that these meds have supremely increased my appetite and I am now paranoid of my weight. Ana feelings, hello. I hoped I would never see you again.

Wednesday I will see some real friends of mine. They have always been there. They have always understood. They are the family and grandparents I never had.

To bigger and brighter things.

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.