My head is spinning faster than the exorcist!

It's that time of the year where I start to get a little crazier than usual. It starts with Halloween and doesn't end until the New Year. . . Holiday Season!! I try to do all of my shopping well before Christmas, but still, there is cooking, wrapping, planning, etc. I have already bought G 4 presents and that was WAY before Halloween. Not that it is a holiday, but my birthday falls around this time of year too. I used to get really excited about it, now I dread it's arrival. Older and older I get. The planning has already started. Where are we going? Who is going? Are we going to dinner before we go clubbing? What are you wearing? What am I wearing? Are we getting a table?

Then comes Thanksgiving. Who's making what? Where are we eating? Who's coming? What time is dinner? How many things do I cook? Do I make just a dessert? Does everyone like the green bean casserole that I make EVERY year? If they don't, why are they eating it all? Do I try another random dessert that could potentially be a success or go down in a ball of flames? Remember the Creme Brulee? What a clusterf*&k that turned out to be! What is G wearing to dinner? What am I wearing to dinner? Is it possible to sweat this much in WINTER!

Then it's a brief few weeks of what seems to be relaxation but it is really the countdown to the ultimate crazyfest! CHRISTMAS! How long does it take to put up one tree? Do we want to put up two trees? Are all the presents wrapped? Did I find all the presents that I hid? Where are we going for Christmas Eve? Where are we going for Christmas? What are we eating Christmas Eve? What are we eating for Christmas? Do I have to make something? What am I going to make? Do people eat green bean casserole for two holidays in a row? What is G wearing? What am I wearing? Are we going to mass? Which mass are we going to? Is G gonna like all her presents? Did I buy her enough presents? Did anyone make cookies for Santa's plate? Do we have a carrot for the reindeer? Don't forget he glass of milk. Can I get to bed before 4am? Are we arguing in front of everyone this year, or just family? Who's talking to who? Who's not talking to who? Why do we have to watch sports AGAIN?

Sometimes I think my friends do it the best. The only thing we plan is when the day is that we celebrate Friends Christmas. I cook the meal. The kids sit and eat. The adults get tipsy. We exchange gifts, and the kids play with their new toys. Then it's home in bed. Simple and enjoyable.

New Year's is relatively low key, except it is minimally stressful. Where are we going? Did we get VIP? How dressed up are we getting? Can we afford to go there? What are you wearing? What am I wearing? Is there a cover? Are we sure we want to go there? Isn't there somewhere more relaxed?

Thank God there is 4 months till Easter!

Next time: How many medications can one person possibly take?!?!?     

I might have to get on my SOAPBOX

There are not very many things I get huffy about, but I recently found out that my satellite provider will no longer be airing any Fox or Fox affiliated channels. Normally I'd be like "big deal, not like I watch that anyway", but it is a big deal. This Tuesday, November 1st, I will no longer be able to watch American Horror Story on FX. Then, later in the year, local fox channels will be taken off the air. That means no Bones, House, Terra Nova, and Fringe on Fox, and no shows from UPN. I am not very happy about this. Granted I primarily watch CBS because "CBS cares", but I DO watch all those other listed shows. Well not House so much, I really don't like what his character has become.

Anyway, please feel free to go to these websites and decide for yourself who is telling the truth.

Direct TV: http://www.ourpromisetoyou.com/?

NewsCorp/Fox: http://keepmynets.com/

I don't know what exactly will happen on November 1st, but at this time where our country is in a recession, do companies really think they have the right to ask for more money for the same product? It's not fair to us, the common folk that just want to enjoy a little television after the little people stop running around screaming! (You know who I mean) 

Addendum: As of today (11/2/11) FX is reporting that Direct TV and NewsCorp/Fox have come to an agreement and will not be going off the air. Yay!

Next week: My head is spinning faster than the exorcist! 

Cheese Puffs VS Cheetos

How do you buy snack foods for a kid that likes Cheetos, when you prefer Cheese Puffs? I thought I raised her better to enjoy the puffy quality of a cheesey snack food rather than the roughness of the oddly shaped cheeto. Either way we both enjoy licking that cheesey build up that forms on your fingers after eating half a bag (ok a whole bag). I feel almost offended every time she asks me to buy her a bag of Cheetos. I came real close to asking her if she wanted a bag of funions instead, but I held my tongue.

It definitely is in the raising because I don't remember ever truly like Cheetos. I mean, don't get me wrong, if they are at a party and no one brought Cheese Puffs, then I'm going to eat them, but I won't enjoy them. There is something about them I don't like. Whether it's the weird individualized shape of each one, or how hard they are, or that it seems like you just don't get as many in a bag as you would of Cheese Puffs, I can't really say where my dislike comes from.

The Cheese Puff, on the other hand, is about as enjoyable as you can get before a sugary sweet. They all come in the same basic shape. This is important so that you don't have to fight anyone for the biggest Cheese Puff in the bowl. They are all the same size; can't say that for Cheetos. Also, they melt in your mouth. There is really something to be said about sucking the air out of a food until it slowly gets dissolved in your mouth. Also can not be done with a Cheeto.

The company that makes these deliciously fine snack foods have, in the last few years, tried to expand on the idea by creating the Chester Cheetah Paw, which is puffish, but not. It does not compare in my book. The Cheese Balls are great too, but I find that somehow after eating them I notice a layer of skin has been grated off the roof of my mouth. They also make the Twists, which are giant versions of the Cheese Puff, but twisted, hence the name. These are a bit too large. I like a snack food I can toss in my mouth and chew, not take a bite of and still have half the food left to eat.

Now back to the root of the story. I don't want to be one of those people that buys a giant bag of Cheetos AND a giant bag of Cheese Puffs. If they could create some sort of combo bag, that would be great! I could split the bag with G and there would be no complaining from either of us. Just two big girls, sitting on a couch, licking the cheesy residue off our fingers. Pure Bliss!

Next time: I might have to get on my SOAPBOX    

Cleanliness next to Godliness?? Not in my room!

I have never been the cleanest person in the world, per say. When I was living in a house with several other people, I made sure to clean up after myself in the common areas, but my room was a mess. Now here I am, a grown woman, living in a small bedroom with a little kid, and my room couldn't be messier. There is some order to this chaos though, I know where everything is when I need it. I have a huge king bed that I can only sleep on half of. That is actually an improvement because when G used to climb in bed I only got a quarter of the sleeping area, if that! 

I really want it to be clean. For a while I actually was doing pretty good at keeping it semi clean. Lately though I just don't have the will to do it. My sister would call me lazy. It's not like I enjoy sharing my bed with a pile of clean clothes! I mean, for Pete's sake, all they need to be is hung up and put in the closet. The numerous papers can be thrown in the garbage. I have no idea why there is a Princess Crown on my bed. Must have been G's little addition to the pile. 

Then there is the dresser next to my bed. Covered with stuff! I don't even know what kind of stuff is on there anymore. I do know that some of my important papers are on there, but I know exactly where they are. On the other dresser, where the fish tank is kept, there is a small pile of stuff. Car keys, sunglasses, a box of markers, mosquito repellant, etc. My father build some shelves in my room so I had more places to put more stuff. A giant flying Tinkerbell, a box full of first aid stuff, two night lights, fish food, and some weird fake plant that somehow wandered in here.

Directly in front of my bed is the DANGER ZONE! There is about a foot of walking space (when it's clean). There is a toy box, over flowing with toys. Then there is a toy shelf unit that has 9 boxes full of toys. On the other side there is an entertainment center that is now used to hold 2-3 drawer units for G's spare shoes, DVDs, game system. On top of them are lots and lots of movies, VHS and DVD. 

My closet is absolutely full of clothes. Clothes I wear, clothes I don't wear, shoes (lots of shoes), G's clothes that she wears, her dress up clothes, all our laundry baskets, duffel bags, shoe boxes, towels, etc. My bathroom is also over flowing with stuff. Medication, cleaning supplies (that are actually used thank you), hair ties, hair brushes, toothbrushes, make-up, and stuff and stuff and stuff.

It's nerve wracking to even think about cleaning this mess. I know it needs to get done. There are a lot of things I need to do, but cleaning just doesn't seem to be a priority. And, quite frankly, it gets lonely in this big bed, so maybe it's ok to share it with a pile of clothes for a little while. And a penguin, a fireman hat, a nightlight, and some coloring books. Shit, I really need to clean my bed!

Next time: Cheese Puffs VS Cheetos  

I've got to get out sometimes!

Paranoia can just play some nasty tricks on your head. It can make you hear sounds that aren't there. Think there are people watching you that aren't there. It can make you fearful to leave your place of comfort. For me it was a gradual feeling that slowly started to consume my thoughts. It very slowly became that I could only go shopping, but then I started to get anxious about doing that too. I wasn't agoraphobic, but I was on my way to becoming that way. When my friends started to notice that I started declining their invitations to go out, they became more concerned. I only felt like I had a few places where I could feel safe. Those places are J's house, S's house, the grocery store I go to, and my bedroom (not my house, my bedroom). I know my family gets very concerned about my living environment, because it looks like total chaos, but for me, it's my belongings surrounding me and making me feel safe. It's one of those hard to explain things.

Around 4 months ago, I would try to leave the house more often with my sister and some of my friends. I was trying to get my comfort level back. Then I started going out with my niece and her friends, who really are much too young for me to be hanging out with but they are people. That lasted for a good few months. Then I just sort of stopped again. I know exactly why I stopped and it is the stupidest reason in the world, but it got me back into my funk and out of the world.

This "guy" that I was "friends" with for about 2 years had started to show an interest in me. We would talk on the phone Monday through Friday, texting, talking, whatever, and when the weekend would come, I'd try to make plans to meet up with him somewhere. I'd go out anyway with D and her friends, hoping that eventually he would show up. He never did! I would then go all day Saturday not talking to him, until he would finally text on Sunday night. I'd forgive him for being whatever (DUMB) and then we'd go back to talking texting whatever all week. . . until Friday night. The same thing happened again! We went to the club, he made some excuse why he couldn't go, or was so drunk already that I couldn't understand him. I'd get mad, not talk to him all day Saturday, then he would text me on Sunday, and the shit would start all over again.

Eventually, we made plans to go on a road trip to California, but I was thinking "is this really something I want to do with this guy? He's so unreliable". About two weeks before the trip, we found out that the event that we were going to got cancelled. It was a way out for me and I took it. He texted me a few times "why am I avoiding him? I'm being shady now that the event got cancelled" blah blah blah! My thing is why do I have to be the carpet you wipe your shitty boots on? During the week, I would listen to him complain about his former job, then gloat about the new job he got. He would talk about things about doors, I had no idea was he was talking about, but I gave him my ear. He always wanted to come over for dinner and a movie night, on his terms! If any part of it deviated from his plans, he would bail out. He never listened to me, and if he did, it gave him an in to berate me. That I'm "only a stay at home mom". And since I'm "home all day" I had plenty of time to look stuff up for him on the internet.

All I wanted was someone to stand next to me while I'm drinking, or accompany me outside when I smoke, maybe keep me safe from creepers and stalkers. I didn't think my requirements for him were that tough, but when the world revolves around THAT other person you're just one of thousands of satellites rotating around him too. I didn't want to be a floating satellite anymore. I'm worth more that that. And if I can ever leave my house again, maybe someone would take notice of me.

Next time:Cleanliness next to Godliness?? Not in my room!     

When you're alone, what happens?

I happen to love the show Doctor Who. I have even tried to watch some of the pre-80s version of the show, but it doesn't have the pull for me like the revamped stuff they show now. Anyway, if you don't watch it, they have a Christmas Special every year. Last year they did a sort of Doctor Who meets Mr. Scrooge theme. That show was absolutely fabulous!! There was a song that was sung, Abigail's Song, that is just beautiful! That link takes you to a video of the song that has the lyrics included. The first line of the song states "When you're alone, silence is all you know".

Sometimes I really enjoy the silence, but it is never truly silent. As soon as the television is off, and G is sleeping, I hear the hum of the fish tank. That is when the thoughts come. What am I going to wear tomorrow? Is G going to be in a pleasant mood tomorrow? What is she going to wear tomorrow? What am I doing tomorrow? What time do I have to be awake? Why aren't I asleep yet? What's that noise? Is G snoring? I wonder if I could sneak outside for a quick cig? I'm so tired! Why am I still awake? Then I start bargaining with myself. Ok if I'm still awake in 10 minutes I'll take a benadryl. Maybe I should start drinking a glass of wine before bed. I'll count my breathing until I pass out. Is there a battery in my clock? I need to replace the battery so tomorrow night I can count the ticks and go to sleep. Why am I still awake? God, can that fish tank hum any louder? Who is doing laundry in the middle of the night? Why are the lights on my DVD player so damn bright? Did I just inhale my own hair up my nose? Why is there so much hair in the bed? 

Needless to say, I am haunted by the evil ghost of insomnia! I have had this trouble since high school. I get to many thoughts going and I'm up all night. Some nights aren't as bad as others, but on the rare nights I'm sitting in my closet resorting cloths. So much for Ambien! When I first stated Ambien, the dose was too low, so my doctor uped it to 10mg. I can't tell you much about how that worked because there was a lot of sleep walking and chatting online with friends and I don't have a single memory of it. Except for the chats that I would find on my computer the next morning. My subconscious is pretty funny when I'm not in control. So now I'm back to the lower dose with benadryl for the bad nights.

I remember when I first complained about insomnia, my doctor put me on Trazodone. The dreams are so vivid! It was like a movie that I was in and could control. However, the second night I was on it, I woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. I spent an hour staring at the walls of the bathroom grow fur and start breathing. That was the end of that medication.

What I wouldn't give for a peaceful night of solid rest! Eight straight glorious hours would be wonderful. Except for that little person next to me that occasionally snores, or wakes up in the night to use the bathroom, and has to turn on every single light on in the room. I can't sleep with ear plugs or an eye mask. I just have to live this way hoping that one night I can sleep the kind of sleep that Shakespeare wrote about, as long as it wasn't death he was writing about. Always hard to tell with those old time writers.

Next time: I've got to get out sometimes! 

Words to live by?

"Treat others as you wish to be treated." Lord, knows I have tried, but how do you treat them when they have wronged you? Do you "turn the other cheek" or is it "an eye for an eye"? As the years have passed, I have grown as a human being. I used to take pride in being known as a "Bitch". I can't tell you how many people I have mistreated in my life. I have been able to apologize to some and have made complete amends with them so that they can call me a good person now. Others have not been so fortunate.

I can blame my anger, but it really isn't an excuse. Some things that I have done to people are inexcusable. I remember an ex-boyfriend that I was dating. I had broken up with him because he was a "pansy" and I told him that I didn't want to date someone who wasn't a man! He begged me to take him back, and I did. The second I got the chance I screamed at him to cook me something to eat and then broke up with him because he did. Not my finest moment in life, I'm sure. Sometimes when we are young, we do things to people not thinking of the repercussions it will have in their life.

There was a girl that was the first person to befriend me in Arizona. For years I made her life a living hell. I made her feel stupid and ugly, I wanted her to feel like I felt. Once I was on medication, I realized how cruel I was to her. Although it was difficult, I apologized to her. I told her that I had no right to make her feel the way I did. I explained that I hated myself and she was an easy target because she was so "innocent". I was her bully, and she was my friend. How deranged is that? She was able to forgive me because that's just the kind of person she is. Deep down she knew what I was doing and saying to her were things I wanted to say to myself. She is my best friend now, and I can not imagine ever saying another cruel word to her.

I think that if I was honest with myself when I was younger, and truthful with the therapists I saw, that I would never have had the chance to say and do those things to her or anyone else. Whenever I hear about someone thinking about going into counseling or seeing a psychiatrist, I tell them to be honest. If you really want any kind of positive outcome from therapy, it is imperative that you are honest. I was always afraid that if I told someone what was going on in my head that they would put me in a padded room. The first time I was truly honest with anyone was my PCP. I told him how angry and depressed I was. How I hit myself with my hairbrush in the privacy of my bathroom! How I would cut on myself because it meant I was actually feeling a real emotion, pain! How I would sneak beers into the bathroom so I could get drunk in the shower! I cried, I was so ashamed, and he asked me if I wanted to go inpatient!

Here was my greatest fear! He was going to put me into one of the same hospitals that many of clients were in and out of. I knew what the hospitals were like, but I didn't want to go there anyway. What about work? What would I tell my family? What would my co-workers think? I said no. He asked me if I could be safe until I saw a therapist and a doctor for treatment, and I knew I honestly could. He let me go home with the promise that I would seek treatment, and I did. All the fear that I had built up in my head was for nothing. I got the treatment that I needed in a safe and comfortable environment, on my terms.

My illness is not something that can be fixed with a band-aid and left to heal on it's own. It is something that I am reminded of daily when I take my medication. Every once in a long while, I think about driving off the road and just getting lost, but I know that I am not alone in life anymore. My daughter needs me, and I need her. She is never going to think that she was a mistake or a burden to me because I live for her. She gets mad at me and tells me that she doesn't love me, but that's ok because I know she doesn't mean it, she is 4 after all. After 10 minutes she is back to giving me hugs and telling me I'm the "best mom EVER"! So I guess to sum it all up is a saying "living well is the best revenge", but in my case I just say "living is the best".

Next time: When you're alone, what happens?   

Too much energy VS Not enough energy

Young kids are rough. Constantly running around enjoying every single second of life. Feeling the sand run between their toes. Fresh grass beneath their feet. Sometimes a 4 year old is very hard to keep up with. She just wants to run and run and run until she can not run any further and then she runs back to me. She gets up as soon as she can, wanting to dress up as whatever character she wants to be that day. Once she tires of being a pirate, she'll change into a ballerina. Then she wants to watch tv. But she doesn't want to just sit on the couch and watch tv, she wants to run on the couch and jump on the couch, and jump off the couch, and do tumbling on the floor. All of a sudden she will remember a toy that she wanted to play with, so all the pieces that go to that toy come out. Then she is submerged into the world of imagination. Where all the pieces talk and travel together and play peacefully. Oops, forgot she was in the middle of watching tv, so it's back to the living room. She is magically transferred into a land where all her dolls come to life and she needs to cook a meal for them so they can have a tea party while watching tv. She is very good about not serving anything too hot to her guests. Is it lunch time yet? Oh, chicken nuggets, because one can never have too many chicken nuggets. Then she wants Mommy to play, but Mommy can not see straight. So Mommy tries to be one of the little weeble wobbles, but Mommy doesn't play right, so Mommy is asked not to play anymore. She wants to go outside now and play in the sand box, or maybe on the swings, but not the slides, DEFINITELY not the slides. Now it's time to run in circles, just because. Oh there is a commercial on with that toy she wants, conveniently followed by another commercial of something else she wants. Then a sneak preview for a show that isn't going to be on until next week, but SHE WANTS TO WATCH IT NOW!!! There is a bit of arguing and explaining, which is quickly forgotten because a big dragon is attacking the town people gathering to eat their food. Hurry we have to go save them. Whew, that was close. There are minor injuries so she needs to get her doctor kit and bandage them up. Aww the poor horsey got hurt too, and it looks like he'll be wearing a cast for a while. OK everyone seems to be doing better now. That must mean it's time to torture Nanny. This involves her ramming her head into any part of Nanny's body that is not currently protected, which occasionally results in dead legs. A is awake now, so it's time to tease the baby. Let's play, but on my terms. Everything in the house is mine and I'll give you something to play with, but if I want it back I take it. "Stop teasing the baby!" Now it's time for the baby to chase her. This is when the pitchiness of the house gets very high. Screaming and giggling. Every once in a while someone falls, body parts get checked, and then they are back it. More screaming and giggling. Then she wants to watch a movie. "The tv is on in the other room." She wants to watch something in the other room anyway. This is how we save on energy! Oh look there is the kid couch. She must pull it out like a bed, and then flip it on her head, and lay underneath and watch her movie. Uh oh movie's over. "Someone help me!" Everyone comes running, worried there is blood or a hanging limb. "I need a new movie." 

Is it bedtime yet? I'm exhausted!

Next time: Words to live by?

 

Bob

Years ago, I went out to an exotic animal fair and bought myself a pet scorpion. I know, you are thinking "hey you live in Arizona, just go get one from the backyard". No, this was an Emperor Scorpion, they are not from Arizona. My scorpion's name was Scully (as in X-Files), and she lived in a 20 gallon terrarium in my bedroom. She died on Mother's Day.

After Scully, I decided to change the terrarium into an aquarium and have fish. I thought a few black mollies would be a nice start. When some died off, I replaced them with white mollies. Eventually, they started reproducing and I had speckled mollies. Mollies and mollies and mollies. At some point I think they all ate each other. 

Since then, my aquarium had sat in the garage. Remnants of the old gravel still at the bottom, some sort of build up growing on the sides. That is until Bob came into our lives. Last year, right before Christmas, my friend called me up and asked me if she could buy G a Beta for Christmas. I thought it sounded like a great idea. The day came where we exchanged gifts, and G was happily surprised with a new fish, a starter tank, and plenty of new gravel. When we all asked her what she was going to name her new fish, she simply stated "Bob". 

Bob quickly adapted to his new home, and we decided that he needed a tank mate. What kind of fish can live happily with a Beta? A catfish! In fact, a catfish named Terry was the perfect tank mate for Bob. Of course, the little starter tank was too small for the two of them so they upgraded to the 20 gallon. I cleaned it all out, it looked brand new. Bought a new filter, some cool little tank stuff and voila a new home. However, there was now too much tank and not enough fish. Bob and Terry were then joined by an albino catfish (no name), a Columbian Red and Blue (a mistake purchase that we named Psycho), and a zebra danio (named Zebra). 

After a few months, Terry became lethargic and eventually died. This started a chain reaction in the tank that got algae everywhere! It got to be too much for the Albino to take and he keeled over too. It actually took him a few days and was a bit disturbing to watch, but I couldn't just flush him before he died. All pipes lead to the ocean, except for the ones in this house; they lead to the septic tank! We tried adding some giant moss ball. It's like a plant that is supposed to absorb the algae. Didn't work. Frick and Frack, a couple of algae-eaters were introduced to the gang.

In two weeks the entire tank was algae free. Although other people would say that you are not supposed to have such a variety of fish in one tank, they will never get along, blah blah blah, this is a very passive tank. Everyone gets along very well. I occasionally have to threaten Psycho not to chase Bob around, but other than that it is a calm environment. G enjoys watching Bob swim around with all his friends. Sometimes she helps me feed them, although that usually ends up with fish food everywhere. A happy little aquarium, and a happy little girl, all thanks to Bob.

Next time: Too much energy VS Not enough energy   

What do I want and what can I get out of it?

When I started college many years ago, I was faced with a challenge . . . pick a major! I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and be a Police Officer. Actually, in 8th grade I met a Federal Agent, and wanted to go into the FBI. Criminal Justice sounded like a good major. In reality it was my freshman year and I didn't have to pick a major right away, but I wanted to start off with focus and a plan. My senior year in high school I was able to take concurrent credits so I had already completed English 101-102. I had to choose math, a major course (Criminal Justice 101), a science, and some other class that would fulfill some requirement. I choose Intro to Psychology. 

That was it for me! My second semester I thought I'd try to take another Criminal Justice class and keep going with that major, but OH MY GOD it was so boring! That same semester I took Abnormal Psychology, and I was completely blown away! Every semester I tried to take as many Psychology courses as I could until I had taken all the classes that were offered, and then I would switch to a different junior college. By the time I graduated from junior college with an Associate's Degree, I had attended 4 junior colleges! 

I transferred all my credits to ASU and started up again, taking as many 300-400 level Psychology classes as I could. I had some credits to fill, so I thought I would pick up a minor in Sociology. If you don't know, there is a HUGE difference between Psychology and Sociology. Psychology teaches to treat the individual, whereas Sociology teaches to treat the population. Boy, did I get into some interesting conversations with my Sociology professors. While completing my final year, I started working "in the field" at a Residential Home for people with Serious Mental Illnesses (SMIs). 

Working with people that have SMIs is different than learning about them in class. They are regular people that one day something snapped and their whole world came crashing down. It was an awakening for me, but one that reinforced my passion to work with these people. I could tell stories for days about my experiences working in the residential home, but that wasn't where this story ends. After I completed my Bachelor's Degree, I went to work for the Regional Behavioral Health Authority (RBHA) as a Case Manager. The team I worked with was called "Outpatient". This population consisted of people that had multiple times in and out of the local psych units and people that had previously been in the Arizona State Hospital (more commonly known as ASH).

Case Managers typically have a caseload consisting of 70-80 people, but in our department the caseloads were lower (around 35) because of the delicate nature of their particular mental illness. Some of my "clients" had varying types of schizophrenia, severe depression, bipolar mood disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, borderline personality and, as I previously mentioned, one person that is a sociopath. "The system" is, for lack of a better word, fucked up! We take these individuals, institutionalize them, and then try to reintroduce them to the world by teaching them social skills. I suppose it's better than what society used to do with the mentally ill, toss them in a sanitarium and forget about them, but it's not much better.

Arizona has come a long way in establishing some sort of mental health care, but we still have a long way to go. Working with SMIs in a capacity where I did not do direct care, such as a doctor or nurse, I felt like my hands were tied when I tried to give them real help. I mean who was I, but a person with only a Bachelor of Science. So I decided to go to nursing school. I want to be in the trenches with them, and by that I mean I want to work at ASH. I want to hold their hands and help them realize that the voices aren't real even though they sound real. I want to help them function and not be afraid. It's all selfish, I'm doing this all for me. I can not express the feeling that I get when I know that I am helping another human being feel like it's ok to live. It is so gratifying. 

Many times I have been told that with my brain I could be an accountant like my brother, and make lots of money. Sure, money would be nice, but I would hate going to work every day. Although I hated all the stupid paperwork that i had to do at the RBHA, I loved my job. I loved the people that I worked for, my clients! I just want to what I love for the people that I love and advocate on their behalf as much as I can. And everyday I'm a little closer to doing that.

Next time: Bob

 

Time to introduce the "baby daddy"

End of 2005, I was in a horrible relationship. So I figured that the best way to start off 2006 would be to get in an even worse relationship!! Actually, when I first met "Douche-bag" I truly thought he was the best person on the planet. We first started talking online (I know) and eventually decided to meet in person. Back then, I lived in a house with 4 other people and 3 dogs, one of them was My Louie. The bar I "frequented" was Old Chicago. I went there for Karaoke (I know I know) and stayed for the beer. I asked him to meet me there because it was my comfort zone and I knew once he heard me sing, he would fall in love with me. Yes, I had an agenda! So one thing led to another, and as they say on Seinfield, "yada yada yada" he never left my house. Eventually my landlord was telling me that he didn't want this guy staying in his house without paying rent, didn't get a good vibe from him, the usual, but I was thinking "but I love him, so we are gonna move out and live happily ever after". I can't tell you how many times Matt (my landlord) has rubbed THAT moment in my face, but as they say "hindsight is 20/20" and now mine is 10/20!

So Douche-bag leased a house for us to live in. The first week we are there we get into our first fight. The house that we were going to be leasing did not come with washer and dryer. I had a friend that had a gently used washer and dryer and would sell them to us for $100, his idea was to go rob a house! I didn’t want it, not that way! This “disagreement” led to the fight. Not a normal fight, yelling, screaming, throwing objects, the usual; no, he got upset and left the house!! Apparently no one told him the rules of fighting!! This fight had left me in a precarious position, as I had already moved out of my previous residence. Fast forward two weeks, I'm now living back at my parents' house, and now Douche-bag is begging me to come back. Yes, I fell for it. We lived in that house for probably 3 months before we got evicted. Not on my credit anyway. However, we moved into an apartment (on my credit). There was maybe a good 4 months before the police came knocking on the door. Oh, did I forget to mention that he was on probation? and was a known felon? and was in the middle of a divorce? and had two boys that he never saw? and was a drug addict? Oh silly me! The stupid shit we do when we are in love! All I saw was someone I could fix, because we women love to fix men with problems, don't we? He wound up going to jail for 3 months, and I was a wreck the entire time.

After he got out of jail and somewhere around September, I found out that I was pregnant. I was so happy; my mother, not so much. I figured "she will eventually see the diamond in the rough that I see". Hahahahahaha, sorry I had to laugh briefly at my stupidity. Anyway, Douche-bag is pulling his typical shit. Staying out at all hours, not really telling me where he is going or who with, etc, but of course I'm even more dedicated because "I'm having his baby". I'm keeping my family in the dark about his shadiness, (IE excessive drug use and thievery) but most of them could see through him. For the sake of the baby, they decided to keep their comments about him to themselves. I wound up quitting my job because Douche-bag told me that he would take care of me and the baby completely. His sister came to live with us briefly with her two kids, one of them was a newborn. Once when I was holding the baby, Douche-bag actually got up into my face. I was like “hello can you really not see that I’m holding a baby AND pregnant”. That was another day that I should have trusted my gut and ran! Then D day comes, and baby doesn't really want to come out even though she is two weeks late already. They did a Cesarean and yanked out G, my pride and joy, the absolute love of my life. But this entry isn't about her, it's about him. Douche-bag was "supposed" to stay with me in the hospital. However, he forgot to mention that he needed to sell some drugs and couldn't stay after all. I stayed the first week at my parents' house recovering, plus our apartment was on the second floor. When I do return "home" I find out that money is a bigger issue than he led me to believe, and we are going to be evicted from our apartment. We move most of our things into a storage unit, and move into my parents' house.

G was 3 months when Douche-bag's parole officer told him that he would be going to jail for a year! A YEAR!! I tried to keep him updated with any news about the baby. I mean I really went out of my way for that asshat! Visiting him in jail with the baby, making special photos for him, keeping a picture of his stupid face next to G so she would recognize the donor, I mean her father. Eventually he got out and returned “home”. As per usual, he could not maintain constant employment, not because of the recession, but because he is the worst plumber in the world! Now here is my final breaking straw.

On the night before Easter (Easter eve?), I decided to go over a friend’s house to hang for a bit before the craziness of the next day. As I’m getting on the freeway, I see flashing blue and reds in my rear view mirror. I thought “shit I’m getting a ticket because Douche-bag didn’t pay the registration or insurance”. Boy was I wrong!! Apparently a warrant was put out for my arrest. The cops were cool, I mean that honestly. They treated me very well considering. I was arrested for several counts of fraud and theft. So as I’m sitting in jail praying that my father will bail me out, I start thinking to myself “how the hell did this happen?” Douche-bag pulled a scam online, with ALL MY INFORMATION!! Email accounts, bank accounts, used my phone, made up a fake name but still using my last name, whatever would lead back to me, he used. My dad came to pick me up, and I got as much sleep as I could before the festive Easter meal. Douche-bag was a no show! He finally showed up after everyone had left, and plopped his fat ass on the bed. I told him, “look you got me tied into your bullshit, you are not going to make any attempt to clear my name, get the fuck out”. He was real nonchalant, like “oh can I leave tomorrow, I have to make a plan, blah blah blah.” I told him fine, but I should have kicked him out that minute because while he slept in “our room” he was going through everything taking whatever he wanted. Then the next day, a “mutual friend” came to pick him up. Their first stop was the bank so he could steal $100 from our daughter’s back account! (I mean really who does that?) Their second stop was our storage unit to pillage through our belongings and again take what he wanted. The only reason I know all this is because I was literally one step behind him that entire day! 

I also had sent an email to his family members, basically telling them that Douche-bag and I were breaking up and I don't want them to think that I'm going to try to keep G away from them. End of story? I didn't hear a damn thing from any of them! Not even a "fuck off" or a "thank you".

He attempted to make contact a few times after that. I met him at Peter Piper Pizza to see G. He swung by the day after her 2^nd birthday to give her a shitty gift. However, once I got put on probation, per my PO I was “not allowed to have any contact with other known felons”. I loved my PO for that one sentence there!! It gave me a great excuse for him to not see G. Then a few days after her 3^rd birthday, there was a gift bag sitting right by my front door (Who? Me? Paranoid?) Another shit present from the Douche-bag. Now she is 4 and thankfully there were no random gifts left on the doorstep. I really prefer there be no contact, he was never a good caregiver for the time that he WAS around.

After I kicked him out, the blinders were removed. It was at that time that I was able to see him for what is truly is. It’s sad because he was my best friend, lover, companion, there were so many things we had in common, but it was all a show. And the man I fell in love with never really existed. I have so many regrets, SO SO MANY!! But he gave me the best gift in the world . . . my daughter.

Next time: What do I want and what can I get out of it?

Detachable shoulders? I'd buy some!!

I have this recurring dream where I walk into my bedroom, and all the walls have a large velcro strip horizontally attached to them. So I walk up to one, take off my left arm, then turn and take off my right arm. Then I get into bed knowing I'm going to have a good night's rest without any shoulder pain. That is usually the point where I wake up, both arms fully attached, and in terrible pain. So much for dreams!

Growing up I have had a variety of physical ailments, most likely instigated by my years in sports. I actually had a pediatric physician tell me "God put you together wrong". Really? You are going to tell a child that? I have had so many MRIs, CAT-scans, and other types of X-rays that it really wouldn't surprise me if I glowed in the dark! As a young adolescent I was told by an x-ray technician to "spread eagle" so he could get a good shot of my hips. Note to any x-ray techs: Do not say this to a young girl on your table, just saying. Apparently I would have knee and hip pain because one of the muscles surrounding my knee cap grew at a quicker rate than the supporting muscle, which in turn would throw off the alignment of my legs. Months of physical therapy for that.

More recently, my pain comes from my shoulders. Sometimes I feel bad for my PCP because when I first started seeing him 10ish years ago, I was a mess! Bad knees, bad arms, headaches, anger outbursts, oi! He's great though. It took him a while but he has been resolving all my issues. He sent me to a pain specialist because livers do not like being on pain killers for extended periods of time, and, quick frankly, I think he got tired of treating me for that particular problem.

The first time I saw my pain specialist, I was really unsure, but she put me completely at ease. One of the first thing she checked was the alignment of my spine. She noted that it was slightly twisted so that it causes minimal distress on the nerves that lead from my spine to my shoulders. All that time that was spent giving me drugs and more steroid shots was a waste! She is my favorite doctor, I mean I love my PCP, but c'mon she really fixed me. Anyway, since my insurance does not cover chiropractors she pretty much has me on a maintenance plan. That means that every 6 months I go and see her and she asks if my pain has gotten worse or better, but since she started me on a medication regime I have been doing fairly well.

Every once in a while, however, and I really feel that it is somehow tied into my stress level, there is a shooting pain that goes through my arm. The pain is so intense that, if I wasn't afraid of bleeding to death, I would chop off my arm! That is why I would totally invest in a pair of detachable shoulders, and just cut out the middle man. However, the way my luck goes, something else would "flare up" or fall off or something. Oh well, it's a dream anyway!

Next time: Time to introduce the "baby daddy" 

Why not Pink with a touch of Blue? Well thanks for asking!!

My sister actually asked me about this. "Are you trying to say you're a man? You have man parts?" I told her to wait for the entry. There are several reasons why I chose to title my blog that way. As you can see from my background, my daughter is in a bright pink tee shirt and it is in striking contrast to the beautiful blue ocean in front of her. It is one of my favorite pictures of her. It was the first time she went to New York and the first time she had even been on a beach. That is one of my memories that I will treasure forever. So that is one reason for Blue with a touch of Pink.

Then, there is my PCOS. What does PCOS have to do with a name of a blog? Well, one of the traits of PCOS is having an overabundance of testosterone. So although I do not have male parts, I have always had an excess of their hormones. Now I'm not saying that this is the reason, but I have always been more partial to the color blue to the color pink. I always wanted to hang with the guys than be social with the gals. I can't stand being in a dress! Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a woman!! There is just a little something disturbing about having to "adjust yourself" when you want to sit down for fear that you might sit on yourself. Even as I'm typing that, I'm cringing. So when I was thinking of a name that could encompass my "tomboy" attitude, Blue with a touch of Pink seemed to fit.

Also, I'm not always a radiant beam of sunshine. I'm more like an overcast, slightly rainy day. I'm not saying I'm not a happy person, because I am. I'm just not chipper. I try to see the positive side of things but I'm rational and down to Earth and reality is just not "unicorns and glitter" regardless of how much I would love for it to be. Am I blue? Yes, but that sweet little girl of mine makes me want dinosaurs not to be extinct and unicorns to be real and fairies to fly in my garden and, God help me, peace on Earth! So there in all her glory is the little bit of pink to my blue world.

So there you have it. My simple reasons for a silly blog name. It certainly sounds better than "Purple" or some other strange name I could have come up with. Besides I have actually become quite fond of my silly blog with a silly name. 

Next time: Detachable shoulders? I'd buy some!!

 

Just why am I so paranoid?!?!?

I have a horrible ex. I like to call him "Douche-bag". It's a moniker that one of my sisters came up with and I liked it so much, it stuck. He is, unfortunately, the father of my daughter, G. When we were together I thought it would be a great idea to give G his last name. I hate to say it, but it wasn't my first bad decision when it came to him. Because of some legal issues, that I will discuss at a later time, I have not applied for full custody. I took him to court for child support, and the state recognizes me as the "legal custodial guardian" but I really have no idea what that means. G has been asking to go to school for two years, but I just can't do it! Reason number one: preschools need a custody agreement on file, I don't have one. Reason number two: without said custody agreement, Douche-bag could pick up G because he is listed on the birth certificate as the "father" (what a joke). Reason number three: until a custody agreement is reached (which will basically take away any "rights" he has) there is no way in HELL she is out of my hands or in a place that I have not personally deemed safe.

Since I threw him out of our lives, I have lived in constant fear of him. I obsessively think that he is parked in my backyard, beyond the property wall, with a long range rifle aimed at the back of my head. I can't walk past the front door of my house without wondering if he is in the street in front of my house with a gun, and will shoot me as I walk to my bedroom. I worry that he is in every car, truck, or van on the road in which I can't see the driver. Today, I totally thought he was in the van next to me, and I told myself, "if they don't turn down this road I won't worry", but they did. I, of course, told my daughter's "teacher" (it's day care) about my little freak out, and she was very understanding. Honestly, I don't know if it was him, but most likely not. My family thinks I'm nuts. (I mean really they are not far off, see previous entry.) 

Let me also say that Douche-bag has never ever laid a single hand on me. He scared the shit out of me when I was pregnant, but never PHYSICALLY touched me. So why am I so afraid? Let me tell you. Douche-bag is a sociopath. I don't really use that term loosely. Here are the criteria of a sociopath.

• Glibness and Superficial Charm
• Manipulative and Conning: They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims. 
• Grandiose Sense of Self: Feels entitled to certain things as "their right."
• Pathological Lying: Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.
• Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt: A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at their core. Does not see others around them as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, they have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and they let nothing stand in their way.
• Shallow Emotions: When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.
• Incapacity for Love
• Need for Stimulation: Living on the edge. Verbal outbursts and physical punishments are normal. Promiscuity and gambling are common.
• Callousness/Lack of Empathy: Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims, having only contempt for others' feelings of distress and readily taking advantage of them.
• Poor Behavioral Controls/Impulsive Nature: Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim. Believe they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others.
• Early Behavior Problems/Juvenile Delinquency: Usually has a history of behavioral and academic difficulties, yet "gets by" by conning others. Problems in making and keeping friends; aberrant behaviors such as cruelty to people or animals, stealing, etc.
• Irresponsibility/Unreliability: Not concerned about wrecking others' lives and dreams. Oblivious or indifferent to the devastation they cause. Does not accept blame themselves, but blames others, even for acts they obviously committed.
• Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity: Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts.
• Lack of Realistic Life Plan/Parasitic Lifestyle: Tends to move around a lot or makes all encompassing promises for the future, poor work ethic but exploits others effectively.
• Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility: Changes their image as needed to avoid prosecution. Changes life story readily.

Now that being said, he fits all those criteria except one. He has told me on multiple occasions that he would break into peoples homes because he deserved to have those items, even though he did not earn them. He constantly lied about where he was going, who with, even the littlest things he would lie about and I was dumbfounded, like "did you really just lie about picking up the mail?" At one point in time he convinced me that we were going to buy a boat, a really big boat, and live on the boat just sailing from harbor to harbor. (Yeah I know!) He was never able to maintain a job. Every few weeks he would get fired, and of course it was never his fault. He is a drug addict. He has been in and out of jail numerous times, of course making friends with every criminal he could possibly meet while locked up.

In my previous profession as a psychiatric case manager (under paid social worker), I had a person on my case load that is a sociopath. On my case load of about 30-40, majority of them had some form of schizophrenia, severe depression, were in and out of the state hospital, and the only one that scared me the slightest bit was that one sociopath. There is no conscious inside, it is literally like looking into nothing! (You think that I would have noticed this in my "true love" but no.) 

So do I think my paranoia is a bit much? Probably. I mean I don't think he would even try to kidnap G because taking care of her is too much responsibility for him to handle. However, do I think he would do it because he knows it would kill me inside? HELL YES!!! 

Next time: Why not Pink with a touch of Blue? Well thanks for asking!! 

First time for everything

This is the second time that one of my cousins has invited me to write down my feelings. Get things out, feel cathartic, blah blah blah. So I'm giving it a try. Since this is my first blog, it's most likely going to be long. You know introduce you to my chaotic life, get you interested in my daily goings on. So let's get on with it.

I am originally from Staten Island, New York, and, yes, a Yankee fan. I have lived in various parts of "metropolitan" Phoenix, Arizona since 1988. I graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology, worked "in the field" for a while. I loved that time of my life. Currently, I live with my parents, my sister, my niece and her daughter, as well as my 4 year old daughter. It truly is a "Full House". 

When I was around 24 years old, my doctor diagnosed me with "Intermittent Explosive Anger Disorder". At that time it gave me an answer as to why I was angry all the time, why I wanted to hurt anyone that got too close to me, why I punched walls, cut, hit myself whenever I got too angry. I can not explain how much weight was taken off my shoulders at that point. I always felt like I was off somehow, that there was something wrong with me, but I just couldn't express what that was. Getting a diagnosis felt like finally being validated. I've been on medication since then, and although throughout school I was very opinionated against medication, I have come to realize that I will not live without medication. I have tried on two separate occasions to come off my medication and live a "normal life" and subsequently attempted to kill myself both times. Thank God I'm bad at killing myself! Since the last time, I have decided that this is my life now and "normal" is relative. I am normal on my medication.

Fast forward to the last four years. After I had my daughter, I noticed that I would sweat a lot. I know that old adage, "women don't sweat, we perspire". Umm, no I sweat. And I'm not talking a dainty little back sweat from running at the gym, or the under the boob sweat, although that happens too, I am talking huge droplets of sweat beading from my forehead and chin, rolling down my cheeks, just ridiculous amounts of sweat. Nothing like having to dab your forehead in 55 degree weather (that's what our winters are like). So I occasionally complain to my Primary Care Physician (PCP) and nothing really happens, until he finally sends me to an endocrinologist. From here things start to get interesting. Lots of blood work. Like every few weeks. I don't mind though. I'm a blood donor so the needles don't bother me. Along with the blood work, there are other tests, MRIs, ultrasounds, there was even one breast exam, that I'm kind of thinking shouldn't have been done, but whatever, it happened. Then the Endo asks me if I would stop taking my birth control for a month or so, then undergo the same labs and tests to see if there is any change in my hormones, At this point, I am game for anything. So I did that and my "Aunt" didn't show for almost 4 months. I go back to the Endo and explain that I don't really like not having my "Aunt" for that long and are the tests over, can I go back on my birth control? He tells me that I can go back on them, my test results show that I have no abnormal growth on my thyroid or pituitary glands, but that my hormone levels are abnormal enough for concern. This is when the words "poly-cystic ovaries" start getting tossed around very nonchalant. "Doc" gives me a prescription for Metformin, but no one explains why I am being started on it, or what poly-cystic ovaries are. On my way home I dropped off the script, hoping to discuss my concerns with the pharmacist. **Quick side note: the pharmacy staff at my particular CVS are so frigging awesome. They are so on the ball with absolutely everything and anything that I may have concerns about.** Anyway, I digress, so as soon as I get home I'm a nervous wreck thinking I need to call my Gyno, and let him know what  is going on, and heck maybe he'll have some info for me. When his nurse finally calls me back, she says it's not necessary for me to come in for a visit, but they know about PCOS (that is this things name Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). I posted about it on facebook, and thankfully one of my friends has it too, and sort of directed me to books I can read about having this "syndrome". If you are keeping track, that is now one disorder and one syndrome, yay me! So I pick up my bottle of Metformin, and when I go to take it the first night, something felt off. It's hard to explain, it was like something inside me knew not to start this medication, but what was I going to do. So I took it. The next day I have a migraine (I have a variety of other conditions, but I don't want to bombard you with them all at one time) from hell. I treat it like a normal migraine but I notice that it is focused in the back of my head rather than the front, where they typically are. Oh, well, it's time to take the second days dosage of Metformin, and again that little voice is telling me not to take it (it's the subconscious, not a real voice, I haven't being diagnosed with schizophrenia). Against my better judgement, I take it. About an hour later, I notice that my lower lip is starting to swell a little. I think that maybe I bite my lip or something, nothing to worry about. The next morning, I look like I lost a fight! No black eyes, mind you, but one heck of a swollen lip!! I went ahead and decided that I was taking myself off the Metformin. When Doc was finally able to get me back into the office, we decided that I am allergic to Metformin (hmmm, ya think) and he was going to put me on a Beta Blocker to lower my blood pressure. I have been on this Beta Blocker now for about 3 weeks and I notice that day by day I get a little more lackadaisical, a little more paranoid (that's a story for another day's blog), and a little more blah. I don't know how to explain it. I'm not sad or depressed, at least I don't feel that way, I'm just blah. I really hope this blah-ness goes away because I just don't feel like me, and I've gotten used to feeling like I should, and don't like feeling any other way.

Anyway, this is what I'm about. I live in a crazy household of way too many people, I have entirely too many problems with my body in general, and my personal life is in disarray.

Welcome to Blue with a touch of Pink 

Next time: Just why am I so paranoid?!?!?