normalcy overshot. dec 12-17th.

(WARNING: this post took six days to write, so it might take as long for you to read it...)


i saw my shrink on monday. it changed everything.

here i am, feeling great, happy, productive, creative, excited.

i almost canceled the appointment, because i didn't feel like i had anything to work through. nothing tough, nothing sad, nothing keeping me up at night with worry.



for three weeks now, i've been trying to do all the things.

i've been making unreasonable deadlines for myself and everyone around me.

but the problem is that one thing leads to another. and pretty soon, i'm doing everything.

starting everything. burning out. taking a break from it. and finishing everything.

it's also led to spending a RETARDED sum of money in the last two months. more money than i have, in fact.

a few days after the black friday mini spree, i lost my checkbook. it proved to be a very stressful predicament, because i am pretty meticulous when it comes to my money. and i'd lost track, due to all the shopping. i gave up on ever finding it and started a new register, and balanced it only once.

i had $2 in my bank account, due to the double happy pills charge. then i got paid, got rent and went crazy at home depot, three trips for paint and supplies in one week. it was rough. money is my main source of stress, and i went from being way ahead to borrowing money to keep from overdrawing my account.

i paid all the bills late, which i never do. and freaked out on tuesday when capital one called because i missed a payment. because i am so on the ball, they didn't charge a fee or raise my apr. i considered myself lucky. i haven't missed either of two credit card payments once in the past year. it was kindof a big deal to me.

this week, i've lost track of money again. i haven't balanced my books since i started over. it's been two weeks. and the not knowing drives me batty. especially in the throes of planning my first epic house party.

i borrowed money from a deposit in the amount of the check i was owed for the shrink copayment check. to keep from overdrawing a second time.

and i've used my credit card again. i'd been making serious headway, getting out of debt. i got the card frede and i had maxed out at 10k, to around $800. it was not easy. the account that is still open had about $500 on it for emergencies. until i bought my new glasses with it. and until today, when i put another $100 on it. and another $150.

i shouldn't be using it. but i am. to spend money i don't have on things i feel like i need. it was aubree who pointed out that i need to stop with the gifts.

i did this the most when i was 19, i guess, but off and on since. i get on a kick where i luck into things that are perfect for my friends, and i have an impossible time saying no. she's been trying to keep me in check with it.

and of all the things i think of when i think of bipolar, it's the shopping sprees that scare me most. i'm not textbook bipolar 1, so it's not to the tune of thousands of dollars, like you hear about. but i definitely will go months without shopping at all, and when i do? i drop about $500 at a time. and with black friday, and the house, and the party(s), i haven't been this strapped in a while.

all because i just want to do all the things at the house, while i'm on a roll. i want to be DONE with all the projects so i can just relax and enjoy what i've done.

but i feel like i can't get there. i mean, the dad trip was awesome. and the carpet. but once we started the painting, i just want every room to look as awesome as the ones that are painted.

it also makes me think about the lottery. greg was both crazy AND stupid about it. i had a three ticket a week thing going for months before i met him, and when he brought up his lottery habit, it struck me. i know that a lot of people play, but he had it all figured out. he's the tax man. so he knew what to do when you win, because he was CONVINCED he would win it. but he'd drop like $20 a week on it, and not even check his tickets if no one won the powerball. with that substantial a habit, it drove me crazy that he didn't even bother to check his tickets. who knows how much money he has literally thrown away.

insane. but i, too, feel that i could win it. i think i'm a good person, and i am a giving person, almost to a fault. and i feel like i deserve it, when i'm working so tirelessly. so is that problematic in light of this? luckily, buying lottery tickets made me think of all the plans we made together when we were going to someday win together. so i had stopped for months. aubree gives me a lot of shit about wasting money on the lottery, too. so it kept me stopped when associating it with greg didn't. but i'm back on the kick again now, the $3 a week habit.

and then there's my desire to finally get the white half sleeve tattoo. i don't know if i'm still high from getting the telescope i've been pining after for two and a half years, and want the tattoo because the last time was so amazing. or if it's a desire to finally get something i've wanted for so much longer - fifteen years, since i drew the thing.

i want to drop the $300 i think it would cost to have it. and because i'm faithful to my tattoo artist (ol' dirty rob), i want him to do it. and i'm going home. so i want it now.



i guess the session started off at a normal clip. i told her that i didn't have much to talk about. that, for the most part, i have been doing well. fixing the house, not thinking about greg so much, and getting a lot done in every facet of my life.

i've noticed that i've been talking faster lately. it's kindof the same way that i have been writing volumes. i feel like my fingers can barely keep up with my thoughts, to write. i'm afraid to forget anything, so this post actually started out as a laundry list of one word things to write about. like cliff notes for this novella that has been my life in the last two weeks.

in any case, she noticed it. i was aware, but it didn't seem so strange. i explained that i didn't get much sleep the night before, and that i've been a little off lately. staying up super late painting and working on the house, and waking up for work at the normal time of 7 am. the sleep problems started when my neck and back started hurting. i thought i slept wrong, and had a kink in my neck. but it didn't go away for five days. now i wonder if i slept wrong, or if this is some weird effect of hypomania (which was brought to my attention on the crazy meds site page for the medication she wants to put me on). i am completely smitten with that website. the language he uses and the way he explains everything is so real and funny, using humor to make light of some seriously disturbing shit. one night i was up until 3, it was because i was trying to read his entire site in a night.

i didn't notice that the look on her face changed. and i kept talking, right into the next topic, probably the house and my sister.

that morning, i felt like the trip was going to be a waste. but when i got there, i was talking fast, and cramming in all this stuff, and easily could have talked for another whole hour, if she wasn't going to leave for the day.

my last few visits have been stretching it to try to talk for 40 minutes. when we hit the hour mark, she stopped me and asked to go back to something i'd just said.

pretty consistently, i'm her last patient of the day. i try to get her latest appointment, which is only 4 on mondays. so running over time wasn't doing anything but keeping her from going home. it was nice that she let me run over my time. until she started telling me why she wanted me to talk more.

she wanted to go back to a comment i made about starting the new blog and how i hadn't written more than four posts last month, and how, day one of this blog i had two, and at the end of the first week, even though they're drafts, i have eight.

feast or famine. i told her that i think it might be seasonal, because i'm very productive and prolific with words in the spring and fall when the weather is nice, and that usually i'm in a pretty good mood then, too. and that i want to write all day. and that, in the summer and winter, when it's either stupid hot or retarded cold, i don't feel like writing all that much, i prefer to hibernate.

i used the phrase 'mini manic phase', in talking about the writing. i have done this my whole life. and i told her that, if she looked at the boxes filled with every journal i've ever written, she'd see one or two journals for summer and winter. and ten or twenty for fall and spring. it's always been this way. and fall is even more so than the spring.

so i was saying that i guess it's the weather making me revert back to being inspired to write.

and she came back to it.

she had this look in her eye that i'd never seen before. genuine concern. i have lost my shit in her office over ever, over greg, over the divorce, over money, over the house. and she has never looked concerned, even when i can't speak for crying so hard.

but that day, she had this look. and here i am, talking a mile a minute, about a bunch of random shit, in a disconnected way as it pops into my brain. telling her many things i've been accomplishing and how awesome i feel about it.

and going on to say that i either feel like everything is lining up perfectly, or nothing is going right. and that, the past two weeks, with the party and life in general, i've made so much progress that everything has lined up perfectly. little coincidences that i give too much attention to that make me feel like my life is on the right path. i go through phases of that, too, and told her so.

i told her i've been feeling really good, and have been super social and doing so much, and attribute it to feeling better and coming off of an epic birthday weekend trip celebration.


and she said, very seriously, leaning in, that she is actually concerned.

and said, 'i don't want to worry you, but i think that putting you on lexapro has put you beyond the level of happy that it is supposed to.


'i want to go back to something you said. tea, i've been seeing you for two years now, and i have never seen you like this. sometimes, rarely, patients get on antidepressants, and eliminate their depression. and then they overshoot feeling good. sometimes, an antidepressant can break through depresson and expose underlying issues. you said something about a mini-manic phase. let's talk about that.'

so i went through the writing stuff with her then, and about the house.

and she said, 'ok. i think that putting you on lexapro is exposing some bipolar tendencies.'

and i fucking freaked out.

'i think you might be on the bipolar spectrum, in a phase called 'hypomania'. i know that you know that you are not textbook. you are definitely not bipolar 1. but you might be bipolar 2. it's the light version, at the low end of the spectrum. and we need to talk about meds. i know you don't want to be more medicated than you already are, but my concern here is that you're really up right now, and if i'm right about the spectrum, you will crash. and i don't want that to happen.'

i was speechless. my head was swimming. thinking about how devastating the news of greg being diagnosed as bipolar was to me when i found out. and how alice had told me the meds he was given affected him so negatively until he balanced out.

i told her that it's in my family. mimi and her son both have it, he is medicated for it, because he is textbook. mimi takes antidepressants when she is low, and nothing when she is up.

and the worst part is, i have consistently written about wondering if i was. it falls under the category of diagnosing myself with a myriad of ailments. but bipolar has come up more than anything, because of how moody i am, and how it changes at the drop of a hat. one tiny incident has the power to send me to the other end of things.

in a way, when she said it, i felt relieved. unlike the lump in my arm, where it's obviously there, but somehow doctors can tell me 'nothing is wrong'. it felt good to feel like i have been right all along.

but once that feeling wore off, which was very quickly, i might add, i really started to freak out.

so she told me her plan for me. she said to cut all my lexapro in half. to dial back my dose to see what happens. that i'll feel better in a week, and that we can talk again when i'm back from florida, and reevaluate. we both agreed that cutting back the meds might be enough to balance me out.

it was scary, because i'm three months in. and she said this is the point where i've acclimated to the medication. and i am completely depending on the fact that cutting my tiny pills in half will fix me.

because i cannot deal with the alternative. she told me to research what she wants to talk about putting me on. which scares me, too. and that she won't change my meds because she knows how much i love lexapro, unless she absolutely has to.

i don't believe in taking meds to combat meds.

and of course, part of me is refusing to believe that i might actually be loosely diagnosed as bipolar.

fuck me. it's serious.


and at the same time? i feel like i've known all along in a way.

and on my own, without coming to that conclusion, i've been self medicating. i had been taking ativan, without thinking about why. i have been smoking weed for the past three months. and occasionally drinking. until the last week or two, i wouldn't mix them. but the past two weeks, i've been smoking and then having a drink after.

and all the time spent painting, i have been drinking. one night, i was drinking straight out of the bottle of cold duck, more than half. didn't even get tipsy. it feels like balancing myself out. the stress and work of painting needed to be taken down with weed and alcohol.

i've been self medicating, without realizing it.

i've been trying to slow myself down.


so it goes. i'm six days into a half dose. every day i feel a little better. i'm glad i saw her when i did, because that had only been two days of feeling wonky. it's now been a week of feeling wonky.

but it's tapering off.

and i told her that once the party is behind me, i won't feel like i'm so frantically doing everything. and that two weeks away from my house, after the birthday celebrating is over, will probably fix me.

i really hope so. in the meantime, i'm in this state. i was before i knew her suspicions. and now that i know them, i can't tell if i'm applying signs backwards, or having symptoms because i am aware of it. am i over classifying, or is it legit?


one of the harder things for me to admit to right now is that i'm having an overwhelming desire to connect with greg over this. and part of me is afraid that part of my believing her and applying all of the criteria to my life is just one more way that i'm refusing to let go of him, and STILL trying to connect with him.

i'm back to where i was, applying new information to everything that happened with him.

and knowing that, if shrink is right, this makes even more sense than just knowing that he was bipolar.

we both were in a manic upswing, mine was brought on by the insane connection with him, and meeting him in the flesh for the first time.

and because he is the only person i know who is going through this at the same time i am, getting used to knowing something about yourself that is both surprising and overwhelming, i want to tell him.

it's the worst thing for me. i cannot do it. one of the four posts i've titled as a draft is a letter to him. because i can't do it in real life, i want to get it out of my system and post it, to alleviate the pressure i feel to do it. to do it, without causing any harm. all the payoff, none of the risk.

another return to another old habit. i know now that it is some form of self-harm. nothing good can come from it.

and before any of this came up, i overthought slipping into another old habit the night i went to the bar to see dan. it reminded me of how i used to drive to the coffee house to see coffee, killing time in the area until the bar opened. and just the fact that i know better than to get mixed up with a hot bartender, because it used to drive me absolutely insane to see him flirting with other girls the way he flirted with me. it made it feel like it wasn't genuine. and i don't think i should go down that path again. but not going back for a month should take care of that, and seeing how he acts the next time will be a pretty good indicator if there is interest, especially when i have aubree in tow to gauge it and help with my awkwardness.

i started to notice just after that last appointment (a few weeks ago), that i felt sexually awake. i wrote that i couldn't decide if i was rebelling against her saying i wasn't ready, or if it was genuine. but since that change, i've been having some pretty hot dreams. for a week, it was every single night. chalk, 19 year old boyfriend, chris, mcqueen. super random, and every night someone different. and i have been noticing how many hot dudes are walking around all day every day. is it that my standards are lower, because it's been SIX AND A HALF FUCKING MONTHS (well, NOT fucking), or that i need it, or something else. after reading the hypomania description, now i'm attributing it to that.

not to mention, that one day when i texted intern and greg, indirectly proposing sex. i got to the point where i was so desperate for a sexual connection that i cast aside my normal personality, and just went for it.


in any case, she said she doesn't want to put me on a mood stabilizer like lithium or anything heavy. that what she'd prescribe is the least strong of all of the meds, to research it and entertain the thought, in case that is what she recommends.

and then things got real. she said that, because i'm so in tune with myself, and tell her what's going on (i didn't think to mention weed and drinking, but i REALLY wish i had), and know when i don't feel right, that she won't force me to change meds right away. she understands my reluctance.

i'm taking aubree with me, when i go. she wanted to see me as soon as possible, so i'm going in the morning after we get back from home.


aubree thinks she's totally wrong. and she thinks that using the word manic to describe these phases made her jump to an incorrect conclusion.

i think having her there would show what my session is like, and would give an objective opinion to provide my shrink with, so she gets the real story, not my version based on my own perception.

she commanded me to call her if my sleep doesn't return to normal within the first week of meds, if not sooner. of all the things that got her attention, the lack of sleep from increased productivity was probably the biggest sign of trouble to her.

she explained that, by overshooting well-adjusted happiness, if she is right, i'm heading for a crash that she doesn't want me to experience. hence the dialing back of lexapro. and that if the half dose doesn't work in the time between appointments, we have to talk about the next course of meds.

it fucked with me for the rest of the night, and has been fucking with me ever since.

i'm trying to think myself well. trying to convince myself that cutting my dose will help, because i honestly don't want to live my life without lexapro. it has helped me so much. and she said that she's afraid that if i'm not honest with her, that the hypomania will continue to feel super awesome, until it ends. the pendulum is not headed in a way she wants me to swing, because she thinks i'm headed for a fall.

and that is scary, too.

i'm just trying to put it out of my mind for another week. i'm afraid that thinking about it will make the outcome different.

to back up a little, my sleep has been all fucked up for a few weeks now. trying to paint everything, until all hours of the night. staying up and writing after a serious drought - maybe the longest since i started cwsr. and waking up too early (like 7 every day, without an alarm) and unable to go back to sleep.

my eating has been severely screwed up, too, because of my sleep. i'm waking up nauseous and not being able to stomach food while i'm at work, in the store with access to food. then busy days spent driving, when i don't take time to stop. and then coming home and working on the house so much.

for about a week now, my first meal has been around 6 or 7 pm. and i pig out, trying to eat three meals' worth of food in one sitting. and then get hungry and eat again super late, maybe 11 or midnight. and it's all carbs, so i attribute the being up late half of the problem partially to the food i want to eat that late at night.

last weekend, because of the birthday stuff i was wonky, too. friday night i was up until after 2 because of the show and the subsequent telescope surprise party. saturday i woke up at 7, pissed to be awake, and feeling racy like a panic attack, but not panicking mentally. i took an ativan and tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't.

i popped another ativan when i got in the car to go to work on monday, hours before the shrink appointment. i had the same racy feeling, like i'd had too much coffee, before i had even had a sip. i switched back to half caff this week. sigh...

after a very long time (month and a half) of not using ativan more than one time, i've been popping them right when i wake up in the morning. it's a strange sensation. i feel like i can't get comfortable. my body is hot and cold, and when i adjust the heat to accomodate, i'm still uncomfortable. it's an old familiar feeling of not being comfortable in my own skin. i feel restless.

i feel FAST.

the morning is my time. i wake up, despite lack of sleep, feeling very inspired. the timing truly sucks, because i really want to spend all morning writing, when i have to go to work. and then when i get home, i don't want to do it anymore. or maybe it's just that i'm doing too many other things, and don't have time/energy to do it then.

but i have four posts started, to edit, right now.

there are so many things that are happening, that i really want to get onto 'paper' and process and think and write about. but i don't have the time to do it.


this will all change on monday when i hop a flight to florida for two and a half weeks. i will have all the time in the world to write down ALL OF THE THINGS.

and i've been burdened with wanting to write. what is really strange is that nina gave me the name of a dictation app. since i write how i speak, you'd think this would be the best possible thing. i could paint and blog at the same time?!? but instead, it's the writing/typing that i work well with. speaking just wasn't doing it for me. i gave up after three tries. i also have always hated my recorded voice (even on voicemail), and i think that had something to do with it.

it also makes me think of the coffee days, when i would carry around that little recorder, thinking everything i was thinking of and saying was so fucking profound. struck by inspiration all the time, and listening to them a couple years later in tahoe when i was snowed in. it was horrifying. so maybe it's a little too close to that for me.

but all of the things that are changing so quickly around me are making want to write them all out. i can't type fast enough. and i didn't think anything of the fact that my initial post on this blog was so lengthy. it just felt like a lot of pent up stuff that i was releasing, after a hiatus from writing.

but in light of the shrink visit, now i fear that it's something else altogether. i just can't stop, and i don't feel like i want to.

it made me re-watch harriet the spy the other night while i was painting my room in a marathon manner.

'i want to see the world, and i want to write down EVERYTHING!'

it feels like that. only i'm not a 12 year old little girl.

watching that movie made me feel even more inspired to write, as if this hasn't been hard enough on me already.

right now? i should be mopping. i should paint the one door that is making me insane.

but that will lead to painting two doors and then the third, and cleaning everything else.

and i just can't do that again today. so i'm finally making the time to write that i have been craving for a solid week.


which is a beautiful segue into trying to do all of the things.

how i get these bad little seeds of an idea wedged in my brain, i will never know. and why i am so stubborn and particular, i will also never know. take for example, the christmas tree.

i have no need for a christmas tree. especially not a week before i go to florida for two weeks. but i was throwing a party, and i just HAD to have one. i'm flat broke. whatever. fucking had to have one. so we bought one.

and i justified this by deciding to get one string of lights and one little thing of ornaments. like, 'see? it doesn't have to be expensive'.

until it looked bare and the lights made a belt around the middle of my pear shaped tree.

two christmas tree lots, and three trips for lights/ornaments later, it was done. i probably spent about four hours of my spare time on this tree. because i just had to have it for the party.

or, how about the keg? i invited about 70 people over for a birthday/house showing off party. so i decided i wanted to get a keg. what i learned after i decided to get the keg should absolutely have changed my mind about it. first of all, i got the tiniest keg that you can get. it's about two and a half cases of beer.

for the same money, and without the deposit of $70, i could have had three cases of blue moon in bottles. so ask me why i got a keg? because i just HAD to have it for the party. like the tree. to say that i had one.

and now, because i didn't change my mind, unlike the bottles i could have purchased and left here while i am home, i gave myself two days to try to drink a pony keg of beer, so i can return it before i leave.

i prefer beer on draught, so i guess that is why i got it. but the people who showed up to the party all brought their own drinks, so aubree, kit, eve, and i were the only ones drinking from it. last night, we went at it and successfully finished it, with the added help of alice and cody.

the decision was stupid.

and the party. i was so so excited for everyone to see the house this way, because the last time they were in it, ever was using, and it literally looked, felt, and smelled like a crack den. a house kept by someone who was very very unwell.

i was telling the writer in a chat the other night that, in the last two and a half years since we first finished the renovating to the point we could move in, this is the first time i have been proud of my house.

i was so excited to show it off to people who practically lived in it, or did live in it. and not a single one of them showed up last night. it was really disappointing. and the result: yesterday, before the second party, i unfriended a bunch of people on facebook who always ignore me. even when i comment on things to them. and who didn't express any interest in seeing me, or the house.

up to and including... intern.

done. moving on...


i woke up sad about it yesterday, because we had the most fun party i think i've ever thrown. all my best friends showed up, which is why it was the best party ever. but all the work and stress to get it done specifically to show it off felt like a waste.

my real friends are stoked on the progress so far, and none of them judge me for not mopping or vacuuming. they know how much work it takes, because they have been helping me for a month and they all know what it took to get it this far.

i can't help wanting this to be done before i leave, so that after i relax at home and have christmas, new years, and vacation time poolside, i don't get stressed on the house when i come back. i don't want to come back to more work.

it's rough.



so... carry this information out exponentially. all aspects of my life. i am fixated on stupid shit, and am having an impossible time focusing on the big picture.

i haven't bought a single christmas present for anyone, but have a bunch of christmas lights for the outside of the house, that i ran out of time to hang. i didn't have time to clean my house for the party, because i was organizing shit in my bedroom, because i wanted my room put back together. the one room in the house that, as aubree so smartly pointed out, i can close the door and no one would even know that it was a mess.

but i can also admit that, thinking chris was going to show, i wanted my room together for the sake of hosting a boy. i (idiotically) put a condom on my nightstand, hidden under my lamp. i was CONVINCED i was going to get laid on friday night.

i stopped cleaning my room, and shut the door. cleaned the first floor a little, before getting ready.


what's making this all worse is that i am having an impossible time multitasking. and i'm very scattered. and i've been more disorganized than i usually am.

i gauge this in one way, for the most part: cleaning out my knapsack. usually i can make it about a week before i reorganize my bag. when i'm in a hurry, i shove everything in, always, without any rhyme or reason. i'm not normally in such a hurry, so it delays the reorganization. but every day for the last week plus, i've stayed in a hurry. usually, it will be a week before things are no longer in their compartments, i can't find things i need, and money is all over the place, loose in every compartment, so that when i take something out, usually a bill will fall on the ground. sometimes i wonder if someone just follows me around to pick up all the things i drop when i'm spaced out and walking. but the big compartment in the bag becomes a catchall.

this week, after one day, i couldn't find anything. and out of frustration, i dumped my entire bag on the floor to reorganize it. i put everything where it made most sense to me, access-wise. and went to work. when i got home from work, i couldn't find my work phone. and i was digging in all the pockets. i could not find it.

so i dumped my bag on the couch to find it.

i've done this every single day this week. it's like, on a daily basis, i just cram shit wherever i can find room, and don't think about the fact that i might need to find it later. it sucks.

i'm a fucking MESS. and my car? ugh.

i have cleaned it out three days this week, because i spent every day this week driving to delaware and running work errands, and house errands. repeatedly trashing my car.

the problem with all this reorganizing is that i feel this need to do it before i can focus on something else. when i went to the office on tuesday (day two of three), i dumped my bag in the floor to find all of the deposit tickets and printouts i needed for my paperwork. usually, i have all of them in one bag, clipped. there is no digging necessary. but instead of getting them out and working on it, i dumped and organized my bag at the office so i could focus on work.

this is something new to me. i'm usually pretty adept at working through an organized mess. i usually know where everything is. but it feels like i'm doing so much, so quickly, that i can't remember what i did. i keep finding things in places i don't remember putting them. making me wonder if there's also a little gnome following me and moving all my shit around so i can't find it.

joking. i'm not THAT crazy.

but i digress....


twice, in the last week, i've been on my way, walking to my car from the store, only to realize that my keys are back in the store. it's ridiculous. i've been working at this store for what, two years now? i have never left my keys before. other people have. and one of the first things i told aubree when she started working there was to always check for her keys before she leaves for the car.

and i guess i'm just so distracted by my thoughts that i am not able to do the little mental checklist before leaving the store. if i have my phone and headphones and cigarettes and lighter, it's all good. who needs keys?


what this whole week feels like, is how the house used to overwhelm me. i would let little things pile up for weeks, and then decide to put things back together, and get overwhelmed at the size of the task. and i'd have a hard time powering through it. and give up pretty often. and take lots of smoke breaks.

but this week, it's about work. there are all these little loose ends that have been pushed off and pushed off. kenna isn't calling me like she says she will, so i'm not (as) motivated to stay on task and take care of shit.

but i realized, 'holy shit! i'm going to florida for two and a half weeks. i have a lot to do before i go...'

so i spent every day this week doing all of those things. three days in delaware.


i have also become increasingly impatient. instead of waiting for things to happen, or letting other people do what i need them to do. and it translates to driving. aubree has been pointing out that i've been driving worse. she started saying,'pump the brakes' when it's time to slow down to stop. and after that, i started to realize it was happening when i was driving alone. and more often. especially because i have been driving more, it's been happening more. i think it's related to the whole multitasking/focusing thing. my mind is wandering while i'm driving, and i come back to the road, and have to hit the brakes harder to stop in time. it's kindof scary.

spending all of the time in the car also has given me more time to think, and listen to music. and, reminiscent of other times in my life, too, i keep finding myself thinking, 'this is my best mix EVER!' most of the time, when i finally finish one, that's how i feel about it. but this one makes me want to say, 'really, though. seriously? the BEST.'

and it's troublesome to me because i'll probably not feel that way in another week or so. and so it feels a little inflated. and i've done the same thing/said the same thing about my writing. the initial post [on my new blog] was 'the best post i've written', and before that, the last post on cwsr was 'the best post i've written'.

how can every post be the longest post? and the best post? i feel like the length of the posts are also indicative of a problem. because at first, i just thought i hadn't written in a while, so i didn't think anything of it. like, i was just catching up.

but it's the same way i've been in my daily life. talking more, thinking more, doing more. and your eyes will tell you that it's happening in my writing, too. the only thing that makes me okay with it is that i'm not repeating things i've said before. it all feels new. which makes writing it out feel that much better. getting it out of my system. processing. the usual.

and in the mix, i figured out that dan has been stealing, so i had to talk to security and watch footage to try to catch him. so add that to the loose ends list.

after hectic days spent driving through a tank and a half of gas, all the loose ends are tied, and dan is fired.


and somehow, i feel like a dog on a scent. sniffing out anything else that i forgot before i leave, trying to think of everything.

i've been having an impossible time focusing, multitasking, doing simple math i do on a daily basis. to the extent of stopping somewhere, just to do one thing at a time. stop the car in the parking lot to organize my bag. wait until i'm parked to do my books. stop the car to use the phone. stop mid-step to text.

more frequently, i'll get into trouble with counting money. it's such an easy task for me, and i excel at mental math. it's something i've always naturally been good at. but when i got on lexapro, it was a problem for a few days, and since i've cut back the dose, the first few days were spent counting and recounting, when adding up deposits, and using a calculator for simple math, because i became aware that i couldn't trust myself.


it's strange. i pride myself in my ability to multitask. and WELL. so this is something that doesn't make any sense to me.

one of the biggest, most pervasive changes for me is both work and life related. before meds, i worried so much that i never forgot anything. once i was able to deal with taking care of what i was worrying about, as opposed to not dealing with things and worrying endlessly, my life improved drastically. then i wasn't worrying, and just knowing what i needed to do. there were about three months, post medication, where i was completely on point with doing everything. but then, in the last few weeks, i switched to not caring. and not being able to focus. and it meant that i let things slide and pile up, without the repercussion of having an overwhelmed feeling to bring me back to reality and make me do the things i need to do.

realizing it was happening made me make lists. and lists and lists and lists. but i'd forget to put things on the list, getting distracted, and forgetting to do really important shit.


it reminds me of the 75 item list of all the things greg and i planned to do together, which was the last time i was living in list land.


i'm getting back to the point where i'm actively dealing with my lists on a daily basis, several times a day, because i became aware that i needed to do it to make it through a day. but because i've been trying to do all the things, the lists are out of control.

it will be intersting to see what happens when i'm home, and when i come back. because i forced myself to take care of everything before i leave town. i hope i don't spend my vacation making lists of things i can't take care of, due to being away from here. time will tell...


when i stopped caring about work again for a minute there, i actually overslept one day. my sleep has been so off, with being up so late at night, that it finally resulted in affecting the job i do. i was so tired, i turned off the alarm in my sleep and woke up an hour later than i needed to.

the last time i overslept for work was almost a year ago, and not my fault. it was the day i threw away my alarm clock, because i had set it correctly, and it didn't go off. i started using my trusty phone after that.


this post has taken forever to write. the cliff notes assured me that i wouldn't leave anything out, but like me, they were so scattered and unrelated it took almost as long to organize this post as it did to actually write the shit out.



will this feeling go away? i don't want to take this drug:

http://www.crazymeds.us/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Meds/LamictalBasicOverview?from=Lamictal.Lamictal#.Tu4Og2PNmGU


i don't want to have this diagnosis:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypomania



but in light of everything i just posted here, i feel like i definitely fit the criteria for the hypomania diagnosis.

each of you has commented or asked me if i think shrink is right, if i believe that what she said is accurate, or if what she told me is incorrect.

and my biggest fear right now is that she is right.



i wrote out all of this as a way to track how i've been feeling, and to explain to each of you why i believe her.

the only thing i'm taking comfort in is that i am already feeling better. day six of half dose was only slightly speedy, and i forced myself to not do everything for the second party, and listened to kim about just relaxing. and today i feel normal.


whatever that means...

an explanation. feb 4th.

i started a new blog, where i've been writing since my birthday in december.


i am going to slowly post some of the things here.

i just needed a fresh start, and a little privacy.


the first thing i'm posting is from the week of my birthday, when i was diagnosed as bipolar two on a shrink visit.

i didn't necessarily want to write about it here, but now that i've come to the determination that it is true and accurate, i'm sharing it here.


hopefully i haven't lost the people who have been reading cwsr for so long. i just needed to start over.


so here is the first post...

scarce, and thankful. black friday, 2011.

i can't honestly say if i haven't been writing because i'm so busy, or because i don't want to deal with what i've been doing and thinking about, but it's now gotten to the point of being completely overwhelming.

i can't even remember what i last wrote about, but it feels like forever ago.

my headspace operates differently now. on a different level, and at a different clip. but the same things float around my brain, just at a much less crippling pace.

still feel the urge to have a good cry, and i still can't cry.


to try to pick up where i left off, i had to look back. i haven't written about what the shrink said after i got the scoop on greg.

i haven't written about the little fire i've been stoking at work, with aubree's assistance, in the shape of a boy named chris.

or about my new glasses and thrift store finds, and how all of my friends are currently trying to get me laid.

i haven't written about the work we've been doing on the house, killing ten gallons of paint in half as many days.

i haven't written about aubree's birthday party.

and now i am adding thanksgiving, black friday, and my mini attempt to pick up a bartender, part one.


things have just been so hectic, with work and the house, and trying to resuscitate my social life.

having aubree here is the most untoppable feeling - i can honestly say, when she is around, that i don't know what i'd be doing if she wasn't. i don't know if i'd still be standing. having her work with me has been fantastic. it's helped me get some of the volunteered overtime i've worked back, by drastically cutting my hours spent there, so i can do all the things that i never had time to do before she arrived.

and the work at the house? she's been my main motivator, my biggest helper, and my inpiration to make shit happen.


and now, hot on the heels of another birthday, i'm determined to make this one different. every year since i turned 22, i have cried on my birthday. reflecting on things i haven't yet accomplished. feeling like i have nothing to show for my lifetime of hard work and dedication.

but this year, i'm excited for my birthday. i want to have a fantastic party with my closest friends, but also invited people i haven't seen in a long time. i want to have a house unveiling party. like a housewarming, without gifts. i want my old friends to play acoustic sets, like the one ever and i threw when the house was ready enough. and i want to have fun.

it's such a different feeling, and by putting so much pressure on myself to have the house finished by then (well, aesthetically, anyway), it's making me push through the time consuming chore of organizing, cleaning, painting, carpeting the hall, fixing things that make me batty, and keeping things nice.

so that i can entertain regularly, which is my favorite thing to do.

i was so embarrassed by this house for so long that it feels fantastic to have made such progress in such a short amount of time, and to feel pride. it makes such a difference in daily life here, and it makes me feel completely different about making roots in phila.

i hope that the party lives up to the daydream in my head. it's so clear to me now, i will do everything i can to make it happen.

i have spent two thirds of my paycheck at home depot in the last week. and i'm okay with that. when i get rent, i'll probably continue to. doing things ourselves is a wonderful way to save money and get more accomplished.

we started painting last weekend. i'd picked up ceiling paint when dad and danny were here, and had primer left from when we bought the house, which was still good, so i had a head start. i'd taken a couple weeks, toying with paint swatches, before settling on colors for the entire house.

i started with the color i'd picked for my room. but when i got it home, i realized that i didn't really want it in my room, and that it would look awesome in the hallway. i'd decided a month ago to get carpet, too. so the goal for last weekend was to finish painting the hall before the carpet goes in.

and we did it. pam, kim, and relle came over to stay the night and help us paint the hall. there were a ton of learning curves, and it was lucky to learn from several planning fails on a floor that will soon be hidden. i had to remember to delegate jobs. i was so overwhelmed by the task and tight space with five people in it, that everything felt difficult. and what was worse, i was on the verge of a panic attack. but i managed not to get too snippy (sorry, ladies, i know that i did more than once), and go with the flow.

and i could hardly believe that, at midnight that first night, the hall was a lovely lavender tinged grey, with white trim. while painting, i figured out where i'd gone wrong with colors for other rooms in the house, and formulated the plan, which consisted of using the same color in the dining room.

what was unfortunate was that aubree got sucked into my line of thinking, which is always to tackle the entire problem, instead of sticking to the one-room-at-a-time plan we'd agreed to. because prep is 2/3's of the work, and set up is a bitch, we started to think about painting all of the ceilings at once, then decided one floor at a time. we came to our senses once exhaustion set in, and reverted to the one room at a time plan.

when the hall was done late saturday night, we slept like babies, and woke up sunday to hang out lazily in pj's with breakfast food and coffee. but like an idiot, i started moving furniture to prep the dining room, and high on paint fumes, decided to start painting and prepping the dining room. and it was contagious, and everyone helped me.

by the time we went back to work on monday, the trim was done and the ceiling was done, and the room was ready for color.

monday night, we finished the second coat in the hall after a ten hour work day. wiped out, and awake until after one.

we did it knowing that we had a two and a half day work week.

and tuesday night, we prepped the kitchen trim and ceilings.

the problem is that ever destroyed the house. finding all the nicks and dings and holes in every wall and ceiling in the house is a daunting task. but i chose to be the patcher, because every putty knife of joint compound was like a little ever-magic-eraser, removing any trace of the disrespect i feel every time i look around.

grueling, up and down the stairs, up and down four foot and eight foot ladders. physically wiped out, holding extension poles and 18 inch rollers of ceiling paint five feet above our heads. i was working stomach and arm muscles i'd forgot existed.

work on tuesday was crazy, but when i got out at four, i went home to prep some more. and when aubree got home, we went at the dining room and kitchen and living room full force. i dreamed of having all three done for thanksgiving, but as it turned out, there are simply not enough hours in the day.

in the process of sanding drywall mud, and taping shit off, and moving furniture, the entire first floor was in a state of upheaval. it was continual stress to be surrounded by such mess. truly insane.

but wednesday, we got color on the walls in the dining room, with kim's help, and i started putting the first floor back together.

we were still painting at 430 in the morning. we hadn't done anything for thanksgiving. we admitted painter's defeat, and started with the thanksgiving prep, passing out sometime after five. and like manic crackheads, we woke up after a few hours, and frantically pushed through the remainder.

five days of paint fumes and mess later, without much sleep at all, i got a shower after everyone had showed up, and made it look like it was easy in my fancy new outfit.


last week, fueled by thrift store updates from nina, i took myself shopping.

i must have tried on fifty things, and only came home with two pairs of jeans (polo and levi's - amazing finds that fit without trying them on!), a sweater, a skirt, two aprons, and a button down jacket shirt.

but the sweater/skirt combo is a knockout. and i spent a total of maybe $30, and rekindled my crush on thrifting.

aubree is still giving me shit about a retarded decision to wear my new $5 polo jeans on the first day of painting, when i was 'being careful'. raked the paint tray, and the jeans are now demolished. she is pissed. i could care less. i mean, hindsight, yeah. it was a lame decision made out of pure laziness. i have four pairs of painting jeans already. kinda happened into three of them in the same fashion, one was my favorite pair of levi's. sigh. i can't be taught.


but with new (old) clothes in hand, i am finding that i am more confident, which is something i always struggle with. i adore sweater weather, and wool skirt weather, and gone are the days where i take the easy way out at old navy. i'm so over wearing shitty clothes. so i'm finally doing something about it.

and i think it might also be related to the new pair of glasses i'm currently rocking, which are also mostly to blame.

i haven't bought glasses in something like six years. i've had the same sad, broken, tired pairs all this time. no new prescription. one pair was missing nose pads, and one pair had a broken arm. so i never wear them. but i hate contacts in the winter time, and after a failed attempt to get glasses last winter and again this summer, i put my foot down.

my friend nikki works at a shop. and my favorite brand was having a trunk show, complete with cheese, beer, wine, and raffles. so i finally went. and dropped more money than i've ever spent on a pair of glasses on a pair of glasses.

i really wanted the $500 pair, but in the end i just couldn't do it. so i was stoked on the $220 pair, and jumped up and down the next day when the $5 i had spent on raffle tickets resulted in a fancy pants $50 hair salon gift certificate. it was thrilling. and the sales benefited canine cancer research, so i was doing a good deed, too.

while i was on the fence about which pair to spring for, aubree finished work, and rode back with me to decide. there was a cute boy, naturally. and also naturally, i couldn't come up with a single line to use on him.

the next time i saw nikki at the coffee shop, i told her that i'd thought of the perfect line on the way home, hours late and opportunity missed. she knew exactly who i was talking about, and said that a few of the boys who work there were making a big deal over him, too.

and that afternoon when she went to work, in a surprisingly bold move, nikki got his name for me. now i have to figure out what the fuck to do with the information, in a totally non-stalkerly way.

the night before, i'd made plans with kit to see phantogram. she was trying to get a boy to go to introduce me to, for my casual needs. he didn't make it, but the next day was when i realized that i have now crossed the threshold no sexually awake woman should ever have to cross. if i make it to my birthday on this path, i will hit the ungodly six month mark. i'd say 'fuck me sideways!' in exasperation, but that would only add insult to injury. insert jokes about dusty snatch and cobwebs that need to be cleared and sexual frustration on a daily basis at work. ding. they're worked into shop talk when i pant after boys who are entirely out of my age bracket, and would make young mothers hide their freshly-turned-21 sons. i'm finally starting to venture into the realm of boys in their late twenties, and have my eye on a couple who have passed the 30 mark. i'm working on it...


but in spite of all that, i am proud.

this year was a bitch. starting with the divorce, learning about ever, starting to date and learning a lot of lessons the hard way, meeting having something special, and losing something that meant more to me than anything else in the last decade of my life, bottoming out, and getting medicated.

it's ending on a high note, letting me believe that 2012 will be my year. i cannot wait for the new year.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06tA0FH4ZUs

i'm starting on an upward trend, and am excited about where i live, the life i lead, the friends i've made and kept along the way. a lot of people have expressed a lot of love in my direction lately, and that is what makes me tear up.

i'm becoming house proud, instead of hating where i live and seeing problems everywhere i look.


all of this, typed out, so far, following something that might look to an outside observer to be a manic upswing, complete with shopping sprees at obscene hours. maybe it's because i was geared up for a star party, and decided to paint instead.

but i did well. my first black friday outing since i moved to phila. i'd count the appliances i bought three years ago, but they didn't require anything more than a trip to home depot the day before thanksgiving, and a streak of good luck, where i could buy all my appliances for my brand new house at a fraction of the cost.


in the last 24 hours, i bought clothes. i bought things to make myself smell awesome. i bought twister for a party where boys might be present. i bought kitchen gadgets and sets of things i legitimately needed. and a garage door opener for that project, which i'd like to finish before the snow starts piling up, to save a ton of time sleeping instead of digging my car out. i bought things for friends, which is a resurgence of an old habit that i'm really going to have to get in check soon, before i go broke gleefully every time i leave the house.


in the time that has passed, i had my 'first' thanksgiving. while ever and i had a couple where i cooked, they were sad little imitations of what people think of when they think of thanksgiving. times when i was homesick for the family and food that sits around for days following one of my mom's epic mealtime extravaganzas.

the best one in the last several years was the one when i flew home before thanksgiving, and back on the day of, to have dinner wtih ever. i had a double thanksgiving, which i needed at the time.

but this year, i hosted. and i'd have made my mother proud, if she knew what all i did.

i dubbed it an orphan thanksgiving, because most of our families are not around, and because i wanted to start a new tradition at a time of year that makes everyone a little sad, and makes everyone miss what they don't have.

i wanted to try to brighten a day that was difficult for a friend, to try to distract her from everything that makes her sad.

i like to help people. and that's not always a bad thing. it tends to backfire in romantic relationships, but otherwise, i think it's a good thing.

and in trying to bring a little of my home to the city, i asked everyone to say what they were thankful for, and aubree asked to say grace.

it was sweet. it was heartfelt. i will cherish it for a long while. and it will fuel future holiday festivities being held at my house.

one of the nicest things that kim and pam say about my house is that it is legendary. i love that people want to come over and hang out. whether it's to escape the mundane, to hide out, to run away from problems, to be with friends, to vent, or just to watch football and shitty cable tv.

i love that, somehow, without having kids, i have created the house that i grew up in - the one with the cool mom (that's what they all call me - 'mom'), where everyone wants to hang out when they get together.

i love that more weekends than not, i have overnight guests. and that there's a regular cast of characters who show up on the weekends for slumber parties. i love that people have claimed beds and rooms and things in my house as their own. i love that more space in my house is 'common area' than just three rooms on one floor that never get used.

and i love using that good feeling to ride a wave that makes me want to continue the work i'm doing to make it even better. and this past week? i love that there's a team effort to help to make it better still.

i could never have done this alone. i wouldn't have. and so much work after so much is a priceless gift that makes me realize just how great a life i have.


and i love that aubree has seemingly been the bond that holds it all together. that she is my catalyst. and that she loves it here, too. that we do things when i'm not feeling up for it, and that i have a social life again.


and because i haven't said it yet? i love lexapro, too.

seriously.

miracle drug.


the past few days have been a little heavy for me. i've been physically beyond pushed to the point of exhaustion. there was a time both last night, and today, where i was shaking, and afraid that i might fall over from running on empty. but everything that is good has fueled me to this point.

i think that i'm probably more homesick than i might think. i know that i wanted to share the holidays with someone special, and i think the heaviness is probably mostly made up of that. there's nothing like sharing traditions new and old with someone in that way, and i've been craving that since summer, and fearing it since summer, too. and now, it's here. it has arrived. and i'm surviving it.

no matter how good i feel, it's going to be there for a while, i think. and now that i've bounced back from the one-two rejection punch, and seeing joey at a show, i'm ready for the next round. i have my eyes set on two potential applicants for the 'next ex boyfriend' category.

boyfriend. there's a novel idea. i haven't been someone's girlfriend since 2001. that is absurd. dear god. i need a man in my life.


to back up a little, i saw my shrink immediately following the time when i was reprocessing greg for the nth time.

and again, i figured out something about myself. the reason why i feel so stuck in the same loops, the reason why i rehash things over and over again with every new piece of information, is this:

i am an overthinker. my brain needs to understand. and i suck at understanding.

when i finally figure things out, whatever that means at the time, i start to let go of the thoughts.

but when i get new information, instead of doing what i think most normal people do (ie. 'hmm, that's interesting. moving on...'), i take the information, and apply it to all of those thoughts, from start to finish.

i rip off the band-aid, and start picking at the scab of everything that has bothered me, forgetting every time that it will leave a scar.

and when there's a lapse between information, it takes my brain a long long time to put things aside, and let go, and get on with thinking about everything else.


as it applies now, i have been at points in thinking about this greg thing, where i honestly start to let go. i don't think about it so much, it doesn't have a daily impact on me.

and i have made a lot of progress in that department. but i was starting off with broken equipment. and when i rigged the equipment to get through the worst of it, that was a shitty start, but it was a start.

and because this is how my brain works, it dealt one way when he bailed on me physically. it dealt another when he bailed on me emotionally. it dealt again when he finally explained himself to me. it dealt again when i saw him on dating site. it dealt again, probably the first real attempt, when i got medicated. it dealt again when he ignored my proposition. and just when i was angry enough to really say 'fuck all' and walk away from it, it dealt again when i found out what has really been going on.

and i guess that since that day, twentyish days ago now, it's gotten better. but for whatever reason, this week it came back. the plans he made with me, all of the things that he told me he'd introduce me to and teach me. and i think it's because i really thought i'd be with him for a lot of holidays, after that day i met him. and when he subsequently implied that i would.

and the harsh reality is that i have a pretty good clue of what he's been up to the past few days, none of which includes thinking about me at all, and all of which include self-medicating.


when i went to the shrink, i explained this to her, along with the explanation of his situation. and explained that i always want to help people, and that i always minimize red flags and shitty technique with the list of excuses their diagnoses permit.

i told her i wanted to show up on his doorstep with cookies. and when she asked why i would want to do that, i told her that for the first time in months, i didn't want him to be able to ignore me. and i wanted to see his eyes when he saw me and couldn't ignore me.

but she called me out on it, asking me what i really hoped to get from it. at first, i had no answer and said so. and i thought aloud to her, and came to my own conclusion that was so glaringly obvious to everyone else around me: it was a horrible idea, and i had nothing to gain from attempting it.

and i'm really fucking glad i didn't cave to that desire when it felt like it was striking me over the head with a frying pan. gonnnnng.

there is nothing to gain from greg. absolutely nothing.

i told her that i don't want to be with someone who treats me like that. that i don't want to be low priority on the to-do list. that i have no business at all being with someone with his diagnosis. that, once again, i found a broken one to work on. that i'm sick and tired of those boys, and that he is no exception. that it's my innate complex to fix and nurture and help that made me want to take him cookies and physically show up to offer myself to help in any way that i could.

but it was a mean trick my brain was trying to play on me. because, as i broke it down for her, only one of four things could have happened:

one, neither of us have any feelings and it's over.
two: i see him and realize i'm not over him, but that he is over me.
three: he sees me and realizes he's not over me, but i'm over him. or,
four: that we see each other and it's fireworks again.

but the problem is that the only one that would be 'good' is the first. and one in four aren't good enough odds to risk any of the others, not to mention more information to apply to thoughts. and seeing that it is really over. i'm too fragile to realize he really could care less about me. i'd feel too guilty to realize it was a flash in the pan for me, and that he really was trying to protect me. or to find myself in another doomed relationship when we're both fucked up and try to give it another go.

at the end of the day, i don't want him. i just want the version of him he presented initially. he was really something special. but i think maybe it was a joke. or a trick. or some kind of a sick and twisted game on a particularly bad day. now i believe he believed he felt it, but it wasn't real when he thought about it.

and in light of his brain, i don't think that the version of him i was with so briefly would be anything like all the other versions of him i saw then, or know about now.

no cookies for that boy. his loss. and i say that with the utmost confidence in my baking skills. dumb ass.


i had to return to my favorite movie quote of all time, and practice telling myself silently when i feel my mind start to flirt with the idea of him, and going back: 'you can't be my friend if you aren't my friend.'

you can't help those who don't want to help themselves, or those who won't let you. life is too short. i can help a lot of other people, without losing parts of myself in it.

if i could find that version of him in an unbroken package? that is what i want. not greg. not his issues which explain why such a catch is all alone, romantically. and not being put off and ignored. the well adjusted version, in the flesh.

MOVING ON...


i can't honestly say whether it was my rebellious nature or determination to get back on the horse after being thrown off for what felt like the 98276098345879th time, but after i went through that whole headtrip with her, i told her that i can't find anyone online that even looks interesting to me. and that i can't date customers, which is the only way i really meet people at all.

but i came home from that appointment, after she said that it is my brain's way of telling me i'm not ready for the next thing yet, to peruse the dating site. and whether it was some uncanny coincidence, or one of the above reasons, i was inundated with the amount of boys who appeared to be what i am looking for. i literally found myself telling my sister that i didn't know where they all came from, or if i was just seeing with new eyes.

there was snow, and nuzzling weather that week.

and orion is rising nightly. it could be any of these things.

or maybe it was my brain actually letting go of greg, and realizing that i always use fantastic distractions when i'm less than happy. and that i need a new one, in any form. or maybe it was that i decided that he was simply not worth waiting for. because, despite what i told him and myself, and anyone who would listen or read, i was waiting for him to come back to me.

i didn't want to do anything to jeopardize another go with him.

and now i don't want to care anymore.


recovery. relapse. overdose. recovery.

i'm always looking for a good blog title. too bad that one's probably taken by a junkie.

pair that with a massive influx of hot bearded dudes at the coffee shop and city bars, and away we go...


enter chris. with the same last name as my high school boyfriend i thought i'd marry, to complicate my brainwaves further. marrying back into my mother's maiden name, and hoping that we weren't related in some extrapolated way. but i digress...

chris. he's been getting coffee for years, like joey. unlike joey, we all have had crushes on this one at different times. ashley was smitten with him. pam wanted to make babies with him (jokingly, of course), and i said he looks like he'd be lazy in bed, but that i wouldn't mind fucking him regardless.

and then something changed for me. with my rosy greg-tinted lenses removed, and blinders off, i found myself looking forward to seeing him. fighting to make his cappuccinos, trying to draw hearts in perfectly frothed milk. and in the past few weeks, going beyond the mundane 'how was your weekend' small talk, asking him questions to get to know him. coming out of the back room, covered in sandwich shrapnel and smelling of meat, when i hear his voice, with an armful of food to appear coincidental and necessary.

and then enter aubree, who has a crush on him as well, and encourages this venture. moral support, and a heads up when i'm working in the back, with a tiny, 'he's here!'

we both made banana bread two sundays ago when kim had camped out for the weekend, following aubree's birthday party. and i mentioned to her that i needed to find a way to get it into his stomach.

because if there's one thing i have learned, it is that the way to a boy's heart is through his stomach. there is so much truth to it. and i love that i'm good at it. more often than not, i feel like that is my 'in'.


i don't know how we had the energy to bake, following the party, but we did. and everything turned out quite well.

her birthday party was the most fun party i've thrown in ages. everyone showed up, got tipsy together. i'd wanted to celebrate 11.11.11 anyway, and she was here for her birthday, so we combined the two. it was so awesome.

the most amazing part was this card kim and pam made for her. they gift wrapped a piece of posterboard with all of their (and our) inside jokes written out, with glitter drawings.

we've started this thing, 'remember that time', where we say things the just happened or are about to. talking about things like they were years ago, when they happened seconds before. the timing is most of what makes it so funny. it's the new 'my mom says...'

so they wrote out all of the things they remember. and the one that made aubree cry, and the one that had me choked up for the rest of the night was,

'you left and we all cried'

shit. it kills me. it was just the sweetest card ever, and so funny. we were crying and laughing at the same time. the thought and effort and time that went into it was so amazing, and all of the memories were made in a span of four short broken up months.

aubree is just like that. she's so special. i have never met anyone like her. she is the best sister. she is an awesome person. and it felt so right to honor her that night. she hugged me after cake time at 11:11 double birthday songs in the kitchen, and said, 'tea? thank you. this is the best birthday.'

kills me still.

so beautiful. i would die for my sister.

i said it. i'll say it again.


i'm clearing my throat and wiping the corners of my eyes...


back to the initial tangent, about chris.

in a brilliant wing man move, aubree asked him if he'd like to be the judge in our sister banana bread bake off on her birthday weekend.

he said he'd love to.

so we baked. and i hoped he'd choose mine, but hers was really fucking good.

he didn't show on monday to pick up the competing pieces of cake, like he said he would. he showed up on tuesday, and we gave him a rash of shit about not coming by, and he smiled when he walked away with individually wrapped pieces, designating them dark and light, since it was a blind study, and he didn't get any info from either of us, so as to not give away who had baked which.

sidebar.

i've come up with some pretty good one liners to use on him, if i ever find the balls, the best of which is related to the sleep studies he does at the university:

'if you ever need a subject for one of your sleep (over) studies, i'm here.' topped off with a wink, because i'm corny like that.


but when he took the entries, he said he'd be back in an hour to let us know his decision.

and of course, he didn't come back. and on wednesday, aubree sent me home early. and i missed him by about fifteen minutes. she told him that day and a half was the longest hour ever.

and he came by the next day, missing me again by under fifteen minutes. and the next day when i was off. he asked if i even worked there anymore, which still cracks me up. he agreed to come by on monday, because it wasn't fair to announce the winner when we both weren't present.

and i got ready monday morning with that in mind.

i'd picked up my new glasses that saturday, and paired with a classically hot houndstooth skirt and black sweater, i was dubbed the naughty librarian. customers were asking what was going on. it was awesome. i felt ready.

until he didn't show.

a full day in dress shoes, and no winner. it was the worst. i fought with my body slimmer the whole day. walking from my car to work, it was up around my waist. just awful.

in a world where timing is everything, i was absolutely annoyed.

and the next day, i did it all over again, two skirts and two different body slimmer fights in two days. fancy shoes and all. and because of thanksgiving, the school was a ghost town, so i left after only two hours to work. luckily, on my way home, i told aubree that, if he ended up showing up, she needed to facetime me, with him, for the results.

and sure enough, he came in a couple hours later, with excuses and apologies, to find that i was not there, yet again.

so she told him we were facetiming the results.

i was home, covered in paint, looking an absolute wreck. but it was so awesome that i didn't care.

i was shaking, sitting in my family room, laced with paint fumes, while he laughed and smiled his crooked smile, and explained that my bread had won, despite having chocolate chips.

i'll try to forget that he used the word 'moist' to describe it (my least favorite word in the english language, second only to 'pussy'). and i had rehearsed all of my lines so many times, that my giggly 'i feel like i just won the lottery!' line went off without a hitch.

it was awesome. we talked like that for a few minutes, before letting him go. he waved good bye after 'happy thanksgiving's were passed between all of us. and agreed to prove his worth in the form of pumpkin cheesecake, which is the only thing he claims to be able to bake. which, as all of you should know by now, is my absolute favorite dessert.

and that is the only reason why i look forward to going back to work on monday after a five day holiday weekend.


and last night, after thanksgiving dinner and the immediate onset of the 'itis (ask your black friend if you don't know what this is!), aubree and i found a fifth wind to go black friday shopping. and she one-upped herself.

and somehow, between walmart at 10 and target at midnight, we found ourselves in wilmington with time to kill. i'd mentally prepared for two hours at each place, expecting madhouse masses and lines that made the great depression look like a picnic. but ending up at target with over an hour to go and a line of people waiting to get in at least an hour long, i had to pee and gas stations were all closed. we found out the hard way that wawa doesn't have public restrooms, and were surprised to find that our favorite secret bar in wilmington with $3 everythings and anythings was open.

so we took a seat, i ordered a beer. and we looked at each other, like we now do a billion times a day, sharing silent thought transfers.

the bartender was hot. right up my alley. he was old enough to get her approval (no 'we've got a cougar on the loose' shoulder radio transmission).

and my wing man went to work while i used the bathroom. starting conversation. excused herself to let me pick up where she left off. and like coffee's body language i was addicted to, when he talked to me, he leaned against the bar, close to me. he smiled a lot. and when he shifted away, he hopped up onto the refrigerator to sit and talk. he lingered.

he was sweet and cute, and my hands were shaking, while my brain tried to remember all the things everyone has taught me about picking up boys. i asked what he drinks, when he has a drink. and aubree said 'oh, no' when i told her he's a whiskey on the rocks dude (greg). and again, when he took off his striped hoodie to reveal an utley phillies tee (greg). and playfully shoved me when he talked about his attempts at home brewing his own beer.

he asked how we ended up there, and when i mentioned that i worked in wilmington on fridays, he said, 'that's why i've never seen you before - i don't work on fridays.'

i ate it up. there are a lot of people i might see that i couldn't say whether i had helped before. but any boy that i think is cute? i remember that.

he said he can't drink on the clock, because they work alone there. so i filed that away, and when i ordered a second beer, i fed $3 into the jukebox loaded with indie favorites, and put on a few songs.

aubree noted that he liked and knew the songs i chose. the shins, weezer (everyone in the bar was singing that one), matt and kim, and phoenix.

and when it was time to shop again, i was drunk. my new-found lightweight status is a welcome change. and it gave me the balls to slide a $5 across the counter, telling him to have a whiskey on the rocks when he was done for the night, on me.

his name is dan.

i will go back and ask him how his whiskey was, on thanksgiving night.

i woke up thinking about him this morning.


we walked out, agreeing to go back. of all the bars i've taken her, that one is aubree's favorite.

she is the best wing man.


my own tendencies here toward the manic are attempting to make up for over twenty prolific posts. it's like a reader's digest version of my life - condensed.

just add water.

5 am is the new 11 pm for this kid. it's fucking my shit UP. goddamn sleep deprivation and prolificity and productivity and manic bullshit in the wee hours of the morning.

i can sleep when i'm dead. while i'm taking a dirt nap.

i'm feeling a little ill now, and i'm giving up on more details, in lieu of sleep. the sun is about to come up, and i cannot stand the thought of watching that happen.


i'll try to be better. i'll try to restrict the novel posts to a minimum.

i'll try to get sleep.

i'll try to think less, and do more.


thanks for reading, readers. <3

the middle. november 5th, technically.

my mood swings a great deal. it always has.


my day was pretty great. who can complain when they have a bonus day off from work, and a three day weekend?

well, i guess that i can.


i'm feeling pretty sorry for myself.

not even. really, i'm feeling supremely sad. and thanks to my newest bff, lexapro, i can't fucking cry it out and get over it.

and thanks to aubree, i got a surprise period today? so add hormones to the mix. perfect storm.


yesterday, i pulled my shit together on a would-be halfday, mailed packages to both nina and the writer, which i'd been trying to make myself do since july. accomplishing that small feat felt pretty amazing. and upon realizing that, by rearranging my two half days into one long day, i could have the whole day off today, i did just that.

which felt pretty smart. it ended up being a lot of work by myself yesterday; it wasn't easy, and i struggle to put into words how tired i was yesterday, and how tired i've been in general lately. completely burnt out. from working 50-55 hour weeks and not getting paid for the extra hours, which is mentally taxing.

volunteering for the job that takes a lot out of me, for the same amount of pay i've been making for another two years now.


last week, i told kenna i wanted a raise, and she agreed that i deserve one. it will probably be the new year before i get it. money is tight, and all.

i'm hoping the money i'm saving the company by killing myself right now creates the overage to compensate me accordingly.


that felt pretty good at the time. kenna almost always makes me feel good about myself and the job i do. she almost made me cry, telling me how lucky she knows she is and what a great job i do. how she couldn't do it without me, and how i definitely deserve a raise.

despite the fact that the next part of the discussion was about where to get the money to make it happen.


all aubree and i do every day is work. and bike home. and get into bed with our dinner, and watch some fringe, and pass out two episodes later, and do it again.

the weekends aren't long enough to recharge the batteries we drain during the week.


i can't force myself to do anything around the house when i get home. dishes, that is it. after being so motivated and inspired from dad's visit here, it sucks ass to not follow through and ride the wave. i just can't make myself do it when i'm that physically exhausted.

if i worked a desk job? cake. but the frantic running all day every day is stupid. i need to hire someone else, and i just don't want to, because in a month, it will be over for two months.


it's kept my mind off of the bigger things, for the most part.

but so much has been running through my brain. biking to work, making sandwiches in the back room by myself, extra smoke breaks during the day.

there's the stuff about shawn.

and stuff about ever.

and the emotional leftovers from greg, which have been waning, and so much better/easier to deal with, until tonight. it feels like shrink was right about that. i just needed a baseline of emotional stability to be able to deal with losing him the way anyone else would.

i've been getting over it, and moving past it.


you know, the thing is, i am the fixer-upper. i am the one who wants to save all the broken boys. i always have before, and i think i'm just drawn to the broken ones. and maybe i will always be.

i've progressed from the boys holding the giant waving red flags when i meet them and ignore them, to boys who can hide their red flags for a few months before slipping up and showing their true colors.

but it sucks to see that pattern, along with all of the other ones.


tonight i'm sad, and i can't cry and feel better. tonight i feel sorry for myself. and it coincides with aubree being in florida, and being alone for the first time in a month or so.

it's the same as my quarterly crises that always fell when nina was having a deadline, until this month. somehow i went unscathed.

my little breakdowns are always when i don't have access to the people that i have access to every day that the breakdowns don't happen.


tonight i had drinks with alice, and tonight the greg puzzle pieces kinda fell into place. it was something i should have thought of before now. but it was something so far out of the norm that it's no wonder i didn't.

i had the thought just this morning, the irony of which isn't lost on me.

and all i walked away from the conversation with, to bike home, freezing, and fucking alone, was that i always want to help.

and maybe why this is so hard for me, is that he won't let me help him. he shut me out at the first sign of trouble, on his end. and now, four months later, and one horribly timed sext message later, his number is gone, i'm embarrassed at my shit attempt to spark something visceral. all i want to do is go back and send what i'd originally written to him at the time. my intuition was trying to give me an assist. but the silence from that, and knowing this now, would have made this feel far worse. so it is as it should be.

four months later, i think about him so much less, but still sometimes. every day, at least once, but probably much more than that. every friday, i struggle to distract myself driving past his exit. every friday, at least i want to distract myself instead of wallowing in it like i did for months. and thinking about the exit long before and after i came to it or passed it by.

i traded thursday for friday this week, so yesterday, i actually listened to some pretty ballsy music (sad mixes, of course) while driving, and felt pretty decent. my resilience is building.

i think my mind only wandered to him in one direction, instead of both. and i quickly changed the thoughts that flowed after to something completely unrelated.


but tonight, the anger that has fueled my recovery, as it relates to him specifically, has subsided. it's been brushed aside by sadness, empathy, and helplessness.


after all, you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. i say it all the time. and you can't help someone who so blatantly pushed you away. but if he just let me listen to him. if he just talked to me... i know i could help him feel better.


i really wish he hadn't pushed me away.

i know that, if he hadn't, the past few months would have been rough for me. all of his issues would have become mine. because that's what empaths do. but also, i know from several past experiences that going through thick shit with someone also makes all the feelings for that person grow. and it would have made a bigger mess.

i have always mistaken someone else's pain as my own. taken their using me as a crutch as some form of affection, and run into the sunset talking about being in love and feeling love or something like it, while he (whoever 'he' happens to be), could give two shits about me once they're through their darkest hours. all fixed up for someone else to appreciate.

time and again.

not to mention, all of the enabling i am so fantastic at. every time. and usually for long stints without even being aware that i'm doing it at all.


fuck all, i'm beating myself up again.

growing pains? this part always sucks. but i'm learning. so it's okay.

i had to reschedule the shrink from monday to thursday next week. just this morning, i had nothing to talk to her about. i never cancel appointments when i feel like that, because it signals a coming freakout.


this post is ripe with forty five minutes' worth of session content. fodder. fantastic.


i've spent the last few nights on the dating site, perusing boys.

i can't find a single one that i want to instigate something with. and i can't tell if it is because i'm genuinely not interested in the lot of them, if i'm too afraid of rejection in light of the week i had, if i'm still too heartbroken to jump back into the pool after swimming season is over, or if i just sense that i'm not mentally and/or emotionally stable enough to tread the water and splash around again. smacking the water in a shark's presence. bad idea jeans.


but, shit. i am lonely. i am tired of not fucking anyone. i am tired of not being kissed and held at night. i'm tired of not having a makeout fest at least once a week. and i am too tired of being tired to do a single thing to change it. well, aside from barking up the same fruitless trees for the last time and learning the hard way yet again.


i have seriously considered emailing matthew just about every day this week. i don't know why i prefer the familiar, but i'll do it every time. like looking for a job. i'll always stay.

matthew was fun until he wasn't. he was funny until he was a tool. but i could count on him for fucking around on thurday nights for a while there, and that is what i'm craving.

not forever love, not even love at all. just attraction and lust and a very basic like, and working shit out, and going about business the rest of the week without a sex-crazed mind. getting a fix.


which is a beautful segue into ever.

so i quit bitching on cwsr months ago about ever, and the money he owes me, and the utility companies. but in my walking life, this past week has been a bitchfest. thanks to the kitchen sink effect.

it all started when shawn finally came to get his shit out of my garage, when dad was here a couple weekends ago, after four months of being a total jackass and leaving it here.

a week before, i emailed him in response to his email asking if he could come by, by saying, 'sure. will you have any of the money you owe me?'

and his immediate response was that he should.


so i was hopeful. and then, naturally, the day before he was coming by, he started with his threats and dramatic bullshit. about coming unannounced with cops and how he doesn't owe me money. out of nowhere. because i told him to give me a time, that i was around all weekend.


i wanted his shit out of my garage so much that i didn't fight him on it, but did respond accordingly. and imagine my surprise when he supplied copies of checks written out to ever, for first month's rent and last month's rent, saying he doesn't owe me for rent.

i didn't believe him.

until i went to the bank and asked if they cleared ever's account.

they had.


ever had lied several times, saying he had let him live here for free. he was given $1000 last december, when i had to pay the mortgage for the second time to avoid foreclosure. first and last month's rent, as was clearly stated on the memo line of the checks.

problem being, despite the fact that he went about using his 'deposit' entirely the wrong way, ever has his rent for the last month. so instead of getting it from shawn, now i have to get it from ever.

piece of shit junkie that he is.

all i can get out of shawn is three months of utilities.

add the $500 to the $400 i had to pay to the water department when i moved in, and ever now owes me $900.

i know he has no money. and i know that you 'can't squeeze blood from a turnip', as the saying goes.

but i can file something in the court that says he is not following the court order, and when he can't pay, maybe they'll throw his ass in jail. and maybe i'll feel okay about doing it. because maybe he'll get clean in the process.

his tailspin is so sad.

my entire conversation tonight with alice was depressing. all the things we had to talk about were sad. ever, greg, her own situations, my mentality and total lack of dating prospects, and an inability to meet new people to change it.

all of it.

at the end of my second beer, i was ready to go home and cry about it. but i didn't.


this has been my week, mentally, in a snapshot. it's what i've been freaking out about, talking about, yelling about, bitching about. and the last few nights? awake worrying about.

it feels wrong to call what i've been doing 'worrying' because of how different it is from what i was going through before medication. but the return of sleeplessness and slowly dribbling thoughts when i'm trying to fall asleep is not welcome.

and like i said to her tonight, girls just like to talk it out. bitch and be heard. get a 'word' or an 'amen' of sorts from anyone they tell.

and this week, i've been using all of my girlfriends for exactly that.


i had a funny thought yesterday.

i realized i hadn't checked in with brownies for a while, or lauren. and i thought, 'i have too many friends – i can't keep up with them!'

it's funny because it isn't true, but also because, just a couple months ago, i felt like i had no friends. especially before i got medicated. i felt that life without aubree would be unbearable, and that there was no one for me to talk to or hang out with or relate to here, once she was gone.

i was afraid the girls wouldn't want to be around the sadsack version of me. i was afraid to see alice because of greg.

all i wanted was to be alone, and that wasn't as difficult once i convinced myself that i had no friends to lean on.

and now i'm struggling to give each person the attention i want to, the attention they deserve? what the hell is wrong with me? it's the backlash from being a shit friend for those few months. now it feels like make up time... i think about each of them often, and now it's time to act on it, and make time.


and in my full circle fashion i always dream to have, it's all or nothing with me. i'm either up or down. extremes. i'm either an awesome friend or a shitty one. i'm either really motivated or ridiculously lazy. i'm either fantastic or awful.

all i want is the middle ground. it's a recurring theme in my writing, in my life, in my emotions, in my thoughts.

lexapro is supposed to help me achieve that.

when i said tonight to alice that the reason everything fucked me up so royally with greg was because, even though it was just starting, i felt and believed that he was everything i wanted, all in one neat little package. all aspects that seem so important to me at this point in my life. they were all there and accounted for.

and her response was, 'isn't that a lot to expect from a relationship?'

but it wasn't about expectations, exactly. it didn't seem like i was hanging anything on him. it was just a feeling. the feelings that undid all of my thoughts and that wall i'd built, garnered from him being the best version of himself. it was just a beginning.

and i'm hoping that the middle ground on lexapro isn't too lofty in the expectations department.

because it would be pretty awesome to get what i want. again. and to have it last a little longer this time.

here's to hoping the next post is more like the beginning of the last one, and not so much like this one.


sometimes a warm blanket feels a little like a hug... i'm going to think about that for a while.