Sunday, January 22, 2012

Electroshock therapy

We ended up moving to a training collar on Guinness.

We’ve tested it on ourselves, and the shocks aren’t that bad.  They actually don’t hurt - even at the higher settings. It’s more of a phone vibrating in your pocket type of thing.

It seems to be working, and we’ve found a trainer that we like. The first one was all warm and fuzzy, and between her constant reminders to be nice, she was pulling more guilt trips than were reasonable. I know we’re shitty puppy parents and that Guinness is much different from either of the Aussies. He’s a lot more work and we’re doing what we can to adapt to his needs.

But this thing with the cat.

It’s getting ridiculous.

She paws at the bedroom door, meowing, all night long. It excites Guinney, and then he attacks the door. Hard. With full volume barking.

The new (mean) trainer and the training collar have actually been huge. When he flies upstairs to go after her, a quick shock and a “downstairs”, and he’s back with us in the living room.

If you had ever told me I’d be working with a trainer like ours and shocking my puppy when he tries to kill the cat, I would have told you you were out of your mind. (Seriously. It doesn’t look like play and even if it was, he’s too big and too strong to play nicely with someone that little.) But, desperate times and all that. Guinney is big and strong. He’s got a few schutzhund champions, police dogs, and show dogs in his blood. He’s more fearless than pretty and the breeder was going to keep him as a stud. At the last minute, they received a dog from Germany to replace him. Yeah, they’re pretty hardcore.

In the two weeks we’ve been working with him and the collar, we’ve seen a lot of improvement.

And that’s been totally worth it.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

You either get it or you don’t. There’s no middle ground.

I posted on Facebook that I was going to decorate my office in silver ribbons. While wearing a red dress.

The high school honey responded that there was no way in hell I’d wear a dress.

He was right, but he completely missed the point.

I refuse to be a victim of mental illness and, truth be told, this has been a particularly bad week on the bipolar roller coaster. My mood swings have been pretty rapid and deadly to those who get in my path at the highest and lowest points.

If you read here pretty regularly, you know that the Bloggess’/Jenny’s blog entry I posted a while ago was REALLY important to me. It really helped me fully understand that I wasn’t the only one who feels the way I do. I can’t self-harm PHYSICALLY because blood grosses me out, but the EMOTIONAL damage I do to myself is brutal.

I was serious about the silver ribbon thing - I want to put a big one right where I can see it. For that reminder that I should never give up.

The red dress thing was more symbolic. I want to do something crazy and empowering. Something that is me reclaiming my life. To stop accepting the bipolar as the pain in the ass it is. I know I can’t change it - I can only control it. When biology trumps science, I need that reminder that I can get beyond this. That I will get past this rough patch.

That I will survive.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I totally feel like Hayden right now…

Tonight, I’m rocking a fucking migraine like it’s a chair.

What?

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The floodgates have indeed been opened

Being forced to confront some pretty nasty demons is painful enough as it is.

Then you add to the mix:
Missed opportunities. Pain. Heartache. Two felony charges. A new wife/stepchildren.

All of those make this so much harder than it needs to be.

But I knew this would be bad… very, very, very bad.

And I wish I had someone I could talk to about it.

I need to work it out in my head, but I need a sounding board.

A friend who can kick me in the ass and shrink me.

*sigh*

ETA: It’s not so much that I don’t have friends. At least, I think I have some left since I started the Great Pull Away during The Amazingly Long and Wonderful Depression Cycle of 2011… It’s just that due to the severity of this, there’s no one I feel comfortable asking for help from. In addition, due to the lingering feelings, it’s not like I can turn to J. I think that crosses a line or two - for my more conservative readers, I suppose it’s almost like cheating. Everyone knows you don’t admit to it until you’re caught in the act…

Monday, January 16, 2012

Yup. I’m manic today.

The number one sign is that I am cracking myself up left and right.

The number two sign is that I’m rocking out in my office, actually having a good time. ON A FUCKING MONDAY THAT HAS BEEN ABSOLUTE CRAP SO FAR.

And because I never want to forget this: “glace de poulet” became “glass of chicken”... I laughed so hard I’m surprised no one came in to see what was so funny.