This is not the entry I thought I’d write.

This is not the entry I wanted to write.

Then, I read this: “Let it flow, let it go” by Miss Banshee, and it hit me hard. If you were (un)lucky enough to know about That Blog I Used To Have, you know, the one where I was open, brave, reckless, stupid, mean, etc., this one may feel like a bit of let-down. I know it does for me some days. I don’t feel like I’ve been true to myself for a long time. That blog, that domain, wow. It created a shit-ton of havoc in my life and an equally large amount of hurt feelings. That was the price I paid for being me, uncensored, without a net.

But I miss it.

I keep coming around to the fact that I want to remove the self-imposed gag order… that I want to dust off that domain and be ME again. I don’t know… Right now, I can’t. Or I don’t want to. I haven’t decided…

I stumbled upon Miss Banshee when one of her entries popped up on that BlogHer ad thingy I have on my sidebar. She blogs the way I used to, but in a much more family-friendly manner. I’m not that polished, nor disciplined, and I don’t want to be, but that doesn’t have anything to do with anything. Nope. This is related to her openness and honesty about her past. It’s something I used to be, and it started some very good dialogues, both online and off, about bipolar, depression, suicide, and the other fun aspects of being me.

Which is a very roundabout way to get to today’s entry…

The title of this entry is my official diagnosis. Bipolar with a side of borderline personality disorder. I think I’m bipolar I, but I don’t remember for sure. I do know that when I start to “slide”, I tend to live in a mixed state. I used to be severely manic… then I started taking my cocktail, and life calmed down. Literally. I’m not sure what I think about the borderline label. I’m sorry, it’s “emotionally unstable personality disorder” according to the fine people at Wikipedia. Because that’s SO MUCH BETTER.

Seriously.

Spend enough time with me - you’ll know that I’m emotionally unstable, but do I have to wear that obvious a label? Isn’t it bad enough that I’m MENTALLY ILL?!?!

Ugh.

Anyhoo, back to the point of this entry…

I’ve been in a weird place since coming back from my MIL’s funeral. It’s tended to slant toward the depression, that deep, dark, soul-crushing variety that only truly depressed people understand, and that’s pretty frightening. I’m self-aware enough to know that’s where I am mentally, and I’m trying desperately to not cross that imaginary line I have in my head. The one where I go from functional to completely withdrawing from everything. But I have withdrawn. I barely tweet and I’m never on Facebook. I’m just not interested in life online, and that’s (unfortunately) my most obvious symptom. I’m the last person to pick up a phone and call someone on a good day. But I definitely won’t pick up the phone if I’m in The Bad Place and need to hear a friend’s voice, because calling them and saying “I need you” just isn’t me.

So I sit here, trying to keep my head above water, and not let anyone know I’m drowning.

It’s fun.

You should try it.

I’ve had a break from all the doom and gloom several times, though. I live for those manic episodes, when I’m just completely in love with the world and I just want to experience more of it because it’s so wonderful andIcan’tbeleivehowgoodthisicecreamconetastesheylet’sgoshoppingorsomethingbecauseIcan’tsitstill. Yup. I look forward to being out of my mind. That’s what it’s come down to, lately. I wish I could control the mania, both in terms of scope and in terms of when it occurs. If it were as easy as forgetting to take my meds, I would have been off of them for the past two months. Anything to take the edge off of this depression…

I hate feeling like this and I hate being aware of what’s going on with me.

I hate that I can’t just “get over it” and that it’s not “all in my head.”

I hate the fact that I will be on meds for the rest of my life.

I hate that there’s no quick fix and I’m running out of patience… 

I’ve spent the last few hours moving files from an overcrowded back up drive to roomy new digs.

Of course, sorting through the hundreds upon hundreds of photos I’ve taken over the past few years was exhausting. I found some I’d forgotten I’d taken. Some that made me laugh. Some that made me cry. Some that made me go “WTF?!?!”

Pony.

There are *so* many pictures of Pony it’s amazing. Scratch that. It’s scary.

I found a lot of things - screenshots, word documents filled with bits of IM conversations, Letter(s) Never Sent (HA!) - that I don’t ever want to see again. But I’ll save them. They’re part of my life, and I’ve been embracing the warts and the toxic crap I’ve been finding. I remembered - while looking at a picture that made me burst into tears - that even the shitty parts of my life have value. Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am.

That said, I was reminded of BiG MiSTAKE several times through my clean up.

This one’s for you, BG. Because, well, you destroyed the scene.

friendships - you thought were strong
torn to pieces - they didn’t last too long
and now - with nothing to hide
expose their faults - and make them see your side

now it’s time - to mend this scene
unity among us - would be real keen
friends forever - just having fun
this scene of ours - will be redone

lyrics by Ted Wohlsen
© 1989 BiG MiSTAKE

Just because I love you guys: You Destroy The Scene.mp4 (Don’t be a dick - right click!)

So…

I had my last beginning fencing class this week. I was the only one that showed up so I got to bout with both the teacher and some random British dude that was there.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I did very well. It’s a very logical sport… yes, it’s physical, but it’s also very logical. I’ve seen it referred to as “physical chess” and I guess that’s kind of right. There’s a beauty to it and there’s also a nice bit of violence to it. Not like punching violence (hockey), but the fact that fencing has its roots in combat. It’s very stabby. I like stabby.

I’ve got a month to kill (HA!) before I start the intermediate class and I’m going nuts. I’ve got to teach J how to fence so he can practice with me!

Anyhoo, last weekend was LEGEND - wait for it - DARY!

I always have a good time when I head up to Albany. Black Mountain Symphony is made up of some of the most talented musicians I know, and some of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I am never disappointed when I get to spend time with them. The music’s rocking and the atmosphere - I don’t even know where to start. I can’t even… there are just no words.

Best non-musical moment of the night: hanging out back with the band, Orion spitting lemon seeds at Bill. Bill gets pissed and says, “I will end you, Lollipop Guild!” Rollz says “It’s true because he’s small!” (I love Rollz. The more I get to know him, the more I like him.)

I woke up early Saturday and headed to Connecticut. I ended up taking a detour and wound up at WEBS in Northampton, MA. Eh. I don’t get the hype. Patternworks in Center Harbor, NH is much better. Didn’t stop me from spending too much, though. I almost laugh until I cried when I overheard two women talking. The first one asked if her friend was buying any yarn. The second one replied with “I have more than enough yarn to last me my entire life, OF COURSE I’m buying more!” Ah, women and SEX. There’s just something about going on Stash Enrichment eXpeditions that’s so much fun. Plus, I found a Latvian Mitten pattern book written in Latvian and English. How cool is that?!?! I had to get that. And there was a lot of sock yarn on sale… yeah. I can run my own yarn store off my stash. It’s part and parcel of being a knitter, I guess.

Once I got done at WEBS, I headed to Wickham Park. It used to be one of my most favorite spots in Manchester when I was growing up. It still has a lot of it’s original charm. I have a picture of my parents in the Oriental Garden area and just walking through there made me cry. I wasn’t expecting that. I spent a lot of time, and a lot of money (sense a theme?!) feeding the ducks and squirrels at the duck pond. It was healing and heartbreaking - just the way it should be.

I’m finding that most of my trips to CT now have the power to make me feel so good and so shitty at the same time. I guess it’s just part of coming to terms with everything that’s gone on, has been going on, will go on in my life. There’s a reason I don’t live in Connecticut. Why I will never live there. I thought I was over the worst of it, but Connecticut, and its ghosts, aren’t done with me yet.

Further proof of that was my surprise guest to the All Crazy show Saturday night.

My ex, the high school honey, texted me to see if I was still going to the show. I had a major foot-in-mouth moment when I asked him, good naturedly, how the wife was. Yeah. They broke up. WHOOPS! Other than that, he has moved out of his mom’s place, gotten a great job, and is doing well. Like me, he needed a little musical therapy. Like me, he had a blast. (I LOVE WHEN I’M RIGHT!)

Soup and Skinny hung out with us for a bit. I taught Josh about “SPARKLEHORSE \nn/” and it seemed that the evening’s refrain was “See? They’re not douchebags.” There were very few hookers in attendance which made me kind of sad - he didn’t get the full Up or On the Rocks experience. I got a very nice shout out from the stage (“My friend, Tam, in the pigtails…”) and the music was insane. THEY were insane. I couldn’t stand still and Josh kept up with me all night.  I was amazed by his stamina (insert dirty joke here). Seriously, it was like 100 degrees in there. I don’t know how I kept going and I was riding a pretty good manic high. Better living through chemistry? Ha. Body beats science. Again.

It’s weird being with him. Even after all this time, I still feel a certain connection with him. I shouldn’t be surprised. We were together a while and well… there was a reason we were together. There was a reason we got back together after we broke up. And there was a reason we broke up. Twice. Of course, he’s not that person anymore. I’m not either. But what’s happened has happened and the people we are now still get along very well.

At any rate, it was a successful weekend on so many levels.

I do so much better when I take the time to keep myself happy…

The beautiful thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

The shitty thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

Unless you specifically call someone out and say, “X, you blah blah blah turnip an octopus”, everyone will think they’re “X”. Shit, everyone will think they’re “X” anyway, like “X” is a code name for them. Even if they’ve never turniped an octopus. Having the entire world think they were “X” never bothered me before. I used to be brave. Fearless. Stupid. Reckless. Back in those days, blogging was awesome. I felt like I was doing some of my best writing.

Whatever it was - good, bad, ugly, riot inducing - it was real.

Now, I’m tiptoeing around.  I’m afraid to say what’s on my mind because I know someone will take it wrong.

I don’t know when I started to care, but it’s gotten old.

There was a blog entry I wanted to post, badly. I needed the closure that putting it out for the world to see would give me. (Nothing’s real unless it’s on teh intarweb, right?) But, I can’t. Too many people would think it’s about them. Some of them would be right… and I don’t need that level of drama.

I’m not working nearly as much as I had been and I’ve found that the fencing is great mental and physical exercise. I’m spending less time on the computer after work and I don’t find myself missing it nearly as much as I thought I would. All around me, things are changing… I’m changing.

I’m happy with who I am and where I am right now. 

I’m - dare I say it? - enjoying my life.

I’ve been bouncing around for the last two weeks after I realized that I can do s00per d00per wicked FUN things this weekend. Tomorrow, I’m off to Albany to hang out with Annie, Bear, Bill, Chris, and Orion (aka Black Mountain Symphony). Saturday, I’m CT bound- I’ll spend the day lounging around and visiting some of my favorite haunts before heading into the Insurance Capital of the World to hang out with Soup and Skinny.

Two days, two of my favorite bands, and a whole lotta highway.

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

The husband just said this to Apache:
“You are our number one, behind our number one. Which makes you number two, and that’s why we call you The Poo.”

Truer words were never spoken.