mmmmm. freckles. :: da brook :: april 1, 2010
Two completely random things before I get into the meat of the entry:
I do love me some Jensen Ackles.
Today is I Will Dare’s 10th birthday!!! Congrats, Jodi! Here’s to another 10.
I’ve been in a buttload of meetings the past week with the CFO from Hong Kong. Trying to figure out the financial reporting they want to see for the two different companies I currently work for. Working, revising, pulling hair, revising, cussing, and revising The Budget From Hell. It’s hard to create a realistic budget off of unrealistic numbers. Unfortunately, we have two years of numbers we can’t really trust, and well, garbage in, garbage out. The Budget From Hell discussions actually caused me to say “Aaaaaand drink” in front of Big Boss # 2. I don’t think he got the joke, but it was definitely an “and drink” kind of moment. *sigh*
To put it mildly, it’s been a weird week at work. I’ve spent a lot of time this week trying to determine my place in their world, defining who my “real” bosses are, discussing my new space in the office, and thinking very hard about what I need vs what I want. (It’s very important to me to feel like I’m part of a team instead of “just” the bookkeeper, and I just don’t feel it… it doesn’t leave me feeling all warm and fuzzy about heading into the office, you know? I’m not quitting, but I’m doing a metric shit-ton of thinking. Things need to change.) I had to break up with a software vendor whose software is like 10 years old and still shouldn’t be out of beta. He knew it was coming, but I was still upset. I hate breakups and after all we’d been through, he really had tried to make me happy. I respect that. His software is terrible, but he’s a decent guy. Then there’s been other stuff, too, but I can’t talk about it.
Let’s just say that I really shouldn’t have taken off for Saratoga last night. I ended up driving straight home and as I write this, I’ve only had an hour’s sleep. I’m about to take a nap so we can stop by the office on our way to dinner. The aim is to have some time tonight to look at one of the larger clusterfucks I’ve been dealing with for the last few weeks. Then maybe some office time tomorrow or at least some quality time with Excel and The Budget From Hell at home.
But, Saratoga was definitely worth it. I got some quality time with friends and made some new ones. Took lots of pictures. Shook my booty. Told every one who asked me about the band that they should buy CDs. (It was an outdoor show in a bar/restaurant’s outdoor patio area with a lot of people.) SO many people who’d never heard of BMS and were amazed that I knew all the words. It was the Cleveland R.E.M. show all over again.
Ah, Cleveland. The show where the guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I knew all the words to all the songs. Um, yeah. I’ve only been a fan for my entire life.
But anywhoo, It wouldn’t be a night out at a bar for me if I didn’t get accosted at least once by a random drunk guy. Last night, this guy and his buddy didn’t like my Sox cap. I ended up putting my best Boston accent on, telling him it was just a hat and that I don’t like baseball. After he became a super-ass, I told him it belonged to my cousin who died. (The bar version of two truths and a half-lie? I did have a cousin who died, but that was in 1982… ) He let up after that, but we ran into each other again, and he still gave me a hard time. The bouncer was standing right next to me, so he was a little nicer and left me alone a little quicker.
The two rules of going to bars? Always tip your bartenders and (if you go alone like I always seem to) make friends with the bouncers. Bouncers good. Drunk guys bad.
I also ended up tripping over myself and had some guy tell me that I probably shouldn’t drink anymore. Um, yeah. I was dancing and I don’t know what exactly happened. Normally, to avoid looking like an ass when the bars are not crowded, I don’t really let loose, but since I was deep into the crowd during “We the People” (my new favorite song), I decided to just shake my rump, then I managed to trip over myself, bounced off two guys and was cut off. Which was funny, yes, but was made even better when I told him I don’t drink. At all. Then he told me I needed a beer. *sigh*
It was good to not think about anything but the music for four hours.
It was good to have an eight hour road trip (Yes. Eight hours. Round trip. Didn’t I tell you I was crazy?). I thought about a lot of things, and nothing at all. I managed to mentally outline this year’s NaNo. I even learned most of the words to The Maine’s new album. There was also some very loud singing along to “Whistling in the Dark” (which is all Rollz fault!).
Although I haven’t slept, I am feeling refreshed and am in a MUCH better state of mind than when I left work to head to Saratoga.
Still not looking forward to Monday, though.
annie and bill :: black mountain symphony, jillian’s, albany, ny :: june 25, 2010
I’ve got wanderlust and I have it got it BAD.
I’m itching to just get in the car and drive as far as I can go, as fast as I can, with the windows open wide.
Can you hear it? That seductive whisper of the open road?
I can’t block it out.
I was going to lay low this weekend and rest up for next weekend’s insanity, but I just can’t stay at home this weekend. I’m itching to move, to do something.
(What’s next weekend, you ask? Next weekend, I’m going to my very first Ren Faire. In New York. The Boy Wonder was very amused by this when I told him about it this afternoon. I threatened to poke him with the unprotected end of my sword if he didn’t stop laughing. Guess it’s “Bring Your Sword To Work Day” tomorrow.)
A few hours ago, I decided that I’m going to Saratoga to see my friends in Black Mountain Symphony. Screw work. Screw the stress I’m under. Screw all of it. I need a road trip. Yesterday!
I shouldn’t be going. A trip that far requires a hotel stay and I lose a lot of time on the road. I have stuff to do at home. I should go into work. I should bring work home and do it at the lake while J takes the kayak out. I should stay late tomorrow night so I don’t have to go in on Saturday… or Sunday.
But I have to do what I have to do. My body is longing for the tactile pleasures of the car seat against my back, my hair blowing in the wind and my mind is aching for the solace that a road trip and live music can bring me.
So, really, what else is there for a girl to do except pack her bag, get her ass in the car and drive?
You’ve given up on fun, and work so hard you slave. Youth wasted on the young. You say you justify your ways. Wait around and you’re gonna be right back here tomorrow. Tear the world apart, my friend. When you find yourself be sure to let me know… - “Stop Stopping”, Black Mountain Symphony
self portrait :: nh seacoast (rye?) :: july 18, 2010
I am feeling better.
There’s been a definite change for the better in all aspects of my life and I’m expecting it to continue down this path until next Monday.
Next Monday will bring an unwelcome change to my state of mind, but I knew that was coming. Some of this week’s perfectness is temporary, which sucks, but it may become permanent. You never know. *fingers crossed*
That said, there’s one teeny, tiny black cloud hanging over my head this week:
It looks like Black Mountain Symphony won’t be playing in Portland, ME next week like they were supposed to so…
I’m Albany-bound, baby!
Road trip & live music, FTW baby! w00t!!!!!!!!
sunset :: i have no idea, ohio :: may 23, 2010
I’ve spent a good chunk of today cleaning out digital camera cards. Yesterday, I found some old fiction that I had written.
I was struck by just how creative I can be when I really want to. A lot of the new people in my life know me as the logical accountant. They don’t really know the person I was before the events that irrevocably changed who I am. It was after I changed that the creativity just went *poof* and vanished. It took a long time for me to get the creative juices flowing again. Sometimes, I don’t think they’re flowing as much as they used to…
I read a book after we finally got my cocktail right that explained how mental illnesses (bipolar, anxiety, OCD, and addiction) were related to epilepsy. (I think both of my meds are for epilepsy. I know for sure one is. Blows my mind…) There was a story in there about an attorney who wrote brilliant briefs and whatever else it is that attorneys write. One day, his depression moved in, and he lost his ability to write. I went through much the same thing in 2001. I can’t recall if he ever rediscovered his ability to write, but I’ve found mine. I like to think that the incessant blogging I did back then kept me connected to that part of myself.
Going through the photos and reading that nightmarish attempt at NaNoWriMo in 2004 gave me a bit of a boost.
My last two successful attempts at NaNo reminded me that I *can* write. Maybe not particularly well anymore, but at least I’m writing.
That whirlwind year following Instrument all over the face of the earth ignited a new passions in me: photography. Instrument also reminded me that road trips and live music are the kind of therapy that helps me the best. Although I’ve stepped back from being That Person That Goes To EVERY Instrument Show because of work, I’m forever indebted to the boys for giving me the opportunity to discover photography, and for providing hours upon hours of therapy.
Reminding myself that I could be creative again, that I AM creative again, gave me such an ego boost.
I feel more like myself today than I have since the end of May.
Maybe I have this latest bout of depression on the ropes…
pony lurves the disco ball! :: bristol, ct :: march 21 2009
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.
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?!?!
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.
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…