autohaptic

I now belong to a gym and have a trainer. I'm kind of regretting the trainer bit, because I don't really have the money for it, so I'm going to ask him next time I see him (Thursday) if I can go down to two days a week instead of three because I've done the money and I really can't afford it... /sigh

Times like this I wish I were well enough to hold a steady job.

I haven't had my night meds since Wednesday, and I haven't had my day meds since Saturday. Which means I've slept horribly since Wed and been depressed as hell since Sat. I finally got my medication today, and the only thing I can think is: finally, I can go to sleep.

It's funny how one can take such a thing for granted, until it's suddenly not there anymore.

Was getting ready for bed and then realized that I hadn't done my introspection for the day!

Today was pretty good. I went to the program this morning. It was fine except for one of the other members, who we will call J, has decided that me offering help for her when she's taking on very big tasks (making mashed potatoes for thirty people?!) by herself is telling her how to do it. It's fine if anyone else in the kitchen offers to help, or she tells them to help, but if I ask she gets all uppity and it's kind of unfair but I'm not sure how to really approach the problem effectively.

Or if I can approach it effectively; obviously she's taken a disliking to me if she's making that sort of exception for me. It's not a nice feeling, but I don't know what to say to/do for her to make it better and at the same time not feel like I'm laying down my dignity and letting her walk all over me.

MAYBE THAT'S WHAT DBT IS FOR, LOL. Fff it's always annoying when these sorts of things end up being useful and applicable to real problems and shit. Makes me feel like all the balking I do in regards to them is silly and useless. O wait... /sigh

After lunch I went and rode a horse. No, really, I did, and even though my back was like ow ow ow (I walked the whole time, instead of getting up to a trot eventually like everyone else did) it was still very fun. I just wish I could have spent more time there; I didn't get to brush down Shadow afterward or anything and it felt really lacking when compared to my prior horse-riding experience. Lessons are $50 a pop, which is about equal to the cost of counseling, so I'll see if I can talk dad or mom into funding it because the lessons are supposed to be therapeutic so.

It's been almost ten years since I was on a horse, though, and I was very awkward but once I was on him and walking along doing the "woah" and the "walk on" and stuff it was very... I liked it a lot. I could feel the way he hated stopping, and the way his muscles would bunch up waiting for me to tell him to walk on again.

For the first time ever I managed to get to 99 and rebirth, and (irony of ironies) it was with a class I'd never even played before a week ago: dancer. It felt good to accomplish it, though, and to get to party with Roo and stuff.

I keep slacking with 6x, only taking a few pictures but... IDK, I think I need to make something again to get back into the groove of it. Only I'm moving on Monday. Fuck. (But not-fuck, too, because I am very excited about having a place of my own again. I love my family, but they are very hard to live with.)

The lodge this past weekend was very... enlightening, in some ways, I guess. Or it allowed me to see the truth, which I guess is what I asked for.

Because, the truth is that I am in control of my own happiness.

That said, I have (and do) allowed myself to despair, and sometimes to wallow in it. I was describing it to mom this afternoon on the phone: I usually know precisely what it is I should be doing, but I don't do it. Very often I can't make myself face these things, face my neglect of myself and my emotions and my being. But I have to face it or I'm never going to get better.

This morning a bird was dancing on the telephone/cable wire right outside my window, chirping away. I never got a look at it, because I was laying in bed, but it was loud and telling me that I'd wallowed long enough, I'd laid there awake but not getting up long enough! I think I lay a bit longer after that but it was a sign.

Later today I went outside and just sat in the sun for a while. Soon after I went out a brown thrasher landed in the dogwood in the yard and just started singing to me. There were no other birds answering his call (and I'm not sure how I know it was a him, I just do) and he sat on the tree for a good long while, just talking to me. Skitting backwards and forwards through a billion different calls like a mocking bird. It was neat.

I found out from Karen this weekend that Hummingbird can be in some ways considered the most powerful spirit animal there is. I have thought for a while that my other animal was Eagle, and been fearful of that power, that sort of responsibility. But it makes perfect sense that if my right hand is Eagle, my left would need to be just as strong to keep things balanced. Thus: Hummingbird.

The truth is also that I will never be connected with nature until I put out the effort. Until I sit outside, until I go on walks, until I put myself out there for that contact.

Mom talked about doing things with baby steps: not doing a whole thing, just doing a little. Just a bit, instead of doing all my laundry maybe just do my underwear. Instead of cleaning all of my room, maybe just take all my dishes to the kitchen.

I didn't take my night-time meds yesterday. I will be out when I take them tonight. I have to get a scrip ASAP /sigh. But at least I have a counselor appointment tomorrow.

Mom and I had been talking about the box, where it seems like everything is happening and we can observe that it is happening but we're helpless to do anything. There's not even any trying just a little because it's just... not something I can face.

Which brings me back to the beginning I guess: I am in control, whether I exercise that control or not.

I'm a slacker when it comes to household chores. But really that's not the way I look at it; normally I'll let stuff pile up a little and do it all at once, provided that there's no pressing need for whatever dirty thing to be clean. It just makes sense to me, rather than spending five minutes two or three times a day to clean dishes/the stove, to spend ten or fifteen minutes every other day to clean the same amount of dishes/counter/whatnot.

My nanny and Joyce don't see it that way, of course: they're both obsessive-compulsive about cleaning shit. If I leave dishes, they always do them before I get a chance. I've told them several times to just set the dishes to the side and I'll clean them, but they apparently can't stand the sight of ANY dirty dishes.

I cooked bacon and eggs about ... less than an hour ago. My nanny came in and was all, "you'd better clean that stove, girl."

1) I am not a child, there is no need to address me in words or tone as one.
2) I know what needs to be done after I clean; there's no need to remind me.
3) It's not even been an hour, why the FUCK are you reminding me already??
4) This is the peak of a pattern that's been emerging, of Joyce and Nanny nagging at me to do shit at their speed instead of my own.

And a myriad of other thoughts, but those are the main ones. She said that I'd better not wait until midnight to clean it and I snapped at her that I'd clean it whenever I damn well felt like it, which might not be until tomorrow if she kept on the way she was going. Also, that she wasn't my mother. (And thank god she's not.)

We back-and-forthed for a moment or two, and she finally turned and left (my goal with the whole thing was to get her to leave me the fuck alone) and as she left was like "you just wait until I report you!"

"To who?" I asked, still audibly annoyed.

"Your daddy! He'll straighten you right out."

Hahahahahahaha. I don't think she took very well to my laughing at that; oh well.

To make a long story short, daddy's never been able to discipline me because he's too much of a child himself. The idea that he'll "straighten me out" is laughable at best but mostly just flat-out preposterous. It's absurd. Daddy's incapable of keeping himself in line and just lost $37k over it-- I have no idea what makes nanny think that he'll be able to suddenly keep me in line when he's never been able to do that before with me or Gene (my brother).

In the end there's a very simple moral to the entire thing: I really need to get the hell out of here. Daddy's talking about not going to the west coast until after summer's over and I really can't wait that long. I'll go sixteen kinds of crazy by then. It's time to start figuring out my own plans; I don't know why I didn't do it this way from the start.

Happiness is Madonna. I love her music so much.


kaigou, just so you know: this journal has very few people who actually read it and as such is kind of my place that I do introspection. The only posts that aren't public are locked for the safety of my family.

More fannish stuff tends to be posted @ LJ, when I bother. Please don't feel obligated to comment on personal blather, though I certainly won't mind. ♥


Playing Fabled II when I can. I think mostly I'm just looking for something to bury myself in that is nice and easy and, most importantly, mindless. I feel kind of bad but then I don't because, hey, I'm not quite as miserable when I bury myself in things.


I think I may end up writing three stories for this week's PS prompt. Oops? I'm nearly finished with the second and already have an idea for the third. (Thanks, TV tropes.)

A question I ran into today when talking to someone: I read tons and tons of fantasy (and I typically love the very high fantasy type stuff-- magic and dragons and so forth) but I write virtually none.

I think part of the reason may be that in my mind, fantasy books need a much larger plot that involves Saving The World and so forth and mostly I write porn. I fluff it up sometimes (Vampire Bunker, Nothing More) but mostly, that's what I want to do and that's what I do best. I just wish there were more of a career in porn-writing; I think at this point I'd happily do it forever if I knew I'd be able to eat and so forth. (Hell, I'll do it forever whether or not I do go on to write things that have outside "literary merit" so that I can write underage and non-con and still get it published. LOL, indecent.)


I'm not doing very well with 6x this week. I skipped meds last night and this morning and feel zero need to do anything I don't really want to do. I'll snap a couple of pics of Crystal Boy before bed, or something.


And last but not least: A certain someone took me off her f-list on DW and on LJ. Mostly I think I feel rage that she waited for so long; I really did harbor some hope that she'd get over her issues. But no matter whether or how much I wanted to apologize, she never gave any indication that she wanted to listen to it. I tried contacting her many times (After ten, I quit counting, because it was too depressing to maintain a number) and she never once replied, even the times I tried to contact her that were in regards to the mutual project.

It makes me think about Lucy, in some ways. I mean, I haven't tried to contact Lucy since I left Boston. I still read her LJ, but I don't want to say anything because I feel like I already asked way more of her than she should have had to do.

Mom and I talked a bit about Lucy this weekend and the end conclusion is the same as before: I don't feel like I am valid in saying "I'm sorry" to her until I can assure her that it'll never happen again. I don't think that apologizing will make us friends again-- it won't, and I'd never require that sort of thing from her at this point because I'd feel too guilty-- but I still want to do it because it's something that I just need to do. Say something on the lines of, "I'm sorry I tried to kill myself. You didn't deserve to be put through that" and leave the rest up to her.

It sucks, though. I keep wanting to comment on her journal-- my new therapist is from south of Boston originally, and was talking about how old man winter was a real son of a bitch in a way that reminded me of the post she linked @ b0st0n. Ah well. A goal to work toward. Everyone needs those, do they not?

Been very depressed the past couple days. I ended up getting into a staying up late/waking up late type of sleep schedule, which may have caused it, or it could just be a natural sort of down.

Or because it feels like I get cut off at every turn by circumstances, nowadays. If I'd stayed in MA, I could have retained my mental health insurance and also my disability pay. Of course no one tells me this until after I move (despite my mentioning to people in both areas that I would be moving, and asking if my benefits would continue and being asssured they would. Next time I'm going to get that shit in writing) so I'm sitting in Georgia either in a house that makes me sick physically or a house that makes me sick mentally.

I've always known I wasn't good with cigarette smoke. I found out yesterday that if I am in an enclosed area with it I end up getting some pretty severe headaches. My aunt is very conscientious about her smoking; she only does it in the living room, she always has the little air purifier going, and if I'm in there while she's doing it she'll open the door next to where she sits so that the smoke can go outside.

Mom and Harold normally smoke in the garage, but they've stopped doing that since it's been so cold and as a result it's miserable for me to be in the house. At this point, it's even miserable for me upstairs because the central heating circulates the smoke throughout the house. For the first time since moving back here, I actually would rather be at my aunt's house than here. But I can't: I have to clean all my old stuff out of my old closet so that carpet can be put in.

This is all stuff from living in Atlanta on my own. I've done without it for three years, so my temptation is to just throw it all away, but there's kitchen stuff and old notebooks and the like that I can't bear to part with. Also, sheets, towels, etc. I've gone through about 1/4 of the stuff and really, really want to just chuck the rest but am somewhat afraid to.

Which is rather irrational, I think. It's stuff that I had from living on my own, yes, but I've lived on my own in Boston for how long and I didn't need any of it? There's no rational reasoning for keeping any of it, but I still want to because I hate to spend money on things that I just threw away. But this is stuff that's been pretty much dead to me anyway; I might as well not own it in the first place.

Argh. Maybe I'll just go back to reading/editing VB. God knows I'm not doing myself any favors sitting here trying to decide whether to keep shit or not. I'll just throw it away, and if I need more Daddy can buy it for me :|

Ok, time for a real entry I guess.

Christmas with my family was nice, even if it was my dad's side of the family. I'm not especially fond of them, but it was the first time in two years that I didn't spend Christmas away from them. Despite the fact that I got next to nothing (aside from cash, I got about $200) I was very happy with this Christmas. I liked the feeling that I was actually part of a larger family-- I hadn't felt like that in a while so it was nice.

I have made the discovery that I have a gift with babies ^^; I quiet them, unless they're really in need of a bottle or diaper changed. If it's just fussing, they'll quiet right down when I hold them. It was neat and scary at the same time, and more than ever I want a child of my own but I know it's not the right time yet.

When I was dating David once upon a time, my mom told me something along the lines of "he's just a toy anyway-- you're going to marry a black man."

My mom has a gift. She well and truly does, and I don't care if you think I'm crazy but it's just how it is. Call it intuition-- I have it to, to an extent, so. No denying it.

Anyway, I asked mom on New Year's about it, and she said, "It's a minority. You're not going to marry a white man." with the same absolute certainty.

Kinda cool, I guess. Along with that had come the realization of why I am going to move to California: I need to learn native ways from someone out there. No one here is suitable for teaching me, I suspect because they're all connected to Gary Fourstar. (That's a whole other entry, but I don't even want to dwell on it-- suffice to say that I respect his status as an elder but I would not tolerate well learning from him.)

So I think I may end up marrying some Native man, IDK. We'll see how it goes, but mostly it was the connection of the two things that amused/pleased me the most.

I've been doing a lot of spriting for Dragon Cave, too. It's fun, and I'm learning a lot. I'm not the best spriter, but I'm getting better!

I was going to Peachford for a while (and by a while I mean a week and a half) but my insurance is all messed up now, so I'm at a loss for what to do. I can't get Medicaid because I'm not pregnant and don't have a child. My insurance I get through COBRA doesn't cover mental health, because I no longer live in MA. More and more it seems like moving down here was a mistake but you know what?

I'm supposed to. I was supposed to. I'm supposed to go to California with dad, too. I never would have done that if I'd still been in Boston.

It's just making it until May that I'm worried about. I will, one way or another. I have to; I can't give up now.

Maybe I should start doing happiness is's again. Along with doll pictures. e_e

(Also, the music is making me LOL. I did not plan this.)

Hey, something new and different: I was hospitalized again. This time I refused to go to St. E's, and ended up at McLean hospital instead. It helped me, but I was a lot further down this time than I was last time so even now that I am well enough to be out I'm still pretty fucking bad.

I don't really want to go into it; suffice to say that I attempted to return to work and I failed miserably.

But now I am home again! And my mother is here with me. This has been met with varying degrees of success; I am freaking out whenever she tries to restrict me or tell me what to do, and freaking out hard. But I'm fine most of the time, and I'd be more fine if I had nobody telling me to eat and shower and take my meds and so forth when I was already going to do all of those things. I just tend to rebel when someone tells me to do stuff like that x_x

Though the biggest thing mom and I fight about is a dog.

You see, I want to get a Psychiatric Service Dog. Yes, they exist! and I'd say that if anyone needs one, I need one. I'd like to get on ASAP, as I'm not looking forward to all the things I'll do to myself when I'm alone. (This is the cornundrum for the hospital: they can't keep me if I'm not wanting to cut/kill myself. But I don't want to cut/kill myself if I'm not alone most of the time.)

Anyway, mom doesn't think I should have one because... pretty much because she doesn't understand the way my bipolar works well enough. Yes, I have trouble taking care of myself. I do not, however, have trouble taking care of other people. Or animals.

But she won't believe me because I didn't do a very good job taking care of Niko the cat. But I believe the issue there was quite different from the issue here, especially because I think I'm at a different place here as opposed to there.

And then there's the money issue, and how I don't have enough to afford the $300-400 adoption fee. But then certain family members might be willing to help out with funds, blah blah blah...

I cannot see any reason to not try getting a dog. Who knows, maybe it won't work-- in which case I will call the rescue company back and give the animal back up for adoption. But I won't know unless I try.

So uh. I'm probably getting published. Like, the editor's going to send me the contract to review.

....

:D

No wait, let's try that again.

:D