Sadness and Fear

I have a headache. This in itself is nothing new. But tomorrow is a big day for me and I have no time for a headache. I'm medicating and praying for it to disappear. This is all an aside to what I actually plan on writing about, which is far more interesting than me bitching about myself. Wait ~ isn't that the definition of a blog?

I don't know when it happened, exactly. It could have been gradual, or it could have come slamming down like a meteor, but things in my relationship have changed dramatically. According to my therapist (whom I generally respect), ALL relationships change as time passes. It's growth. Well, if you don't like the direction it's going, is it still growth? He (the therapist) says yes, and I need to learn to adapt. I say Fuck That Shit, how do I get it back to the way I had it before?

There's no question I'm needy. But is it needy to want your spouse to want you? Is it needy to want your significant other to come home and look at you with lust and passion, rather than be making  joking comments that seem less than sincere? I have an extremely high sex drive: I know this. We made a great team because we positively burned together. We were FREAKS. But over the past year, things have changed: I'm his friend. I know he loves me. But dammit, I want him to want me!

The past few weeks have been the hardest because I had this mental meltdown that left me incarcerated in the Rubber Room Regency for around a week. I know it really threw him for a loop, and he's a bit unsure of himself with me. He doesn't know exactly how to act around me, and he's frightened of any behaviour that deviates from the norm. This is very stressful for him, but aside from that, he has his own mental health issues to deal with; once he realized that I was relatively stable, he crashed. The unfortunate part of all this is that I am not healthy enough to fully take care of him in the way I would like to. So both of us are just out here on our own, trying to make it. On top of that, I'm resentful of the lack of passion I'm trying to adjust to, and the worst of it all ...

I am really, really not healthy.

The time in the Rubber Room Regency managed to do nothing except piss me off, although I imagine I'm less dangerous at this time than I was then. However my moods are all over the place, and maybe that's part of the problem with my lover? Has he just had enough? Each day I go out to Day Classes, and while some of it is helpful, it's also frustrating beyond belief because I have to deal with other people, some of whom are positively bananas. I've met two people I quite like, but I also know that I am brilliant at blowing relationships, so I don't expect the friendships to last.

This post has gone everywhere but where it should. I'm frustrated, sad, frightened and confused. I wish this was a topic I could bring up for discussion at Crazy Class, but somehow I think they'd disaprove ...

What Do YOU Think?

This short clip was posted by someone's dickhead brother on Youtube. I've seen it various places since then. While I'm sure some people find it amusing, I'm interested in finding out what OTHERS see in it.

I have an opinion. Of COURSE I have an opinion. Watch it. Think about it. What do you see?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YersIyzsOpc&feature=player_embedded#t=23

Oh Gawd, SHUT UP

Just when it can't get worse, it does.

Today was an exercise in restraint for me, and I have to tell you, I got more exercise than I need. My morning went relatively well; the Session Leaders were interesting, and I was taking away information that I can use in my life when I'm done with the Rubber Room Regency, Outpatient Floor.

But you know, whenever things are going in a positive direction, I should really know that the crap's going to hit the fan in a most Picasso-esque manner. 

Every few days, the dynamics of our crew change as people leave and join the group. There's a clique who've firmly entrenched themselves in the corner of the room, and Oh Em Gee, these people think they're just that much better, and just that much funnier than everyone else in the room. At my age, I really didn't think I'd have to watch people talk behind their hands during class, eat potato chips loudly enough to disrupt the speaker, drink coffee, pop their gum, wander in and out at will, and as I've mentioned before, question the Session Leader about his or her personal life. 

Today, we were graced with a new member of the group: a lovely gentleman who has apparently been with the program before, but if you ask me, didn't learn anything, least of all any manners. He CERTAINLY didn't learn anything about inside and outside voices. The Corner Clique was thrilled beyond belief to see him, and the conversation began outside of the room, continued on while they settled in their chairs, and didn't stop, despite the class starting. The most frustrating part of this for me is that our Class Leader today hasn't got the fuzzy dice between her legs to tell this group to shut the hell up. Their new groupie was particularly vocal, offering his opinion on every statement made by every other participant in the room. And he did it LOUDLY. AND MOST OF THE TIME IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. AND IF IT DID MAKE SENSE, IT WAS OFF-TOPIC. 

Yes, I'm yelling. Why? Because that's how it felt the entire time that turd was in the room: like he was yelling (he was). I was not the only one who felt that way. I finally hit a point where I decided that if there was one more outburst, I was going to leave the room. With five minutes left in the session, he asked how much time was left. "Five minutes." Apparently this was far too long for him to wait to get a drink: he got up, left the room, and came back a minute later with some kind of orange beverage. Thank GAWD no one made him sit that extra few minutes 'til the clock reached 2pm ~ could have been fatal.

This is precisely the type of person who triggers my rage in a way that frightens me. Rage that makes me want to verbally assault him. I can do it: I have the skillz. It makes me want to grab one of the many walkers in the room (and they're lined up like it's Senior's Day at the Bowl-a-rama) and just smack him square in the mouth, over and over. And once he's down on the ground, writhing and bleeding, my foot will just naturally find it's way to his chest and I'll grind my size 8.5 stiletto into his rather plump breast until he blubbers like the dickwad he is ...

Am I going too far? Is it still wrong if it makes me feel just that much better?

Sure, I Knew That.

Today, one of my nut-mates was sharing with the group some of the things that have drawn her to our program. I'm not entirely certain how to define my relationship with this woman. She's more than an acquaintance, but I don't know if we're friends. After all, if we were friends, wouldn't I have known what it was she was about to share?

Late last week, before I got to class, this woman, whom I call Mo, had a seizure. She was hauled away to the hospital in an ambulance, and very little information was shared, as hospital policy dictates. Hell, if I had a note on my forehead stating I wanted certain people to know, I still doubt they'd tell anyone. The less said, the better, you know. Anyway, so Mo was taken away, and we were left to wonder how she was getting along. While she was gone, I learned from another acquaintance that she also has lupus. Hm. Why don't I know this?

Today Mo came back. It turns out that she's going to be coming just three days a week, because she needs the extra rest. She's feeling better, just tired out.

During one of the "processing" classes, she brought a few things up, one of which left me dumb-founded. This lady was nearly killed by some lunatic many years ago. She still bears the scars both physically and emotionally of this incredibly vicious attack. 

How did I not know? How did she not share this ? I was stunned as this came out during our class, but managed to carry on anyway. I feel terrible for her, but was surprised it never came out sooner.

I wonder sometimes if this is just part and parcel of my narcissistic personality. Am I so involved with myself that things like this simply go on around me and I don't notice? Could it be happening everywhere and I'm too self-centered to see? That's a terribly frightening and sad thought for me. I like to think that I am on top of things, that I notice what's going down. Did this just slip through my radar? Or am I just so caught up in my own anger these days that no one's feelings but my own seem to matter? That, too is terribly sad.

For tomorrow, and the next few days, I'll make an effort to see what else is going on in the world around me. Whether I like it or not, the sun does not rise and set in my ass.

If I Could Just Name Names ...

One of the things that holds me hostage in this little undertaking is that I'm bound not to name names. Where's the fun in that? There are people who irritate me to the point where I would dearly LOVE, nay NEED to share their personal information with the internets; yet I'm not allowed. In fact to do so would get me in a big ol' heap of warm, steaming trouble. So I sit on my hands, sigh mightily, and hope against hope that it won't drive me to violence  ~ certain things just piss me the hell off.

Again, this requires a back story.

I am currently enrolled in an Outpatient Program for the Nutty. While I don't find I'm learning all that much from this program, what it does is keep me within their sites without putting me inside full-time. This is a MUCH cheaper way for my insurance to keep their hands clean.  During this Outpatient Program, I spend various parts of my day in different "classes," learning how to "cope" (notice all the quotation marks? That's intentional). Some classes are meant for me to "process." I'm not fond of processing, as I've never been one to bring all my shit out in public and let my intestines lay there for people to root around in. I'd rather do that in a therapist's office. However, it makes the Group Leaders MUCH happier if you participate. 

It all sounds cool enough, right? Yeah, you'd think so. Except that there are anywhere from 12 - 20 people in that room, and a good portion of them would like to speak. Some of them would like to actually "process." My irritation? The ones who interrupt the entire procedure by asking the Group Leaders personal questions in the middle of someone's rant! WTF? Talk about lack of boundaries. Now I get that the lack of boundaries is going to be an issue simply by virtue of where we are. Lets face it: we are NOT the best at maintaining any sort of parameters.  But the amount of personal crap that gets drawn into the discussions is ludicrous! Let me give you an example:

Skinny Basketball Player to Group Leader 1: "How is your microbiology class going? What did you get on your last exam? Have you figured out how to .... ? When is your wife going back to work? How is she feeling? How did the surgery go?" 

Skinny Basketball Player to Group Leader 2: "How did Fido react when you picked him up from the doggy hotel? Was he pissed? How was your weekend away? What did you do? Does your dog ...... "

You might notice that there's a common thread there; yeah, there is. And the irritation that these disruptions cause is SO annoying because these classes only last 45 minutes ~ and you better believe that when that 45 minutes is up, those people (Skinny Basketball Player included) are up and running for the door to make sure they get their full 15 minute smoke break.

Is that my only complaint? Noooo. How about standing up two minutes before the group ends and just .... standing there? Someone is talking something out: they've been raped, beaten, abused in some heinous manner, and another shithead is so self-centered that he/she has to stand there for the last two minutes because they're concerned that the class might run over by a minute or two. Yeah, we're here to help you process, just so long as it doesn't cut into my cigarette time.

Or we'll eat potato chips, chew ice chips, pop gum, pour drinks, and walk in and out of the class repeatedly ~ and my own personal favourite: sleep. Sleep to the point of SNORING. Yeah, I really love that one. Nothing says "I care" like a wide-mouthed, softly-snoring buddy. 

I don't get it. Maybe next time I'll talk about how *I* shared/processed with my Group Leader. He has no idea how close to physical violence I really came.

DO THIS! Or .... what?

I've been issued a decree from the powers that be to write. 

WRITE! Put Pen to Paper! Describe your thoughts and feelings! You'll feel better! Ohhh, if they only knew what they were asking. A homicidal maniac with a weapon in her paws, just willing to take on the job of annihilating anyone who crosses my path. This isn't really a job, as such. It's more entertainment. 

I suppose some background is necessary.

A few weeks ago, Lil Meggy had what might be described as a Major Meltdown. The kitchen suffered a brief remodel before my husband restrained me, then HE suffered a brief remodel ... anyway, after talking to my therapist and someone at the Rubber Room Regency, it was decided it would be in my best health to take a bit of a "holiday" there. Wow, euphemisms abound! It sounds like a vacation! While described as a "rest", it was anything but.

The check-in process alone is enough to make one rethink one's sanity. After an hour and a half of filling in paperwork and answering questions regarding my thought processes, I was finally led "behind closed doors" where my husband could not follow, and panic broke through my brain like a tsunami after an earthquake. While the staff themselves were generally kind, there was nothing they could do for me if they were going to continue their job, which was strip me of every ounce of dignity I had, and they were looking for that dignity in some really personal places. 

I still don't understand why I couldn't keep an over-the-counter nasal inhaler that I needed to make me sleep, as I do NOT SLEEP without it and the whole point of this exercise was to make me sleep. I also do not understand why a doctor who has seen me ONCE in his life would take me off a blood pressure medication that I have been on for years: BECAUSE I HAVE HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE.  But the strangest of all that first night was the panic attack that caused me to begin vomiting early on and just keep on doing it. I'm pretty tough: but when that nurse said, "strip search", everything I'd eaten in three days came surging back through my colon, and it wasn't nearly as good after that long.

I've never been good at being awakened early, and it seemed odd to me to wake me up at 5:30 to take my blood pressure if I'm asleep. I did manage to doze that first night. Unfortunately, it was right when she wanted vitals. Good planning on my part. I found most of the people frightening, with the exception of one sweet woman, and the nurses bound in rules they would NOT change under any circumstance. I'm sure they have their reasons. Consequently, by the time I'd been there a few days, I was worse off than when I'd come in. The Rubber Room Regency is not the place for me. When I freak out, lose my shit, crack up, I need to run. I need space, and the LAST thing you have there is any sort of privacy.

Plus the food sucks.

More later.

A Closet Full Of Black

I know I'm not the only one who organizes his/her closet according to colour. I don't suppose I'm the only person who's most significant colour is black. What MIGHT be significant is that I have more black than any other colour, I wear it more than any other colour, I'm frequently depressed, and am diagnosed with two mental illnesses.

Are these two things related? It really depends on who you ask. I like to say that I like black. I'm totally into the monochromatic look. I wear navy on navy, black on black, grey on black and ... sometimes I throw a bit of colour in there just to throw people off. Yet never have my clothing choices been considered boring.

Where my interest lies is in how I accessorize, and the shoes I wear. For me, finding the right shoe isn't a hobby, it's a lifestyle! A great earring is exciting for me. Beautiful purses should be stroked and fawned over.  Leather should be inhaled gently, before being put back in their resting places with clean hands.

When I show up at Crazy Class (more on that later) wearing black, it's immediately assumed that I am depressed. What none of them seem to be able to figure out is that it has less to do with my depression or stress level, and more to do with being a canvass for my accessorizing. Is it really that hard to understand?

Yes, it is. And I say that because every day, this group walks in wearing the same clothing/type of clothing, same shoes, same bracelet, same necklace (yawn). I don't mind it in the men so much because ... well, sometimes no one has taken the time to show them differently. But I do get bored looking at the same thing over and over!

Am I depressed? Yes. And it's mostly because I listen to these people in Crazy Class every day..... those people whom I will describe tomorrow. This is a boring post, but it's 10:30, I'm drug-addled and exhausted, and I just wanted to get something, "up". 

Ciao