First post of 2014! Yaaaaaay!
I decided to write what I can remember from my past birthdays... because I love birthdays. If I know a co-worker's birthday, it goes on my calendar and I bake them something. It's just not a birthday without baked goods, dammit! The exception is my friend who is gluten/dairy/other-stuff-free, and I'm not brave enough to delve into that world of baking, yet. Luckily she's quite good at it so she makes stuff for herself. :)
But: BIRTHDAYS!! They were always a big deal in my family, so I love them. Not necessarily my own, but everyone else's. This morning I started thinking about past birthdays, and decided I have at least a few that were interesting enough to write about. I'd also love to hear stories of other people's birthday celebrations, so leave those in the comments if you'd like! Unless it involves barfing. I don't like barf stories.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Pet Store-ies!
Apologies for the pun in the title, but in my defense, I didn't come up with it myself. About 432 years ago (give or take), I asked on Facebook what else I should write about here. One of the suggestions was stories from my pet store employment days, and someone responded with that.
I've worked at 2 major chain pet stores in my life. I was at the first chain for about a year and a half in Colorado, and the second chain for about a year in Washington. At the first chain, there was a LOT of drama. Oh dear god the drama. It was like being in middle school, but wearing a uniform covered in various animals' pee and/or poop, and getting a paycheck for your suffering. I was 22-23 when I worked there.
The Operations Manager there was a girl just a little younger than me, who took smoke breaks as often as possible and had a baby with her common-law husband - she complained about him constantly, broke up with him regularly, and I know at least a couple of us suspected him of physically abusing her but she would never admit it. She would still sometimes go to "raves" with another girl who worked there (also a little younger than me, married, 2 kids).
This was the kind of girl I'd heard existed in high schools, but that I don't remember actually knowing personally. She was nice to people, and acted like we were friends. I even had her and her baby over to my home once, and would take smoke breaks with her so we could chat. (I learned quickly in retail that if I wanted to actually take breaks, I had to pretend to be a smoker and bond with my chimney managers.)
Another girl who worked there had Bitch Face. Not Bitchy Resting Face - just Bitch Face. It was rare to get a real smile from her that made her look like for at least that moment she did not, in fact, want to kill you and everyone around you and set your corpses on fire for no reason. There's a theme going here - this girl was also younger than me and had a young child. She and I were both shift managers and "specialists" for different departments. She apparently took this to mean we were in competition for the General Manager's affections. Maybe the Ops Manager thought I was after her job, too, because these two girls had it out for me.
At some point, I thought I'd won over Bitch Face. We hung out outside of work and I made her laugh a few times, and we seemed to be getting along instead of her just glowering at me every time we passed, or snapping if I asked her for any sort of help at work. Progress!
Nope.
I've worked at 2 major chain pet stores in my life. I was at the first chain for about a year and a half in Colorado, and the second chain for about a year in Washington. At the first chain, there was a LOT of drama. Oh dear god the drama. It was like being in middle school, but wearing a uniform covered in various animals' pee and/or poop, and getting a paycheck for your suffering. I was 22-23 when I worked there.
The Operations Manager there was a girl just a little younger than me, who took smoke breaks as often as possible and had a baby with her common-law husband - she complained about him constantly, broke up with him regularly, and I know at least a couple of us suspected him of physically abusing her but she would never admit it. She would still sometimes go to "raves" with another girl who worked there (also a little younger than me, married, 2 kids).
This was the kind of girl I'd heard existed in high schools, but that I don't remember actually knowing personally. She was nice to people, and acted like we were friends. I even had her and her baby over to my home once, and would take smoke breaks with her so we could chat. (I learned quickly in retail that if I wanted to actually take breaks, I had to pretend to be a smoker and bond with my chimney managers.)
Another girl who worked there had Bitch Face. Not Bitchy Resting Face - just Bitch Face. It was rare to get a real smile from her that made her look like for at least that moment she did not, in fact, want to kill you and everyone around you and set your corpses on fire for no reason. There's a theme going here - this girl was also younger than me and had a young child. She and I were both shift managers and "specialists" for different departments. She apparently took this to mean we were in competition for the General Manager's affections. Maybe the Ops Manager thought I was after her job, too, because these two girls had it out for me.
At some point, I thought I'd won over Bitch Face. We hung out outside of work and I made her laugh a few times, and we seemed to be getting along instead of her just glowering at me every time we passed, or snapping if I asked her for any sort of help at work. Progress!
Nope.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Being and happiness
Peanut and I had an interesting discussion today that reminded me of something.
Being happy is hard. I think it takes more energy than being unhappy. Maybe other people are different, and maybe this is just my Crazy Mom influence, but "happy" is not my natural state of being. I have to look for reasons to be happy, and I actively argue with myself in my head whenever I feel myself getting upset. It takes a lot of internal head-discussion to convince myself to let go of something when I'm bothered by it.
I choose to believe that's something that lots of people struggle with. Don't ruin my delusions.
So Peanut mentioned that it's hard to avoid comparing her situation in life with other people around her. Let's be honest; most people do the same thing. But it's fun for everyone when a crazy mom does it!
Some highlights:
If you don't have a house on the beach like your sibling does, it's because your spouse has failed to provide for you!
And if you don't have at least $2,000 of free spending money every month, it means your spouse is cheating on you! How else would all of the money disappear?
Everyone else in your city drives clean cars! When your spouse spends all week working in another city and drives back home on the weekends, make sure you start by nagging about how dirty his/her car is! Remember: it's incredibly thoughtless to pull into your own driveway with a car that hasn't been washed in 2 weeks.
Everyone has cable! If your own daughter doesn't have cable at her apartment, she's a heathen. In fact, it's too embarrassing for your own child to not have cable. You'd better call the cable company yourself and arrange for them to install cable for her, so she will realize the error of her ways. (To be fair, this one happened before the advent of Netflix. But still.)
How dare the neighbors bring you packets of hot chocolate at Christmas? They must not buy anything nicer because they don't have as much money as you do. It's a good thing you have lots of money, so you can buy the newest electronics every year.
That new TV in the store looks so much better than the one you bought a year ago, and it's bigger! Better grab it while it's on sale. It can just sit in the box until you figure out which room it should go in.
Those houses on TV look so nice with their exotic flooring ideas! That means your house would look great that way, too! You might as well buy all of those materials now in preparation for doing that yourself. And a shrimp sink really helped that one place, so it couldn't hurt to pick one up so you'll have it ready when you come up with a good location for it in your own house...
The coup de grâce? Did you know that if your spouse isn't bringing home at least $1,000,000 a year, it must mean he/she's hiding money from you? Go, tell your significant other about this wonderful new knowledge! Do it now!
Seriously, though, there is always a reason to be unhappy. The real trick is figuring out which reasons really matter, and then ignoring the ones that you know you won't remember or care about in 3 months. In honor of Crazy Mom, let's all take 5 minutes today and think about reasons to be happy.
Being happy is hard. I think it takes more energy than being unhappy. Maybe other people are different, and maybe this is just my Crazy Mom influence, but "happy" is not my natural state of being. I have to look for reasons to be happy, and I actively argue with myself in my head whenever I feel myself getting upset. It takes a lot of internal head-discussion to convince myself to let go of something when I'm bothered by it.
I choose to believe that's something that lots of people struggle with. Don't ruin my delusions.
So Peanut mentioned that it's hard to avoid comparing her situation in life with other people around her. Let's be honest; most people do the same thing. But it's fun for everyone when a crazy mom does it!
Some highlights:
If you don't have a house on the beach like your sibling does, it's because your spouse has failed to provide for you!
And if you don't have at least $2,000 of free spending money every month, it means your spouse is cheating on you! How else would all of the money disappear?
Everyone else in your city drives clean cars! When your spouse spends all week working in another city and drives back home on the weekends, make sure you start by nagging about how dirty his/her car is! Remember: it's incredibly thoughtless to pull into your own driveway with a car that hasn't been washed in 2 weeks.
Everyone has cable! If your own daughter doesn't have cable at her apartment, she's a heathen. In fact, it's too embarrassing for your own child to not have cable. You'd better call the cable company yourself and arrange for them to install cable for her, so she will realize the error of her ways. (To be fair, this one happened before the advent of Netflix. But still.)
How dare the neighbors bring you packets of hot chocolate at Christmas? They must not buy anything nicer because they don't have as much money as you do. It's a good thing you have lots of money, so you can buy the newest electronics every year.
That new TV in the store looks so much better than the one you bought a year ago, and it's bigger! Better grab it while it's on sale. It can just sit in the box until you figure out which room it should go in.
Those houses on TV look so nice with their exotic flooring ideas! That means your house would look great that way, too! You might as well buy all of those materials now in preparation for doing that yourself. And a shrimp sink really helped that one place, so it couldn't hurt to pick one up so you'll have it ready when you come up with a good location for it in your own house...
The coup de grâce? Did you know that if your spouse isn't bringing home at least $1,000,000 a year, it must mean he/she's hiding money from you? Go, tell your significant other about this wonderful new knowledge! Do it now!
Seriously, though, there is always a reason to be unhappy. The real trick is figuring out which reasons really matter, and then ignoring the ones that you know you won't remember or care about in 3 months. In honor of Crazy Mom, let's all take 5 minutes today and think about reasons to be happy.
Friday, October 25, 2013
The List of Insanity
I promised a list! Everyone here loves lists, right? Good!
But there's really only one list that I'm capable of writing.
I want to make this clear: none of these points make anyone a bad person. But they do mean you (or your loved one) should seek advice from a trustworthy professional. Remember: it's okay to not be normal. Just be aware of that fine line between "eccentric" and "batshit crazy."
Signs that you (or someone you know) might be crazy:
But there's really only one list that I'm capable of writing.
I want to make this clear: none of these points make anyone a bad person. But they do mean you (or your loved one) should seek advice from a trustworthy professional. Remember: it's okay to not be normal. Just be aware of that fine line between "eccentric" and "batshit crazy."
Signs that you (or someone you know) might be crazy:
- Your house is in a decent neighborhood, but there's wax paper over all of the windows "so no one can see in"
- Your house is covered in security cameras
- You never leave your house (and you have a new excuse whenever anyone asks)
- You crouch down in your car if you do leave your house, "so no one will notice"
- You're always afraid of something
- The Enemy (the culprit behind all of your unhappiness) changes on a weekly basis
- You have proof that The Enemy exists: it's a grainy, pitch black image taken by a cheap security camera at night
- Those dirty smears on the skylight (which hasn't been cleaned in years) are actually threatening messages written by The Enemy, but no one believes you
- The police "never do anything" with your police reports (which means they must be in league with The Enemy)
- The Enemy is "pure evil"
- You never get rid of anything (and you say you're "about to start going through it" if anyone asks)
- You use an old SUV that can't move anymore as a large trash container
- You always think that if someone asks for one thing, they actually need a box of those things
- Your house is full of things you don't need and don't have a place for
- You keep buying more things because it makes you feel better
- As soon as anything goes missing, even inside your house, you immediately think it was stolen
- You use a shovel to scoop your cat's litter box
- You keep a plastic bin full of cat hair that you brushed off of a cat you had five years ago
- Family and friends watch the news/hoarding shows expecting to see you on TV
- The cat puke on the rug has been there for five years
- You think you're the only person who can stop The Enemy/catch the thieves/save the kittens
- You believe no one will take you seriously unless you exaggerate things a little bit (but it's not the same as lying, because you'd never lie)
- You're capable of justifying anything that you say or do, because you'd never say or do anything wrong
- When your family brings up the possibility of therapy or something being wrong, you get defensive and claim they need therapy
- You are the unhappiest person you know
If you want to hear more about any of those points in particular, just leave a comment. Otherwise, I'll start going through stories as I see fit. Mwahahahahah!
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Adventures in Medicating
Skip this post if you're not interested in my ongoing medication/therapy/mental health roller coaster. THERE. You've been warned.
A little over a year ago, I started a new medication. It's one commonly used to treat bipolar disorder, but in my case it was being used for, as my doctor put it, "treatment-resistant depression." At first, this drug seemed to be doing the trick. I don't remember if I updated later, nor do I currently have the energy to look, but in any case the initial high that I seem to get with any new anti-depressant once again didn't last. I stayed on it, and felt like maybe I was just able to cope better than before, and thus it was certainly helpful, right?
At some point, my company switched insurance companies and the doctor who prescribed this medication didn't take the new stuff. Figures. I found a new place where they use nurse practitioners for the medication part of mental health wellness, and once again went through the intake process. She asked me questions about feeling manic, but since my answers were all negative, I didn't think anything of it. I didn't like this nurse much, so when she transferred offices and I was assigned someone new, I was happy. I did sort of a mini-intake with the new nurse, since she had the notes from the previous woman, and when she made mention of bipolar now and then, I simply thought she was being general or thorough about what this medication was for and could do - I didn't realize right away that she inferred by the prescription itself that someone, somewhere, had actually diagnosed me as bipolar.
Several months ago, we tried weaning me off the medication, but I had a bit of a breakdown so that decision was reversed. I went back on, but at a lower dosage, and added in anti-anxiety pills. By now, there's a girl at my pharmacy who knows me by sight. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, although I suppose it's kind of nice not to have to spell my last name every time anymore. If any of the other employees now recognize me and remember my name, they at least hide it.
Between these 2 drugs, I once again felt like I was, at least, capable of handling stress. It was better than before. But, sidebar, let's talk about my cat's health for a minute. This last year he was diagnosed with IBD, which is actually kind of a funny thing to say a cat is "diagnosed" with, because the loose translation of IBD in cats is "we don't actually know what's wrong, but it's definitely something with his digestive system." The treatment is quite similar to that of mental health treatment for people: try these drugs... see how it goes... maybe try these drugs with those drugs... how's that? no? okay, let's try these and maybe some of that... It goes on like this until you find the right cocktail. Guess and check.
A little over a year ago, I started a new medication. It's one commonly used to treat bipolar disorder, but in my case it was being used for, as my doctor put it, "treatment-resistant depression." At first, this drug seemed to be doing the trick. I don't remember if I updated later, nor do I currently have the energy to look, but in any case the initial high that I seem to get with any new anti-depressant once again didn't last. I stayed on it, and felt like maybe I was just able to cope better than before, and thus it was certainly helpful, right?
At some point, my company switched insurance companies and the doctor who prescribed this medication didn't take the new stuff. Figures. I found a new place where they use nurse practitioners for the medication part of mental health wellness, and once again went through the intake process. She asked me questions about feeling manic, but since my answers were all negative, I didn't think anything of it. I didn't like this nurse much, so when she transferred offices and I was assigned someone new, I was happy. I did sort of a mini-intake with the new nurse, since she had the notes from the previous woman, and when she made mention of bipolar now and then, I simply thought she was being general or thorough about what this medication was for and could do - I didn't realize right away that she inferred by the prescription itself that someone, somewhere, had actually diagnosed me as bipolar.
Several months ago, we tried weaning me off the medication, but I had a bit of a breakdown so that decision was reversed. I went back on, but at a lower dosage, and added in anti-anxiety pills. By now, there's a girl at my pharmacy who knows me by sight. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, although I suppose it's kind of nice not to have to spell my last name every time anymore. If any of the other employees now recognize me and remember my name, they at least hide it.
Between these 2 drugs, I once again felt like I was, at least, capable of handling stress. It was better than before. But, sidebar, let's talk about my cat's health for a minute. This last year he was diagnosed with IBD, which is actually kind of a funny thing to say a cat is "diagnosed" with, because the loose translation of IBD in cats is "we don't actually know what's wrong, but it's definitely something with his digestive system." The treatment is quite similar to that of mental health treatment for people: try these drugs... see how it goes... maybe try these drugs with those drugs... how's that? no? okay, let's try these and maybe some of that... It goes on like this until you find the right cocktail. Guess and check.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Crazy Talk: Prologue
I have to preface all of this by saying that I love my parents. They dedicated the best years of their lives to making sure I would have a chance to enjoy mine. I do appreciate that. I don't blame them for when things went awry, and I believe they still do the best they can with the options they're comfortable with.
That said, my mother is crazy. She wasn't always as crazy as she is now, and it's an uncomfortable topic for the rest of my family. I have so many stories. I want you to know that it's okay to laugh when you think it's funny. I laugh about it sometimes, too. Sometimes, that's all I can do. It's a horrible situation, and it might make me a horrible person, but a sense of humor helps keep me grounded in reality. It helps to remind myself that no, it isn't normal. I'm actually afraid that if I start to think it's normal, I'll end up the same way.
There were some early signs that things weren't quite right. But first, if you find yourself thinking that you're the most worthless or unhappiest person you know, please talk to someone about it. If you read the rest of this or any of my later posts and think it sounds eerily familiar, seek out a trustworthy professional. You owe it to yourself and to the people you care about. Just by doing that, you'll be taking a huge step toward helping yourself live the life you deserve to live.
I really wish that my own family had recognized the warning signs before it got worse.
That said, my mother is crazy. She wasn't always as crazy as she is now, and it's an uncomfortable topic for the rest of my family. I have so many stories. I want you to know that it's okay to laugh when you think it's funny. I laugh about it sometimes, too. Sometimes, that's all I can do. It's a horrible situation, and it might make me a horrible person, but a sense of humor helps keep me grounded in reality. It helps to remind myself that no, it isn't normal. I'm actually afraid that if I start to think it's normal, I'll end up the same way.
There were some early signs that things weren't quite right. But first, if you find yourself thinking that you're the most worthless or unhappiest person you know, please talk to someone about it. If you read the rest of this or any of my later posts and think it sounds eerily familiar, seek out a trustworthy professional. You owe it to yourself and to the people you care about. Just by doing that, you'll be taking a huge step toward helping yourself live the life you deserve to live.
I really wish that my own family had recognized the warning signs before it got worse.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Sometimes I Don't Think... Period
First of all, while I oppose the concept of victim-blaming, I also believe in taking responsibility for being a fucktard. And I was a fucktard.
...okay, sometimes I'm still a fucktard. Shut up. In fact, I think the entirety of my 20's can be written off as a long series of frequent stupid decisions, slowing down into less-frequent-but-still-not-bright decisions in my 30's.
A good friend of mine is in Missouri right now, and it made me think of when I lived there. After a bit of a breakdown, I moved in with my folks for a while to recoup. Missouri was not exactly the most fun place I've ever lived, plus I was living with my parents.
This was so long ago, of course, the details are fuzzy in my mind. Right before I left Colorado, that dickhead who moved out while I was at work got back in touch and wanted to try long-distance until I was ... I don't know, better? ... and the plan was that I would then move back to Colorado and we would be together and la la la happiness and flowers and crazy people. I was all about it. I was desperate to be loved and wanted and whole and was basically insane.
Who was surprised when he pulled another disappearing act? Sadly, only me. It didn't take long for him to stop answering or returning my calls, to block me on AIM, to just drop off the face of the earth without a peep. Now I was in Missouri with no friends, no job, nothing to do, and now no hope for this stupid false relationship I'd been clinging to like a blind bloated tick.
EVERYTHING IS RUINED FOREVER.
...okay, sometimes I'm still a fucktard. Shut up. In fact, I think the entirety of my 20's can be written off as a long series of frequent stupid decisions, slowing down into less-frequent-but-still-not-bright decisions in my 30's.
A good friend of mine is in Missouri right now, and it made me think of when I lived there. After a bit of a breakdown, I moved in with my folks for a while to recoup. Missouri was not exactly the most fun place I've ever lived, plus I was living with my parents.
This was so long ago, of course, the details are fuzzy in my mind. Right before I left Colorado, that dickhead who moved out while I was at work got back in touch and wanted to try long-distance until I was ... I don't know, better? ... and the plan was that I would then move back to Colorado and we would be together and la la la happiness and flowers and crazy people. I was all about it. I was desperate to be loved and wanted and whole and was basically insane.
Who was surprised when he pulled another disappearing act? Sadly, only me. It didn't take long for him to stop answering or returning my calls, to block me on AIM, to just drop off the face of the earth without a peep. Now I was in Missouri with no friends, no job, nothing to do, and now no hope for this stupid false relationship I'd been clinging to like a blind bloated tick.
EVERYTHING IS RUINED FOREVER.
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