Doing All The Things: Mediocre Ramblings About Stuff

 Evening, Subheading: "How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily. I'm thirteen again; am I thirteen for good?" As mentioned in the title, this is part two of an entry on the topic of abandonment. If you haven't read the first then I'd suggest doing that.  I don't believe that all of our movement through life and our decision making processes can be blamed on our past- but it doesn't take a psychiatrist to know that the past certainly comes into play. I don't trust easily, romantically or otherwise. I think people have this perception about me that, because I am open and honest about my life and feelings, that this equates to a certain level of trust. I'm learning that, honestly, it's a bit of the opposite.  I used to choose to only trust certain people with things that I share openly now in blogs and on social media. Things about my childhood, my views on love, religion, politics. Sharing those things made me feel safe with someone,...

Evening, Subheading: On Abandonment. I will preface this piece with the following disclaimer: I have no idea where this is going; I just know I need to get some thoughts out. When I was a baby, my Mom moved to California and left me behind. I know that's a loaded place to start a story, but it was the beginning of my life, and a pattern. She moved back after a couple years, but I was raised primarily by my Grandparents until I was about 5 years old. I have memories of waiting by the door for my Mom to come visit me. Sometimes she came and sometimes she didn't, but I remember this unwavering conviction that this time would be the time she showed up. Every single time I'd tell my Grandparents, "Mom is coming. She promised." I wish I could tell you that I outgrew those baseless beliefs, or that my Mom started to show up for me as I got older, but that would be a lie. When I was about five years old, give or take, my Mom met a man named Glenn. I remember meeting him i...

 Evening, I was recently having a conversation with someone about polyamory and was asked "I'm guessing at some point you've had to ask yourself if you had the stomach for it?" My immediate reaction in that moment was "Honestly, no, I've never asked myself if I had the stomach for it because I realized quickly that this is who I am and you don't really have a choice in opting out of who you are." That felt very true in that moment, but it's been a couple days since we had this conversation, and it's been rolling around in my brain a lot.  I have always struggled in monogamous partnerships- every single one. No matter how much I have loved someone, and I have loved tremendously, it has not kept me from inevitably developing feelings for someone else. I felt inept in monogamy, broken, confused. Every example of love set before me said that if you really loved someone you'd love only them. Did that mean I didn't actually love my partner...

Afternoon, Subheading: My SFD (Shitty First Draft).  One of my favorite humans is an author named Brene Brown. She has a book that I have been making my way through recently, and it's called Rising Strong. It's a book about what it means to rise up after a failure, loss, etc. and how to do it with integrity. I could quote a lot of things from this book, but this passage currently sticks out:  "When it comes to our SFDs, it's important that we don't filter the experience, polish our words, or worry about how our story makes us look (which is why writing is often safer than having a conversation). We can't get to our brave new ending if we start from an inauthentic place. So give yourself permission to wade through the sometimes-murky waters of whateveryou'rethinkingandfeeling. You can be mad, self-righteous, blaming, confused. Just don't edit and don't try to "get it right."" When I first started reading this book it was a few months a...

Evening,  Subheading: Welp. Unfortunately, I was incorrect in my last entry when I said I was through the worst of the storm. This entry starts off bleak, but hang in there.  "Strangely enough, it all turns out well. How does it? I don't know. It's a mystery." -Shakespeare in Love During much of the week I felt moments away from some unknown disaster. On Monday afternoon I went into my appointment with my PA to discuss new medication, as I promised I would. As soon as she walked in the room though, I had a complete breakdown. I sobbed to her for probably close to a half an hour about various things. When I finished explaining where I was, she told me this was probably something beyond what she could help me with, and asked me how I felt about going to the psychiatric ER. I told her that I didn't want to go if all they could do is sedate me for awhile, give me Xanax, and send me home. That I didn't trust myself anymore, my thoughts were racing, and I was fright...

Evening, Subheading: Brains are the worst. This entry is likely to be messy, and I'm sorry for that. It also needs a trigger warning for talk about depression and suicidal ideation. As you read this, you're going to wonder why I would ever share something like this. I'm sharing mostly because I want to start better tracking the warning signs that I'm getting to an unmanagable place, so it's easier to recognize. Also, because of this quote about depression: "A human being can survive almost anything as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end." -Elizabeth Wurtzel I need to know, and everyone else needs to know, there is an end to every major episode. I've discussed previously that in January of this year, I experienced a mental breakdown. I was on a mental health leave from my job for four months, and in that time period I experimented with new anxiety medicat...