First things, first, I would like to say how proud I am to have stayed in the same house for over a year. Yes! It can be done! hehe

On to other things. Oh yes…it’s been seven years since I began this journal and even when I’ve faded, I’ve returned. From the “I rock, I can do anything (and this and that and this) because I’m fucking manic” to the nasty ass place I was the last few months, and maybe even some “hey, my life doesn’t really suck” moments, I’ve been here, still sticking to it. My audience comes and goes but I do believe I’ve a few hanging around from way back when and I am very grateful for those I’ve met over the years.

Last month while in Texas with Ash I met up with someone I hadn’t seen in nearly seven years. As I sat across the table at Chili’s, Ash doing her ultra cute bit, he just shook his head and said “I can’t believe you have a kid”. Amazing how things change, no? In the years since I had seen him he’d relocated numerous times himself and now seems to be living in a way he truly loves, what’s inside him, not what he should do. It seems I’ve progressed the same, and while it may be a struggle (ok, it’s sucked royal donkey balls multiple times), at least I could answer him honestly and with a big ole’ grin and a guttural laugh when asked “so, how ya doing?”

“Loving life!”

I had sidestepped my usual brick walls, fallen for him hard and in such a short period of time that I was crushed and deflated when he disappeared. It took some time, but I eventually scraped my pride off the ground and continued on living and hell, even enjoyed life. I met Ashleigh’s dad, Ash happened, and well, life has been a combination of a sitcom and drama all smashed into a multi-episode movie.

Interesting, words of a fortune cookie from my moments of suffrage seems to capture it all so succinctly: “Time is the wisest counselor”.

I turn 30 at 12:35PM tomorrow. Holy crap!

Another gray, cold day, leaving me horny but lazy and definitely not wanting to be home.

I see certain words written and in my head I “hear” them as someone else says them. Anyone else experience this? Perhaps it’s a sign I just can’t shake someone from my mind right now, but at the same time it’s comforting.

I probably made a stupid move this morning, but at least I’m no longer feeling sick to my stomach. Yesterday, I went to an assignment via the temp agency: nice office, easy job, local. Yet, as soon as I got in my car to drive home I felt myself crumble and couldn’t shake the feeling of dread which had engulfed me the last hour at the desk.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle the duties, nor the people. I felt like my life, the ME I’d been fighting for the past few months, was being sucked out of me. From the beginning I hesitated over the assignment but I took it so I wouldn’t seem ungrateful, no matter it paid barely over what my unemployment was. As I breezed through the day, it was only the talk of a dress code, with no tank tops, no blue jeans on casual day (any other color is fine) that halted my positive attitude and I felt my heart sink. I can handle dress codes, but it was the realization that this wasn’t what I wanted, no matter how far I went in this company even years later, I would never be where I wanted to be. I can’t fake it anymore.

Many people work jobs they don’t want, but as I’ve just discovered recently, I am unhealthy if I try to. If I have to do everything possible to not reach that level of self-hatred I felt for those few hours last night as I pondered this dilemma, then I will. Idiotic decision, possibly, but I slept well once I finally decided I could not and would not return. Perhaps others would have reacted differently, but even as I continue with my employment search I know I made the first step in retaining the me I so badly need to be.

My trip to Albertsons for salad and dinner yesterday was highly entertaining. As I was walking around the produce section, hunting down the bosc pears they always seem to move around, this guy bumped into me.  Though it could’ve been me not watching where I was going it’s quite possibly he was just being an idiot. I’ll go for that last one and I’m sure you will as well.

He was pretty apologetic, but I was more concerned about my damn right boob which had fallen out of my cami when I leaned over to pick up my bag I’d dropped. I was turned away, so he couldn’t see nor understand why I was laughing. When I turned around, he was still talking, apologizing profusely, trying to be cute and flirty no doubt. Meanwhile, I was trying to sidestep him (boob safely tucked away).

He would not leave me alone. I politely said “I’m sorry” and “excuse me” while trying to get around him and he kept trying all those retarded lines men are told NOT to use. Well, apparently he read the wrong articles. I felt sorry for him! Some awful awful men’s magazine or online forum suggested looking for love in the produce aisle and he fell for it.

Finally, I slip;ped away from him, making my way to the deli for my sandwich stuff. As I waited, the man did this not so subtle thing, trying to stand next to me, completely in my personal space.

“Soooo,” insert dramatic pause “what kind of meat you like?”

Wow.

It was like a bad porno, and while he was cute, he totally wasn’t my type and I was put off just a tad by the dumbassery.

I couldn’t help it, I turned to and said “I like breast meat” and walked off with my turkey.

Amazing. Unreal. The topper to this all was watching him shuffle down the parking lot and hop in his minivan. Yeah, buddy, go home to your wife and ask her what kind of meat she likes. Heh.

In case the few loyal readers I have left haven’t noticed, there has been little in sharing myself the past few months.  I’ve written here when I felt I would explode if I didn’t do so, yet I have not been able to express everything. There have been few who had a general idea of the constant darkness I was in, and perhaps only one person I’ve been truly and completely honest with about feelings, fears and hopes.  It is amazing how life-saving someone’s ability to make me laugh can be.

What brought on this lengthy depression I’ll never know as it had inched its way in long before I lost my job and Ash went to her dad’s.  Ask anyone that knows me and they’ll agree completely on how much I strive for reason, logic, a fucking answer to why things happen, why something is how it is. I think the most difficult part of being bipolar is realizing that sometimes, there is no specific reason why you’re depressed…and to let that go.

I feel alive again, but not in the sense that I’m barely making it through the days, with eat, walking, sleeping sufficing.  Something happened Thursday while I was Spinning;  as I my legs burned, my skin felt prickly, and when I stood up to “make it over the hill” I lifted my face and was smiling.  I am not sure what brought me back so suddenly, but as I recovered I hid my crying behind my towel, ecstatic to have returned.  I wanted to tell everyone, but I don’t think the epiphany would  have been such to others.  Giddy, I’ve been digging into my history studies, something I’ve completely neglected since class started, and I’ve slept very well, my soul not so tormented anymore.

So I’m not the most stable person around, but I am thrilled to remain the person I am, not something fake, not what others want me to be.  I may not have the husband, simple house and large group of friends, but I have an amazing daughter, my desire to learn, my willingness to love when least expected, and I have faith in myself.

Here’s a few pictures from a photo session Ash and I did while I was in Texas. Not my usual endless supply of images but I’m lucky I remembered to take any at all. I really do love it when we take time out to capture pictures of each other together…we get so silly, end up laughing and rolling around being complete goofballs. These few minutes were my happiest moments of the week. >>View pictures

Slumped in my window seat, my body is restless, my mind anxious. A week in Texas with Ash passed fairly quickly though we didn’t do anything too extraordinary. Mostly I spent my time battling sudden allergies and cleaning/sorting Ashleigh’s clothes and toys. The whole road system of Texas was a bit confusing at first, but once I knew what lanes I needed to be in, I was fine; at least when I got in the left turn wrap-around lane I wasn’t lost, just going in a circle until I was back where I wanted to be. Annoying at first, but eventually it became reassuring and I found may way.

Ash and I had our rough moments though I think they were due to us so happy to see each other, but emotionally torn because I would be leaving soon. Many hours were spent playing with the Play-Doh collection I brought with me; other times we played school (pretend play is even more difficult to focus than the real thing, lol), and walked to the park. I think the most therapeutic activity was sorting the massive supply of Legos from the Kinectics.

I will miss Ash…actually, I already do. She was exhausting, her constant chatter and inquiries taxing on my patience the past week. Nothing she did wrong, but it’s obvious I’m not doing so well mentally; it’s difficult enough when the thoughts are racing and mingling together at all hours, but to add another live voice only proved my time tiring and stressful. I am grateful I was able to spend the week with Ashleigh and I hope it was beneficial to her…but I sure look forward to the serenity of my own room. Her return to California in June will be much needed for the both of us; until then, I will make the most of the time I have and I hope she enjoys the time she has with her dad.

The moon’s agitation is in full force today and while it is best for me to remain at home, I’d rather be around another. I feel the pull, the prickle of my skin urging me to be around someone, to touch. An eclipse occurred earlier but I refrained from looking up in the sky as I arrived at the airport. The moon itself has such a strong pull on me I didn’t want to add any more intensity.

Take a pin to my skin and I am sure I’d burst, my goodie bag of emotions spilling in every direction as various colors and images.

(written en route from Austin to Phoenix)

According to Ash, I’m not just a mean mom but a “very very mean mom”. She’s shown her disgruntled ways in the past but today she said it with such force and anger all I could do was sit in the truck in silence while she calmed down. Later in the evening, Ash grew upset after not getting her way and yelled “I hate the world” and threw a coloring book down the hall, her face contorted with rage. I was grateful to be across the room.

I have been in Texas since last Saturday evening, staying at John’s place with Ashleigh while he travelled to South Carolina for work. Unfortunately, my body is here but my mind is elsewhere. It’s refreshing to see Ash after two months, to receive her handmade cards and presents with thanks as she beams with pride. We’ve made trips to the park so she could ride her new bike and supposedly so I could get outdoors and get some exercise in. But my days are still surrounded by the hopeless feeling, a clingy fog I can’t seem to shake.

Each day takes so much effort to get out of bed, and I’m following the motions, surviving on my apparent instinct to care for my daughter and to see her smile, hear her laugh. I couldn’t get moving enough yesterday to take her to preschool and so I spent the majority of the day blankly watching the prior week’s recorded tv shows with Ash playing in the living room or hanging out on the bed with me. That she seems to understand I exist in different form when “my head just isn’t working right” is helpful but heartbreaking.

Tonight, Ash was wide awake until she finally crashed around 1:30AM. She didn’t make any excuses, no stomach aches or needing water, but she just couldn’t sleep. As I sat in the recliner with her in my arms, hoping to relax her enough to drift off, I felt an awful dread, wondering of this was a sign of difficulties she will face in the future. She’s had a tough time in the past on some days (she’s also worried about someone coming in the window during the night), but tonight was the worst that I know of. My early years of insomnia and my parents’ futile attempts to get me to sleep early run around in my mind and I wonder. I dislike jumping to conclusions and assuming Ash will have mental health issues, but I can’t ignore my history in combination with my family’s. It’s a scary thought I’d love to shake but lately it’s been haunting me.

I wish Ash didn’t have to experience this whole situation, and while she reassures me “it’s not your fault, you can’t help it your head is broken,” I will always be concerned.