Blooming Psycho’s New Strange World Today

I need the buzzing in this hive of activity that is my life to stop.

This isn’t good-busy. It’s just busy. Always running around, never accomplishing anything. No, I really don’t have a workout schedule because when I’m not DOING I’m trying to catch some sleep.

What am I doing?

Working, obviously. The night shift. Usually Thursday through Sunday, 10 PM to 6:30 AM.

Then when I do the clinicals, they are on Tuesday and Wednesday, 6 AM to between noon and 2:30 PM.

There is no choice.

I can’t give any of my days at work up because then I lose my benefits.

I can’t do the clinicals at another time because there is no choice offered.

When I’m not sleeping, I’ll walk my dogs or try to work on something that keeps my soul alive.

I also have to take my son to appointments. He has depression and anxiety that is severe enough that it keeps him from being able to go to work or school. Such a sad thing because he is very intelligent. He deserved better than this lousy genetic hand that he was tossed. I’m going to have him ask his psychiatrist about looking into disability payments to at least help foot the bill for medication and treatments. I know it’s hard to get psych disability. It’s hard enough to get physical disability.

Then there is my ex-husband/roommate, who would be living under a bridge if he weren’t living in the trailer with us. Before you say anything about kicking his free-loading ass to the curb, he’s half owner, so he does have a right to be there. He isn’t abusive, and he does have mental problems (severe depression) too. He tried to get food stamps but they told him he “makes too much money.” That too much money is $1500 a year from a portion of a farm that he owns. I’m not so much blaming him as I’m saying the situation is shit. I have no idea where I can turn for help.

It’s actually a bit of a shocker that I haven’t manifested something like Addison’s disease. My adrenals are shot to hell most of the time.

My pituitary is also working overtime, as evidenced by blood tests, but I don’t have Cushing’s syndrome. However, my schedule tends to make me produce too much cortisol, which makes me hold onto my excess weight as if I wanted to look like a sack of doorknobs.

I went to a movie for the first time in something like five years at the end of last month. It was a documentary which held interest for some of the stuff that I write about.

I used to go to concerts a couple of times a year. It’s going on five years since I’ve been to one.

I used to go out to lunch with friends a couple of times a month. Last time I did was July.

I would like to stop hiving and start living.

I found myself thinking that if it turned out that I had terminal cancer I’d be all right with it, because then I could finally stop and rest. This is the thought that came out of my head when I was trying to catch a power nap. Even when I lie down to rest, I don’t really rest. Nothing ever stops. There is never any peace.

If you have last.fm, look up Hexspeak. Their sound is described thusly.

“Blood spring air liver warm & moist sanguine artisan courageous, hopeful, amorous Yellow bile summer fire gall bladder warm & dry choleric idealist easily angered, bad tempered Black bile autumn earth spleen cold & dry melancholic rationalist despondent, sleepless, irritable Phlegm winter water brain/lungs cold & moist phlegmatic guardian calm, unemotional …”

Sounds like my life. And if you give them a listen, they are what my life sounds like in my head. A constant rasping, buzzing fugue.

My low mood and suicide ideation was improved somewhat by doubling my dose of Lithium. So I guess that’s one thing. But I’m still not exactly dancing the jig of joy and looking at the world through rose colored glasses.

This is Lucy. Her owner tied her to a railroad track. The train ran over her leg, amputating her paw.
First I want to tell you that Lucy survived and is being cared for.

Next I would like to implore you to sign this petition .

You can read more of Lucy’s story at the petition site.

People with a conscience do NOT stand for needless cruelty to animals. My grandfather was a veterinarian, my great grandfather was a butcher. Both of them believed firmly in humane treatment of animals. When I was a child, my family raised chickens. The hens laid eggs. Some of the extra roosters became food. But they were all humanely treated during their lives, even those who would at some point be used as food. There is something to be said for being vegetarian, but being omnivorous does NOT mean that one has disdain for animals. The American Indian philosophies always held respect for animals, even those who were used as food. I am mostly of European ancestry but I do have some Cherokee ancestry as well and I always felt that such philosophies from the Aboriginal people of the Americas were very wise. It makes me proud to have this heritage.

Those who are gratuitously cruel to animals are also more likely to commit crimes against their fellow humans. They need to be punished to the fullest extent of the law, and the law needs to be strengthened to protect our fellow creatures.

Humans are the only animals that are deliberately cruel to other animals, who use evil acts against other animals to get themselves off, either by feeling power or some sort of sick sexual arousal by torturing animals. I say this makes us the least of the animals, not the greatest by any means.

It has been upsetting the hell out of me to see all these horrible images of animals who have been cruelly maimed for the pleasure of sadistic humans. But the word must be spread and the laws must be changed. Thank you for doing your part too.

They deserve better!

I’m a bit reluctant to give this link and warn that there is a really horrible picture that appears on the page. However, there is also an important petition regarding the banning of the so-called “crush” videos which are currently protected under “freedom of speech.” How torturing animals is “speech I can’t figure out. Next raping children will be “speech.”

A “crush” video is a video in which sick freaks of nature in the guise of women wearing high heels torture small animals by stepping on their heads and torturing them in other ways. Some other sick freaks of nature in the guise of men pay to watch this sickening vile crap. I actually vomited when I saw the picture on this page and I have a cast iron stomach. Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to eat again!

If you think you can muster the courage, click the link above to sign the petition to hopefully make this filth illegal.

Road crews work to clear a stretch of I-70 in the Colorado mountains following a mudslide

I have a few different kinds of stress dreams. There are tornado dreams, where tornadoes follow me from town to town. They never actually hit the house I go into for shelter, but they come close.

There are nuke dreams, which usually involve a nearby city being nuked, with a lot of destruction but no death. There is always a prevailing feeling that the nuclear attack is somehow all my fault, even though the trigger is usually something stupid and minor.

Then there are the I-70 dreams.

I-70 runs through certain mountainous areas of Colorado.  It can be a precarious road. I’ve never really liked driving it. So I suppose it is fitting that it becomes a metaphor for feeling that my life is out of control.

In the I-70 dreams, I am either in the mountain part coming down the pass heading towards Denver. My brakes are soft and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop as I continue my descent. Or I am in Commerce City, standing beneath one of the underpasses on one of the streets that passes under I-70. My car is parked off to the side and there is a strong feeling of foreboding. Lately, the dreams have taken on a new look. I am standing above the I-70 corridor leading into the mountains, probably somewhere near Idaho Springs. I am on an unstable land bridge and I am physically towing a vehicle. Yes, me, just me, pulling a vehicle behind me. The last time it was one of my cars. This time it was a bus. I was thinking that the bus was going to crush the dirt bridge under its weight. There is also a strong feeling that I have no choice but to try to get the bus onto I-70 so I can keep going.

The feeling in this card is well illustrated by the Ten of Wands card.  It is a feeling of being overburdened by responsibilities and a sense of hopelessness. Which is just how it is, and there seems to be no signs of it letting up.

So you know what I did–just for the fuck of it, mind?

I did a spell, without caring about getting quick results or anything else. I did it just because I wanted to and because sometimes really cool stuff has happened down the line when I do spells. I don’t know if its because it opens my mind to things that I might otherwise miss, or if because it sets the forces of the Universe in motion to help make my wish come true, or both. Who the fuck cares? It helps.

The spell I did was the success in the arts spell from the Tarot Spells book by Janina Renee. Again, I suggest finding this book through Better World Books, because I am very much in favor of their donations to literacy programs. Plus, you can’t beat the shipping prices!

I have allowed myself to be cowed by other people’s opinions too damn long. Who gives a shit if one can prove scientifically that spells work or whether or not there are spirits, human or otherwise. No, there is no current way to prove any of these things scientifically, but once the idea of people going to the moon was also scoffed at. A true scientist keeps their mind open to all possibilities.

So–here’s to thinking scientifically, imaginatively, and mystically. The holistic approach is the best. And if I adhere to this pattern of thinking, maybe my Rocky Mountain High, tornado, and nuke dreams will become fewer.

Jen, the author of the BPD in OKC blog describes how it feels to be mentally ill, particularly to have borderline personality disorder, very well.

My life feels like I am stuck riding on a rollercoaster in the middle of a hurricane. I have ups and downs, and I have left a path of destruction in my wake. My sanity dangles on a tiny fragile string…In the end, I am just a girl trying to maintain my sanity in a candy-coated world of misery.

Persons with mental illness are very fragile. I know that when most of you hear the word “mentally ill” you think of someone wandering around talking to the voices in their head, someone who is potentially dangerous. The truth is that the majority of people with mental illness are far more likely to be a danger to ourselves than to someone else. The people who have potential to snap and kill others are in the minority.

I was so stupid to think that I could ever accomplish anything important in this world. I was a damn fool to have left my old blog up. Tonight someone commented on a chapter from my now unavailable FAILURE of a book, which I had posted on the old blog. Her comment wasn’t even particularly mean but it was dismissive, which opened old wounds. I did leave the blog up for reference but I removed the ability to comment.

For what it’s worth, the post in question is here.

You know what? Being mentally ill fucking eats shit. But a psych diagnosis is not a diagnosis of stupidity. I happen to be smart enough to know that what I’m going through fucking blows. I begin to realize what I could have accomplished had I not been “blessed” with this shit messing up my brain. However, there is one thing that I have come to realize is true. If I had a physical handicap, no-one would hold my slowness in making something of my life against me. Well–I do have a real handicap. And no, I cannot just pull myself up by my bootstraps. But if I had known sooner what was wrong with me, I would have spent less time hating on myself and more time aiming for what I want just to prove all y’all fuckers who think you’re oh so superior just because you’ve never been diagnosed with a mental illness wrong.

By the way, there is a real and actual diagnosis for people who think they’re superior to others:

Delusional Asshattery

Don’t be a delusional asshat. Nobody is anywhere even close to perfect.

And by the way, for those who think they are superior just because they’re considered physically attractive, there is nothing more boring than a self-absorbed manikin. Anyway, y’all just wait 25 years, then we’ll talk.

I am not in a very good frame of mind tonight. If it were 25 years ago, I wouldn’t be home writing this, I’d be out closing down the clubs.

The picture is by Australian artist Katrina Miller. Her series of images representing the depression experienced by persons in remote areas can be found here.

The Black Dog bit me pretty bad, and that is why I haven’t been posting very much. Since I rapid cycle I usually come out of depression within a couple of weeks, but this time it has hung on for almost a month. I think I may be starting to make my way out. I did a renewal spell tonight. This is actually the spell to restore lost beauty from Janina Renee’s Tarot Spells book. I suggest searching at Buy Back Books if you’re interested in picking up a copy. They ship free in the U.S. and cheaply elsewhere, and they donate to literacy programs worldwide.

My focus when doing this spell was more to recapture lost hope and enthusiasm than lost physical beauty. My undiagnosed bipolar disorder may have made me somewhat unrealistic when I was younger, but it can’t be right to give up all hope, and I pretty well have. I wanted to bring back some of my youthful audacity, to believe in my own creations and abilities again. I wanted to recapture some of the inner strength to say yes to me and no to other people where necessary.

The spell went well. There was a renewal of energy. But I am not the best spell caster in the world. My spells tend to take months or even a year to begin full manifestation. Still, if one never sets the energy in motion, nothing will happen. So I set it in motion tonight.

There were some auspicious omens. I use music when I do spell work and I have a system of counting, according to the number of the Sephiroth of the day, or simply 25 breaths, depending on what feels right.  Usually the song and the counting do not end at the exact same time, but this time they did. A good omen.

I have a deck of cards called Pocket Prayer cards. These are non-religious meditations that I like to use. So I shuffled and my card for tonight was this:

In Darkness

Bless my time in darkness

that it may simply be

a waiting within

a chrysalis.

And I will emerge anew

with the warmth of the sun

to dry my wings.

Since I have been in darkness for most of this month, this seemed a very appropriate petition to the Universe.

Western religions have taught us to fear darkness. But what we truly fear is the unknown. If we come to know the qualities of the darkness, then we will no longer fear.

Blessed be.

Stolen from Thom ,who stole it from a bunch of other people

Sunday Stealing: The Negativity Meme

Foods which disgust the crap out of me: Liver, tripe, raw squash, sushi

TV show I loathe: Any of those Real House-Whores or America’s Next Top Attention Whore shows. Utter shite with not even the redeeming value of being fun in their dysfunctional way.

Movie I loathe: 2012 Doomsday

My son, however, found this one even worse

Music genres I loathe: Chick flicks generally, though sometimes there will be one that I’ll enjoy

Magazine which annoys me: Fashion magazines

Makes me cranky at restaurant: Screaming children and people who just HAVE to be heard

Makes me cranky in public: Rude jerks

Makes me cranky in general: My extended family

Pisses me off at home: My roommate and my dogs

Pisses me off at work: Having to be there

Pisses me off in general: Rude people

Makes me impatient at home: My roommate and dogs

Makes me impatient at work: Being there

Makes me impatient in public: People who walk down the middle of the lane in the parking lot 

Celebrity I hate despise: She isn’t a real celebrity but I despise that twat Megan Hauserman. Anyone who uses a charity event to further her selfish agenda is a useless bitch who should be tarred and feathered. 

Music artist I hate despise: Who the fuck told Lindsay Lohan she could sing?

I could care less about: The latest fashions being modeled by coked-out stick figures 

Annoys the crap out of me weekdays: Work

Annoys the crap out of me weekends: Work 

Blogger’s habit that annoys you: Fucking trolls  

Feature on your blog you hate: That I have to copy and paste it because it won’t post right otherwise 

Movie star you despise: Gerard Butler. I don’t care how talented or physically attractive he is. In person, he is an arrogant ass.

Politician that you hate despise: Most of them

Now it’s time for you to express your inner misanthrope. Go, curmudgeon, go!

Watching this film was like eating cotton candy. It had very little in the way of substance. It was a whole lot of fluff and it seemed to me like the soundtrack was pulled straight off of someone’s IPOD. It didn’t fit the period that the movie was set in. The movie showcased a small bit of the history of France from the perspective of Marie Antoinette, but did very little to explain why the French people came to despise Louis and Marie so much. If the film was intended to show sympathy for Marie, it failed to do anything but make her seem vapid and self-absorbed. The ending was completely unrealistic. If people did not already know the history of Marie Antoinette and  Louis XVI, they would be led to believe that the pair were simply exiled. My son, who is very much a Francophile, found this movie completely infuriating and contends that the French would be in their rights to start a war with the U.S. for our release of such utter rubbish regarding their history.

1 1/2 stars out of 5 possible.

When it’s Wednesday and
I choose to do a Haiku
It is always cold

Eadgyd Jacobse was the sweetest young lady that anyone in the little town of Nyd could imagine. She was the daughter of the great wizard Dagan Jacobse, whom the people loved dearly, for he healed the sick and brought blessings to the town. He could talk to spirits, drive away demons, and call down the rain to ease the drought.

Eadgyd loved the folk of Nyd too, but being a lass of nineteen, she longed for true love. Most of the folk in Nyd were old. The majority of the young men and not a few of the young ladies had left to seek their fortunes in the grand city of Vyb.

One day, Honey Quattrochi, who was one of the young folk who had left Nyd to seek her fortune in the grand city of Vyb, returned to visit her parents. With her was her new husband, Gaius Cwen, and Gaius’ older brother, Valentine Queshire. Now, although Val was ten years older than Eadgyd, she found him very charming, and quickly fell in love with him.

Eadgyd’s father, the wizard Dagan, was not fooled by the glamor that Val had cast over the town. While Gaius was a good and solid fellow, his older brother was naught but a charlatan. Dagan looked into his scrying bowl and saw the trouble that Val would bring to the good unmarried women-folk of Nyd, including Eadgyd. Each lady thought that she was the scoundrel’s one true love, but once he discovered that each of the women were carrying his child, the rogue intended to run on to the next village to cast his spell and seduce the women thereof.

“By my beard, I shall not permit this fate to befall any more innocent ladies!” Dagan declared. And thus he cast a mighty spell to call down the noble steeds from the kingdom of the war god. Dagan mounted the silver steed and challenged Val to mount the iron steed and fight him in a joust. Val, not about to allow himself to be bested by an old man, leaped confidently on the back of the mighty iron stallion and took up his lance. As the steeds charged, it appeared that the poor wizard Dagon would be skewered through, for his lance dropped to his side and he spread his arms to the Heavens. But the lance passed clean through the good Wizard as if he were a ghost, doing him no harm. The steeds collided head to head, and there was a great flash of light.

When the vision of the townfolk had sufficiently cleared, they all gasped in shock. For Val had been turned to a bronze statue, his lance firmly implanted in his arse. It was decided that the statue should be used to serve as a warning to anyone who thought to take advantage of good and trusting folk.
The townsfolk took pity upon the young ladies who had been fooled by the love spell cast by the unscrupulous sorcerer Val, and showered every kindness upon them and their offspring. Three boys and four girls were born, and all of the boys were named Dagan in honor of the beloved wizard of Nyd.