Unexpected Adventures

Okeydoke, first off I'm ok, I've just been out and about and haven't really been at a computer to sit and write. My upped meds have definitely kicked in and I feel “normal”. Sorry if I concerned anyone I just haven't really been able to sort out my thoughts into words. Last night I did something that cements my overall wellbeing. I went on a date with a guy I only met once. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal but ohhhhhh man was it lol. I usually get incredibly anxious and psych myself out before the date and am incredibly jittery and tense while on the date. Thanks to half of a little magical pill my attitude was pretty much “Whatev's, this will be an adventure”. I actually had a lot of fun. He's quite sweet, but not like any other fellow I've ever dated. I usually go for the skinny nerdy hipster type boys who all seem to be more than a little douchey or “emotionally unavailable” but are emotionally prepared to have sex...Lets just say that if this was a cheesy high school movie this fellow would be the quarterback and I'd be the quirky artsy girl. I met him during the marina bar crawl (I'm the girlthat people had to help up because I fell on my ass... a totally "awesome" candid moment to catch....) I did so:
1. I never expected a call
2. I was more than a little intoxicated by the time we made it to that bar so I honestly couldn't remember what he looked like
3. It's the marina....
He admitted that he wasn't really a big fan of the area but his friends live around there so he tagged along.

Now this sounds a bit “fluffy” to write but I can't describe how BIG of a step this is for me. As i stated previously usually before any date I hyperventilate, cry and insist that I can't do it, much to my friends dismay. It was amazing to just be relaxed, enjoy myself and most importantly I was MYSELF. I didn't put on a front, I didn't censer myself, I was just me and it was pretty rawsome. He said he'd call me today but so far no go, but I am relaxed enough to not really care. I'm not taking it personally. Just not the right chemistry. It's not because I'm a hag or overweight (which is what I think in my mind but my friends assure me that I'm not.... but now I'm beginning to believe them because I'm reaching the point where I just don't care.... or that could just be today, who knows about tomorrow...)

Anyway, so yeah. Life is just fricken weird. I think it's even weirder for those of us that are “wired differently”. People say that “tomorrow is a new day” but for us, it truly is. We really don't know what the next day will bring. Will we hate ourselves? Will we be happy? Will we be sad? Will we beg for the release of suicide? It can be exhausting and sometimes you feel totally and utterly hopeless but I've learned to hang on because the good is so very, very, very worth it. No matter how low you go, I promise you will get back up. Even if it feels like you've been low forever. Hell, read my entries, I'm proof of it. ;)

So a somewhat lame entry but a little update, a little fluff and a bit of a story.. kinda.. lol

Yo!

Ok, let me just clarify something. I am drunk. Not in a “I need to escape reality” way. More like “it was a marina bar crawl night", This included blond wigs, douches, assholes, twits and cunts. But it was fun and worth it. I promised Mrs. Chelsea that I would post everyday and I'm sorry, for I am 2 hours late.And mister Pat; I am ok! Thanks for your concern and support! *hugs to both!*

So, once again, I am fine. I had a magical pill that made everything ok again. And now must sleep. Goodnight. I shall go into detail later about my adventures. Night y'all.

Update

It’s ok now. It’s passed. In fact it’s hard to remember feeling like that at all. It’s so fucked up to go through something like that and then suddenly get chipper again and be like “Oh yeah, I’m fine, totally normal.” HA!

Meh.

Why do my brain and I have to fight? Why can’t we just get along?

*cue the Youngbloods song - Get Together*

I Can't Hide It. Should I Hide It?

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t control them at all. They’re racing, racing, racing. I forgot my pill, I forgot my pill that calms me down. I took my medication this morning but it’s not working. Why is it not working? I can’t type fast enough. I won’t let myself make typos.

12341231234123412341234

Is there a God? I broke down last night and was rocking back and forth like I used to. I was begging anyone to listen to me but I hid from my roommate. I always hide, always hide. I hide everything. I have to. No one can know. I forgot my pill. I forgot my pill. I can’t cry. Not here. Not at work. I can’t let my boss see me break down. No one can know, no one can know. But that doesn’t make sense does it? You know, you’re reading this. Why am I posting this? Am I doing it for attention? Is this all for attention? But why wouldn’t I know? Why would I be so confused? Why can’t I control my brain? Am I pretending? Have I gotten caught up in one of my characters? Have I lost myself? I don’t remember taking my pill out of my bag. I can type but why can’t I calm down? I can’t do this here. I can’t I can’t. Should I post this without typos? Should I post this at all? Why do I post anything? My ramblings are inane. What’s going on with my memory? Why can’t I remember anything? How can I correct my spelling? Why is this happening? What was my trigger? Is it because I read a book where the mother is loving and caring and there? Is that why? Is it my mother? Why is this happening now. I wish I had my pill, then this would stop. Oh god am I going crazy? I don’t want you to worry, I won’t do something stupid. I can’t. I’m strong enough I have to be strong enough. But if I was strong why would this happen? Is it all in my head? What’s normal? Does everyone go through this? Am I really bipolar? Are these just racing thoughts that I don’t want to control? Am I doing this on purpose? Is this normal? How could I be so stupid to take my pill out of my bag. Why does what anyone think matter? Why do I ping people? Why do I assume I know what they’re thinking? I feel like they’re judging me. Everyone is judging me. I’m ugly, they’re laughing at me. My hair, they’re laughing at me. Am I pretending I’m something I’m not? Is this fake? Last night I called my sister but she didn’t pick up, she never picks up. If I really am freaking out like this how can I type? Is it helping? Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t know. Why is this happening now? I was doing ok, I was doing ok. Am I faking it? Why wouldn’t I know, why wouldn’t I stop. Am I having an anxiety attack? Am I panicking? I don’t know, I don’t know. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t I won’t. Don’t call me I’ll cry. I can’t cry. I have to hide it. I have to hide it. Should I go home and get my pill? Will my boss be able to tell? I was late, so late. I couldn’t get out of bed. I am so disgusting. My throat is closing up. I need to breath I need to breath. Why won’t these thoughts stop? Is it because I’m a terrible person? How can I type? Is it fake, am I faking it? I don’t know. How could I be so stupid. Do I need a pill? Does it really work. I’m rocking back and forth. He isn’t here. Should I post this? Will people think I’m crazy? Is it to prove something? Is this real? Is this real? I think it’s stopping. I think it’s stopping. I think the voice stopped. Why am I not strong enough to stop it? Why am I so weak? I hide it, I hide everything. Maybe I’m tired of hiding. I’m filled to the brim and overflowing. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop it. Is this why I push people away? I can’t let them see me like this. Should I up my medication? Should I be on medication? Am I really bipolar or am I faking it? Does everyone have these moments? Why do I care what everyone thinks? I have to hide it I have to hide it. It’s not like I have it bad. My co-workers dad died yesterday. I have it easy I shouldn’t be like this. Am I begging for pity? Why am I freaking out when my life is ok? Why am I so selfish? I want to scratch my arms. I want to focus on something. I won’t I won’t. Then people will ask. I can’t hide it I can’t hide it. Why is this happening to me? I can’t cry, I can’t cry. Maybe if I let go this will stop. Not like let go of life. I can’t do that, I won’t do that. I mean let go and just let the thoughts race instead of fighting it. Or would that lead me to do something stupid? I can’t typo, I can’t typo. It’s coming in waves now. I calm down then it starts but less intense. Is it ending? Should I post this? Should I keep hiding it? Am I really hiding it or can everyone see? Does everyone pity me? Do they like me or are they being nice. I wish I had my pill. Does that make me weak? Am I weak? Why can’t I just stop this on my own? Is it all in my head? Am I just not strong enough? I think it’s done, I think it’s done. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can hide this. I have to. I have to. Should I post this? Would you think I’m mad? Am I mad? Should I let someone see what happens to me? Rhymes, I wish I could always speak in rhymes. They’re calming, there calming. If I post this, will it drive people away? Should I be honest? Will this ruin my chances of him ever liking me? Why does it matter? I shouldn’t ever be in a relationship. I can’t do it. I’m crazy. It wouldn’t be fair. Why does it matter, why does it matter? Don’t call me, I’ll cry. I can’t cry. Why do I want someone here? Do I? Can I let them see me like this? This happened once before in front of people but I had a pill. How the fuck could I forget my pill? Do I like feeling like this? Am I just a masochist? Do I do this because it’s familiar? Do I like it? Am I pretending I’m crazy? It’s like there’s a scared animal in my chest. Panicking in a cage. I feel it beating in on my chest. Let me out, let me out. Am I confining it? Should I let it out? Will I be free then? Can I be free? Will this ever stop? Is this forever? I. Can’t. Cry. I’m going to post this before I think about it too much. I can’t think about it too much. Am I mad? Should I re-read it? No no. You tell me, is this normal? Am I just weak? Am I just being dramatic? Am I looking for attention? I don’t mean to. I swear I don’t mean to. Do I? How can I write this then? How can I format it? Am I faking? I don’t know I don’t know. I’m shaking now. Should I post this? Am I looking for attention? Or do I want people to see? I'm sorry. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I have to be fine. I'm sorry. So sorry. Something is wrong. He’s here. Have to hide it.

The Forest of My Heart

When I was a child I had a forest. Well… it was actually a rather small patch of land that had grown wild behind our house. It was a dense thicket of trees where the briers and brambles roamed free. All the trees had names because to me they were friends. There was the helicopter tree, the elbow tree the 3 sisters and so on. I would sit and talk to them and I’d pretend their creaks were a response. But the most amazing tree lay right at the start of my forest - the gateway tree. The roots of two trees became entwined and formed a pathway between the center of them. That was my tree. My father would joke that I was a sprite because I'd shimmy up the tree in a matter of seconds and stay there as long as possible, perched among the leaves.

I wasn’t allowed to go outside until someone in the house had woken up. My father would always find me sitting right by the door whenever he'd stumble into the kitchen to make coffee. As soon as he opened the door I would take off through the gateway tree and into my forest. The gateway tree was the door to my magical land that rivaled Terabithia. I’d usually be the first one there and my only two friends (keep in mind my “town” was about 4 blocks big…) Donald and Jimmy would trickle in later. It was the only place I ever felt safe. I would sit in a tree and watch the colors explode in the sky while the sun disappeared. My father's distinctive booming voice would signal the end of the day and the arrival of supper time. I'd scramble down from whatever tree I was in because he would only call 5 times and if I wasn't home after the 5th call, a spanking was sure to follow. While we ate my sister would usually wrinkle her nose and tell my I stink. Looking back I probably did as my mother would have to coax me into the shower. Most of the time I would turn the shower on and just sit on the toilet seat after wetting my hair and pretend I was in the showering. When I’d come out my mother would usually drag me back into the bathroom and demand that I strip and enter the bathtub. She’d sit on the toilet seat and check to make sure I was using shampoo and soap. I never wanted to shower because I loved the scent of the forest rubbed into my skin.

Then something happened that I’ll never forget as it marked the begining of a lesson I would learn over and over. One day I came outside and there were men standing by the my tree, chainsaws in hand. They were from the Lions club whose headquarters resided in the buillding next door which happened to be settled a good 15 feet from my tree. They claimed the tree was too close to the building and was old too old so it would fall soon and possibly damage it. so they inisted it was time to cut it down. I yelled and screamed demanding them to go away and leave my tree alone. My father had to drag me back inside. I stood by the window sobbing uncontrollably as they hacked into my tree. Suddenly the horrible grinding noise stopped and a stream of curses replaced it. The tree had broken the chainsaw. Apparently there used to be a fence near the tree while it was growing, the fence had embedded itself into the trunk of the tree. I prayed to whoever would hear me that they would go away.

They didn’t

Another man showed up with aother chainsaw and the noise began again. I was beyond crying and watched, hiccupping as one of the trees fell. They decided that the other one was far enough away so they stopped. When they had all left I ran to the tree and ran my hands over the rings whispering to it. The magic of it fled and from that moment on a bitter streak started. I used to vandalized the Lion’s Club building by carving into their doors and breaking windows. I would snarl at the men whenever they'd try and give me candy or would refuse to talk to them. I hated them for taking something away from me that was so dear. We moved out of that house when I was about 11 (I really don’t remember that time period at all as that was the time my mother left us). When I finally reached the age where I could drive, I’d visit my forest but it seemed so desolate. The current owners of the house had chopped more of the trees down and I would sit amidst the jagged stumps and cry. My forest was gone.

I’ve found a bit of a replacement in Muir Woods. But since I only have access to it for half a year (there’s a shuttle and I have no car) I don’t get to go nearly as much as I’d like. I did find a special place there. You follow a stream and it leads up through these rocks and BAM a little pond appears with a swing over it. It’s more than a little amazing. Pics of it can be found here.

Charles deLint (who is a brilliant author and one of my favs) writes about a place called your heart home or the forest of your heart. I know it’s strange but the forest that resides in my heart will always be that one. Its hard living in a city where I’m surrounded by trees but don’t have one to call my own. I can find plenty of magical places in the day time like this



but I miss creeping through the woods at night amidst the blues and purples that only the moon can entice out of the shadows. Since walking in the park at night isn’t the smartest idea I just stare out my window at our meager back yard and remember there was once a place I felt safe.