SFD

Which, for me, translates to "shit fuck damn." And that's how I feel.

Family sent me to the looney bin. Details don't really matter, but it was an over-the-top reaction to a family disagreement. I have never before been so humiliated. And while waiting for the ambulance to take me to said looney bin, Mom said things to me that were so hurtful, so deaming that I don't think they'll ever get out of my mind.

Mom's apologized,. But how can that ever be enough? She acts now as if it never happened. That her apologizing makes things okay. She belittled me and threw every decision, every act I've ever done not only into question, but into disregard. And now I'm supposed to care that they had farm-stand corn on the cob - which used to be my birthday dinner.

Add to that that Good Buddy is having what translates to a total break-down. Every attempt I make to argue him out of his state - which is, honestly, self-imposed - he shuts down and tells me he can't deal and will call me later. This from a man who told me, when I was legitimantly in the hospital, that I "was better than this. I needed to get over this."

Add to the fact the neither I nor my kitten can get over the loss of "Lamby Pie" - that I hope to see her in the windowsill or offering her meow when I get over the shower. Add that to where I am and it's amazing I can even function.

Today I didn't get up enough to shower or get outside. But being awake and somewhat c0herent seems a victory,.

My appointment with Amazing Therapist can't come soon enough.

My TV Family

My immediate TV Family is, of course, those of the Criminal Minds variety. But, now that I've seen mostly all of the episodes aired on Ion Television (positively entertaining), I've been watching a lot of Law and Order SVU.

Last night they had a "ripped from the headlines" marathon. And the one I catched was about psyhiatric drugs.

1) the dialogue was SOOOO stilted. In one conversation the characters touched on all the sound bites of the argument. Still....

2) the actual episode DID seem to outline the major conflict.

There are people who still believe that mental illness isn't valid or is over-diagnosed or over-treated. And in the last two cases, they're probably bordering on the truth. Not my call.

But in the first case my thought is: Fuck You.

I've made it no secret that I've been in therapy for years. And a lot of it is just figuring out the reasons behind the thoughts I think, the judgements I make, and the actions I do. BUT, the other reason is to let me recognize that a lot of what goes on in my brain is unhealthy.

Medical science has mappec the human genome but not the human brain. It is that complex. And chemical treatment is not appropriate for everyone.

But for someone who has wound up in the emergency room - and consequently a psych ward - I can tell you that appropriate treatment is a SAVIOR.

I forget to take my meds for ONE day and I can tell the difference. I go from thinking every problem is a reason for suicide to thinking problems are a wicked pain in the ass.

So, yeah, this episode of SVU had it right. Sometimes meds are too much and not right. And sometimes meds are literally the differnce between life and death.

And before you judge, walk in my shoes for two days. One with, one without. Then get back to me.

Now I Get It

When people say they would give their lives for child, I knew it "up here" (points to head). I didn't get it "here" (points to heart).

Now that have lost my "first child" and I see the heartache that Eliza is suffering, I get a bit of it.

I also know that I am the only tether Eliza has to her sister and to this world. And she's holding on oh so vocally.

That being said, I'm having "unemployment issues" which may impact my solvency. And if I can't feed me, I sure can't feed her.

What's the answer? I don't know. It was excruitatingly painful beyond measure to put Peeps down. Maybe if we "survivors" go down together, it won't be so bad... We won't know till we find out, eh?

I thought I was numb...

There is a shadow that lives in my house and in my mind.

She is a black and grey shadow. She likes to sit in the bathroom waiting for me to get out of the shower. Sometimes she paws at my legs as if to tell me, "Get out. I want in."

The shadow sits in my front window, mrrrowing at me when I get out of my car.

The shadow eats corn on the cob - off of the cob. It begs for tuna and always seems to know when it's Thanksgiving weekend, because that's the only time mom comes home with REAL turkey.

The shadow walks on my keyboard and, occasionally settles down for a long winters nap on my keyboard.

The shadow seldom sits on my lap but often sits just next to my lap.

The shadow likes the sides of her cheeks petted and purrs loudly when indulged.

The shadow activitely haunts me now and will probably haunt me for a long time. I hope the shadow stays with me always - but hopefully will be slightly less visible. Because that shadow needs - demands - tears to survive. And I'm pretty dehydrated at this point...

Peepers - I will always love you.

Adjustments

My guess is that my fewish readers will gues this post will be about Peepers. My girl, my Lambie Pie Petunia, 16 years old, was put to rest on Tuesday. I cry and cry and manage to pull myself together only to cry again. And, so, today, I should be posting about Peepers and her quirks and how much I loved her.

But I'm not.

Reason 1: If I start posting about the memories, I'll never stop.

Reason 2: I'm in that "numb" part of the grieving process and, as busy as I am, it's working for me...

So, I post this instead. Today marks the two week anniversary of my $10/day budget. I got tired of "robbing from Peter to give to Paul" (mom's term) and checking my balance every day to see when/what would bounce. So I set myself a severe (for me) budget. Ten bucks a day. If I needed to spend more in a day (gas, prescription meds..) I divided the balance and adjusted accordingly.

For two weeks running, I've actually been UNDER budget. Sure, it's been a bit of a pain packing my own lunch and prepping my own dinner everyday. Especially when you get a craving for something special.

Still, I'm really proud of myself. I should have put myself on this austerity plan a LONG time ago. But with age comes wisdom, right?

Here's hoping (fingers crossed).

PS - does this austerity plan give me license to be bitchy about someone who goes out several nights a week to bars, spends time playing volleyball but not working/job hunting, and STILL bounces rent checks? just checkin...