i'm darkness and light, bubbles and faerie wings. i am sparkles and glitter, shadows and clouds. i love purple, and faeries, and books, and music.

Ramblings by Category

Ramblings by Year

octoBOOr!

I love this time of year. Halloween everything, yo!

I have no cubicle to decorate this year. No desk or office space to decorate. First time in years. I had planned to dig out all the Halloweeny stuff from the basement to overload the house with spooky-goodness, but I have been in bed for most of the past three days, dealing with vertigo/dizziness that has had me in tears.

I have missed work. Missed out on a gorgeous fall weekend. And nothing is decorated.

But I got my blog theme updated on time. And now I’m off to bed because I AM going to work tomorrow. My head is finally not spinning, though quick movements aren’t appreciated.

I have been gone from my old job for almost a year. The end of this month marks the year anniversary of my last day in that life. I miss the people I worked with so much. To the point that when I did finally get some sleep this morning, I had the worst nightmare about visiting my old admin floor and no-one wanting to talk to me. Or acknowledge me. There was so much going on the dream that I woke up sobbing. I had been replaced, with a girl named Kitty (which I only realized the significance of after I woke up). Everyone I used to work with was so cold, and distant to me. And sometimes mean. And I felt alone, and abandoned. So alone.

So, yeah, I miss my friends most of all. Not the job, but the people. Badly. And being sick, and spinning, and stressed out because of that, equals stress dreams about my old job. Used to be stress dreams were about high school and elementary school. Like everything else though, they are evolving.

I miss friends that were (are) family.

I miss getting to decorate my workspace.

But it’s October, and I’m going to decorate my home and hopefully see some friends soon. We have something planned for almost every Saturday this month. I am excited! I love October so much.

Bring on the Halloween WHIMSY! *tosses candy corn like confetti*

patterns & decisions

The helpful thing about journaling – whether on paper, or on this blog – is that I can reference patterns in my life. August and September seem to be months where my pain flairs and my mood drops. Pain and depression seem to be thrown at me between these two months. And this is all outside of the March 2013 PTSD issues. I haven’t even gotten to November yet, when I seem to have those triggers pop up.

BUT… I get tired of being tired, and in pain, and so sad that I feel like I can’t breathe. Sure hormones and medication (with/without) can factor into this, but mostly I find that this time of year is hard on my body and mind. And I need to watch out for that, and try and find ways to work through it.

I know when things are bothering me, even if I don’t think anything is bothering me. I know because all of a sudden I am plagued with an obsession with my hair. It’s wrong. It’s too long, too short, too pink, too blue, too MUCH. It has to change.

Earlier this month, I went to bed exhausted. I was sure I’d fall asleep right away but instead I tossed and turned for an hour. I got up and took my eyebrow piercing out. Went back to bed and fell fast asleep. I didn’t know I wanted to do that, or that I was going to do that. I just got up as if on autopilot and removed it. About 6 weeks before I marked the 12th anniversary of having it done.

This past week I have gotten up multiple times in the night, autopilot engaged, and cut my hair. A little bit at a time, but still enough to allow myself to fall asleep upon returning to bed. I knew I was going to change the colour soon, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet. But my hair was bothering me. Always noticeable. Always annoying me.

Today I cut almost all of my hair off.

I bleached it.

And I realized… I no longer want to do the Publishing certificate. Five (six?) years ago I had an idea about what I wanted to do to change the situation I was in. I went back to school. I was terrified. I was excited. I knew THEN that was what I wanted to do.

And I continued, slowly, through the courses. I had them as a distraction after the trauma. They gave me something to focus all my energy on. They gave me hope that I wouldn’t be stuck in the job I was in that wasn’t fulfilling me.

But then time passed. I got older. Life changed.

And now? I have moved on. I’m no longer interested in pursuing this. And yes, I had only two courses left and I’d be done. Thing is if I don’t want to do something, if I am 100% sure I do not want to do it? I can’t do it. You couldn’t pay me to do it. I think I’d end up destroying myself first. (That’s a lot harsher than I mean it to be.) I’m like a cat on a leash – I will NOT walk with you, stupid human. I will plant my feet on the ground and you’ll have to drag me.

And once I came to that realization, that I didn’t want to be in school anymore, I felt lighter. My chest felt less constricted. This isn’t the only thing I am having issues with right now, there are a couple of other things, but this one thing I can control.

So I withdrew from the courses.

And I dyed my hair.

And part of me feels as though I should feel disappointed in myself because I came so close to finishing something, but stopped. But I am not disappointed. I feel relieved. I feel refreshed. I have literally moved on from this in my head, and forcing myself to continue with something that I don’t want to do anymore wasn’t going to help anything. I lose nothing from this. I don’t want to work in publishing anymore. Not now, anyhow. I gained a whole bunch of knowledge and insight into the book world, and I am happy with that. I am happy that I challenged myself to learn something new.

But in the end I got what I, personally, needed from the experience and closed the chapter on that part of my life. I am content.

And my hair is short, and I feel like I can breathe a little easier. And I will continue looking at patterns in my moods and behaviours and work on figuring out what they are trying to tell me. And I think I will be happier in life that way.

But…maybe I could possibly stop wanting to chop all my hair off right before winter and decide I need to grow it out in the summer? Those are the complete opposite hair-lengths for those seasons! Argh! Me!

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it’s not a challenge really, more like a suggestion

Yo.

So, five years ago (WTF? FIVE?) my wonderful friend Yoj and I did a thing we dubbed Blogust. The idea behind it was to write a blog post every day in August. I didn’t make it through the first two weeks. Heh.

I have been wanting to write more on here for a while. I had lofty ideas at the beginning of the year that I’d at least get 5 or more posts written a month.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Oh, well. So I am reviving Blogust in a new incarnation. I am going to aim for 2-3 posts a week. I’ll be honest with you, if I make it to five posts this month, I’ll consider this a success.

I write a lot more on FB, and I have said this so often…but I hate writing updates on FB. But it makes it SO EASY to just share an Instagram photo, with a caption and post directly to FB than it does to my blog. If I could post directly here from IG, well, I’d be posting on here a lot more often. I don’t feel like uploading photos all the time and rewriting captions. It’s annoying. I’m lazy. When I am home I don’t want to have to THINK when I am online. I play mindless games that entertain me.

I haven’t been writing in my journals much lately either. I need to. I need to get all the words currently tangled inside my head out onto a page in some form or another. If I am going to write on this here blog, I will. I might end up making some of the posts private. It’s not that I don’t want to share with you all, but well, I might not want to share. Sometimes I write, and I keep it all on one place so when I look back, I can see the entire picture that was my past. And sometimes you don’t want a bunch of stuff on the internet for everyone and their kitchen sink to read. Am I right?

This has just reminded me that I need to put the wordpress app back on my phone. That will make posting when I think of something to write easier. Still wish I could like up IG and my blog though.

So welcome to August. Even though I am pretty sure it was mid-June a second ago. We’ve had the crappiest weather this summer. I believe this summer isn’t going to go down as the best in history. Even my garden — sorry, Jinx’s Garden — is suffering from being too soggy. It’s been pretty tragic all around.

But I will write. Or try to write. Because August is my new year’s start. It’s the golden, sunset month. The new school supplies, and last lazy days time of year.

August makes me think a lot. I’m often too inside my own head during this time of year, so maybe putting words out there will help.

At least five posts. I can do this.

Blogust, yo.

fauxplessness

I don’t really have a photo to go with this post so here is a photo of Abigail pretending she’s a flower in my garden.

The good news: After four years, I have finally gotten to the point where I am confident I have overcome the trauma I suffered in March 2013. I am no longer broken. I am scarred, but not broken. This means my doctor and I have been slowly decreasing the medication originally prescribed to help glue me together. I am looking forward to being medication-free once more.

The bad news: The first week of a decrease in medication is rough. It varies in difficulty per person, per medication, and even per dosage. And sometimes that roughness sends you into spiral of complete and total hopelessness. There’s no point in anything. There is no hope. No light. No reason.

But it’s not a true hopelessness. It’s false. I call it faux-plessness. Because I know everything isn’t hopeless. I know I am OK. But my brain is currently trying to figure out why it feels weird. My body is looking for extra dosages of whatever it was in those yellow and white pills. I guess it’s looking for the white part, because the pills I’m on now are all yellow.

I feel like total crap this week. From dizzy spells, to nausea, to random bouts of paranoia and anxiety, to a deep, suffocating sadness that convinces me there’s no hope for anything in my life. My head is in a fog. I want to cry one second, rage the next. I feel abandoned by friends that I love, and yet feel a total overwhelming sense of love for my friends that I want to hug them forever.

Up and down. Spinning.

I feel slightly better today than I did on Monday, which was the first day I was on the decreased dosage. Oddly, the decrease before this one (which was 4 months ago) didn’t have the same effect on me. That one mostly effected my sleep. 100mg I sleep like I am drugged, 75mg everything is fine, 50mg WIDE AWAKE HELLO INSOMNIA, 25 mg…. WHY DO I LIFE?! SO ALONE! GLOOOOOOM!!

But by this time next week this will all be gone. I will feel normal again. And as I continue on this dosage until I start to stagger the pills to every second day, then every third day and so on… I look forward to living my life without crippling anxiety and fear in a medication-free zone.

I had worked so hard to take care of myself mentally, after years and years of depression and other mood disorders. I was so proud of who I was and how strong I’d become. And then March 27, 2013 happened and I broke apart. It’s been a long, uphill battle to get myself back into feeling safe and strong again. I have gained the gift of learning more ways to help strengthen myself, and these gifts are what are allowing me to slowly remove the medication from my body.

But right now, the change is frustratingly overwhelming. I know it lasts about 5-10 days for me. It will pass. I know this stabbing hopelessness and sadness in my chest will evaporate soon. Also the dizzy spells. I’d like them to go away, too. Especially with how random they are. I don’t want to work or drive right now because…ugh.

But soon this fauxplessness will vanish and I’ll be right as rain. (Speaking of rain…CAN WE NOT WITH THE RAIN EVERY DAY THIS SUMMER, PLEASE?! Not helping the mental stuff. Also my garden is so soggy the plants are drowning to death. *sniff*)

Existing is exhausting. Good grief.