Share Your World – Week 1

Would you prefer to receive a unicycle, bicycle, tricycle or motorcycle?

Well, considering that having a bicycle was a bit of a disaster for me, I’ll have to pass on that. I’m pretty sure a unicycle would be equally disastrous. I would love to have a motorcycle, since I think they’re bad ass (thanks, Sons of Anarchy), but Sam has already shot that down with not just a “No,” but a “Hell, no.” That leaves a tricycle. I’m not likely to turn over and break something, even if I do have a drink or two, nor am I likely to die in a high-speed death, so a tricycle it is.


What is one thing you’d like to accomplish this year?

I’d like to lose 30 pounds. I dropped a little weight last year, so slowly losing some more this year (and the next) would be great.

What was one of the highlights of 2016 for you?

There was lots of cool stuff, but I think the top highlight would probably be the mental health wish list I posted at the end of 2015 happening. To save you from clicking the link, at the end of 2015 I wanted:

  • The number of nightmares and times I wake up throughout the night with anxiety attacks reduced
  • A decrease in anxiety
  • Less mood swings, especially the ones throughout the day
  • More consistent “normal” feeling
  • Less days where I feel completely depressed.

All of those happened. Some were to smaller degrees than others, but overall there was improvement. Hopefully that’ll continue in 2017 and I haven’t jinxed myself.

Would you prefer to fly a kite or fly in a hot air balloon?

A kite! You couldn’t pay me to get into a hot air balloon. No amount of money. I did get in one as a kid at a fair or something (one of those deals where you go up maybe a hundred feet, the balloon is attached to the ground by a rope, and they bring you back down), and I was terrified. Adult me ain’t risking falling out. And I know that everyone says I wouldn’t fall out, but y’all (well, those people) obviously don’t know me that well, because I absolutely would trip over something, defy the laws of physics, and be thrown out to my death. Or the bottom of the basket would give away. I’m totally having a nightmare about this tonight.

Share Your World is hosted by Cee — check out her blog here.


Three Day Quote Challenge: Day 1

Challenged by Sahara at Creo Somnium

I’m sure many of y’all have heard the news that Carrie Fisher passed away earlier today. As someone who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder about a year and a half ago, I was intrigued with her (beyond my Star Wars obsession) because of how honest and outspoken she is about having bipolar disorder herself — quite the inspiration. I’m not usually affected by celebrity deaths, but this one hurts. At the risk of seeming tacky for using a quote by Fisher today as part of this challenge, I’m going to use this anyway as a reminder to my fellow blog friends suffering from bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses, since her words apply to mental illnesses across the board IMO. carrie-fisher-bipolar-disorder

I’m not nominating anyone to participate — join in if you’d like. If you do, I’d like to challenge you to use a quote on mental illness for one of your days.

Learning From The Kid

“How ridiculous is it that you have to lie to your family about what’s really going on?”

This question was posed by my husband yesterday after I asked him what the story was when my stepmom texted asking about my head (she wasn’t very specific and I didn’t know how to answer).

No, not those head problems. Legit head problems (in the eyes of our family) to cover up the real head problems.

Since I haven’t ventured out much the past week-plus, my husband has had to cover for me to explain my absence at a couple of family gatherings. 

“Her sinuses are acting up.”

“She’s having migraines.”

“She’s under the weather today.”

Sam is right; it is ridiculous that I can’t tell at least my dad and stepmom and my in-laws what is going on. But we know all too well their opinions when it comes to mental health issues (“fake conditions the doctors and pill companies created to get rich, you just need to pray, those are problems crazies have that should be locked up”) plus the tendency to gossip. So, we’re not going the truthful route for obvious reasons.

Know what I told Little Man when he asked what was wrong last week?

“The medicine mommy was taking wasn’t helping, so she stopped and will be feeling sick for a while.”

He asked a few questions, I explained a bit about brain chemistry, and that was that. “Let me know if I can do anything for you, Mom.”

So simple. So accepting. No judgment. Just love.

I’ve said, a lot of you guys have said it, but I’ll go there again–we can learn so much from kids.

Get Thee to a Nunnery

What the heck was I thinking, making my doctor’s appointment at 8:00 in the freaking morning? Obviously I wasn’t.

Going straight from waking up to taking a quick shower to going out the door leaves me no time to mentally prepare for the appointment, which I rather sucked at doing in the first place. Maybe probably sounds silly–“mentally preparing” for an appointment, but I get rather nervous about going and need a little time to calm myself (which means going from a 10 to a 9).

I’ve made my pros and cons list for my new medication. I’ve written stuff down on this blog over the past few weeks. I should totally know what I’m going to say, right?

Yet when I picture actually being in there and being asked “So, how are things going?” my mind is drawing a complete blank.

Gah. Words. Why must I suck with them?

I should just go all Shakespeare and prepare a monologue.

Or steal bits and pieces from various Shakespearean monologues. From Hamlet. Namely, Hamlet. Because I ❤ him.

Doctor: Has the new medication been working?

Me: To be, or not to be, that is the question—
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them?

Doctor: Ah, I see. Well, why do you think that’s happening?

Me: How the fucketh shouldst I know?*

Doctor: Can you further describe your symptoms?

Me: How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on’t! ah, fie!

Doctor: GTFO.

Probably wouldn’t get any stranger looks than normal.

Nah, might be better to just shove that pros and cons list (which is complete with my husband’s “acting less like a zombie”) in her face and hope there are no further questions.

*Not found in the first three editions of Hamlet.

Avoiding the Doctor

“How bad do we need $500?” I asked my husband yesterday. He looked confused at first, but put together what I was getting at pretty quickly.

“You are not canceling your doctor’s appointment. We aren’t losing $500 just because you don’t want to go,” he said.

A couple years ago, our insurance company started offering a $500 discount per adult if we went for a physical and had certain numbers recorded to submit to them by the end of February. Coincidentally, our insurance went up about $1200 that year. I used to be able to fairly easily avoid going to the doctor unless I was really sick, as my husband wouldn’t press me too much then, but not anymore.

As usual, I don’t want to go to the doctor. No offense to the doctors out there. I don’t want to get my physical and hear that while I might be as big as a horse, that I’m certainly not as healthy as one. And that I’m going to die.

Maybe I tend to blow things out of proportion. “You need to eat better and get your cholesterol down” or whatever it will be isn’t the same as saying “YOU WILL SURELY DIE” in the demonic voice that plays in my head when I’m freaking out about having to go, but it pretty much feels the same. Besides the obvious that we’re all gonna die thing, WebMD has assured me that I am suffering from about a dozen ailments that could all cause my sudden death, so I definitely don’t want further confirmation of my impending doom from a doctor.

“Maybe I could push my appointment until the very end of the month,” I suggested to my husband. Because an extra seven days would definitely give me time to lose 20 pounds and to do everything else I need to do to avoid having to read between the lines to hear “YOU WILL SURELY DIE.” I also have to talk about the mood/depression stuff that’s been going on, so I have two reasons to want to avoid this.

“That would give them one day to do your tests and submit your paperwork,” my husband replied. “Just go.”

“Well, say I got sick and couldn’t go, would the insurance company take the $500 out of your next check?”

Another look from the husband.

“If you get sick, then you’ll be in luck, since that’s where you need to be anyway.”

“Not if I get explosive diarrhea,” I countered.

That elicited a chuckle. “Well, they wouldn’t take it all at once; they would space it out over the year.”

I did the math. “So, $20 per paycheck is all that we would miss if I didn’t go on Friday?”

“Yep, two packs of diapers or a big canister of formula is all we would miss if you don’t go. You’re going.”

I sighed. “I know. But I don’t want to.”

So I will go–but not without acting like a baby about it beforehand, clearly.