Sh*t I Learned (or Relearned) in 2014

  1. I’m not ready to date. I’ve activated and reactivated my OK Cupid and POF accounts more than I can count. The thought of dating terrifies me. I’m still searching for myself and I’m not together financially, spiritually, and emotionally. It could also could be attributed to not being used to dating; I’m used to situationships aka booty calls. I sometimes feel if someone got to know the real me—behind my witty and fun loving nature—they would undoubtedly run for the damn hills. I’m also afraid of getting hurt again. It’s easier getting your feelings hurt by a booty call than an actual boyfriend. I naturally expect rejection from romantically or emotionally unavailable men no matter how much it may suck.
  2. I’m tired of being an occasional snack. I’ve been bumping uglies with The One Who Sets Me on Fire off and on. I’ve gone months without seeing or hearing from him. He sent me a Facebook message wishing me Happy New Year and that he was “itching for [my] juiciness”. Instead of being my usual needy self, I simply wished him a Happy New Year and ignored the innuendo. He was the last man to touch my body but I’m just sick and tired of being his occasional snack. I don’t want a relationship but at least don’t make me feel like you’re using me. (in my Chandler Bing voice) “Could you be any more obvious?”
  3. I went to grad school for the wrong reason. I went to grad school to get quick money to purchase another car. (The previous one was stolen.) A year later, the car needed an engine. Where can I quickly pull $1500+ out my ass? School of course. I’ve looked for employment off and on and the loan money has given me extra income in the meantime. The money ran out last semester and I haven’t paid my credit cards in 3 months. Bummer. In 2015, I have to find gainful employment! These bills are no joke! It would be nice to get money that I don’t have to pay back!
  4. I’m really into healing crystals! When I was a little girl, I was fascinated with these small pebbles my mama used to get in the mail. I would dig in the yard looking for more but I always found marbles. I thought they had magical powers too. Upon learning more, I now know that my mother probably received clear quartz thumb stones. I’ve collected several tumble stones and a jade yoni egg. I want to significantly increase my collection in 2015. I also want to balance my overactive and underactive chakras. Smokey quartz and carnelian are my favorite gemstones!
  5. I’m an empath. I honestly thought that there was something wrong with me. When others tell me their problems, I find myself absorbing their pain instead of offering viable solutions. When I see complete strangers happy, upset, or sad, I soak up their feelings like a sponge. I overindulge in food to combat emotional stress. I could go on and on but I didn’t realize this until I start learning more about healing crystals. Go figure.
  6. It’s ok to say no. I have a hard time saying no but I have seen some minor improvements in 2014. I don’t feel as obligated to answer calls or texts, to be someone’s lackey, or to have sex. I’ve turned down a few romps in the hay with men from my past in 2014. The 2013 me probably would have taken them on the offer. I haven’t shaved my legs, underarms, and yoni in months and it is f*cking liberating!
  7. I need a spiritual outlet. I’m not the biggest fan of religion. Since denouncing religion, I really haven’t taken the time to become spirituality attuned with the universe or even myself. In order to become more spiritually aware, I also need align the mental and physical. That’s gonna take a lotta work. Wish me luck y’all!

What did you learned (or relearned) in 2014?

P.S. January 6th is my birthday. I’ll be 35. Gosh, I’m damn near 40.

In The Land of Zombies & Scaredy Cats

I went to my doctor’s appointment last week. I hate confronting anything—especially this. It’s one of those things that I know needs to be addressed but a part of me wants to avoid eye contact with it. I noticed that I was the youngest patient in the waiting room. My mind began to wonder about the older patients. Was this my future? Going to psych appointments in my 50s? Living with bipolar disorder as a 33-year-old is challenging enough. Could I stretch this 33 more years?

I never thought that I would have made it to 30. As a teen, I vowed to end my misery before I reached adulthood. I always thought that I would have committed suicide by now. I know that sounds morbid but when you’re living with a mental disorder, it feels quite the opposite. It feels like a source of peace. After a couple of failed attempts in my teens, I decided that I wasn’t really good at it. Plus being a scaredy cat and a people pleaser aren’t adequate ingredients for a suicider. (I doubt that’s an actual word.) And besides, life isn’t unbearable all the time. I tell myself, “Just one more day” whenever I’m feeling very close to the edge.

I would say that guilt and obligation keeps me here for the most part. I have an older brother that my mother has been caring for. She had to modify her life and end her career in order to devote her time to him. It takes a very strong and selfless person to do what she does on a daily basis. I admire her for that. I have to let her know that one day.

I’ll most likely take over the reins if she becomes incapacitated or passes away. She said that she doesn’t want my brother to be a burden to us (or our potential mates) but I can’t bear the thought of him going to a home. He is unable to talk, has epilepsy and is mentally disabled. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone if he was being mistreated. The mere thought of this reduces me to tears every time.

Wow. I have totally drifted away from the subject at hand—my doctor’s appointment. The doctor assessed my condition and prescribed me Abilify and Prozac. He told me to take them on the regular basis or risked being hospitalized. He also suggested group therapy. I held back tears as he talked and couldn’t wait to get out of his office. I had such high hopes for my appointment but I felt the resistance and fear building up inside of me.

After a few days of taking my meds, I stopped. I felt numb and spacey. I call it the zombie effect. Even though the thought of therapy scared me, I made the decision to go to a session. I figured that it may help me to see the importance of taking medication.

My first therapy session was this morning. I arrived on time but the nurse said that once a certain number of people arrived, the session would begin. I took a seat in the waiting area. After 20 minutes, fear began to set in. The “what ifs” stifled me. My throat felt tight. I  hyperventilated silently and left the premises. The thought of sharing and being vulnerable in front of others scared me. It’s not the same as blogging.

They called my cell about 15 minutes later. I ignored the call.

I know that I have to give the meds another try. I know that I have stay for a session. I know. I know. I know. Sigh.