Defining Myself

This is a Really Real . . .

Well, I’m not sure how to categorize it actually.

It’s maybe a Really Real Dating Post and kind of a Really Real Identity Crisis Post.

Wonder Woman and I are polyamorus (simply put, we can openly and separately date other people) even though we’ve been functionally monogamous for the majority of our relationship.

This isn’t really about that, but it’s about defining myself for a dating profile and I figured I’d mention the whole polyamory thing before someone thinks we’re either breaking up or that I’m cheating in a very strange out in the open way. Neither of which is happening here.

Online dating means having a profile.

Which means I need to define myself.

Which is fucking hard.

I go to the gym almost daily, but I’m not really all that into fitness.

I write almost daily, but I don’t really know anything about writing.

I love coffee, but can’t really discuss any of the finer details or even explain what I like (Starbucks is fine, thank you very much).

I love cooking, but couldn’t tell you my favorite meal.

I enjoy officiating with derby, but don’t really do derby.

I’m a widow and that changed my life in HUGE ways, but I’m not only a dead woman’s wife.

I can have long conversations about weekly doctors appointments and DBT classes and therapy, and what’s it’s like to survive with not enough money and too much trauma.

I can’t keep up with politics or anything else in the news. I don’t read or watch TV or follow any current pop culture. I’m not big into board games or even video games. I can fake my way through conversations about music but mostly have no idea who sang which songs but I might know a few of the lyrics.

And all of this seems like a really negative way to describe myself but every time I think about who I am as a whole, that’s all I see.

All the things I’m not.

So, even though I don’t believe one person can meet all of my needs and I wouldn’t want her to even if she could.  And even though I strongly believe in polyamory as the right choice for me. I still haven’t really put much effort into dating, partially because I can’t figure out how to put myself out there authentically.

I can’t really figure out who I am.

And it makes me sad.

Wonder Woman obviously sees something in me. I have friends who obviously want to spend time around me so I obviously have good qualities. But being a good friend, a good listener, a kind person, those things aren’t really who I am and what I like to do.

Those things aren’t the kinds of things you use to describe yourself to another person.

Dating is hard!

Where’d I go?

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I feel like my writing fell off the face of the earth.

It was an every day thing for me. Every event was one more topic to write about. I felt like a piece of me was missing if I didn’t sit down and knock out a post each day.

And overnight my interest waned.

But writing is an important part of who I am and this is just a symptom of my depression. Allowing myself to avoid putting fingers to keys is one more way I’m allowing the depression to win.

I saw my psychiatrist today. I asked her if we could increase my Lamictal.  Last time it helped.

She handed me a lab slip.

But I don’t want to wait for a stupid blood test. I want to feel better now. I want to feel better a week ago, two weeks ago, maybe it’s been a month or longer.

This constant, although minimal, depression is draining. I spend part of my days feeling like I’m crawling through quicksand. I’m not quite being sucked under, I’m maybe not in danger, but it feels like I could be.

I’m still doing what has to be done but I also spend time being resentful. There’s a quiet voice in the back of my head asking why I’m the only one doing the things that I normally want to the only one doing. (Well now, that sentence was as clear as mud, but it made sense to me.)

Those things that need doing seem like so much work right now.

But the same quiet voice keeps me from asking for help.

The same quiet voice makes me want to pick fights.

It makes me angry over things that I would normally shrug off.

But I know that quiet voice is the voice of depression. It’s the same voice that keeps me from writing.

The same voice that makes me want to crawl in bed because nothing seems interesting and the bed just seems so comfortable. Even though all I do is stare at the image of the clock projected onto the ceiling.  I watch and wait for the minutes to change.

Sometimes minutes turn into hours.

Sometimes hours turn into days.  Days without writing.

But once I put my fingers to keys again, I see that I still have a lot to say.

I can’t let this depression take my words, take my voice, take this part of me.

It’s too important that I speak my story and share my truth.

It’s too important that I keep shining a light into all the dark spaces.

Pieces

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Also a Really Real Writing Post.

I pride myself on being open and vulnerable.

I share so much of myself, so much of who I am and what I think, here, with fingers to keys.

But the words on your screen are carefully chosen.  Each letter has been read and reread, thought and overthought, edited and clarified.

While you are seeing the real truth, straight from my heart, and soul, and mind, you are also seeing something that I have worried about, and sometimes agonized over, before hitting send.

Is this clear enough?

Will it be received in the way it is being sent?

Can my words be twisted into meanings that I don’t intend?

I often plan out the written pieces in my head before putting fingers to keys.  Then after writing I spend time reading them in various voices, the voices of my friends and loved ones, and attempting to predict your reactions to the words on the screen.

Will I be understood?

Often it’s this playacting in my head that keeps me from writing about certain topics or certain people.  My intention is never to cause harm to a person or relationship.

I want to help people, including myself, through the words I put on the screen.

I write about hard subjects and difficult topics.  Sometimes scary, sometimes sad.  I don’t want to cause undue stress because a comma could have been better placed or a different word could have been chosen.

I may not ever be concise in my wording; I will always use ten words where two would have done, but I always try to be clear.

However, each of you will take what you need from what I have to say.  Each of you will find your own lessons in my words.  Each of you will form your own relationship with the letters I have put on the screen, just as I have.

These words are so much more than individual letters,

they are pieces of me.

April 2, 2019 Question of the Day

What would your ideal room look like?

Pick any room you like, bedroom, living room, kitchen, craft room, etc. and describe it.

My ideal living room would be a large room with waist high shelving of varying types.  Book shelves, cube shelves and some larger shelving areas.  On top of the shelves would be cushions and blankets for cozy areas to relax and read or watch TV and game.

One whole wall would be windows with the other walls open for family pictures and various posters, artwork, craft projects, etc. to be hung.

There would be computer space with an attached crafting space for me (a large L shaped area) and then a TV space with all of the various gaming systems for Wonder Woman.  All in close enough proximity to each other that we were still spending time together while having enough room for our own projects.  Siah (the Yorkie with no chill) would have her own little chill out area with her dog bed and blankets tucked away in a little nook between us.

What would your ideal room look like?

Just Wanna Write!

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I’ve felt the urge to write all day, but haven’t been able to come up with a topic.  Part of the problem is that I have a few floating around in my head, but they involve other people, and I don’t really want to write about other people in a public space.

I guess that isn’t quite true.  I write about other people all of the time.  In positive ways.  I  don’t want to write negative things about other people.  They either aren’t going to be able to defend themselves, or they’ll read it and it’ll start a shit storm, or someone else will read it and it’ll get back to them.  It’s just bad news all around.

I can write enough negative things about myself to last a lifetime.

But the only topics floating around in my head today involve situations and such that revolve around other people and it’s hard to get past that sort of writers block.

And I just wanna write!

Wonder Woman cooked us dinner tonight.  It. Was. Amazing!  I cook dinner 99.9% of the time (which I love doing) but this was a nice change.  I told her it was good enough that she needed to take over cooking dinner from now on.

I only got 5 hours of sleep last night, and then a few super short power naps today.  I’m still dealing with this mixed mood.  (In case you couldn’t tell from the way I’m jumping all over the place).

I was having a discussion earlier with Wonder Woman about the fact that this time around it is an entirely different experience.  Of course I’m riding the bipolar coaster, but I’m also able to see the big picture.  I’m in it, but not in it at the same time.  I’m not my moods, I’m not this mood episode, I’m not even entirely my reactions, but I do have control over my actions and reactions.  I’m able to monitor my moods and react accordingly.  I’m not feeding into the mania or depression.  It’s amazing to see the DBT skills at work in this situation, the same sort of episode that put me into crisis so many years in a row.  Being on medication that works well is helping too, but these skills are a game changer.

I feel like this should be a curriculum that’s taught to everyone in middle school instead of something that costs entirely too much money to access.  I only have 6 weeks left and I know I’m going to miss having the group every week.

I’m looking into a NAMI support group to fill the hole that’ll be left in my calendar.

Is that how this works?

This is a Really Real Community Post.

I’m completely new to WordPress in reality.  I’ve been writing here for going on a year (and brought over facebook posts from well before that) but I have no idea how this platform actually worked.

I was just using it to compose and edit my thoughts which I published and then copied to my public and private facebook pages.

Now I’m seeing there’s a really large community here, and I’m learning how to get involved.  I feel like such a beginner, still trying out my tricycle, not even moving up to a bicycle with training wheels yet.  I’m browsing through the reader and looking at different tags and trying to figure out where I belong.

But social anxiety is a thing even through the comment section.

I can see this being a wonderful community to belong to as long as I can keep all those fears at bay.

For quite some time I’ve felt like my words, in this space, were falling into the abyss.  I wanted to reach out to more, and I wasn’t sure how.  Showing people what it’s like from inside my head has always been important to me.

Sharing my story and speaking my truth has been my goal since Parker died.  Squash the stigma.

It’s hard to get rid of stigma when no one sees the words you write.

But at least it’s acted like a journal, giving me space to release the pent up words that needed a place to go.

To those who have followed me in the last day or two, welcome!  I look forward to sharing my story with you, and I look forward to hearing yours.