This afternoon and this evening were like two totally different days.  Now I have brain whiplash.

But tomorrow is the NaBloPoMo kickoff!  So you’ll have to wait for pictures and stories until then. 

I haven’t taken meds yet.  Might any minute, but not yet.

I do wish to add that I wish I was famous, not so that random people would be interested in me, but so I could go to parties where other famous people were and so I could hang out with them.  Just certain ones, but I’d love love love to know those certain ones well enough to laugh over a beer or something.

I quoted Eddie Izzard in my online class.  Is that wrong?

Fuck it. 

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Happy Halloween!

In celebration of this wonderous and glorious feast of Our Lord of the Candycorn, I’d like to share with you two amusing stories.

The first is from my friend, Lizzie, who works with the DOD in Washington.

I saw a guy dressed up as a ghost (sheet over his head) at a neighborhood parade on Sunday and was horrified that someone would dress up as a woman in a burqa for Halloween. Then we saw a kid dressed up as the Borg and I was even more horrified that someone would let their kid dress up as a suicide bomber. “This is a remarkably political parade!” I remarked to Boy. He said, “No, you’re just not very bright.” True!

Story number two:  Last night Wallace and I were making scary ghosts to hang from our awning using white plastic bags.  I did the cutting and tying, Wallace did the stuffing and drawing of facial features.  He drew two eyes, a wide, gaping maw, and then insisted that I turn them over so that with a few deft squiggles they each had excellent hair.

Look out!  It’s the ghost of Fabio!

Here’s hoping you get enough candy to make you totally sick my friends.  Happy Halloween!

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Wallace has, apparently, been telling his teachers that for Halloween he’s going to be a chocolate chip cookie.

While that would, indeed, have been an awesome costume, I’m afraid he’s let me know a bit late and we’ve poured all our effort into being Fireman Sam.  Bob the Builder is a reasonable backup, but we will not be last-minute cobbling a chocolate chip cookie costume.

That kid.  I swear.

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Or: A Metaphorical Day

I continue to be not great. 

Today I have used various descriptors to describe how I’m feeling to people.  Here are some of them:

1. I feel like a gigantic dam has broken and all the emotion and pain I’ve been keeping firmly in check my whole life has raged through my entire body, cracking me from the very core of myself outward.   I should look like stained glass to people looking at me from the outside.
2. I am a person who has mastered the highwire act who has suddenly thrown down the balance bar and had her assistants remove the net and put on big, clunky shoes. 
3. I am someone who is used to juggling sixteen bowling balls and eating fire at the same time who is now trying to do so while horribly drunk.
4. I’m falling at the ground very, very fast, and I’m looking through a kolidascope and I’m trying to gauge my distance to the ground so that I can take a pill before I splat onto the pavement.
5. My eyes are sixteen miles away from whoever is talking at me right now.
6. My protective personality is like a kevlar vest that I put on as a child, vital at the time but now it’s twisting me and constricting me.  The war is over and it’s grown into my skin and making me hunched.  I have to take it off, but taking it off is as painful as leaving it on.
7. I’m a soft shell crab and the world is a big, ol, pointy crab crackin’ mallet.

Some things I am very afraid of:

1. Losing my husband
2. Not being good enough for my child
3. Losing my temper and going nutty at my job and being fired
4. Failing my online course
5. Forgetting something vital and urgent
6. Going back on meds
7. Not going back on meds

But today the most pressing fear I have going is that the skills that I’m proudest of, the ones that involve my superior memory and multitasking skills, were actully results of being on brain medication, and that without the medication I’m going to lose the bits that make me most proudly me.

Like you’d want to be good friends or married to or employ the Cymbalta, but me?  Nah.

What do I do at the end of the day if I get through all this and find out that I’m just cosmically a fat, thoughtless, pointless asshole?

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CRAZY FAT LION DAY!

At Beyond the Map the discussion of truth and its fluidity continues.  It’s a discussion that I’m very much enjoying.  Today’s truth may not be tomrrow’s truth, Peeps, and I’m going to be attempting, along with juggling all these everywhere pumpkins, to try and just be.  No racing around to make myself look better than I am, no trying to be something I’m not. 

Today I had a doctor’s appointment and had to step on the scale.  My friends, I’m fat.  Pretty damned fat.  Fat fat fat.  Note: not ugly, not gross, but most assuredly, fat.

I’m also having some trouble processing stuff.  Yesterday was better, today is a little tougher.  The GINKs are almost gone (thank you, Jebus), but when things alter or change or I remember something I thought I forgot, etc, etc, it’s all a little hard to track.

I’m the queen of multitasking and today I’m having to work hard to follow the thread of even one line of thought instead of the ten to twenty I’m used to.

But I’m going to be a lion about it today!  I’m going to live here as long as I’m here and I’m not going to try and make myself look better to me or to anyone else by sugarcoating anything.  I’m going to be that lady that walks down the street and just doesn’t give a shit if anyone stares.  My very good friend Beetle sent me an email that is the kind that you keep in your inbox forever so you can go back and read it over and over again.  In it, he is the sort of person I’m talking about. Entirely and unapologetically himself and a little surprised that anyone would want to be anything else.  Or even find it challenging.  He is a tremendous inspiration today.

Tomorrow everything may be entirely different, but today I am a CRAZY FAT LION.

Who, without apology or preverication, are you today?  Tell the crazy fat lion.  We’ll be unafraid together.

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In the end, my dear wife beat her disease by simply leaving it behind––in the words of a beloved friend and teacher, her body couldn’t hold her down any longer.

Goodbye, Lori.  I’ll miss you.

KP

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Thanks for hanging with me, those of you who are hanging.  Today is better.  I’m having desperate moments (talking to my mom today was enough to take me to 11 on the hysteriameter, just because she’s my mom and you’re allowed to do that with your moms), but between the hysteria I’m feeling better.  I’ve laughed a little more today and spent more time with Wallace.  I’m less fractured.  Also the GINKs are subsiding a bit.

It might be bad again at night, because it’s always worse at night, but right now I’m hanging in there.

And the best Halloween Song EVER is one sung by an enthusiastic three year old that lives with us.  It must be sung full-volume and more at a scream than a note.  It goes like this:

“PUMPKINS ARE EVERYWHERE!  PUMPKINS ARE EVERYWHERE! PUMPKINS ARE EVERYWHERE!  PUMPKINS ARE EVERYWHERE!”

Just keep singing along those lines and you’ve got it.  Delight your family and amuse your friends.  It sure amuses me!

PUMPKINS ARE EVERYWHERE!

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Or:  Stop saying “durh”

Today is day four off my meds.  Please be patient if I’m rambling or confusing.  Moreso than usual, anyway.  One of the problems with titrating down the meds is that it takes some time for my brain to reiorient itself in space.  I have noticed that spelling and grammer mistakes are rampant and I’m whacking my limbs into everything.  There is also a weird thing when you go off meds that is like a GINK feeling.  It usually happens when I move my eyes far to one side or the other, or when I turn my head too quickly.  My brain goes GINK! and there’s this sort of skip in the record where I lose a milisecond of vision and orientation.  It’s tiny and doesn’t interfere with anything major, but the shockwaves travel down my body.

It’s like getting a quick electrical shock.  I was getting them about every hour yesterday and am getting them about every five to fifteen minutes today.

Of course, those are side effects of the meds, not fundimental issues.  They should go away.  I wasn’t put on the meds because I was experiencing mild electrical shocking.

The one unfortunate side effect that I’m finding is that the meds, in effect, keep/kept the nine year old me under control.  In retrospect this should be less than surprising.  I should have known this.  I should have known that my panic disorder and depression was an outgrowth of having personality number two trying to take over all the time. 

It didn’t occurr to me, Peeps.  I have no idea why, but I thought they were separate.  Durh. 

This month has been a particularly trying month.  Wallace is at a particularly difficult developmental stage, TT has been travelling and working his tail off and isn’t around much.  There has been some family drama that kind of reverberated down through everything and I start school on Tuesday; and online statistics course that I’m totally unsure about.

Add to that that this weekend was an out of town weekend for TT and that I’ve been PMSing, and whatever is in the air with regard to people being in-fucking-sane (the full moon, man), it was a rough week to go off the meds.  Today Wallace wouldn’t nap and I really, really needed one.  That was a dark moment.

Today was day four and all day today I’ve been fighting not to be nine.  Battling full-on not to be nine years old and respond accordingly.  The memories from my childhood that were never repressed, really, but that I’d rather not think about come roaring back.  I’ve had twenty or thirty memories today of things that I flat-out ignored at the time that leave me breathless with rage and impotance now.  The anger is eeking out my pores and the only thing that keeps me from losing it is the knowledge that I can point and say “THAT is what I’m angry about.  And THAT and THAT.” 

It isn’t the general, nondescript misery and frustration and depression, it’s a specific response to specific events that I never let myself respond to.  Ever.  Now, today, I get to re-experience them and respond.  Can you imagine how fun it is to be living this all again?  Good times.  Good times.

I’m having a hard night.  I really think that this is a different time and that I have a good chance of being successful at coming off the meds because for the first time I’m recognizing what’s withdrawal and what’s earlier pain coming into play.  None of it feels random, or at least it doesn’t for long.  This is the best chance I’ve had so far at toughing it out until the GINKs stop, and for going ahead and feeling what I feel and moving on.

But if I wake up tomorrow and it’s worse…

If I wake up tomorrow and it’s worse I think I’m going to take a Cymbalta.

Right now I’m in quicksand to my upper lip, but my nose is still free.  One more inch and it’s not going to be okay anymore.  It’s not going to be something I can do.

God, I hope tomorrow is better.  Please don’t think I’m a failure if I can’t do it now.  My son needs me to much to be self-indulgent enough to wind up in a ward.  I wish I could take a weekend and just feeeeeeeeel, but I can’t.

Here are some awesome things that Wallace said today, though, just so you know that there were moments I laughed my butt off.

• W: I widing on you back!
• Me: Yeah?
• W: I a cowboy!
• Me: Wait, what does that make me?
• W: HAPPY!

• W:  STOP IT, MOMMY!  JUS STOP IT!
• Me (not doing anything):  Stop what?!
• W: STOP IT, PWEASE!

We’ll often say “what?” when we’re waiting for him to ask for something politely.

• To the lady dressed as a cat at the zoo handing out Halloween treat bags: “Trick o Tweet, Monster!”
• Lady, not hearing the first time: “Can you say ‘trick or treat’?!”
• W, highly affronted and thinking she’s an idiot:  “I did“

• Me: I’m so sorry I was crabby at you today, buddy.  I should not have yelled.  I’m very sorry.  Can I give you a hug and tell you I’m sorry?
• W:  Yes, mommy.  Yes.  Fank you.  I so pwoud a you.

Wallace, I so pwoud a you I can’t breathe.

I’m having milk and cake now and after writing to you, Peeps, things are better.  You always make things better.  Thank you for that.

KP

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At Beyond the Map this past Wednesday Bella posted about the health of honesty and how easy it is to tell little lies that add up, not just to others but to ourselves. She writes:

I Lie Because

1. I want to make others feel better or I don’t want to hurt them.
2. I don’t want others to be mad so I attempt to control them, denying them honesty, which is really about protecting myself.
3. I don’t know how to say no or not yet or I don’t want to, so I come up with an “excuse”, which is really a lie.
4. I am afraid of being judged, that if I am honest I will be told I am to blame and that is all my fault.I fear others will do this and that I will do this to myself.
5. I sometimes believe that if I allow myself to know something unpleasant or painful about myself I must then immediately do something, fix it, change.

(cont…)

She then goes on to list 10 things that she has not been truthful about.  It’s very brave.  You should go read it.

I, myself, am an honesty junkie.  I’m someone for whom blogs were made because I can often overwhelm folks in real life with my tendency to blurt out random things that have occurred to me.  I’m not sure what protective measure this serves, but I know that is absolutely compulsory for me.   Keeping truths in makes me feel bloated and surreal. 

It’s probably about control.  If I tell everyone everything about me now then nobody can find out about it later and stab me in the back with it.  I chose my own de-closeting of uglies so nobody can choose that for me.

Generally I agree that there is a freedom in being able to speak honestly; there is also, however, a protective measure both for ourselves and others when we lie.  I believe that honesty is the best policy unless it’s not.  When it isn’t you have to weigh what will do the least amount of damage and then do that.  It’s one of the unfortunate adult side-effects; the choices aren’t always good or bad, they are usually pretty ambiguous. 

If that means that you tell yourself you’ll “get to it later” because you’re not in a place to deal with it now, then go for it.  Get to it later. 

Guilt runs rampant through our lives.  I think we should forgive ourselves the small fibs we use to get through the day, particularly when they are to ourselves.

I wish someone would forgive me, anyhow, because I’m only just learning to do that and I’m not very good at it.

Without further ado, Two Total Truths about Me That I’m Nervous to Reveal:

Read the rest of this entry »

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People who are not familiar with the interconnectivity of the internet can be very put off by it.  Folks who didn’t grow up with how easy it is to find one another and how easy it is to talk to one another often feel invaded.  Me, I feel freed.

Are there weirdos on the internets?  Yes.  I have met them.  They are weird.  They can hide for a time, but in my experience they eventually show gigantic red-flag behavior, the same as the guy you talk to on the bus and suddenly two minutes into the conversation you know that you must stop talking to this individual right now.

Everyone I’ve met online in real life, however, has been just awesome.  You know how I am here?  Yeah, that’s how I am everywhere; meatspace or electronic.  MoVo or Spartus or Kate or any number of persons here can confirm it, just ask ‘em, and they are themselves in real life as well. 

There is fear in being as exposed as we are today, but there is also freedom.  I’m still working on responding to Bella’s Honesty post, and have some more to say about the freedom of truth there, but it’s giving me trouble.  I’m squirming a little.  I’ll get it up soon.

ANYHOW…

What I really wanted to tell you is how this amazingly cool thing called the internet can help you to meet amazingly cool people like, Riley’s Mom.

Rei from Texas is someone who’s blog I read regularly with no recollection about how I started reading her blog.  Mostly her blog is gorgeous pictures of her boy, Riley, and his awesomeness and the awesomeness of their days.

When I was prattling on about Noddy and Fireman Sam and Yo Gabba Gabba, Rei was reading and she taped about seven Fireman Sam episodes and a few Yo Gabba Gabbas and posted them to us, free of charge, along with some Thomas stickers, Halloween washable tattoos, a lovely card, and a note on the bubble envelope that read:

“Random fact of the day from Riley: ‘A planet is much, much, much bigger than a hippopotamus’”

Hot DAMN!  Do you know people as cool as the people I know?  Hell, look who I’m talking to.  You are as cool as the people I know!

Last night Wallace watched all of the Fireman Sam episodes and two of the Yo Gabba Gabba episodes; if I could describe his face when he saw the YGG guy and said, “I listen to the ‘wiggles’ one?” and I said, “I don’t know which episode this is!  I don’t know if they have the wiggles one!” and then just at that moment the Hold Still song came on the television, well, it was Christmas early at our house is what.

People as a group are assholes, but indivdual persons can be worth their weight in gold. Rei is one of those gold persons. 

Thank you so much, Rei and Riley!  You made our month!

xoxoxo

KP

P.S. - Having some trouble putting thoughts together at the moment, Peeps.  I’ve been off the meds for three days now and while I’m doing just fine there are weird ginky moments when the world kind of judders.  My brain is a little seratonin-starved at the moment and it’s going to take a second for it to figure out what gear we should be in.  If I make no sense I promise that I might sometime soon.

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