The Flip-Side of Bipolar or Depression and Self-Neglect

As I've written before, there have been certain symbols of the debilitating depression I suffered in 2012, and I am working to eliminate them and move on. Thursday, I took care of one of the big ones: my teeth. During that depression (and if you've been reading all along, you know it was severe) I had a hard enough time feeding myself, much less take care of myself. A year and a half of self-neglect really took its toll on my teeth. Specifically, my two front teeth, that had large, visible areas of decay right in front. You know, the place people look when they look at your mouth? That everyone can see when you smile or talk or laugh? I didn't smile easily and hid my laugh behind my hand. Drinking cold or sugary drinks hurt. I was ashamed.

Thursday, I got them filled, and I can smile again.

Part of really reclaiming myself post-depression is feeling better about myself, and this was a huge part. Now that I don't feel like I have to hide any more, I can move on. I feel so much more confident.

Moral of the story: even if you're depressed to the point that you can't even care about feeding yourself, still brush your teeth. Don't make excuses. It's an expensive process to get them fixed after.

Of Flashbacks and Fear

I did something that I hate doing today, and that was calling out of work because of the weather. I've driven in snow and ice, but today's weather is terrible: it's raining on top of snow that was never fully cleared from the roads, on top of storm drains completely blocked by ice. I looked outside and saw the weather advisories and started to feel the anxiety twisting in my gut and making my head throb. A few months after I got my car in 2005 I was driving home in similar weather conditions and went off the road, ending up in a deep ditch before a farmer's cow pasture. I was unhurt, thankfully, but my car had quite a bit of damage and since then, I've been really anxiety-ridden when driving in bad conditions involving rain, slush, and sleet. Today that anxiety is overwhelming, and I was tearing up as I called my boss to say I wouldn't be in.

The view from my kitchen. If you click the image, you can see the rutted slush in the road. There's a side street to the left that will probably flood today.

I love my job. I miss the people I work with when I'm not there (or when they're out). I enjoy what I do and why I do it. Today I just couldn't. I both love and hate the attitude of "you live in Maine, you should be able to drive in bad weather." On one hand, yes, yes we should know how to drive in the crap this state throws at us in the winter. On the other hand, I don't feel like I should take unnecessary risks to get somewhere, even to a job I love. Driving with my anxiety level so high would have been a nightmare, and honestly, I probably would have been in a foul "fuck the world" mood all day.

To keep my panic in check, I'm turning again to this blog, that I started two years ago to deal with the anxiety and depression of being unemployed. This is my therapy. It won't get rid of the  anxiety headache I already developed (but thanks to a Pepsi is starting to abate) but it helps me think through my worries and fears about today.

And for the curious, here's the statement that the police released about driving conditions in the town I work in:

Due to the inclement weather we are experiencing, the travel conditions within the City of Augusta and outlying areas are not improving as had been expected.  The sand and salt mix is not adhering to the road surfaces. There are a number of areas where plugged storm drains are preventing safe passage on some streets in the city.
We are asking travelers in the City of Augusta to limit travel unless absolutely necessary. IF that is not possible, please avoid the hilly areas and low lying areas where flooding is probable.  Please, drive with caution.  
Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

New Year Miscellanea

Working hard or hardly working?

A year ago, I was desperate for a job. I was living off of unemployment and a meagre $16 in food stamps. I felt like I was grinding my face into rock bottom. I got a job shortly after the new year, and, after a massive panic attack, I quit after five days. Fortunately, I found my current job, at a company I love working for. For the first time I have been able to say that I legitimately love my job; I have a boss that backs me up every time, amazing coworkers (both in the States and abroad), and a higher rate of pay than I ever made after 6 years at the last major telecommunications company I worked for (ironically, I am an outsourcer for one of their major competitors). I enjoy going to work and I'm consistently an hour early every day. I've sulccessfully trained three new hire classes, each one more successful than the last. I still struggle financially, but I work hard and I'm finally on the right track after so long. Having a job has helped my bipolar disorder even out and I have fewer and less dramatic mood swings. 2013 has been pretty decent to me. Sure, there were some times that I wasn't happy, like when my boss told me I wasn't getting my raise (but then, awesome boss that he is, he fought for and got me my raise a couple months later) and when he told me I had to move out of my office and take a desk at the call floor. But those are minor setbacks-- I had my hissy fit and moved on.

John and I are still together and stronger than ever. I don't have a ring on my finger yet and he still has roommates instead of me living with him, but I try to be patient. He's in grad school working toward his LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker, for you that are too lazy to Google it) and I live vicariously through him, editing his papers and dreaming of some day going to grad school myself, if I can ever make up my mind and decide what I want to study.

I've kind of neglected this blog even though I've had so many things on my mind. Part of that is a little bit of fear of my coworkers finding my views offensive (at this point though, I think they know who I am) and part because I've had a hard time organizing those thoughts. And honestly, some of it is laziness. I'm going to try to update more, and not hold back. That's why I created this blog in the first place: to express myself and to use this a therapy. I need to continue to do so. I don't have many subscribers (a whole two) but I know my voice reaches a wider audience than that. Hopefully, some of what I say touches people. For now, I'll start some drafts for later posts.

Happy New Year!

Reevaluating what is Considered "Feminine"

Lately, I've seen more and more positive images of heavily-tattooed women in the media. What really got me thinking about this topic was the Motorola Moto X commercial that shows (at right) a woman with a full sleeve. While we can't see her face, we have peeks of femininity in her hair, the polish on her nails.There's another commercial I've seen (I couldn't find a still of it) encouraging people to shop local for the holidays, and there, in one scene, is another sleeved girl, a trendy, arty shop owner with her wares. All too often, the stereotype surrounding heavily tattooed women has been that "women with tattoos... are promiscuous....If a women [sic] does have a tattoo its is suppose to be easily hidden and look 'feminine' such as a dolphin or a butterfly. Women with darker such as a black and grey piece are considered to look manlier." Thankfully, media is starting to portray heavily tattooed women in a much better and kinder light.

I remember, in a recent marathon of LA Ink I indulged in on Netflix, that Kat Von D mentioned something about being heavily tattooed and still being feminine and soft. I really wish I could find the quote (the only thing people seem to want to quote by her is something about every tattoo having a story, which is so cliche. Meh.) because it stood out to me and it was something she mentioned several times on the show. But it's true; if you look at Kat, you see an incredibly feminine woman, not some butch biker chick. This is important. It's no one's business what you put on your body, but the negative stereotypes and body shaming need to stop. Women with lots of tattoos are beautiful and feminine.
 I  personally can't wait to be heavily tattooed (maybe not quite to the same scale as Kat, but I plan on having both arms, a full back, both ribs, and my legs/feet done at some point) and wear them proudly. I wear the ones I have proudly already. Does it diminish my femininity or my ability to do my job? Not at all. A mother with tattoos is no less feminine or a mother for having them. And insert that statement for a woman of any profession, art, or skill. Will I cover my sleeve when I get married? Hell no! I look forward to being a tattooed bride; my own confidence in being a woman will shine through and the tattoos are just a (very expensive) accoutrement to the whole ensemble.

I'm up to an (incomplete) half sleeve now. Another crow, and more lilies. And FYI, getting your armpit tattooed hurts. A lot.

He's going to be painful to fill in...

#ThxBirthControl!

Today, Planned Parenthood encouraged women to share why they're thankful for birth control. This is something that I take personally, so let me list why I appreciate my birth control:

1. Thanks to the Affordable Care Act, my birth control pills are free. Without it, they would be close to $100 for a 3-month supply. While I have a good job, I wouldn't be able to afford that. And when I get the opportunity to revisit the conversation with my doctor, my sterilization will be 100% covered.

2. Thanks to my birth control, I am not burdened with children that I a) can't afford to take care of, b) do not want, and c) would probably abuse (It takes a lot of self-awareness to understand this about yourself, and I don't think less of myself for coming to this realization).

3. Thanks to my birth control, I have and can focus on a job I really love.

4. Thanks to my birth control, I don't worry about adding to the staggering amount of people at risk for heart disease in my family (along with mental illness and cancer).

5. Thanks to birth control, I can travel whenever I want to, without having to make any extra plans except for making sure my cats have sufficient food and water. I can go to adult-friendly places and eat at kid-unfriendly restaurants.

6. Thanks to birth control, I can be as selfish as I want to be. I can have nice things and eat ice cream for dinner without having to set an example or share. I don't have to share my video games.

7. Thanks to birth control, I can save money to become more financially stable.

8. Thanks to birth control, I don't have to watch my fucking mouth or save naughty movies for late at night.
 
9. Thanks to birth cntrol, I can be empowered as a woman to make my own health choices.

It's Time to Censor Censorship

As far back as I can remember, I have had a book in my hand. Around the age of ten, I started reading my mother's Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and John Saul books. I watched HBO and The Movie Channel late at night unsupervised. When questioned about my reading material, my mother would respond with "she understands what she is reading." And I did. I was emotionally mature enough to understand what I was reading and anything that I didn't understand, whether it be words I was unfamiliar with or situations I just had no frame of reference for, I asked. This is how I grew up. While my parents didn't share my musical tastes, they never told me I couldn't listen to a certain genre or band, didn't make me cover my eyes during scenes of nudity in movies. My parents didn't believe in censoring me, or censorship in general.

Growing up like this, it was always a shock to go to friends' houses where censorship was present, where certain types of music were verboten to the point where CDs were confiscated from bedrooms during school or outings (even after the age of 18). I didn't understand why the coddling was necessary; wasn't their child going to get the literature/music/movie/whatever outside of the home?

I often see on Goodreads threads that start out "what age is appropriate?" when it comes to books, especially the classics. There really isn't such a thing as an appropriate age for a book, in my opinion. The appropriate age is when the child is emotionally ready to read it. Granted, emotional maturation usually follows a certain steady path, but others (like myself) mature earlier than others, or have a higher reading level than other children. If a child is intellectually curious enough to read a book on their own, they're going to ask questions if they don't understand-- it's part of that whole "intellectual curiosity" thing.

On a separate note, a pet peeve of mine: I don't understand people who self-censor, especially in social media. As an educated, intelligent woman, I am a huge advocate of swearing, and nothing makes me grind my teeth more than seeing someone write something like "f@%k" instead of flat-out saying "fuck." What the hell is the point? Who are you protecting? If you're too offended to even write out the word, then why even try to use it in your vernacular? In my mind, words like fuck, shit, piss, cunt, hell, and damn are far less offensive than nigger, fag, dyke, spic, and chink. "Swear" words are, at face value, verbs, adverbs, adjectives, and nouns, whereas the slurs are deliberately used for hate. If you're going to censor anything, check yourself next time you pass on the latest hate speech disguised as a joke.

Censoring ourselves and what our kids are reading, watching on TV, or listening to for music is like saying "I'm okay with being a mindless robot," because really, it's taking away a certain aspect of creativity, independent thought, and passion from our lives. Some people make the argument that swearing is coarse language that is never necessary but I feel that powerful words, placed with strategy in an impassioned speech or even song can deliver so much impact to the listener.

So, Why the Crows?

The subject of my latest tattoo

I get it all the time: "So what's the deal with all the crows?" I guess it's a reasonable question. My tattoos are all crow-themed, I dressed as a crow this Halloween, I keep a crow feather on my fridge, and I have lots of crow stuff at home and in my office. There's even a crow as the background of my phone. So why do I love them? Well, corvids (crows, ravens, magpies, etc.) are incredibly intelligent and have been known to use tools and complex forms of communication. They can also be taught to talk (Julian the raven is the most adorable thing, ever).

I've always had a connection to crows and ravens, and in fact in my youth when I would potentially be late for school due to oversleeping, the crows would start outside my window and wake me. Naturally, I identified with the birds and eventually recognized them as my animal/spirit guide. I couldn't live in a place where there was no crows, it would just feel wrong. Seeing them makes me happy, and listening to them calms me.They are truly amazing creatures with an unfair reputation built by centuries of fear and lack of understanding.

The tattoo version of the above picture