We’ve all had those days, right? Where you’re just zip-a-dee-doo-dahing along with the bluebirds on your shoulders, when one of them shits on you and BAM day ruined. Ok, so we don’t live in a Disney kind of world, but still, we’ve all had little things along the way ruin a perfectly good-hair, I look amazing kind of day.
Blowing a fuse, while blow drying your hair
Just the other day, I was drying my hair when all of a sudden the hair dryer stopped working. I tried the little reset button thingy; nothing. I tried a different outlet in the same room; nothing. I finally went to another room and tried the outlet there. Thank god that worked. But that also meant I had to move my flat irons, and a mirror into that room to do my hair. I don’t know about you, but when it comes to getting ready, I have a routine, and I have a routine for doing my hair. Having to set up shop in a different room meant that nothing was where it was supposed to be. Everything looked and felt, well… wrong. So, once I was done, even though I was having a good hair day, my day was ruined because everything just felt “off”.
Losing your favorite pen
I am a collector of pens, and by collector I mean thief. If I am out and I have to borrow your pen, like at a bank, or a restaurant, chances are 85% you’re not getting it back. My friends laugh at me because my purse contains three things, lighters (I don’t smoke), lipstick (in every shade imaginable.. I just use chapstick) and pens (well over a dozen easy). For all those pens in my purse I still have one favorite one. You know the one, that writes smooth as silk, that just fits in your hand just right, and no matter how your write, it looks perfect all because of that one special pen. Knowing I always have eleventy billion pens in my purse, whenever my friends need one they always turn to me “You’ve got a pen, don’t you? Of course you do!” I try to not give my pen out to anyone, but sometimes it’s the first one I grab. , I watch it like a hawk, but sometimes it gets away from me, and it’s lost. Nothing sucks quite like losing your perfect pen.
I don’t know where you live, but I live in the greater St. Louis area. We are known for our toasted ravioli, our gooey butter cake, the St. Louis Cardinals, and the humidity. The thing with humidity around here is, it doesn’t always wait for the summertime temperatures. There have been cold spring mornings, when I have had to turn the AC on in the car to get the humidity out because everything just felt damp and sticky. There is nothing like freezing with the AC on just so you can see out the windshield. It’s those unexpected days, when your hair and make up look amazing until you step outside into air so think you can barely inhale it. There goes your hair, flat and limp and lifeless, unless you have naturally curly hair, then it’s instantly afrotastic. Suddenly your make up is sliding off your face,and no amount of powder is going to keep it in place. In fact the power just turns into a doughy mess and your mascara and eye liner run into your eyes and down your face. It is no surprise that women around here always have ponytail bands in their purse or on their wrists.
Hand tossed Pizza Crust
Yes, this is oddly specific, but hear me out. Last week a friend of mine was taking her kids to Troy to do some shopping and for dinner, and asked if I wanted to ride along. Sure, it will be fun to get out of the house, and going to Walmart is always mildly entertaining. After we finished our shopping, we all went to Pizza Hut for dinner. Everyone has their own specific pizza they order at Pizza Hut, so she started to order their favorite, when the waitress said “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re out of pan crust pizzas tonight. Would you like hand tossed?” We sort of had no choice, because you can’t really do meat lovers on thin crust. We agreed and hoped for the best, because clearly meat lovers belongs on pan pizza because of all the grease. When our order arrived, I’m not exactly sure what crust they used, because what they brought was not hand tossed and it ruined the pizza. We ordered two large pizzas and bread sticks, and they ended up taking a pizza and a half home with them that night. Sorry Pizza Hut, it’s pan pizza or nothing from now on.
Your iPod won’t sync to iTunes
iTunes came out with a new update last week, and wham bam I installed it I have had an iPod of some sort for the past 6 years and have never had a problem with their updates. Until this one. I went to sync my iPod Touch to iTunes today and iTunes wouldn’t recognize my iPod, couldn’t even find it. My computer knew it was there, but iTunes must have had some special kind of blinders on, because it was not seeing my iPod Touch. I am sure there is a solution to this, that Google can find for me, and iTunes and YouTube can walk me through, but until then I can’t sync my iPod or update my music library.
Leaving home without your phone
I don’t know about you, but I am pretty attached to my phone, emotionally and physically. So, when I happen to walk out the door without it, I am like Amelia Earhart flying across the Atlantic. I’m sure I know where I want to go, but I always feel completely lost. It’s the same feeling when I am out and about with my phone, but it is about to die, and I can’t charge it until I get back home, or at least back to the car. When Brian and I finally broke up for good last month, the contract for my phone was up for renewal, and since my phone was on his account, guess who cancelled my phone completely? You got it. I went three weeks without cell service. I could use my internet, as long as I was connected to WiFi, but if I was away from WiFi I was basically adrift in the middle of an ocean where nobody could communicate with me, and I couldn’t communicate with anyone. It sucked.
A Super Sensitive Mouse Touchpad on a brand new laptop
Do any of you have Windows 8 operating system on your computer/laptop? Are you as annoyed by it as I am? If I move my mouse to the left I end up in an entirely different program than I wanted to be. If I move my mouse to the right, I get a whole lot of icons I don’t want or need to see. My touchpad is uber sensitive too, meaning I barely tap on it, and three windows open up. But when I want to close two of those windows I am basically pounding on the damn thing. Apparently if I so much as hover over the touchpad, my cursor will jump to some random place in the text and start typing in the middle of a word two paragraphs up. Or worse, it will totally just highlight and delete entire paragraphs that I just finished typing. Thank god for the Oops! key (undo). It has saved my sanity, and this laptop more than once tonight.
Sara McLaughlin’s ASPCA Commercials
That’s all I have to say about that.
What little things can totally derail your day?
, Louis Cardinals
, Pizza Hut
, St. Louis
Photo courtesy Jillian Young’s Facebook Page
It has been a year. 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, four seasons, since that horrible fateful day when all our lives changed.
It seemed so terribly unfair that the world didn’t stop spinning on it’s axis that day. Didn’t it know that nothing would ever be the same? That everything had changed? That life, as we all knew it that morning suddenly, without warning, ceased to exist.
It’s been a year, today. We all have learned, what we knew, but didn’t really want to believe then, life goes on. It’s has been a year of ‘firsts’. The first summer without you, the first First Day of School, the first basketball game, the first Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. Every single day, was a first.
Now, there are new “firsts”. The first day there were no tears at the thought of you. The first time I could tell a funny story and laugh without feeling guilty. The first time the pain of missing you doesn’t take my breath away.
There are pennies on your headstone, left behind by friends of yours, constantly making sure you have an endless supply of pennies to leave as reminders that you are still with us and miss us as much as we miss you. I know several cheerleaders have a “Jillian penny jar” where they keep their found pennies from you.
It’s been a year today. 365 sunrises and sunsets. 365 good mornings and good nights. 12 months, 4 seasons.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven
A time to be born, and a time to die,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
It is our time to live, to laugh, to love, to dance, and to remember. Today we remember you Jillian, your smile, your sparkle, your laughter, the whole of you.
I believe the right pair of shoes can make all the difference between a good day and a great day.
I believe that just because people think something about me, doesn’t make it true, unless they think I’m awesome, then clearly they’re right.
I believe that everything happens for a reason, even if that reason is because I’m an idiot.
I believe I have had more than enough snow this year to last the next five years. Although I’m not sure Mother Nature really cares how any of us feel about snow.
I believe the touchpad on this laptop is entirely too sensitive and needs to get over itself.
I believe there are people out there who are not even vaguely interested in the truth.
I believe that no matter what I weigh or what size jeans I wear, somebody somewhere will be unhappy with it. That somebody may or may not be me.
I believe in the magic of found pennies. I also believe after spending months walking every day looking for pennies, I now have specially honed penny radar.
I believe I can survive much more than I thought I could.
I believe that rock bottom is a great place to start rebuilding a life.
I believe I truly come alive when I have my camera in my hands.
I believe I am better off without him, even though I didn’t think that was possible three months ago.
I believe I had to lose it all, in order to appreciate it when I get it all back.
I believe in firing everyone in my life, and taking applications for new friends and family is necessary every once in a while.
I believe that despite my best efforts, I am still alive, and there has to be a purpose for that. I just have to find it.
I don’t use my disorder as a crutch or an excuse, but sometimes it is the only explanation I have for my behavior. And that sounds like an excuse, or the refusal to take responsibility for my actions.
I have hurt a lot of people that I love. I have hurt my family, almost all of my friends. I know that I have hurt them repeatedly. I’m sorry no longer matters or fixes things, or even brings forgiveness. They no longer believe I’m sorry, all they know is that they have been hurt far too often, far too much. They have walked out of my life, shutting me out of theirs. I can’t blame them. I no longer reach out to them. I understand their pain, and their need for self preservation. That doesn’t mean any of this makes sense to me.
My meds work, sometimes. Never for very long, and changing dosages, or even drugs is almost worse than the mood swings they are trying to control. The depression is horribly dark and scary and awful. The mania is when I hurt them the most, when I am the most horrific terrible mean bitch to everyone. I hate myself at either end of the spectrum. Finding a middle ground seems to be impossible,
I am afraid there will never be anyone who understands and will stay through the ups and downs. I am afraid that I will live the rest of my life alone. None of this make sense. It doesn’t make sense that everyone else gets to be normal, and I have to live my life at one of two extremes. There is no real happiness in my life, there is no middle ground, there is no normal.
That doesn’t make sense to me. What did I do to deserve this? What did I do to have to live my life forever hurting people I love, and shutting them out so that I don’t hurt them anymore? Why am I going to live the rest of my life alone, unloved, misunderstood?
That doesn’t make sense to me. It will never make sense to me. I fight harder than anyone can know to not hurt the people I love. I struggle every day to be normal. Nobody knows how hard I struggle. As horrible as it appears on the outside, it is indescribably worse inside my head. The things I do that hurt people, I don’t mean to do, but the things my head wants to say or do are so much worse than they can understand.
I hate this disorder, even if I have accepted it. I have accepted that this is my life, and will be a fact of my existence for the rest of my life. I am cutting people out of my life right now, because I have hurt them, because they have hurt me. None of this is an excuse for my behavior, for my words, for my actions. It is not my scapegoat, my crutch. But I cannot deny that my disorder effects my actions, my words, my life. As hard as I fight, as much as I struggle, I cannot always overcome the chaos that lives in my head.
No, I don’t understand why I can’t be normal. Why there is no cut and dry answer to this. I don’t understand why I can’t win the battle that rages inside my brain daily. There is no way to understand it. If I can’t, how can I possibly expect anyone else to understand? And without understanding, they cannot accept or forgive. No matter how often I say I am sorry, I didn’t mean it, it won’t happen again, we all know it will at some point. That’s my life. I am sorry. I don’t mean it. But I can’t keep it from happening again.
No, I don’t understand the destructiveness of this disorder. I don’t understand the pain it causes to those closest to me. I don’t understand, I’m not sure I will ever understand.
Tags: bipolar disorder
, mental illness
I apparently have haters. Not just online, but in real life too. The ironic thing is, they hate based on false information. Which, fine, I guess I really shouldn’t care what they think, especially because they are wrong. But still, it’s hard. And sometimes painful.
I am tired of it though. Really tired of censoring what I put online because OMG they are stalking my Facebook page, and possibly reading what I write here. Of course, this post is just going to give them an ego boost, and more power, because now they know they are getting to me.
I don’t really care what they think, because, well, what they think is based on lies misinformation and that makes it all laughable. What I am tired of is them thinking they can tell me how to live my life, as if they know more about it than I do. And then to call me names and accuse me of things I didn’t do? It’s just rather exhausting.
As if they are better than me. Saying ‘It’s no wonder you don’t have your kids’ as if the State came in took them away. The truth is, they are living with their dad, and finishing this school year there. Their dad is on dialysis and on the kidney transplant list. His kidneys are failing, faster then we originally thought. They want to spend as much time with him as they can, because we never know. I still have custody of them, and can go get them whenever I want. I just choose to be a good parent and let them finish the school year there, and spend this time with their dad. The State had nothing to do with it, I haven’t lost custody of them, it’s a choice we all made together.
And that right there is more of an explanation then the haters deserve. Because they don’t know what they are talking about, and they are idiots, and they NEED to believe the lies that they do, because it makes them feel superior to me. Constantly being attacked and accused of things I didn’t do, is exhausting. And maybe this is just another test I have to pass along my journey. All I know is I am tired of it. All of it.
That’s a question I ask myself a lot lately.
When looking for a new place to live, I asked myself, what’s the worst thing that would happen if I moved away from this town, with all its memories and ghosts, and move to a new town and start over?
What’s the worst thing that could happen if I posted photo sessions on our local buy/sell/trade Facebook page?
What’s the worst thing that could happen if I questioned my beliefs and allowed myself to step outside my comfort zone?
What’s the worst that could happen if I finally admitted to myself that I have been holding onto toxic relationships too long? What’s the worst that could happen if I let them go?
What’s the worst that could happen if I did agree to have a drink with the guy I’ve known for a while but never considered him anything more than a friend?
What’s the worst that could happen? Nothing. Nothing could happen, and I’m no better or worse off than I have been.
Finding a new place to live in a new town gives me new opportunities, new people to meet, new business opportunities, and the chance to live in a place where nobody knows my past and therefore won’t judge me.
Posting my photography business on a buy/sell/trade Facebook group just might bring photo sessions (and income) my way, and drum up some business. It will also get my name and business out there in front of people who may not have kids in school and therefore may not know about me at all.
Letting go of toxic relationships will do nothing more than eliminate unnecessary stress in my life. I will no longer spend time worried about what they think of me, or trying to maintain a position in their lives.
The point of all of this is, the fear of the unknown and the uncertain has kept me from making some very positive and necessary changes in my life. When I sat down and asked myself what’s the worst that can happen? I found that the answer usually turned out to be something I could live with. On the flip side, the best that could happen far far outweighed the worst that could happen and minimized the risk almost altogether.
When I ask myself “What’s the worst that can happen?” it allows me to imagine the absolute worst that can happen, knowing whatever does happen probably won’t be that bad, and figure out a way to deal with it. Then, whatever does happen is usually significantly less horrible than what I imagined, and I find that I can easily deal with the less than horrific outcome I’d imagined.
What’s the worst than can happen? I could find the happy life I have always wanted.
, letting go
, moving on
, Starting Over
My last post was very vague and hinted at something, maybe, but not really for sure. I thought I was ready to spill the beans when I sat down to write about it, and then, I apparently chickened out. Not this time.
There have been some bridges that have finally been burned beyond repair, and in the burning of those bridges I have finally cut all ties that have tied me to the past, and kept me from moving on. I held on far longer than I should have, knowing there was no happiness on the other side of the bridge, but fear of the unknown kept me stagnant.
For years I have been reading Britt Reint’s Blog, I read before she sold everything to live in an RV, and have continued to read since she started her pursuit of happiness. I was catching up with her this week, and the thought struck me, I am not sure I have ever had a period of time in my life when I was truly happy.
What a sad, depressing realization. Being truly happy is a choice, something we, well, pursue. I have been asked on several occasions by several people lately, When was the last time you were happy? and I can’t come up with an answer. Sure there are happy moments, happy days, happy occasions, but has there ever been a period of time in my life when I was happy?
That leads to the question What would being happy look/feel like to me? which is another question I’m not sure I have the answer to. I don’t know if I have never recognized happiness because it has always been tinged with depression and mania, or if I have just never allowed myself to experience true happiness. I can’t know what happiness looks like or feels like if I can’t even know what makes me happy in the first place.
The girls are not coming back to live with me. I am, for the first time in my life, completely on my own, responsible only for me, only to me. Like I said, I have burned bridges that needed burning, I have cut ties with toxic people, I have allowed myself to be open to opportunities and possibilities that I couldn’t see before.
I have moved to a new place, and I am starting over. I am not running away, I am taking my responsibilities with me, but I am starting over. I am, for the first time ever, answering to myself. I am going to find out what makes me happy, what does my happiness look like? I am going to find out there is more to me than margaritas and stilettos, photography and writing. I am going to find out that I can be OK with myself, that I can find a reason to smile and be thankful every day. I am going to find that I have worth, and that I don’t have to settle just to avoid being alone. I am going to stand alone, and find the strength and the courage I have heard I have, and for once I am going to find a reason to be proud of myself.
I guess I am going to start my own pursuit of happiness, right after I figure out what my happiness is.
Tags: burning bridges
, cutting ties
, finding myself
, letting go
, moving on
, Starting Over
Sometimes, regardless of how hard we resist it, life insists on going on, and bringing with it, changes. And sometimes everything needs to fall apart in order for other things to come together better than before. Yes, cliches are cliches because they are mostly true.
Last week, the final shoes I had been waiting to fall, fell. And when they fell, they opened my eyes to possibilities I had been closed to before. I saw that I could let go, and I could step outside my comfort zone and start fresh. Leaving the baggage behind, but being sure to take the lessons learned with me.
The anchors that I believed had been holding me back, no longer had the weight I previously believed they had, and can no longer hold me back.
So I took a deep breath, pulled up my big girl panties, and took a step towards my future. For the first time in my entire life, I only have me to take care of, and apparently I need to learn to take care of myself. I am starting over, and I am going to find myself. (Again with the cliches)
Someone told me this weekend, that I use my bipolar disorder as a crutch. Maybe to some it would seem that way. I talk and write a lot about living with bipolar disorder. My intention is to inform people what it’s like living like this. I hope that in telling my story I will help someone who is living with bipolar disorder, or loves someone who is. I work very hard to avoid blaming my problems on my disorder. Sure, my thinking and logic some decisions and actions are skewed thanks to BPD, but I don’t shirk my responsibility because of it. (Does any of that make sense?)
So, in this starting over, I see that I have more work to do in telling my story. I am writing more, I even picked up my camera yesterday and took 60+ pictures of stuff around the house. I am stepping out of my “old life” and embracing the possibility of a “new life” that is more, much more, about me.
And to all my doubters and haters, thank you for your criticism and condescension, they are exactly what I need to encourage me to reach further, try harder, shine brighter, and be better.
No tags for this post.
I would seem that once the universe starts to test you, it just doesn’t let up.
When I got out of jail in August, I was faced with probation meetings, court dates, unemployment, bills, and the girls living with their dad. At the time it seemed beyond overwhelming. Then, there was the nervous breakdown and suicide attempt, the psych ward, and then, the holidays. And it all just seemed to keep piling up and adding on, and the mountain kept growing, and it all seemed so impossible to get through.
But I handled it one day at a time, one crisis at a time, one meeting, one court date, one holiday at a time. Until I finally saw the summit of the mountain, and I allowed myself to think I just might make it after all.
And then the universe laughed.
Because once you reach the summit of one mountain, all you can see in front of you is more mountains to climb.
I am tired. I am mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I don’t know how much stronger I can be, or for how long. I am told, repeatedly, I am strong, I can do this, but I am tired of being strong. I don’t want to do this any more. I just want to lay down and rest. I want to stop fighting for every fucking thing in my life.
The girls did not come back to live with me over the holiday like was the original plan. The hard truth is, they probably never will come back to live with me. That is a hard bitter pill to swallow.
They did come back for basketball homecoming here, and I can’t speak for them, but for me it was harder having them here than it is not seeing them at all. We barely spoke, there is so much damage done to our relationship. Nobody seems to understand that it is less painful for me to keep my distance than it is to make the effort every single day and get nothing in return. When they are ready they can come to me… I can’t keep beating my head on a brick wall constantly going to them.
But still, the struggle continues. Daily. The universe finally convinced me that I have a reason to be here even though I don’t know what that reason is.
In 2004, when I was divorcing the girls’ dad, I met a man online, on Craigslist actually. We spent weeks, (months?) exchanging emails. He gave me perspective, and encouragement, and some hard truths, and helped me see myself a little differently. We never met in person, but to this day we are still friends, still in contact, and he is one of my greatest supporters and greatest source of encouragement.
He told me once that in the greater sense of things, everything I had been through, and was going through, didn’t have to be for no reason. My story would have meaning, would have a purpose. I should tell my story, share my history, and maybe it would matter to someone out there. Maybe it would make a difference.
Tell your story
My therapist has echoed that same sentiment. Well, the ‘tell your story’ sentiment. She continues to encourage me to write a book about my life. The story I have to tell would matter, people would read it.
Batman has even encouraged me to write my story. “You would be surprised how many people would read it.”
Tell your story
My college boyfriend says “Write the book, if for no other reason it will matter to you.”
Tell your story
I have other friends who say “Write your story, people don’t understand how our minds function differently than theirs. Bridge that gap, help them to understand the entire story, not just the troubling actions.”
So, I have determined that the universe has beat me over the head with the message long enough. I get it, I hear you. I am sitting down and writing my story. It will never make the New York Best Sellers list, but I will write it.
If for no other reason than it will matter to me.
Tags: tell your story