Kittehs!!

I would just like to take a moment to pay tribute to those little balls of fur that have kept me sane this year (and continue to keep me sane)

This Is Stewie:
This is Gizmo:

And this is Cleo:

Impressions

As I was sitting at my desk at work this morning I came across an email that I wrote before I changed my name back to my maiden name.
The name seemed foreign to me.
I had a weird feeling come over me as I recalled a dinner I had the very week that J told me he wanted a divorce. My friend, A, took me out to dinner and we had a conversation in which I could barely imagine myself using my maiden name. And here I am, six months later, comfortable in my old skin again. It’s not quite my old skin; many things are different, including the addition of a second middle name, Audrey. Nonetheless it’s still me.

And then I had the realization that the memory of my marriage was fading, and fading fast. Not much is left except the impression of a relationship that has shaped me into part of who I am today. I can’t quite recall the feeling of coming home to J at night, making love to him, or even having a conversation with him. It’s been a good several months since we’ve really spoken. He ran as fast as I can imagine and never seemed to look back.
It makes sense that all that would be left is an impression, an imprint, and a scab.
The feeling of having your heart ripped out is always something that will be with you, but if you could recall the immense pain and summon up those feelings just on a whim you would never open your heart up again. A woman would never have more than one child if she could so easily recall the pain of childbirth.
After that very same dinner A and I had a conversation in which we discussed loss. I was holding on to the old adage that time heals all wounds (and to an extent it does), but I wasn’t quite ready to hear what she had to say. She knows a thing or two on the subject and told me that my heart would heal but it would never fully be gone. It would scab over and stop gushing blood, but the wound would still be there. I guess she was right. Here I am left with a scab, an impression, a memory.

More of The Past

The Past

Merry Christmas!

My Christmas tree this year. I feel so old. It's the first I've ever had!

Red Bull Gives You Wiiiiiings!!!

Too much Red Bull, on the other hand, makes you want to take those new found wings and jump off a cliff.

So yesterday I was tired. And I made the stupid mistake of drinking THREE sugar free Red Bulls in the matter of a half an hour.

That was pure stupidity on my part as I was in full panic attack mode within the next hour.
I *ahem* sort of made up an excuse to leave work and literally had to drug myself to incoherency to bring myself down. I felt like I had been on an all night coke binge.

Anxiety disorders and uppers do not mix in the slightest bit. I try to steer clear of almost all caffeine, except that in my diet coke, so for me to have that much in one sitting was beyond absurd.

Note to self: NEVER AGAIN.

I'm feeling better today, but I do still have some residual anxiety, but nothing to the point where I am crawling out of my own skin.
But sadly, I did lose an entire evening last night because of it (I was sleeping from all the anti-anxiety meds I took).

I'm also very excited because I have my very first Christmas Tree up! I will be buying a camera soon and will have pics within a few days!!

Tata for now, I have to get to work early tomorrow to make up for my stupidity yesterday.

I can be really retarded sometimes

Good Lord.

First off I was driving around half the day uninsured. Because I just completely spaced on paying my insurance bill. It's not that I don't have the money. I do. I just forgot. And it's been snowing all day so if I had gotten into an accident I would have been so fucked. But I am home safe and secure so that was averted.

And here is what really takes the cake for the weekend: I have these really thick callouses on my feet (sexay, huh?). My work Holiday Party is this Friday and I have intended to get a pedicure beforehand but I decided that the callouses were bothering me. So I took to trying to shave them off. With a razor blade. Needless to say my foot has not finally stopped bleeding after an hour now.

I swear sometimes I really wonder about myself.

I think it's the meds. They make me quite a bit more forgetful and ditzy than I ever used to be. It's kind of terrifying, really. Not quite as terrifying as the harrowing two weeks that I spent on depakote in which I almost crashed my car, got wasted at my former inlaws on Christmas and fucked up at a part time job so badly that I shortly quit after that because they were fucktards and couldn't understand the situation. Honestly I barely recall the time I was on that drug.

But it's still a bit disconcerting to have my mind not be quite as sharp as it used to be. I used to be a total whiz, My memory was so sharp I never forgot anything. It's still pretty sharp, but not what it once was. I wonder....age or meds?

I don't have too many other bipolars that I feel comfortable talking to about this subject so I would be curious to know if other people have the same reactions to the meds?

Or is it just me?