do you see the people? where are all the people?

If you don’t write blog posts, you won’t get visitors, and my stats are pretty barren. The WordPress app is now mocking me, showing me a big middle finger where my stats are supposed to be.

So yeah, it’s been a while again. I won’t bore you with the play-by-play, but in general April was not the best, and May isn’t starting off great either. Injuries, illnesses, finances, plans gone awry, lots of things out of my control, and lots of little frustrations that I’m dealing with.

My mental health has been surprisingly stable, until recently. The usual depression is taking over again, so that’s no fun. Everything seems so fucking pointless, and I feel like an insignificant part of a mindless, uncaring machine, grinding people’s hopes and dreams into dust. A cheery thought, eh?

Work is work, as usual. I do it for the health insurance and psych meds, not the glory. I’m just thankful I can help make more money for the shareholders and executives.

In the meantime, I’ve had a lot of back pain lately. I’m not going to bother with seeing a doctor, because they’ll say the same thing as before: exercise, strengthen your core muscles, lose weight. The reality is that I suck at those things. I would do the exercises half-assed for a few days, then lose interest while I’m eating my stress away. Fuck it, I’ll probably die of heart disease soon anyway, probably with a slice of pizza in my hand.

peach baskets and busted brackets

I love college basketball. It’s definitely my #2 sport behind baseball, but I really enjoy tournament time. My bracket is hurting a little. I had a really good Thursday, but Friday brought chaos. I lost an Elite 8 team (St Marys) and the overall runner-up (Auburn). I’m hoping to do better today.

I have a difficult time watching the NBA right now. I used to enjoy it in the 80s through about the mid-2000s, but since then it just seems like they don’t try real hard until the 4th quarter. I don’t know if the game changed or if it’s just my preference.

I can see the college players are going all out for the entire game. Some of them have great athleticism and maturity, not letting the moment get too big for them. Part of that is coaching, but I heard someone say that the kids have to want to be coached. I’ve never played anything at that level, but it makes sense that a player with a big ego might not do very well in a situation where the coach is trying to teach the game.

I love watching because for 40 minutes there’s no politics, no crime, no culture wars, and no millionaires inside the lines; just a ball, a basket, and teammates working together for a common goal. Corny or naive, maybe, but still very enjoyable.

priorities and anxieties

It seems like I’ve been neglecting things here, but I’ve been too busy obsessing about things to write or think or breathe. I’m working on tasks to improve our retirement investments, and we are cleaning up our current finances a little. I’m procrastinating on a bunch of small tasks that will move us closer to likely selling our current house; those small tasks add up to a large effort, but I think it’s will ultimately help us. I’ve been scavenging used parts to build a new computer, but I decided to put that on hold due to time and cost. I have been extremely busy at work, putting in lots of overtime in the past two months to move along a few important projects (I’m sure the shareholders appreciate my hard work). So writing has taken a back seat lately, which I’m sure has disappointed my faithful readers’ need for fresh content.

Of course, mental health always occupies a lot of my time. I saw my psychiatrist last week to discuss the tardive dyskinesia and the medication I’ve been taking for it. I explained how is seems like the involuntary movements have mostly subsided due to the medication I’ve been taking, but I still have the semi-voluntary tics that have been present my whole life. Those tics and movements (see this old post) have been more obtrusive in the past few years, increasing during manic episodes, periods of high stress, or in relation to medication changes that didn’t work well. After our discussion, my doctor is not sure I still have the TD symptoms, but the Ingrezza will help act on the tics as well (although I’m not convinced on that). He wrote “chronic motor tic disorder” in my chart, and said that the first treatment for that is typically Abilify. Yes, my old nemesis Abilify, which has made me fatter and basically ruined my daughter’s life. I told him it was a hard negative on that, so at the moment we’re simply not addressing the tics. He also said cognitive behavioral therapy has been used to help with tic disorders, but he was as skeptical as me about the effectiveness of thinking your way out of a tic disorder.

Another thing consuming my brain cycles has been my relationship with my wife. Sometimes we seem to be thinking and working well together, and sometimes it feels like we don’t even like each other. She has a lot of stress right now, and it is affecting things between us. Her anxiety level is very high sometimes, but to my knowledge she doesn’t really have an outlet for talking things out with someone, and she won’t consider taking medication to help.

I’ll end with words of wisdom which I should trademark and sell to makers of motivational calendars:

Smart people make mistakes all the time. Stupid people make the same mistakes repeatedly.

perimeters and tangents

Long time readers of the old blog (all 3 of you) might remember my friend Lisa (The Girl Who Saved Christmas, and the first person I actually loved). We spent a lot of time together in high school and a couple of years after. Some people thought we were a couple, and I hoped our relationship would get there, but I never made it out of the friend zone. Regardless of that, she was a great friend who supported me emotionally, and I think she truly cared about me at the time.

However, maybe things aren’t the way I thought they were at the time.

Lisa posted on Fakebook recently that her father had passed. There were many comments and loving words, including from people who were my friends at the time. But it seemed like they had much more fond memories about their experience with her family, memories that I had no idea about. I was there at the time, but I don’t recall interacting with her dad enough to have great conversations or sing Christmas carols or have thoughtful conversations. I thought Lisa was my best friend at the time, and that was my friend circle, but where are my memories? I was there, but it seems like I was on the outside.

The same thing happened with my other not-quite-a-girlfriend Lena. I liked her a lot, and I think she cared about me too. We were really good friends, but we were never going to make it as a couple because of our clashing personalities. There was a time when our friend group decided that she wasn’t going to be included anymore, and I went along with it. But she returned to the friend group, and I never did.

It seems the world of Goldville didn’t revolve around me. Lisa made that clear multiple times, and our friend group never reached out to me to invite me back in. This was at the same time I was drifting socially, looking for new friends at college, and trying to build new relationships. It was at this time when my future wife contacted me and we started dating, which kept me from being lonely while my former friends did their thing without me. Then everything changed in 1991, and I put Goldville in the rear view, leaving everyone behind and burying the memories.

There is a pattern here. It seems like I have frequently been on the perimeter of a circle of friends, but not really part of the group. That has been repeated in different places and at different times, but the common thread is my inability to understand how to fit in socially. What is it about me that makes it so difficult to form healthy attachments with people? Why don’t I care enough to maintain relationships, or try to throw away the very few people who love me? Why do I choose to withdraw from everyone or disappear from other people’s lives?

Maybe this is all connected to feelings of being unlovable or unworthy of people’s attention. From the moment I started grade school, I felt like I didn’t deserve for people to like for who I am, and that when I was no longer useful I would be ignored. I have a pervasive fear of rejection and abandonment, and I am always watching out for signs that people don’t want me in their life. If someone has any criticism or problem with me, or if I imagine reasons why they would want to abandon me, I make up reasons to throw them away before they can hurt me. There is a whole list of people I have discarded even though I cared about them very much.

These feelings affect every relationship I have today. I’m pretty sure I have work friends who accept me but would quickly forget about me when I’m finished with them. I feel like I try to sabotage my relationship with my wife because I’m so focused on my own inner turbulence that I fail to understand her unresolved issues and how they might trigger my fears. I constantly try to read the context of my interactions with people, and usually come to the wrong conclusions. I fail to communicate honestly to people, and instead leave myself imaginary side doors so I can bail out on a relationship whenever I perceive the slightest hint of rejection.

It becomes so tiring. I often question if it’s worth the effort to have any social contact. Maybe I just go off on my own tangent and move to a cabin in the woods, as long as it has gas heating, a decent internet connection, and a cat.

lessons learned

My childhood experiences taught me lessons on the opposite ends of the self-esteem spectrum.

My A-mom would tell everyone I was the smartest kid in town, argue to school teachers and principals that I deserved special programs, or try to get me special privileges because I was her little genius. The problem was that I never felt like I deserved those things. I was embarrassed by her hovering and fawning, and I didn’t want her to try to get special favors for me.

She never taught me the confidence that I could handle things on my own, or gave me encouragement to take risks and learn to succeed. What I was taught is that I always needed a guardian angel, a tireless advocate for her vision of what she wanted me to be. She wanted to live vicariously through my accomplishments, but she never gave me a chance to accomplish anything on my own. I was her mama’s boy, her little man, her caged bird; she didn’t want me to fly but she might let me sing.

On one hand, I was the perfect child who could do no wrong; on the other I had Lila (the mean older woman my A-mom lived with) telling me I wasn’t worthy of anything special, and I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. She taught me that I didn’t deserve A-mom’s attention or blind praise. She told me that if I felt sad or tried to express my feelings, she would give me something to cry about. I was a goody-goody who didn’t deserve to be treated well, and I was goddamn lucky to have someone to put a roof over my head. I should be ashamed of myself.

Lila was bitter and cynical and damaged, but she taught me a few fears that have stayed with me. Be suspicious of people’s motives; people only want you there if you are useful; nobody really cares about your feelings; everything can be taken away in a moment; everyone is out to get you, and you have to get what you need on your own.

So my childhood experience left me with a crushing lack of self-esteem, fueled by the fears of loss, rejection, inadequacy, and humiliation. I was also left with a lot of anger, and I turned that anger into a desire to prove people wrong; I wanted to succeed to spite Lila, and I wanted to do it on my own to prove I didn’t need A-mom to pave the way for me. I didn’t feel loved, I felt more like a prized possession unworthy of love. I had the self-confidence that I was intelligent enough to succeed academically, but it was a shock when I realized I was socially inadequate, and that I was a joke to most people, reinforcing the lessons of mistrust and suspicion.

This all happened by the time I was 13, and it has shaped my entire life.

lost in space

I wrote something to post, but it’s a little too dark right now. Then again, I’m not feeling light-hearted. It feels fake to post something I’m not really feeling right now. I don’t have time or brainpower to tell a story right now.

What am I left with? Mostly, feelings of emptiness. Drifting through space in my own little bubble, slowly running out of oxygen, and just pretending to care. I wish I could float away from everyone around me and everything that needs to be done.

I’m not looking for advice. I’ll figure something out. I’m not depressed. I just feel unbelievably numb.

all the things I wanted to do

I’ve become very disconnected lately. I haven’t read emails or other blogs since almost Thanksgiving. I’ve written a few posts, but only because I forced myself. I have so many things I want to write about, but I’m not motivated.

I could be learning things during this time, but I’m not. I have a huge list of interesting topics to read or research, but I rarely do so. I have ignored all the movies and TV shows on my favorites list on Netflix.

I have an overwhelming number of small and large tasks I need to do at home, but I’m not interested in taking care of them. I’m disappointed in myself when I don’t have the mental energy to research new ways I can try to help my daughter have a better life.

So what do I do with all my time? Work occupies a large part of the day. Then I spend a lot of time recovering from being at work. I get mentally worn down by the stress of my work and the even greater stress of dealing with people. After being “on” all day, I need time to decompress.

In my spare time, instead of doing all the things I should, I find ways to avoid those things. Sometimes I’ll do geeky computer stuff like looking for old computers on Facebook or backing up my files or finding new applications I don’t need. I sit in my comfy chair with the cat on my lap, trying to switch off my brain and think as little as possible. Occasionally I will dream of being isolated in a cabin in the woods, maybe a pet crow to talk to, with a warm fire and lots of books.

All the creative things, the fulfilling things, the wondrous and fun and enjoyable things that make life seem meaningful … those things get put off for another day, until one day soon those things won’t matter anymore.

between two poles

Darling, I don’t know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low, there ain’t no in-betweens.
– Billy Joel

I’m in a strange place at the moment. At first glance, my bipolar symptoms seem to be relatively stable. I’m not having depressive spirals, and I haven’t had any hypomanic or manic episodes.

Emotionally however, I’ve been all over the place. It’s too easy for daily events to push me one way or the other, between mildly erratic behavior and sudden sadness. I’ll put myself into a hopeless mood when I listen to a melancholy song or ponder the future of our society. But a small bit of humor or irony at work will raise my mood a little too much.

I’ve been especially vulnerable when I perceive rejection, disappointment, or anger directed towards me. It’s like I stop trusting the people I care about because of a sentence or two of conversation which might be critical. I seem to be looking for reasons to throw relationships away, discarding people and memories like I’ve done multiple times in the past. At my most dramatic, I wish I could run away and disappear from life.

Then again, some days I feel like I’m vibrating with energy. I’ll be overly energetic, working on tasks that aren’t really productive, and putting on the mask to be somewhat social if I feel like it. I’ll be oblivious to this until something triggers the realization that I am being fake-social, and then I’ll immediately withdraw, feeling embarrassed and sometimes angry with myself.

I don’t know if I’m characterizing this correctly, but it seems like I’ve always been able to separate the physical effects of brain chemistry from the lingering emotional damage from childhood abuse. It’s as if I can feel the physical changes coming and prepare for the ocean swell, but my emotional lability sometimes hits me like a sneaker wave crashing on me.

My other issues are still causing some discomfort. I still get episodes of anxiety where I’m terrified of social situations, and I cancel plans or modify my routine to avoid people. My ADHD symptoms seem to be slowly getting worse over time, but I was able to increase the dosage on that pill.

The tardive dyskinesia is also still present; the medication seems to give some relief, but I’m still noticeably shaky and twitchy. I told my psychiatrist more about the mental part of the twitchiness: how I often feel like I need to do these movements, that I get only fleeting satisfaction from doing them, and that when I don’t do it “the right way” I have to do it again. The doctor said he would do some psychological testing next time, so we’ll see where that leads.

Maybe my next post here will be written in crayon from the rubber room.

incomplete thoughts about plants

Some plants are tenacious. They not only persevere, but thrive despite adversity and hatred. They are the assholes of botany, and they will never go away. No matter how carefully you try to control or eliminate them, they keep finding ways to grow and spread their kind, whether relentlessly with rhizomes or opportunistically with seeds. Some people call them weeds, but they will win out eventually.

Some plants are fragile. They can suffer in various ways if conditions aren’t perfect. Whether hot or cold, wet or dry, sun or shade, it seems like you just can’t get them to grow successfully. These plants need constant support, encouragement, and the right feeding schedule, but too much attention can cause more harm than good. Such creatures are unable to be satisfied where they are, and are always searching in vain for the perfect niche environment.

Some people obsess over their plants. They smother their photosynthesizing family members like an overprotective parent, constantly trying to shape them or force them to fit their vision. They don’t seem to understand that most plants know how to grow, if not always in the way or place their gardeners expect.

Some people neglect their plants, yet expect that they will survive somehow. They liked or even loved their plants at first, but they expected to get more satisfaction from plant ownership, and maybe they wish they had a different plant that would grow into what they wanted. It takes a lot of effort to nourish plants and keep them growing for many years, and some people just aren’t good at making that effort. Maybe they are too busy trying survive themselves, or maybe they realize they should have learned to grow in their own way before trying to take care of a plant.

In the meantime, a plant doesn’t understand why it is neglected, but it knows it is suffering. It will do what it can to find moisture and nutrients, but leaving its container just isn’t possible sometimes. It is overlooked, taken for granted, and left to wither when other things become more important to its caretaker. Unable to become a different kind of plant, it can only hope its owner decides it is worth the effort to keep it alive.

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