July 28, 2013
Hello… hello …hellooooooooooooo.
I’m still here. Yessuh.
Is anyone still here?
I promise I haven’t been in a coma and I’m not dead yet (neither is Dotty FYI). Where have I been? What have I been doing?
Well, obviously I’m not blogging. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged that I forgot my password a few weeks ago! (Yes I still log in to read some of your blogs occasionally). Anyway, I PANICKED! When does P not panic you may ask… Well, fuck, I didn’t NOT panic the day I logged in and couldn’t remember my password–had to go through the cumbersome ordeal of resetting my password and all.
Fortunately enough, I have a bank account now and I used the bank account password as my new WP password.
Fuck, where was I going?
Oh yeah, it’s 3am and the weekend. I’ve spent a lot of my time working lately, not just AT WORK, but even at home. Call me busy bee, or busy P or whatnot.
So, on my time off, I’ve been drawing again instead of blogging. These last couple of weeks I’ve been slacking off on the daily sketches. I was lying here, trying to get myself to bed, just puffing up my pillows, when I decided to doodle Little Luna from memory.
Maybe I’ll post some of the sketches I did last month and the one before and the one before that. I’ve just got too much to say and not enough time. Some not-so-nice things and some very, very nice things.
I’ve got a new “art” blog going, though I haven’t been updating on that one either. And I’m working on my website. Still in therapy, still swimming (even though I had to stop for a month).
I guess you could say I’m fairing well, mostly.
November 29, 2012
I went to therapy today. We’re back on our regular Thursday schedule. I told my dad I’d take the bus but he said I was so humble about it that he would drive me there. We didn’t argue this time!
My next assignment for therapy is to work on logging down my interactions with my pops so we can debrief the next session. I told her about the nightmares I’ve been having. They pop up every other night. In my dream last night–or this morning rather–I was getting severely beaten. I won’t say by who. Luna heard me wake up screaming and rushed into the room with ears turned back. The fluff ball jumped on me and we cuddled. She’s so good to me.
Brunet Young is helping me get into a DBT group that should start in January. She found an outpatient DBT program, but it’s too many hours–it’s outpatient, almost inpatient and I no longer need to be outpatient (funny, when I needed it, I couldn’t get it). So she’s looking for a less intensive program. She’s also seeing if I can get into an animal shelter as a volunteer! It will be yet another support system to implement my therapy.
What else? I pulled a muscle this morning while rushing to the restroom. I think I’ll still go swimming tonight though; Mouse and I haven’t decided. Besides, no broken bones from yesterday evening’s fall is good enough for me.
I admit though, I shaved off my Movember Mousestache. It was getting real fuckin’ itchy. Anyway, here’s what I shot on my way back from therapy.
For being the fourth largest city in the United States, we don’t have a very impressive downtown. Most of the buildings are scattered about like leaves in clusters, each cluster miles apart from the other. There is the medical center which is a downtown of its own, then there is uptown and midtown. I think if you combine the three, you’d have a hell of a downtown, but otherwise, it’s puny.
But this weather is nice. It was around 50F this morning and now it’s 68F. Beautiful.
Personally, Main Street downtown is very pretty since a lot of the buildings there are nineteenth-century and early twentieth century art-deco. Mostly though, there are just plain sixties and seventies post modern blocks with faceless facades. Houston grew with the baby boomers of the ’50s, the development of 1950s inter-state highway system and oil boom. There you go.
October 27, 2012
I’ve had a good week though I’m having a shitty night. I really want to drink and pass out, but I won’t. Or at least I’m trying not to. I was gonna post another song, but this one’s been in my head all week and I’m feeling lonely at the moment.
I like being by myself much of the time, but I can’t stand being alone– that empty feeling– and especially that feeling of being abandoned. Alone has nothing to do with being with one’s self. It, like many things in life, is just a state of mind. I can and have been surrounded by hundreds of people and felt completely alone–empty, devoid of human warmth, of connection.
But I haven’t been feeling “alone” or lonely lately, which is almost strange for me–to NOT feel alone. I’ve spent most of my life feeling alone, distant, cut off from the world as if an opposing magnetic force shielded me from humanity.
Tonight I do feel very, very lonesome. That shield has been placed over me again. See, I had plans today to go to a Halloween party. I was so anxious. The anxiety had been building up. I haven’t even properly worn a costume since I was probably thirteen years old. I don’t even think I’ve been invited to Halloween parties since I was a small child (maybe a few exceptions). Anyway, I even talked to the therapist about this Halloween party and how anxious I get despite the fact that I’ve been more social lately. I love Warrior D, so I was looking forward to going and seeing her. She’s the one throwing the party, only her home is waaaay far up north Houston. She’s also the only person I’ve told about my overdose in May.
Well, all my plans for tonight went down the fuckin’ drain (I don’t get plans, making them and all). It makes it harder when you don’t drive in a city that is built on nothing but highways and SUVs. It doesn’t make it easy when everyone bails on you last minute. And it doesn’t help that one of the “borderline” characteristics is having a deep-seeded fear of abandonment. I’m just coming to terms with it. But I can’t help to feel abandoned (albeit momentarily) by any little insignificant thing like this. They couldn’t get me to where I wanted to go, so now it means they don’t care and I shouldn’t give a fuck about anyone. I depended on them; I hate not being able to have that sense of freedom independence grants you, hence, I suck and so does my existence. That’s the twisted way my mind interprets the situation. However, I’m intelligent, I’m calmer these days than I have been all year. And I’m aware. I’m working on using more balanced/adaptive cognitive restructuring here… I won’t see things in black and white and I definitely understand why the others couldn’t make it out to give me a ride. I understand their side.
Wish I had some weed though.
So now I’m chillin’ with the dogs trying to use self-sooth by cuddling with them, keeping busy and using the distracting coping mechanism taught in DBT; I’m writing this and maybe watching a movie later or taking them for a walk. I thought about reading some blogs or some poems from this book I got at the university, but I’ve been having the reading spasms. I just can’t seem to read much these days.
Guess it hasn’t been a COMPLETELY bad day. Nah, it was a nice, pleasant afternoon. Houston decided to finally feel like fall; the chill brushed in to our coast.
I don’t even like to use the words ‘good’ and ‘bad’ to describe most things. That’s why I won’t say tonight is bad. There have been a few disappointments, but it happens. Though days like this are when I miss Monkey Man the most. I felt alone with him much of the time (especially when he was high and drunk out of his mind), but at least I got some comfort of a warm body and of knowing he was filled with me and I could be filled with his lovin’. I did (and still do) love him.
Well, I’m out my magnificent mofo’ bloggies and MFFs.
Oh, and here’s the lovely Amy
“Got so sick of cryin’, so just lately, when I catch myself, I do a 180” ~Amy Winehouse
I’m catchin’ myself. Catchin’ the Mouse. Catching the Pretty Little Demons and tuckin’ their sleepy thorny heads in to bed.
September 2, 2012
Especially today. Know why?
Little Luna and I sat down just chatting away with our clown noses on–me in my hippie tie-die beach dress–trying to come up with a dare for Le Clown. (I’ll admit, Little Luna came up with most of my better jokes.)
Anywya, help me out here or it’s the end of The Circus at the End of the World! What should I dare Le Clown to do?
Ok, it won’t be the end of the circus world or The Circus at the End of the World, Not really.
This is no joke though; it’s not poor Photoshop work either. Soon after writing down the last comment, we had to stop, drop and roll because we REALLY caught on fire after reading the hilarity and typing 300 words per second.
Yes I have a ton of windows up. And don’t ask me why the word MAGICAL is crossed off. I got the font from dafont.com and since I didn’t purchase it, I think it only lets me use it with some words crossed off. Hey, it’s a trade off. BAgh.
Don’t ask me what’s going on here either. But I think she was begging me to stop and I DID give her a dozen treats for helping me get through all those comments (truth is we really didn’t read ALL of them, but ya know).
addendum: On a more serious note, I wish I had a painkiller because my jaw is fuckin’ hurting. I’ve got that titanium plate that needs to be removed from my lower jaw. 😦 Ughh… It’s been hurting all week. It’s been feeling like it really is on fire. le sad mouse sigh. Eric, you should tell Le Clown to give me extra points for this! Just because you know? You’re the only sweet one that Le Clown listens to. I swear I’m not trying to milk it. 😉
August 28, 2012
You know you’re hypomanic when you wake up at four in the morning every morning. And then, after breakfast, you feel the sudden urge to write another “You Know You’re Hypomanic When…” post. Then you run off to the kitchen to clean EVERYTHING, or as Allie Brosh would say “CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!”
(I’m too hyped to do my own sketch without getting distracted and doing ten more.)
Then you find yourself rashly cleaning all the dishes while thinking, Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex, I hate the way my dad washes dishes. He does NOT scrub them well. From now on, I’ll wash ALL THINGS ALL THE TIME. ESPECIALLY THE DISHES! I’ll have to karate chop him out of the kitchen if he even dares to wash them. And as you’re scrubbing away, you start fantasizing about who you’d want to have sex with and you laugh ’cause you realize how much scrubbing you’re doing and how that looks a lot like…
And then you find yourself cleaning out and reorganizing the refrigerator. Then you go back to the dishes and think, mmmm I want some coffeee. No P! Coffee will make this worse. You and Mouse will turn into Speedy Gonzales with his weed-head cousin, Slo Poq Rodrigues.
(sidenote: Slo Poq Rodrigues sings about smoking marijuana, in case you didn’t understand the Spanish part: “La cucaracha… le falta marijuana que fumar”. Also, in primary school, I was nicknamed Speedy Gonzales by one of the teacher aides. Case in point.)
But your inner Mouse says, Fuck it, get yourself some coffee girl! Coffee, coffee coffee woman. You know you want some. mmmmmm. Coffee and sex. Ooooh, and more mouse sketches!
And as little funny and violent images of mouse sketches run through your head every five miliseconds, you wonder if you’ll ever become a world famous ukulele player because, Damn, I’m getting kinda good, after only three weeks of playing again! Oooooo, P, you’ll be the first deaf midget in a wheelchair–with a T-Rex-Duck-Nemo arm— to play the ukulele like a true virtuoso.
Then, after serving yourself some coffee you go back to washing dishes. But when you’re nearly done, you grab your cup off coffee (because you forgot you’d placed it next to the dirty dishes you were washing) and end up throwing it in the sink, spilling coffee everywhere. And you start cursing like a mutha, but then you laugh and wash the counters and take little Luna out to pee and think about swimming and sex and coffee five dozen other things in less than a second. And if someone didn’t know you well enough, they’d think you’re pissed off because of how hard you keep shutting the counter drawers and cupboards. And you’re all, Holy baby Jesuz, did I just think of having sex with THAT guy? NO, no, no no no, not him P. Anyone but him.
And when you’re back in the kitchen cleaning some more, you nearly fall out of your wheelchair ’cause you keep crashing it on all the counters and nearly fall off again (more like jump off) when you get out of it to pick something you see on the floor. Because, remember, MUHSSS CLEENS ALL DA TEENS (in Speedy Gonzales’s exaggerated Spanish accent).
And then you’re all, Holy shitballs (not saying old man hairy balls; still getting disturbing search terms on that one), I need to review my immigration stuff. So you hurriedly run off to the room to look over all the documents. Yes, yes yes yes yes. It all looks good now. Ok. Good good good good.
And you end up wrestling with one of the family dogs on the carpet to the point where he gets tired and runs off. And as he’s running off you bark at him feeling a sense of domination.
And you know you’re hypo when, back in the room, you get on the computer to edit your post to include a bit about how you just almost fell out of your wheelchair and nearly plastered your head and nearly broke all your bones. But the damn internet is slow and not keeping up with your fast typing so you want to punch the screen but you realize you have to be kind to this borrowed computer because your laptop is still broken. And then, once the computer has responded, you have to keep yourself from writing yet another “You Know You’re Hypo When…” post because two is enough P, for now!
June 26, 2012
I thought about writing another one of my Good Lists today (I swam 14 laps today), but I found the slideshow option instead! So… here’s little Luna, yet again! (I know. I know. But she looks so calm, quiet, assertive and pensive in these.)
I’m also too tired to actually write any of the ideas that keep milling around my head. If I could just catch one and sit down with it!
Hypomania has been knocking on my door even though I put the Pretty Little Demons (PLD’s) to bed on Friday. Many of them slept all night and all through the weekend. Most of them behaved all weekend, which is incredible; it was the most stable weekend I’ve had in… I don’t know, but it was nice!
And today I want to live! hahah. Isn’t that great?!
Fuckin’ A. It’s amazing! Yes, it’s amazing to want to live! It’s amazing to not have urges to kill yourself creep up and tear at you every ten minutes.
Better knock on wood now.
Then today, for the third time in the last two weeks, my dad tells me that I am a different person: “You’re still P, but you’re a different person. You’re more understanding, not as angry, more affectionate…” and he went on.
Hmmm? I think that means therapy had been helping, no? The meds? (meh) Oh, the swimming!?
I have many thoughts on this but I’ll leave it there for now.
Oh, speaking of therapy, yesterday was my first day back in therapy at the university, but I didn’t even get to have a session.
I had planned a trip with the MetroLift and the MetroLift mini-bus was late (yet again), only this time it was hella late. I had scheduled my appointment with the New NEW therapist at 7:00 in the evening because she will be at a seminar deal all of this week and, in an effort to get together ASAP, I’d settled for seven on Monday. Well, MetroLift got me there at 7:45 instead. I only had time to meet her and reschedule.
I had gotten myself so pumped, I mean mentally pumped for that session and it all crumbled like burning paper in my hands.
I may write about it if I get the time tomorrow or sometime this week, but I don’t know. I’ll see. One of the reasons I want to is because there are some DBT skills I want to share in regards to that ordeal–basically, I want to share how I kept myself relatively cool, or in other words, how I kept myself from falling completely apart again. It involves little Luna, her little whiskers and swimming.
I do have a Borderline Girl Song post I wrote last week but was too embarrassed to publish it. Shit, I better post it now since I mentioned it.
It’s about a fella named Dusty.
*photos are © 2012 PAZ/MMM*
In my excitement I forgot that an executive order doesn’t necessarily guarantee proper implementation, or have immediate effect. Woops. haha. I guess there’s more fighting to be done. Well, there’s always fighting to to be done. And that’s just a reminder to myself to re-educate myself before I go writing overly excited WordPress posts.
I feel like I’m loosing my mind, agggggh, more so than ever.
Here’s a statement one of my dear friends posted:
This has the potential to be amazing news IF it gets effectively implemented on the ground. So the next 60 days shall be telling. Otherwise I am just reminded of past failed promises like Prosecutorial Discretion & the Morton Memo while the Dylans and the Andys and the Ramons and the Yanellis are deported every single day, and there is no room left in my heart for it to be disappointed yet again.
~ from my friend KB, one of the core members/founders of the National Immigrant Youth Alliance (NIYA). (A complete statement can be seen on their website if you click the link)
I miss being involved. I miss my friend KB, though I did see her at Mansie’s birthday the week before last… I don’t remember now. But my head isn’t cut out for handling that kind of intense work these days.
I guess this is why I’m “borderline”. I’m easily excited and I’m easily torn. FUCK. Why do I have such an impulsive nature?
In other news, Luna’s paw is still very cute. These photos are fresh from this morning (my shutter is still a little messed up, but I got one or two focused the way I wanted):