From Outpatient to The World

Some of you know I’ve been in outpatient therapy for anxiety and depression for about the past month and a half (I had a major depressive episode – I have bipolar disorder type 1), some of you don’t (a couple months prior to that I was in outpatient for a month but I fell back down deep again), but I wanted to flash my pride that I’m graduating from it tomorrow and I’m a more educated, practiced person creating new neural pathways for myself that I vow to keep active and re-train my brain to think better and be more mindful. I may not be where I want to be but I’m way better off.

The globe below is something I’d add progress to every week on a Wednesday. The leaf was in art therapy that looked like I plant I started growing from a cut to metaphoricalize my roots and growth in outpatient. The actual plant has since been repotted from the water glass it grew in and is pictured with another art therapy project from a book that speaks to sitting with emotions being an uncomfortable and new process.

Last pictures are of my vision board  I never thought I’d make one and now I can’t imagine a world had I not made one, I just want to keep adding! Re-reading affirmations REALLY DOES work to make you start to believe them and make them a part of your life energy.

Fighting perfectionism by leaving this post as is is a huge exposure and you’re part of it!

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Radical Acceptance

In outpatient I had to pick a DBT skill and present it. I wanted to share what I put together with y’all. I chose this topic because it’s one that I have a hard time with. Unlike mindfulness where you can refer to your breath, this idea is a little more abstract with nothing physical to be able to rely on for grounding acceptance.

  • Marsha Linehan the creator of DBT had some things to say on radical acceptance.
  • Radical acceptance is – Moment by moment letting go of having to have what you wanted and accepting reality how it is.
  • “You need to radically accept that you want something you don’t have and its not a catastrophe” – ML
  • “You only have to radically accept the moment you are in, and the past.” – ML
  • “In order to change things you have to accept them otherwise what you’re trying to change is something else that you think is reality…and if you want to change it you work on changing it which is perfectly legitimate also.” – ML

Clean Pain vs Dirty Pain

-These are types of pains we have when accepting or not accepting.
-Clean pain example: “I’m sad and I’m human and this is a normal response.”
–Dirty pain example: Fighting against something that gives us clean pain to try to find relief and avoidance/nonacceptance is causing suffering.
–Letting go transforms suffering into more ordinary pain which is part of life.
–When you spend time fighting yourself you aren’t learning how to be a friend to yourself.

Letting Go

Another way to think about letting go is to think of your mind as carrying a backpack.  If you need to go from point A to point B and you get tired somewhere in-between you may be carrying too many unnecessary things in your mental backpack. Getting rid of things that no longer serve you or are not useful to carry will lighten the load and you will be able to make it to your destination quicker and easier. What can you let go of to lighten your backpack?

  • Another way to practice Radical Acceptance which I have personally used and has worked for me is to write down “I accept (reality)” (ex. “I accept that Ryan and I are no longer in a relationship together”) several times being mindful and taking breaks if I feel myself zoning out so that I am focusing on the meaning of what I am writing, writing it in different ways, (ex. “I accept Ryan is no longer my boyfriend”) and reading these aloud to myself.
  • This has benefit me in being engaged in the statements of the reality of the situation. Over three days doing this I noticed myself letting go a little more every time and coming to acceptance of reality as how it is (not to say I like it, but that’s where other DBT skills come in).

How Hard is Radical Acceptance?

It’s a process that requires a lot of energy but it CAN be done.
Some things are easier to accept than others.
As Marsha Linehan said, When we accept reality as it is, we can move forward to change things if we want to, but if we don’t accept reality as it is we’re addressing change to something that’s not real and that’s going to prolong suffering and make no changes moving forward.
Radical acceptance is hard and further you can’t measure acceptance like you can mindfulness and your breath. But trust how your body and mind transform pain as you accept and let go. When we accept we can move forward.

These are my, ‘reasons why’.

I want my family, friends, colleagues, strangers on the street who I pass by and say “excuse me” to, doctors, bosses, government officials, indigenous tribes and golden retrievers to know what living with mental illness is like, is because you can’t see it. But I do, it’s like a filter, distorting the picture in a different way than how the next fella may see the world. Go ahead, it looks way better in Valencia than it does #nofilter.

I can’t just, “get over it” Mr. Porter. I’m nearly 30 years old now. It’s a familiar recommendation, but the reality is, I’m likely going to be hard on myself over a mistake the size of a speck of sand on a beach off the coast.

Here are my 13 reasons why my behavior is so shy, and awkward and shaky. Why I’m great at writing and terrible at talking. These are the reasons why I skip showers sometimes and avoid phone calls always. Why I doubt on a daily basis the people that love me really care. These are my 13 reasons why I need your empathy when I’m at my lowest points. Because it’s not something you can take on by yourself.

1 – Just as we discussed, mental illness often takes the form of an invisible disability. I’m not in a wheelchair nor do I have a cast on my skull or stitches on my chest to heal up the everyday heartbreaks. Take note the power of invisibility is real.

2 – My feelings affect my decisions. And in turn, some of my shittiest decisions sparked and reflected my feelings. Guilt hunts me with a sharper eye than death. Oh how there are moments I greatly regret the past. Including today, and likely tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

3 – I do CBT, I see a therapist, a psychiatrist, I journal and cheer people on in online support groups. And no, it’s not a cure all cocktail. Pay your dues, work with all your heart, proactively adjust your thinking strategies. But it’s still alive inside of me. It never leaves.

4 – Stigma is real. Even self stigma. I spent two years doing empirical research on stigma about mental illness in a university environment. All of us affected think, “change needs to be made” but Paul Revere is out for the season and we’ve run out of tea bags filled with Prozac to toss into the water.

5 – It’s not JUST bipolar disorder, or OCD or ADD. I’ve had Lyme Disease for 13 years, I never went into remission. I don’t take antibiotics anymore. I don’t remember what it feels like to be pain or irritation free, to not have a double dose of brain fog. I don’t talk about it, so no one knows or remembers. I’m no longer a vegetable shipped between hospitals with a PICC line. So who cares? There is no support for me here, about this, anymore. And I swallow the bitter taste of it.

6 – I dropped out of business school and joined the field to help people. Not just people with invisible disabilities, but people with visible ones as well. And strangers. And animals. Not Zombie’s though, I’m on the first responder team for a Zombie outbreak. I get bit and kicked by autistic children on a daily basis. I’ve been spit on by an older woman with an IQ of 6 while changing her diaper. I can tell you how stressful it is to take 4 women with moderate to high degrees of mental retardation to the supermarket to find food for the home I used to run before I became a RBT. I can tell you how great it is to hear a little austistic girl you’ve been working with for a year say, “yay!” as a replacement behavior for a shrill squeal stimm. I’m glad with all my heart I became a therapist.

7 – And as a therapist, who’s been promoted and recognized for my quality direct work, I in particular now than ever take feedback poorly. I’m told to take it and swallow, no speaking up for things I did or didn’t do no matter how minor, just move on, don’t take it personally. We all make mistakes to grow my boss tells me. Make sure you do more yoga with your aggressive client. The fact I didn’t during that overlap cut me with knives made of cursed bones for months. Self hatred flourishes when feedback is given and anticipatory anxiety spins fierce uncuttable webs through my chest and stomach where my anxiety manifests.

8 – I ache missing the people I’ve lost in the storm cloud of knicked and cut up relationships I couldn’t save. I miss a girl I haven’t spoken to now for 10 years, she’s like a sad picture in my mind I can’t manage to set fire to as opposed to store in the attic. I miss a boy who was a breath of fresh air just a few months ago, just to turn around and suck the air from my chest without explanation. I fear a falling out before I’ve finished parking in the top lot.

9 – I am chronically fatigued.

10 – I have difficulty concentrating.

11 – I’m angry I can’t control what you think about me. And how you act toward me. All of you, silent readers, neighbors and best friends alike.

12 – I am a living rock. Every experience good or bad on my daily adventures chips away at the marble. You may be a sculptor and not know it, the way you chip harshly or buff smoothly at my curves. God only knows how deeply I wish the artists who made the boldest dents in the softest parts would look back to see I was not the same hunk of rock they left me as. My carved eyes long to have another chance at those few.

13 – And lastly, I thirst. It’s a deep thirst that wants someone I look up to, to tell me I need to be writing. A woman I admired planted seeds in me 12 years ago. As the Lyme pains became bearable and the manic pre-diagnosed bipolar full fledged obsessive compulsive disorder rose to power I lost track of something that had always been important to me, and that woman and I also parted as life goes between teachers and students. Complications in invisibility have laid bed for a dust storm that has dried the land. I lap up puddles for blog posts. I walk endlessly toward the ocean.

I am more than my faults. It’s just that my faults, are more or less very visible, they’re easy to interact with, and thick enough to mask the marble. Easy enough to walk away from.

Those are my 13 reasons why. What are yours?

My Fingers Get Panic Attacks

Life is going pretty well if I put it on paper (or, internet paper…). However, I am still not happy.

I’ve been coloring this big picture for my brand new pen pal who I’ve been friends with for a couple years now online and I notice some water droplets touched the paper…if anything it gives it a bit of a watercolor flushed look and it’s tried and the damage is done but…THE DAMAGE…IS DONE!!! Oh god it’s ruined. I’ve spent like 3 hours on this thing trying to make all the colors work together and I’m nearly done and then…drop drop drop. Honestly I don’t even think it’s a big deal but it makes me feel SLOPPY and no one wants to feel sloppy when they present themselves to another person…I want to still send it though. Honestly it shouldn’t be a big deal. But right now it’s the BIGGEST deal.

I have a mood tracker app on my phone which I recommend, it’s called, “Mood Log” and it’s brilliant. Gives you a little graph and you can log your mood at your fancy any time of the day or night very quickly and easily. Since I started Celexa about a week and a half ago now I’ve noticed instead of solid 2-3’s (out of 10) I’m more generally in a 4-6 range. Right now in this moment I’m about a 3 though, with tightness in my tummy.

I’ve been trying really hard to work through the kinks of life and I’m obviously alive to write that all out but my fingers have been having major anxiety attacks. Seriously. That’s why I go missing from blogging, I feel guilty I haven’t a set schedule and pumped out new material for people to skim and nod at. I feel guilty when I don’t get back to e-mails…oh lord do I feel guilty…PANIC ATTACKS. Just this paralysis, or this gap in my brain that disconnects, “I should reply but my reply won’t be brilliant and witty and long so it’s not quality and I can’t just send a SLOPPY e-mail” and then the days go by and the weeks and I have a couple e-mails I’ve been meaning to reply to that I keep putting off because of finger fears. Same thing in my facebook inbox, though for whatever reason it seems to be a lot harder in my gmail one.

See, all the words in the English language are at my disposal (I haven’t worked on my second language skills in months, should get back on that, I think- though by the way from a cognitive behavioral therapy standpoint using ‘should’ statements is a no-no), and I can ‘share’ a meme on facebook or throw a few ‘like’s on my feed as I’m laying in bed sorting out all the things I’ve done and have to do and contemplating getting up to drink water because that’s good for me but I’m depressed and don’t want to get up and also water sometimes leaves droplets on your coloring pages. It’s problematic.

Woe is me, my job is great and when I’m at work I do a great job though in-between sessions I have with clients I get MAJOR anxiety about how it’ll go, even though I’m wonderful at what I do and get a lot of positive feedback from higher ups. Woe is me. I have a pen pal now!!!!! How cool is that?! Woe is me. I have friends who want to share stories with me and hear mine too. WOE IS ME. I’m starting side projects like picking up knitting again (I WILL finish this blanket before I die, I swear!!) and zine making and taking care of my skin and hair. But you know, I’m miserable. So, as guilt so often does it will give me enough fight or flight anxiety now that it’s built up like gunk inside my arteries to empty ALL of my inboxes tonight which will feel wonderful. Until they fill back up again and I’ll have to rewire my brain with self talk so that I can fight against the finger panic attacks. Though I know, they’ll still come and as they do I’ll have to face them.

For all of you out there reading this, I hope very much that you’re having a fantastic day and be sure to feed your fingers with fabulous thoughts so they work well for you. Time to catch up on some blogs!

The Odd Couple

I’ll be the first to say that when you wake up in the middle of the night having to pee like your life depends on it and your Asperger’s sister who has no sense of time or urgency is sitting in the bathroom and you can hear her ripping a square of toilet paper at a time after BEGGING to get into the bathroom “just to pee less than a minute!!!” it really makes you mad. Then you hear the toilet paper ripping stop, and you knock on the door hurriedly again, she starts up again…after a little while, you’re in the hallway doing a dramatic pee dance and she EVENTUALLY finishes. You run into the bathroom, pee, wash hands and when you come out she’s in the kitchen STILL washing her hands. I don’t care how insensitive it sounds, when it’s YOUR sister, and you know how high functioning she is, how spoiled she acts and how much you work to take care of her and the rest of your family she still rolls her eyes and won’t even look at you, in the middle of the night…it REALLY makes you mad.

Since there are no anti-PO’d medications (waka waka), I just asked my brand new psychiatrist this past Monday to refill my prescriptions for Luvox and Lamictal and asked him to put me back on ADHD medication. He had a file in hand from the hospital I used to see my doctor at before she moved to Colorado which specifically listed ADHD as a diagnosis and wrote about how we had talked about my very expensive time-consuming ADHD testing and how she was going to try me on Strattera, and he still acted like he wanted to ask me to get ADHD testing before he gave me any medicine. I was ready to swing at him, particularly because he had the attitude of one of those “I really give no F’s about you whatsoever” attitudes. He’s the kind of guy that made me jump into the psych field out of the business field and blow the last several years of my life working toward my bachelors. Mind you, I haven’t seen a psychiatrist in a little over a year and my GP had been refilling my OCD/Bipolar cocktail and had finally gotten sick of it, but I’d been off Ritalin most of the past year and my ADHD wreaked havoc on most of my life. I was determined to get back on it, and I have, and I’m thankful. I kind of wish the guy tweaked my Luvox prescription, because my intrusive thoughts have been getting out of control the past several months, but we’ll see what happens in the future med wise. I literally have no time for myself, let alone therapy by the way. I’m hoping that session 2 with this guy is a lot better than session 1. I’ll see him in another twenty-some days.

My current struggle since I last blogged has been that the stress at work has triggered a major depressive episode. The doctor asked how many manic episodes I’ve had in my life and I replied that I get one every year or two, but I have a worse problem with depression. He asked if I’d tried Latuda or another antidepressant. I said no, and was expecting him to prescribe one, but he didn’t. I was too anxious at the time to speak up about it, but next month I plan on it. AFTER a little research on Latuda, in particular.

I stumbled upon an article the other day, the full text here, which is entitled, “Bipolar patients’ brain cells predict response to Lithium”. The sample size for the study wasn’t very large, which lowers validity, but it was an interesting read. The scientists collected skin samples from clinically diagnosed BP patients and turned the cells into neurons (don’t ask me how the heck they did THAT) and compared them to the neurons from “healthy people”‘. They tested the cells’ response to a Lithium bath, and found a diversity in excitability of the cells. Lithium didn’t do much for me, because like I said, I have a larger problem with depression than I do mania, which is why I’m on Lamictal, which I highly recommend trying if you’ve got the same problem. Our body chemistries are all different, but it’s got a high success rate among people with my kind of problem. On that note, my own research is driving me insane, because I work overtime all week at the CILA, then cram my efforts into lit reviews and test preparation just to find out that I need to re-do something or add more to my paper before I can run my tests. I’m doing a capstone right now, which is the last thing I need to graduate. The stress between that and work has taken me back to the mindset where I really just wish I could live off disability comfortably. I’m sure that the way American economy is going, disability funds are going to quickly evaporate, so even if I were to get on it, I doubt it’d be something I could benefit from the rest of my life. It’s frustrating enough to be a late twenties adult (eh, just being an adult in general), let alone a Bipolar one with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and ADHD.

Besides the obsessive skin picking that’s super embarrassing to admit I’m succumbing to again lately, my house is benefiting from my re-decorating and cleaning of the place (as much as is tolerated by the rest of my family). I think back to when I was a kid, undiagnosed with all this junk, and how on a monthly basis I’d spend an entire day ripping my bedroom to shreds in order to re-organize the whole thing. Scrubbing the walls, re-lining up my stuffed animals in a different order, dusting…Now, with my sister having grown into her Asperger’s and us still sharing a room in the same house since she was born, I can’t touch half the stuff in the room, and it drives me insane, but I still mess with what I can. (Insert the “Odd Couple” theme song here). Boy oh boy does it feel good to even move one or two things around every other night. Now onward to my last work day into a weekend where I plan on suffering through more paper editing, and lecturing myself on how I need to stop isolating myself and spend physical time with my friends if I want to keep them. Then there’s supporting my long time boyfriend who is having a bigger problem with depression than I am, and handles it WAY worse than I do…

“I can’t take it anymore, Felix, I’m cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you’re not here, the things I know you’re gonna do when you come in irritate me. You leave me little notes on my pillow. Told you 158 times I can’t stand little notes on my pillow. “We’re all out of cornflakes. F.U.” Took me three hours to figure out F.U. was Felix Ungar!” -Oscar Madison, 1968 film, The Odd Couple.

Anxiety Baby and the Ballet

My worry is dancing the ballet with intrusive thoughts that are louder than any orchestra and my anxiety adds an auditoriums worth of applause to the performance. I happen to be front row center for all this and this room in my mind was built by the ancient chemical architects to prevent escape. FUH!

To further the visualizations, my anxiety is like a third term baby whose ready to get the hell out of there. My anxiety IS primarily stationed in my stomach after all and like a baby would kick, my anxiety will give me a few seconds, minutes or maybe hours if I’m distracted and then BAM! Unfortunately, the ‘anxiety baby’ is ruthless and not cute at all.

I’m SO bothered by all these obsessive and intrusive thoughts and associated feelings that I’m ready to sit down and do cognitive behavioral therapy thought logs and LORD KNOWS those are time and energy-consuming. I feel like I’ve run an emotional marathon every time I complete one. It’s not that I wouldn’t recommend them especially to my patients one day when I have my own practice. I think CBT is awesome and so is group and individual therapy, but with CBT, it’s a lot easier to work with a professional on your side than being alone on the other end of the finish line. At the end of the day the superobjective is not to need validation from someone else, but it sure helps especially when you’re in an emotional construction zone.

I’m even so disturbed by the obsessive thoughts this past week and a half that I’m thinking I may need to up my Luvox dosage. Of course, that would require me a psychiatrist. I’m coming to accept there is NO ONE I would not be able to see without taking time off for work for and that’s not even an option. There is a non-profit organization in my city my doctor told me about he wants me to get on the waiting list for, I’ll have to wait until Monday to make a call, and I dread that sort of thing, even though it NEEDS to be done.

Kind of a funny off-note…I got a text from someone I dogsit for and I was so disturbed by having to reply and be a reasonable human being that I inwardly said, “NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!” and then mumbled under my breath and got it over with. GOD, social interactions. DUMB.

Going back to what I was saying, I took Thursday and Friday off unpaid for being sick as all hell and attendance is a HUGE deal at the organization I work for. My doctor wrote me a note when I saw him (and he gave me antibiotics to hopefully kill off all this crap inside of me) that said I should stay home until Wednesday the 21st which I would LOVE to utilize, but I am feeling a LITTLE better, and I don’t want to cause problems at work. Then again, it’s like I can’t enjoy my rest time now because I’m anxious about having to get back to work. And I honestly like my job, even though I may not like all my co-workers’ attitudes…but those first few hours of being awake every day particularly when I’m sick and up early are hell on earth and just thinking about them makes me want to throw up all over (which, I did this morning!).

The other intrusive thoughts are so aggravating that I’m going to let them bathe in the sludge of paranoia and worry and anxiety in my stomach right now and not address them. F them. F obsessive compulsive disorder. F unnecessary guilt and F Sundays. I e-mailed one of the supervisors and send her the letter from the doctor and asked her opinion as to how dire it is they’ll need me Monday or if I can stay home at least one or two more days. Rest has been helping me SO MUCH. I run myself ragged now that I’m working and school has started. I’m already immune compromised to begin with, and I was so sick last week I was thinking maybe I should quit my job because obviously I can’t avoid this constant sickness…I’m just frustrated though I think.

I’ve done all I can do to keep calm this weekend. I’ve played casual games on my tablet and computer, I’ve slept as much as I can, I’ve taken all my medicines on time and practiced deep breathing. I’ve journaled mundane daily events and completed my homework so well it’ll sparkle to whoever reads it. I’m proud of those things. I just hope I can get through today without having ‘anxiety baby’ aerobics every few minutes/hours.

On another off-note before we finish up here, my university lab group is going to do our study on perceptions of OCD. My individualized section will be focused on intrusive thoughts, something people don’t normally consider nor understand in a general populace. Or maybe they do know! We’ll find out who knows what when we run our experiment.

ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR WEEKEND FELLOW BLOGGERS!

In My Head

How often are you ‘in your head’? If you like the color purple, prefer paper bags to plastic at the grocery store, and don’t like getting water in your ears, you, like me, are often in your head! (At least that’s what Buzzfeed would deduce). I’m so much so in my head, that it seemed a valid hypothesis of Chris’ as to why I never remember how to get anywhere we’ve been a thousand times. I’m not ‘paying attention’ as well as other absent-minded habits I have. I was so much in my head tonight, that I finally got out of bed and decided now was the time to blog for the week.

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Christmas last year made me want to throw up. When I was younger people used to talk about how dysfunctional their families were and I felt bad for them. Mine was great. I looked forward to holidays. Now thinking about getting together with my mom’s side of the family is something I dread. My cousins are SO different now than when we were growing up. We have hardly anything in common and pretty much talk only on Christmas these days. I’m going to make the effort to text them this week, try to spark conversation, and hopefully remedy some of that break in social tension. At least it’s tense for me. I hate the fact that all we do is exchange presents and watch each other bicker with our respected siblings. My Asperger’s sister got so wound up with me for some tiny thing I said that I can’t even remember that she pretty much said the only thing she said all night which was to bash me in a rage. After that everyone was silent, and we didn’t really pick up the mood because we had no games to play. I felt like crying. The only ‘good’ part of Christmas is the morning of that I spend with my immediate family. I’d best cherish this Christmas, for it’ll be my last as an undergraduate college student.

You read right. I’ll be graduating Fall 2015! It’s much later than I’ve wanted to have graduated, but having the fog of not knowing if there was anything I was missing lifted from my shoulders, I feel so much better about it. I spent the past year and a half avoiding talking to my adviser in the department. I was terrified to see him and it ended up being no big deal after all. In fact, it was a pleasure. I only need one more class to graduate, which will take one semester. The thing that’s pushing graduation two semesters instead of one is that I need to complete my Capstone project. Everyone in the department needs to complete one before graduating. There are a few options, but Dr. F (my adviser, and the only currently working clinical psychologist in the department), knowing my ‘condition’ and anxieties recommended me do the independent study. Not only do I get to work independently, but I get to work with Dr. F, who everyone wants to work with. He’s always booked with max students he can mentor for their projects. He’s doing me such an honor by taking me on and instead of making me wait until Fall to begin my project (which is when I’m officially in a time slot to work with him for) he’s having me start in the Spring which will prevent me from taking yet another semester to graduate. I’m thrilled. Because his field of study is abnormal psychology, I get to pick something in that realm I’m interested in. (Bipolar Disorder anyone!?) To make things all the more relieving, I don’t have to think about a project proposal until the Spring semester starts. I’m going to work my ass off to ace my one class, and impress the board with my independent study. That’s the official plan.

Announcing my excitement wasn’t the only thing I wanted to bring up in this post. Remember earlier in this post when I mentioned about throwing up? I did that two nights ago after going out with Chris (and meeting our friend and his date) who had free tickets to a concert. It urged me to pose the question to my fellow bipolar peers, how much can you drink? This is a more complicated question than it sounds and it started the year I was diagnosed. My boyfriend at the time said that an ex girlfriend of his was bipolar and could either out-drink anyone who came her way and not get drunk, or after a glass of wine be plastered. I feel like that’s the same for me. I had four shots of vodka, an IPA and a quarter of some wheat beer and didn’t feel a thing. No buzz, no loosening up, it was a waste of money and for that I’m glad that I didn’t pay for most of it, and I feel bad that I didn’t pay for most of it too in that regard. I never know what to expect when it comes to drinking anymore. I had an okay time, but was as I usually am, stuck in my head.

One of the things I was stuck in my head about was a very brief conversation piece I had with Chris on the way home. To make a long story short we have a very long history of dating, not dating, helping each other get through the mud of life, and right now he’s in no mood to be in a relationship with anyone. I’ve been in love with him for years, and see myself being alone if I don’t end up marrying him. If he were to get married I’d never speak with him again, to be frank. As long as I love him, he’ll be the only person I want to be with. I’m short-sighted I suppose you could say. I already can read your mind that you’ve been through this as well and I’ll be surprised to find someone else. No worries, I know it’s not an impossibility. I’m just speaking in the moment and the past several years of momentary feeling.

That being said, it brings us to our conversation. I told him something I was thinking about for months now. If he and I aren’t together as a couple or married by the time I’m 36 I’d like him to donate his sperm to me so I can be artificially inseminated with it and have the baby I’d love to have. He thinks I’m crazy and he won’t do it. I don’t blame him, but still it hurts to hear. It wouldn’t be the same having some stranger’s baby I pick out of a book. My mom was 37 when she had me. I always thought that was old and made me sad because I felt like my peers would all have more time with their mothers who had them when they were younger. That I’d be shorted precious time, but that’s pretty much a realistic cut off age if I want children. I can live without them, but I’m such a mom at heart truly. I mean I’m also a six-year-old at heart, but I guess that’s the goofy balance I’m meant to have. I love and adore the children I nanny for and wish I had my own children to spoil and teach and watch grow. It’s selfish as well I know. For me, I wouldn’t care if Chris wanted any parental responsibility and he’d have no reason to assist financially, but in the end its half his child. Oh well, it’s just something that’s been chewing on my heart for a bit.

Ahh, hopefully now I can sleep. Tomorrow I need to do my job search, pick up my thyroid medication and reply to blog responses from last week. I promise to do my best to accomplish all of those things! I always feel vastly accomplished when I do manage to complete the tasks for the day no matter how menial they are. I recommend making a check list mentally or physically for the day and crossing things off as you go. It’s helped me a lot.

You’d all best be doing fantastically today WordPress family, or I’ll come looking for ya!