Resentment follows me

Letting go of those resentments is the most important step, me thinks. With a resentment still in your heart, you can't really let God in. I read something today that sums it up:

“The moment you start to resent a person, you become his slave. He controls your dreams, absorbs your digestion, robs you of your peace of mind and goodwill, and takes away the pleasure of your work. He ruins your religion and nullifies your prayers. You cannot take a vacation without his going along. He destroys your freedom of mind and hounds you wherever you go. There is no way to escape the person you resent."

Resentments follow you around, and we all know that resentments are the biggest offender in leading to that next drink. So it's time for me to get them all down on paper so I can eventually let them go. As God wants, he will relieve me of the pain of these resentments and regrets. I can't wait.

Hockey makes me nervous

So I play field hockey every fall with a team of ladies an hour or so from here. It causes me massive anxiety every year. I am a goalie, and so I'm the last defense against a score. I always think I suck, because we suck as a team and lose a lot. But if the ball is constantly next to me, I'm going to miss it sometimes. We never lose by more than one point, but it still makes me think I'm awful and can't do a good job.

I have anxiety and panic attacks, as well. I usually have panic attacks on airplanes, and I fly a lot. But hockey always makes me feel inadequate. Why do I play? Because somehow I love it, as well. I love to be out there on the field moving around in gigantic smelly pads watching a game. It's something that makes me happy and anxious at the same time.

You should always do something that scares you. It adds a quality to life that you can't get when you stand still. Hockey starts in two weeks, and if I'm still here I'll be out on that field, sweating and waiting to fail, but loving every minute of it.

Closer meetings aren't so close

There aren't a lot of meetings where I'd be moving. It's really easy right now to get to meetings, since they're so close to my house and my work, but these would be farther away. I suppose that's ok. You have to get to a meeting sometime, it would just mean I'd get to less meetings.

I'm looking around my apartment, and I have a lot of stuff! I didn't realize how much stuff you can collect living alone for 3 years without other people's stuff taking up room. I moved here with a car full of stuff, and a gigantic oriental rug taking up most of the room. Instead, I'm going to need an entire 12 foot UHaul to get all this stuff back cross-country. I'm also going to need hella boxes.

I'm really excited about this. I really hope I get that job, as it would be close to everything, except AA meetings. I just sent the application packet back next day mail, so it should get there Monday. I'm hoping they'll be able to process me quickly, and call next week or the week after. I'm just trying to offer it up to God and not get too involved in it. If he wants it to happen, it will.

A new drug

So there's this new "hip" thing to do when you want a treatment for depression. It's called ayahuasca, and it's an ancient Peruvian concoction from plants that many take in ritual. People have apparently been coming from across the world to try it out, and see if it cures depression. They say it's non-addicting, and can actually help addicts, but of course, "...taking ayahuasca is no magic carpet ride. Some users go on a terrifying journey replete with nightmarish visions. Ayahuasca also induces a severe gastrointestinal reaction, leaving users retching and discharging from both ends."

Wow, that sounds awesome. Lithium already causes all sorts of problems, but I don't think I'd trade it for that kind of ride. But some folks apparently like that sort of thing.

"'You know, it is just really nurturing, caring, it is an amazing thing,' he said."

Nurturing vomit and diarrhea? To each his own.

Ms. Grace II

So Ms. Grace, my upstairs neighbor, is still in the hospital. Apparently it's lung cancer, and my other neighbor says she doesn't look so good. I talked to Ms. Grace today, and she sounded good - and says she feels better, but my neighbor said that's probably the steroids she's on.

Ms. Grace also told me my next door neighbor Don had to drive himself to the hospital on Sunday! Is there an "old people on my street getting sick" thing going around? No one has heard from him since then, so I hope he's ok. She called the city hospital, and he's not there, but there are about 5 other hospitals in surrounding towns where they could have moved him. I'm keeping an eye out for his car.

So keep them in your prayers, please. They are both sweet, spunky folks who deserve kindness and, if not more life, a peaceful last days.

The mail is here!

I just got an application in the mail from the company I interviewed with. I can't decide if this is a good sign, or just part of their process? Do they always send you this stuff or only when they are interested in you?

I sure hope they're interested in me. My mom and I just planned our drive cross-country and how I'm going to get a place. I know, I'm jumping the gun, but I'm just super excited about the possibility of going home for good.

In the meantime, I leave for home for a week on Tuesday. I'm going to get my 90 day (God willing) chip that day with Adam. It'll be great to attend a meeting there, and see the lay of the land. I'm going to have to find out where all the meeting spots near me are once I get there.

So keep your fingers crossed again!

Disordered eating

I eat out of boredom and frustration. Just like all my other addictions, it's binging. At least I don't vomit after, though I've thought about it. I'm too anti throwing up. Even when I was drunk I think I puked 3 times in my whole drinking career. Anyway, a new study looked at dealing with the emotions behind eating compulsively.

"...how can people who have eaten to cope with emotions change their eating habits, when they haven't learned other ways of coping with emotions?"

They say that you have to change your emotional eating patterns by watching those feelings slide away on a "conveyor belt." Putting them on a mental conveyor and watching them go away so you don't have to eat over them. I don't know how well this would work. I can think about why I'm eating, and the fact that I'm not hungry, and still want to eat. I also eat WAY too fast. I can eat dinner and in a minute or so convince myself that I'm still hungry and eat more. I don't know how to stop it. I can't seem to slow myself down. I have no real "hunger stop" mechanism. Apparently eating quickly doesn't allow your body to register that you're full.

"Most of us have heard that eating fast can lead to food overconsumption and obesity, and in fact some observational studies have supported this notion,"

I deal with the weight issue all the time. I bounce back and forth between a size 6 and a size 14. It's just a cycle I seem to go through. Even when I notice my pants are tight, I just can't seem to stop long enough to do something about it. And then I starve myself on a diet to get back to the weight I'm at now. Perhaps this is an eating disorder? It wouldn't surprise me. Mental illnesses and eating disorders sort of go hand in hand.

Now it's snails

Now they're messing with snails in the name of science. The description of the experiment is kind of depressing for the snails, but it comes to an interesting conclusion.

By feeding meth to snails, scientists discovered that snails had better memory recall. They attributed this to the drug, and parlayed it into human experience by saying that humans remember the "high" experience and its surroundings better when they are actually high. "Sorg refers to strong drug-induced memories as pathological memories, 'because they can initiate drug use even if the addict is determined not to repeat the behavior again.'"

So going back to the scene of the crime is not only bad for you, it really does bring on those cravings. In the Big Book, they say to stay out of situations like those you used to drink in. If you have no business being in a bar, why go in? It's just temptation. I used to drink in my living room, so there's no escape from that, and sometimes the memory is really strong. Another good reason to move out of my house.

A brand new day

I just had a flashback to when I heard I was moving to the left coast.

My landlord was selling my house. He had told us at the beginning of December, and said we had the month to move out. I was really sad. I loved that place. It was a cute little 2 bedroom with a finished basement as my bedroom. It had a nice big yard, and was walkable to public transit. I had a lot of memories in that house, too. I'd been living there a year and a half or two years.

So since I was single, depressed, and having to move, I started applying for jobs here. I figured if I had to move, I'd move big.

I was standing in my living room with a friend of mine packing up my books from the bookshelf. There were boxes from my roommate everywhere. It was a sunny, cool afternoon. The light was really bright in the house, and I was feeling pretty good. Suddenly, my phone rang. "Hello, this is Anne." And then she told me. "We'd like to offer you a position and give you moving expenses."

I accepted, hung up the phone, and started jumping up and down. "I'm moving!" I kept yelling. I remember being so damn excited! It was the best feeling - I had a job, and I was finally moving someplace I'd always wanted to live.

I feel like that now - just waiting for the phone call to come. I'm nervous, and hoping to jump up and down in my living room again, but this time because I'm going home.

Take a ride, or don't

Best quote ever from over at Mad Matters:

“Depression Land! Where it doesn't matter what the rides are like because you feel too shite to ride them anyway!”

Can you even imagine what that would be like? I think all the rides would be broken or would move so slowly you could step off them easily. It would be dark, the cotton candy would taste like Lysol, and there would be no funnel cakes. That would be like hell. Or maybe it would be like the park in Zombieland. Have you ever seen that movie? I love zombie movies. End of the world scenarios are always entertaining. There was some article about how we love to imagine the end times, but I haven't read it yet.

Oh, Post Office

I usually don't mind going to the Post Office. It's like the DMV. As long as you're patient, you usually get what you came for. And then there are other times when you get the run-around. Desk 1, "No, got to desk 3." Desk 3, "Go to the business office." Business office, "You wrote the permit on the check, so we can't take it." Sigh. Resentment!

It really was my fault, though, which I hate. I hate to admit that I messed up. I didn't check the permit number before I went to print, and now I have 846 copies of a postcard that can't be mailed from that number. Which means: I have to reprint. Money down the drain....

It's really hard admitting fault in a situation. I'm going to have to tell my boss, too, which is going to suck. He's not very nice sometimes, and so it'll be an ordeal. Sigh.

UPDATE: Fixed it! No reprinting necessary. Wahoo!

The job hunt

I'm sitting here at midnight job hunting. I keep refreshing the page thinking they'll be something new, but not even east coast recruiters are recruiting this early. I think I'm just doing it as habit, now.

I can't sleep. That's not true, I did sleep. I just woke up at 10 after sleeping since 6. I love naps during the day. Now, of course, I'm not tired. So I'm sitting here typing away and telling stories. I love to tell stories. It's actually what I do for a living. I call myself a bullshit artist, because I get to take a simple program and make it sound like a community-building, life-changing experience. It's fun!

So that's what I'm looking for - more bullshit work. There are some good options out there, but I'm trying to be picky. I'm picking stuff close to where I want to live, and not out in the boonies. There's one for a company I would want to work for, but they're across the metro area from where I want to live, and that's just too much of a commute for me. I actually don't mind commuting, but with the dog, well, I don't want to be too much of a burden on my mom.

Thank God my mom offered to watch the dog. I couldn't afford doggy daycare, and I'm sure he'd get kicked out. Well, that or another dog would try to eat him. Dogs like to attack my dog, which could be another reason he's so skittish and needy.

So I'll keep looking. I really hope I get the one I interviewed for. It just sounds like a nice challenge.

I slept with my ex boyfriend

Story. Of. My. Life. I've slept with all my ex's after we broke up. It's just a thing I do. I can totally separate having once been with them and the act of sex. Except Adam. We never slept together after we broke up. I think I just respect him too much to treat him as a piece of meat. Anyways... I have no problem treating the rest of my ex's like a piece of meat. I'm such a bitch. I digress.

On my last bender, it all started with a potential boyfriend. I met him on eHarmony (my aunt was doing a social experiment where she made my cousins and I join and then send her stories. Living vicariously). We went out for the second time, and drank our way through dinner (well, I think we had an appetizer) and then went back to his house to drink more. He has an apartment in the city with a penthouse suite and a roof deck overlooking the whole city. We had agreed by then that we were better off friends, and so we just drank and told stories till 4am. We eventually made it downstairs, and since I'd missed public transit, I just stayed. I was totally late to work the next day. And kinda drunk. It was a Thursday.

Not four days later, my first boyfriend ever came into town for a conference. This is where it gets hairy. I hadn't really stopped drinking since the affair the last week, and now here was this heavy drinker to take me out. He's rich, so we went to all the expensive restaurants in the city while he was here (2 days, 3 restaurants, so not all of them). The first night, we actually ate dinner, but had two bottles of really good wine with it. Then, of course, we weren't finished. We went to a bar and had a couple of beers, and then decided to go to another bar and take shots. All I remember is on shot number 4 saying cheers. Then I don't remember anything until I woke up, naked, with him lying naked at my feet. Luckily we had somehow made it to the hotel room.

Of course, it was 9am and I had to be at a meeting my boss and co-worker were co-presenting. It started at 8:30, half an hour from where I was. And I was wearing what I wore to work the day before. And I was DRUNK, still. So I did what any self-respecting girl does on the walk of shame: I stopped by Old Navy and bought a new outfit. I got to work (where I had left my car, and someone had keyed it [resentment!]) and dropped my clothes in the car. I checked my credit card statement, and I had spent $170 on shots. How in the hell do you do that?? No wonder I was still drunk. I showed up at the meeting and sweated it out. About halfway through, I was getting sober (from all the coffee) and started shaking and sweating. I was a hot mess.

The next night, cause I'm a glutton for punishment, we did it again, only I made him pay this time. I have no idea what we drank, but I didn't wake up naked this time, which is a plus. I walked down to Old Navy again and bought another dress. I made it to my car only to find TWO flat tires. Sigh. So I called AAA and had them tow me home. I called my boss and told her I had broken down on the way to work (this was already an hour after I was supposed to have been there for the second day of the meeting). I got to take a shower and wash some of the booze and cigarettes off of me. Whew! By the time I got my car back it was noon and I had missed half the meeting, and walked in during lunch. I was sweaty and shaky again, but at least I (probably) didn't smell like booze.

AND THEN, another friend came into town. He's not an ex, but close enough. We went out drinking, but not too hardcore. At least, he didn't. I had a party at my house the day he was supposed to leave, and I got so drunk I was literally falling down. I actually am really embarrassed about that one. I need to apologize to him for my behavior that day. I was probably still wasted from Tuesday, shot night.

By that next Wednesday I was done with alcohol. So that was my last bender.

I hate my car payment

Another resentment! I hate my car payment. I just hate having one. I love my car, don't get me wrong, but $300 a month to have it sit there, and then insurance on top of that? Hate.

My old car was paid off. It was 10 years old and a P.O.S., but I loved it. It had made numerous trips across the East coast, to the Mid-west, and across country when I moved. It fit all my worldly possessions, and it was a small car. Ahh, memories.

But it died (resentment!) a horrible death 2 years ago.

Here, you have to get your car tested for smog every 2 years. I took mine in, and it wouldn't pass the test. I had no idea what was wrong with it, and neither did my mechanic. He worked, and worked, and replaced pretty much everything but the engine itself. It cost me more money than the car was worth (which really wasn't a lot. I've spent more on the dog). But nothing. He even gave it to another friend to look at, and that guy couldn't figure it out. Mystery car.

The battery kept dying everywhere, too. Thank God for AAA. I had that thing towed from at least 5 locations to mechanics who had no idea what the hell was wrong with it.

I was driving home from work one day and, like I never did, I turned on the AC. Suddenly, black smoke came out from the vents. So I did what any person with a beater car does - I turned off the AC and ignored it.

A week or so later, I was up in the hills picking up my farm vegetable box (I'm such a dork), and the car wouldn't start again. Luckily, there was a guy outside who gave me a jump. I was so frustrated, that I swore I was going to finally get a new car. Little did I know....

I was going down a hill and came to a stop sign. The hill leveled out at the sign, and then went down again. I crossed the intersection and that was that. The entire car just died. DIED, died. The brakes didn't work, the steering didn't work, nothing. I could barely turn the wheel. But I managed to corkscrew it hard enough to the left to hit the curb, it went up on the curb, and ended in a lady's lawn. Sigh.

I got out and called AAA again. And smoked a cigarette. I knew it was over, so I started cleaning out the car. AAA towed it to my ex's mom's house where I was going to leave it in the driveway until I could get the junkers to come get it. My ex had to come over and help me get it in, though, because AAA left it on the side of the road, and I had to get it up the driveway (which is, of course, a hill). He pulled his car front bumper to my front bumper, we attached the cables to the batteries, and on the count of three I jammed on the gas and backed into the spot with him following me all the way. It made it! It lived there for three weeks until I could donate it.

Now, I have a nice, clean, (except the stupid thing on the back where someone keyed it while I was drunk - another story), and working. But it's not paid for. I hadn't had a car payment in 7 years, and all of a sudden I'm shelling out money like nobody's business. Damn. Resentment.

Finding a house

I love looking at houses. I always think about buying a nice house near home with hardwood floors, big windows, and a yard. Not too much to ask, right? I sure wish I could afford one.

I'm looking at renting places right now. There are some really cute things near home, which would be close enough to my mom to get the dog there in the morning (cause he still couldn't be alone, damn dog). Plus, it would be close if I get the job I'm interviewing for, because it's in the same town. Though it is next to public transportation, as well.

I was thinking about getting a roommate again. I don't mind them at all, but I don't know how the dog would do with people he doesn't know coming in and out. He'd have to meet all their friends as well as mine so that he wouldn't bark at them.

But I do enjoy living alone. You can walk around naked and not offend anyone. Even if I stay here I'll probably move. I live in a hobbit hole. It's a basement apartment that is cold, dark, and has no direct sunlight at all. Ever. I love it! It's like living in a cave. It's freezing, and has no heat (which is illegal, but I've just never dealt with it. I don't care that much - I have a heater). But I keep getting harassed to go live somewhere with sunshine. Sun is good for depression - hiding in your cave is not. So we'll see what happens either way.

My little house

My grandparents bought a house in New England in the late 50s that sits in a tiny little town in the west. It kinda looks like this one. It's a beautiful white farmhouse with a big yard, and it sits on a cul-de-sac, which I've always thought was safer for little kids. I grew up on one, too, and I love them.

Anyways, my grandparents moved out in the early 2000s to live in a retirement home, and my youngest uncle and his family moved into the house. It was perfect for them - enough bedrooms for all their kids, lots of places to play, and even room for a pool table. They loved and renovated the house, finally getting some damn hot water in the guest shower.

I love that house. So here's my resentment: my aunt and uncle are in financial trouble and took out money against the house. If they loose that house I am going to be so damn sad. It's like a family heirloom to me, and I would move there in a heartbeat just to live in the house. Even though it's drafty and in a place where it snows like mad. I even love visiting it.

So they're going on the list.

Dog, you are so on my list

I am so bitter against my dog sometimes. It's like having a small child that barks at everything and sheds. My dog is so on my list.

He is a destroyer when I'm not around. It's not like he eats my shoes (though he ate my favorite pair when he was a puppy) but he freaks out when I'm not around and pulls the carpet back from the door. I'm never getting my deposit back. I've trained him to be alone for 15 minutes while I walk over to buy cigarettes or diet Coke, but longer than that and he's got to go in his house (the cage). He can be in there up to 3 hours, which is what happens when I go to meetings or have to hit the grocery store.

But home alone all day? There's no way in hell. I'm really lucky that my ex's mom and I are friends, because she takes him while I'm at work and when I'm out of town. Or, on night's like tonight when I had a late meeting and didn't feel like driving out of my way to go get him.

I miss him when he's gone. He can be super annoying, but he's also super cute and loving. He loves to cuddle. He's a good dog. But he's still on my list.

How to do your fourth step

"Notice how generalisation is avoided and the single event, the fight, is split up into its component resentments. The first three columns correspond to those in the Big Book. ... Referring to our list again. Putting out of our minds the wrongs others had done, we resolutely looked for our own mistakes. Where had we been selfish, dishonest, self-seeking and frightened. To be completely thorough in our inventory the Big Book also tells us that we must be precise. ... We wrote down all the resentments we remember ever having, even if the memory is not painful now, for the Big Book says: 'We went back through our lives. Nothing counted but thoroughness and honesty.'"

Like Adam said, leave no stone unturned. Think you're over it? Put it down anyway. Hate that you're still mad about it and embarrassed at your reaction? Put it down. Did something stupid in reaction to someone? Drank over something? Put it down.

This list is your grudge list. Everything that does and has ever pissed you off. My dog sheds all over the damn place, and it makes me crazy. He's on the list. My mom is nuts. She's on the list. My stupid car keeps getting nails in the tires. Construction sites are on the list. Anything and everything goes down there. Writing it down is really cathartic.

We're just focusing on columns one and two right now. Just write down who/what and why. That's it. Easy. So don't be afraid - it feels good to get it down on paper.

And that's the other thing: write it down. I'm writing it on a steno pad, as well as recording the bigger stories here. I'm really using this space as a fifth step.

Shopping, shopping, shopping

I always love reading what David over at Struggling is up to. He's going through a move right now, which is stressful for anyone, but he's feeling especially troubled by it. I'll let you read about it.

But today, he talked about that manic obsession to shop. Ohh, shopping. How I love and loathe thee.

I totally shop when I'm manic. I just bought a dress, a blouse, two pairs of pants, and a pair of bright red pointy-toed heels, all on a bank account that is drained to it's last little remnants. I also got a $300 hair cut and dye, $100 worth of groceries, which I have no idea where they are cause they sure as hell aren't in my fridge, and I'm getting another tattoo this weekend, so there goes the little bit I have left until I get paid next week.

Mania can really take over your bank. Usually when I'm manic I buy plane tickets. Plane tickets home, plane tickets to Europe, plane tickets wherever I feel like going. I'm going to Wyoming over Labor Day just because I've never been to Glacier National Park. Each of these things is about $500. You don't want to know what my credit card debt looks like.

Oh, but when I'm hypomanic, like I think I am now, I pay everything off. I get crazy about paying off everything in total. I just sold some of my money market funds (tax time is going to suck, so I'm saving some for April) to pay off half my credit card. I'm going to use the rest to move if I have to, and if I don't get a job then I'm going to pay off the rest of my card. I guess it's a good cycle. Spend, save, and then when I'm depressed I just worry about both of those things. I don't have enough money, I don't save enough, blah, blah, blah.

Two years ago when my grandpa died I got a sizable chunk of change from the estate. I, luckily, was depressed about it, and so took half and made that money market, and then put the rest in my savings. Well, I had to buy a car (really, my old one died), and then I just HAD to take a trip to Europe (ok, that one was just a treat). And then I HAD to get three new tattoos. Tattoos are something that happen when I'm manic, too. I love them, and I just love getting them. I'm in the middle of a huge back piece right now that's going to look awesome when it's done.

So I only have a little bit left, and thank God it's in the money market making a little money. I have it in pretty safe stuff, so it's not making a lot of money, but it's there for a rainy day or another manic spending spree and hypomanic spending down.

Embarrassing fourth step?

I've never really had a problem with embarrassment, except by my parents and sometimes by others, but I'm not embarrassed by myself. Looking at the fourth step, I haven't seen anything yet that I'm too embarrassed to write down and potentially tell someone about. But if you have that problem, here's a good way to deal with it.

Big Book rocks

I keep staring at my inbox hoping for another email from a company asking for an interview. I know, 2 out of 10 is pretty good, but I like having options. And I like giving interviews.

I've given this decision up to God. There is a life for me here if I need it, but I know I need to go home at some point. I've got to face the music. I ran away to the other side of the country to try and get some peace, and I learned to do that.

Today in the meeting we read "Gutter Bravado" on page 501 of the Big Book. The guy talks about running away from home to get his drink on, and that's just what I did. I know that I need to learn to live with the people I ran from, and that my life will be better if I can do that.

So I'm asking God to make the decision for me: stay or go. Whichever happens, I'm good with it. I'll keep applying to places, but he'll pick which one picks me.

Ohh! Shiny

Apparently we drunks space out more often, and are less likely to notice it. Of course, the test was done using War and Peace, which I think everyone spaces out during.

"For example, the observation that alcohol increases mind-wandering suggests another reason why alcohol makes driving dangerous-drunk drivers may lose track of what they are doing."

There's another study that suggests that alcohol impairment is less likely to be determined impairment when you have alcohol in your system. In other words, when you're drunk, you think you can still drive because you don't know your own impairment.

Which explains why we often think, "I'm ok to drive," when we're totally not. A lot of us used to drunk drive, thinking that one of two (or 5) was perfectly fine because we could still hold our heads up just fine. But it appears we were spacey and impaired all along. Kind of a duh, huh?

Pregnancy and meds are a bad combo

I have always wondered about this. They haven't had a specific study on what psych meds can do during a pregnancy, because you can't test on pregnant women. Now, they've found that they do cause birth defects and other problems in unborn children.

"'A range of serious side effects such as birth deformities, low birth weight, premature birth, and development of neonatal withdrawal syndrome were reported in children under two years of age, most likely because of the mother's intake of psychotropic medication during pregnancy,' says Associate Professor Lisa Aagaard."

Wonderful. So now you have to choose between birth defects and withdrawal in your child, or possible psychosis during your pregnancy. I should just never have children. Which is sad. My grandma told me once not to reproduce because I could pass on the bipolar gene. I don't think that's fair. I shouldn't be restricted from having that kind of joy just because of the possibility of passing on a disease. Should people with heart disease be restricted from having kids? I know in the old days they used to sterilize people like me so that we couldn't reproduce. How disgusting.

So someday when I have to make that choice, I think I'll choose crazy over birth defects. I'd rather have a tough 9 months than a child who will have it tough the rest of their life.

Cigarettes and obsession

"If trying to avoid thoughts of something in an attempt to give it up actually unwittingly triggers a subsequent increase, it's a poor method of achieving self control. This work may stop people using quitting techniques that are ultimately harmful."

No wonder it's so hard to quit anything. The more you try not to think about it, the more you do the behavior when you quit trying to suppress the obsession. I think that's why AA is successful. You ask your HP to remove the obsession, and it's ok to obsess in the meantime. Once the obsession is lifted, it's easier to just avoid it, but a lot of people still have trouble with it. That's another good thing about AA: teaching you to "think through the drink." Where will it lead? What happens at the end of a drinking bought?

Quitting smoking is harder than quitting drinking. I haven't made it to the grocery store yet, and my sponsor yesterday told me not to quit, again. She said having one mask left is better than drinking. I want to quit, though. I think I'm about ready. I smoke way too much, and it makes me sick to think about it. I haven't emptied my ashtray in a while just to show me how much I actually smoke. It's really gross.

I was doing well with the diet Coke, though, until I stayed up until midnight last night thinking and making my fourth step list. I think I had 4, but I only had one during the day. That's a cut down of at least 2. I think today I'm going to try to stick to coffee until 2pm and try to only have 2 more at home. I'm running out, and if I don't buy another case, then I won't have them on hand to drink.

Addictions are hard!

Just a thought

I'm still thinking about what I just said: I really regret the abortions. I seriously hadn't let myself feel that emotion, or any of the emotions that came with it.

Shortly after my second abortion, I had my suicide attempt. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with my hormones being out of wack, my alcoholism, and my bipolar all coming together in a perfect storm. I was pretty fucked up that whole time.

Sometimes you don't know something until you write it down, so I'm going to think about this again. I wish I hadn't had an abortion. The second one, especially. You would think I would have learned how much it hurt me emotionally the first time. And I knew it at the time: this is going to be a bad idea. I just hated myself more after. And that was hard to do; I was so hateful to myself already. It's amazing how I had the capacity to love others and not myself. They say you can't truly love anyone until you love yourself, but I don't know if I believe it. I can see what people would love about me, but that doesn't mean I love myself.

God, I hate crying. I don't do it very often. It takes a lot. When Adam left after visiting this summer, I balled. I was driving out of the airport and a song came on that I used to listen to when we broke up. It was Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars, which for some reason made me cry uncontrollably. I missed him so much already.

And now I'm crying again. Twice in one summer, or even one year, is pretty unheard of for me. But step four isn't easy. It brings up that stuff you don't want to think about. They say it's a release as well. I suppose actually feeling these emotions is a release. It hurts, but it'll feel better after. Walk through the pain, right?

A big regret, or two

I'm sighing as I'm about to write this. I've had two abortions. I always thought, "It was the best decision; you had nothing to offer a child during either of those times." But I regret them. I have finally allowed myself to understand that. I'm sad about them, and wonder all the time how my life would be different, and if their little souls ended up in another body better able to take care of them.

I was 17 the first time. I was having unprotected ecstasy-induced sex with my 19 year old boyfriend, and we got pregnant. I didn't know it, at first. I was at boarding school, and just kept throwing up. I had to leave class all the time cause I was so sick. I just felt like shit. So I went to the clinic, and they knew immediately. They called my dad. Boy, was that a shitty ride home (resentment!). They asked me not to come back until I had the child/wasn't pregnant (resentment!).

My dad, being Catholic and a republican, told me I was going to have the baby. That was that. My boyfriend was really excited. He told his mom and she seemed actually excited, too. I was not. I was beside myself. How could this have happened (duh)? How could I have gotten myself into this situation? What was I going to do? In my state you had to be 18 or get a parent's permission to get an abortion, and at the time I was still Catholic enough to think that there was no way I could do it.

And then I had a moment: I realized that a 17 year old and a 19 year old bunch of druggies with no high school diploma between them could only end up fucking up a child. I knew I couldn't do it. So I convinced my boyfriend to take me to the Planned Parenthood in the next state. He was sad, and so was I. If you ever have to get an abortion, I have two things to tell you: don't look, and don't listen.

I started having these recurring dreams of a young blonde boy who had his back to me. He would stand there, and I would try to get him to turn around. I just wanted to see him, but he never would. And one day, he turned his head partway, I still couldn't see his face, but he said, "I forgive you." I never had that dream again.

But I'm still sad about it. If I had thought better of myself or my situation (he would have been loved, after-all), I might have gone through with it. But then my life wouldn't be like it is, which is how it's supposed to be. But I think it's my biggest regret. My biggest resentment against myself. I don't know how I'm ever going to forgive myself.

The second time I was 23 and a drunk. I was actually on birth control by then, but of course it's only 97% effective. Lucky us. My boyfriend at the time, well, I don't even remember his reaction. I just remember being petrified that I would have to do it again. Everything in me said, "Don't do it!" I wanted to have that child, I really did. But something else in me said, "You're a fucking loser who can't even take care of yourself. What the hell would you do with a child?" And so I did it. I, again, asked a boyfriend to be complicit in this act, and I went to the very same Planned Parenthood. Thank God they didn't judge me. I couldn't have handled criticism at that time.

And so these are my biggest resentments against myself. Aborting children I very well could have had, and wanted in my own little way. I would have a 13 year old and a 7 year old right now. I think about them all the time. I worry now, will I ever be able to have kids? Will God punish me since I didn't learn my lesson the first time? Maybe one day I'll find out, but I know one thing, any child that comes to me now will be wanted, loved, and never taken for granted.

I resent radio commercials

There is an amazing amount of little annoyances that I'm putting on my resentment list. Here are some odd ones:

People who wear perfume; people who don't use their blinkers; technology for being so distracting; radio commercials; teenagers; people who park on my street and take up my space; my neighbors for using the driveway all the time; my weak knee.

There's just so much that apparently is a resentment that I thought was just an annoyance. I suppose they're about the same!

There's another commercial on the radio and I'm about to turn on my iTunes.

Anything and everything

I just talked to Adam, calling one alcoholic to another, to get advice on the fourth step. If there's one thing he's good at, it's AA.

I was wondering, is it just a list? Just people, places, things, ideas, institutions I have regret or resentment around? Is it just that easy?

Remember now, I'm only doing columns one and two: who, what.

And he said, "Write it all down. Even if you think you're over it. Even if you've looked under that rock, write down the rock. Just names and causes."

So it is that easy. Except it's not. It doesn't have to be exhaustive, I know that, but it's easy to just keep writing. Apparently I have more baggage than I thought.

Holy moly

Wow, this resentment thing is insane. I've only been working on it for an hour and already I have 6 pages, going back to kindergarten. I don't have as much on my mom as I thought I would, but I'm sure I'll come up with more later.

I do have a lot of resentments against myself. I seem to be able to go on and on on that one. There's just a lot that I've done that I didn't think I regretted - I've always prided myself on living life on life's terms and not regretting things. Apparently I have been deluding myself this whole time. Not that I hate myself, or anything (though hating myself is on the list), but I've done some things I'm not proud of, and that causes bitterness, which is a nicer way of saying resentment.

My best friend from kindergarten came up, too. We were so close, and then one day she was just able to drop me. I haven't heard from her since I was 16. I can't find her anywhere, and I'm afraid to call her mom. I don't know. So, she was in to witchcraft and it scared me. We were 13, and I still told my mom everything then. I told her, she told this girl's mom, and she got in trouble. And she never spoke to me again. Harsh. So there's three resentments there: me for telling, her for ditching me, and mom for breaking my confidence.

It's amazing what you can find out just going through this exercise.

Tonight is all about resentment!

Here's another helpful tidbit:

A Few Causes of Resentment

It seems there are fairly universal cause of resentment. Most of us are likely to feel resentful when:
- Others try to tell us what to do, how to run our lives, what we need, what they think is best for us
- Others tell us what they think we should do, how they think we should feel, how they think we should act.
- Others feel and act superior to us.
- Others act in hypocritical ways.
- Others deprive us of our needs.
- We see those in power abusing their power and hurting others who are less powerful
- We feel falsely accused, judged, prejudged, discriminated against, labeled, ignored, attacked, hunted, persecuted, underestimated, invalidated
- We feel lied to or lied about.

Underestimated. Hm. I feel like that a lot. Especially at work. Of course, it would help if I did my work well instead of hiding from it. Then I would really show how good I can be, and people probably wouldn't underestimate me. But I also know this is bullshit. My boss makes me chair of association task forces. He asks me to do huge projects and is satisfied with them (I wouldn't say happy, since he never seems to get happy). I think in reality I'm valued and appreciated at work. It's my problem that I feel less than, not theirs.

I also feel underutilized (which is like underestimated) in my personal life. I feel like I have a lot to give and am not asked as much as I would like. I give regardless, but I would like to be asked. Just sayin.

Ky'hoo'ya

I love this: There is a native word of greeting, Ky'hoo'ya, which means "Walk In The Sunlight of the Spirit", and is also a fitting acronym for "Keep Your Head Out Of Your Ass."

Just thought I'd share.

Health insurance is a necessary evil

I'm totally resentful of my health insurance company. They keep hanging up on me while they try to transfer me to the 32rd person who is supposed to help me do one damn simple thing.

I'm resentful at the whole process of health insurance. How can they deny the sickest people treatment under the guise of "pre-existing condition?" Isn't that illegal? Shouldn't it be? Luckily, even with my diagnosis of bipolar, I (knock on wood) haven't had any trouble getting health insurance through my places of employ. I know people who have had cancer who now have trouble getting health insurance, and it just seems so ridiculous. People who have pre-existing conditions need healthcare the most in order to stay well and not get sick again. Without it, I couldn't afford my medications. Sometimes I see on the receipt that my meds, for three months, would be upwards of $800. It costs me $50. I would be unmedicated if it weren't for insurance.

I had no insurance during college, and I was crazy. Even my alcoholism took off. I was trying to cover my incredible mania with something, anything! I was so manic that I was paranoid and freaked out at almost anything. And then I would swing into deep depressions that had me crying during class, or just generally acting like it was the end of the world.

So I'm mad at insurance companies, and yet grateful for them. I suppose all resentments will be a like and dislike balance for me. I'm unfortunately good at seeing the good in anything. Damn optimist.

A regret and a resentment

When I left Adam, it was the best thing I ever did for both of us, and the worst thing I ever had to do in my entire life. I still haven't forgiven myself, even though we've both grown so much, and I'm still a little resentful that he didn't chase after me.

I felt I had to do it. He was in a situation where he wasn't making a decision - especially the best decision for himself - and in order to push him along in it, the best thing for me to do was break up with him.

Oh, how I loved him. I would have done anything for him, and I felt this was the ultimate show of my love. I was going to sacrifice our happiness as a couple for his welfare as a human being. He was going to get sober, damnit, and I was going to help. Oh, how important I thought I was. But he did.

And then I left for the left coast, and started over, myself. I created a new world, and waited. We talked, but not that often, and I tried to not feel like I was crying a bit inside every time. I just wanted him to say, "Come home." Or, "I'll be right there." But he didn't.

And so I regret my decision, but I don't. I'm not sure how that fits into resentments, because I'm really conflicted about it. And I'm (almost) over him not wanting to be with me enough to chase me down. It was really painful to think that he would choose his life over life with me, but that's what I was asking him to do in the first place, and I wanted him to choose himself.

And now, we've got a great relationship, based on a friendship that's strong enough to span coasts. And he's in a really good place, sobriety-wise. But I still miss what we had. Sometimes I wish I'd stayed and just gotten sober with him. But I wasn't ready. It was his time, not mine. And now it's my turn to choose myself.

What is a resentment?

Now I'm starting my fourth step, officially. I need to make a list of resentments I have against people, places, things, institutions, ideas, etc. It doesn't have to be exhaustive, it just has to be true.

So what is a resentment? "Resentment can be triggered by an emotionally disturbing experience felt again or relived in the mind. When the person feeling resentment is directing the emotion at themself it appears as remorse."

"The word resentment comes from the Latin word "sentire" which means, "to feel", and when you put "re" in front of any word, it means "again", so the word resent means "to feel again". It includes people, institutions or principles with whom we were angry, with whom we were hurt or threatened or interfered with, with whom we felt had wronged us, with whom we stayed sore at, with whom we felt "burned up" toward, and with whom we held a grudge.

I would like to add the following as well: People, institutions or principles which we are annoyed with, agitated by, or let down by; and I also like to suggest that this includes our regrets [from "gratan", to weep, i.e., to weep again] because regret is resentment toward ourself."

Ideas coming from "perceived" wrongs, and wrongs in themselves. I can think of a few, but are they really resentments? I suppose I have been carrying around a little, ha, anger about some stuff, but I know already that most of it is me and my reactions to things. In fact, if I think about them now, I already know I have a part in all of my resentments. I do have a lot of resentment towards myself, and I just know I have to do this step without beating myself up. It's not about pointing out what a shit I am, it's about finding where I keep repeating patterns and trying to break them.

So here's to step four.

Get by with a little help from your friends

"It's best to nip the hypomanias and manias in the bud before they develop into bona fide cycles. Unfortunately we're not able to do this job all by ourselves. Because the extra shot of energy feels great. According to Dr. Duckworth, half of persons with bipolar disorder don't know that they are ill when symptoms appear. Which is why trusting, loving relationships are so essential to our recovery. OTHERS recognize our manias well before we do."

I've always been a big advocate for letting your close friends know you have bipolar disorder, and explaining to them what it is. The more people you have in your life who can call you on your shit, the more likely you are to receive help early in a manic or depressive episode.

I think I said this already, but a friend of mine sat down at dinner with me a couple of weeks ago and said, "Are you manic?" I wondered how he could tell, and he said, "It's like you have a Devo hat on with a big flashing light on top." Emily told me I look coked out when I'm manic. So I suppose it's easy to tell. The same friend came over last week, and said, "Wow, now you're depressed." I think it helps that we lived together for 2 years, but he can recognize the symptoms almost immediately and let me know.

Without the help of therapists and friends, it's hard to recognize your own symptoms, especially when you're manic and feeling awesome. You just think, "Hey, I'm out of the depression! Yeah!" It sometimes doesn't occur to you that you've swung too far in the opposite direction.

So tell your confidants and let them help you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and often it relieves people because they then understand why you get crazy sometimes.

The science of mice

"There are big drawbacks in the current therapies for depression," says senior author John Traynor, Ph.D., professor of pharmacology at the U-M Medical School and director of the U-M Substance Abuse Research Center. "Therapeutic benefits are delayed, there are unwanted side effects, and it's not unusual for depressive symptoms to return."

They discovered, through messing with mice (again, poor mice), that there is one specific serotonin receptor that deals with depression, and now they might be able to target just that one. Usually, SSRI's "flood the brain with serotonin" and hit all the receptors. That's what causes side effects, and sometimes the brain can get immune to the SSRI, which is why sometimes you have to change meds until you find one that works, and even then, you have to mess with them occasionally.

Science is fascinating.

Women and bipolar disorder

It's kind of a duh that girls are effected differently by mental illness than boys. We have wide fluctuations in hormones throughout the month, which effects our mental health. "...a girl’s energy, judgment, demeanor and appearance can vary dramatically throughout the month depending on which biochemical, hormone, or neural circuit has seized the reins."

"Some CABF parents report that their daughters have a sharp increase in irritability, depression, impaired concentration, sleeplessness, panic attacks, self-injury or anxiety prior to their first menstrual period, and experience these symptoms before each subsequent period.... Psychiatrists in the emerging specialty of reproductive psychiatry study the interaction between mood and hormonal changes at all stages of a woman's life. They find that premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) (a severe form of premenstrual syndrome, or PMS) may be associated with a serotonin deficiency during the luteal phase (second half) of the monthly cycle."

Which is why a lot of us get a little more nutty around our periods. I know I get super irritable, depressed, and panicky around my period. I've heard that birth control pills help with PMDD as they regulate the progesterone and estrogen in your cycle. But I wonder if SSRI (Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors - a type of medication used in mental illness) works for PMDD. It would seem that replacing that serotonin would make the symptoms more bearable. Of course, in bipolar you can't just use an SSRI. You have to have a stabilizer as well (SSRI's are only anti-depressants, which can trigger mania).

There's another big kicker with women and mental illness: we get pregnant. It's a huge choice for a woman whether or not to continue to use medications during pregnancy, because the docs aren't sure what a lot of them do to the fetus. According to this great article, mania may be pregnancy induced:

"Some studies suggest that pregnancy may lessen symptoms: “In one study, 800f patients with affective illness (predominantly bipolar) experienced an improvement or a diminution of symptoms of their mood disorder during pregnancy” (Altshuler et al. 1998). At the same time, these studies are contradicted by other studies. For instance, in a study involving women with bipolar type I disorder, “…women reported manic mood changes, in each case occurring during pregnancy” (Blehar et al., 1998). Manic episodes and cycling seemed to occur exclusively during pregnancy."

So there's a lot to look out for for us ladies. We have to be careful to watch ourselves closely, and remember to look where we are in our illness and where we are in our cycle. It's something I'm going to be tracking more regularly. I do think I have a pattern of up and down during the month, which I always attributed to pure rapid-cycling. It may be menstrual cycle induced cycling.

Hypersexuality and abuse

"...there appears to be an unusually high correlation between bipolar disorder and a history of child sexual abuse, which could be explained by the fact that bipolar disorder is so often inherited, and the parent abuser may well have done so due to his or her own manic depression."

Huh. Interesting. It could be the hypersexuality of mental illness that causes people to act out their sexuality in an abusive manner. The perpetrator themselves may be mentally ill and therefore acting out in a manner they wouldn't otherwise. I wonder if they have ever done a study on abusers and their rates of mental illness.

This is hard to read, but interesting. It's a study they did on whether abuse makes bipolar folks more crazy. I mean, more suicidal and depressed in adulthood. I'll let you process this, cause I'm still thinking about it.

It went well

So I had my job interview this morning, and I think it went well. I had a lot of good questions for them, and they for me. It sounds like a heavy load, but that will prevent me from getting bored, which is a really good thing. It's just a 2 person department, but that's fine by me. That's what I'm in now, and I've been a one person department before. They use a software I'm not familiar with, but my friend Jennifer says she hears it's pretty easy to catch on to.

They're interviewing people this week, and will make a decision in the coming two weeks or so. I asked God tonight that if it's his will, please let it happen. It would mean so much change, but so much good change. I could go home. Right now, I feel like there is more there for me than here.

I do love it here. The weather is nice, I've made great friends, and there are amazing places within driving distance. But the same is true of home (minus the good weather part). There, my grandma is within driving distance. I could go visit for a weekend instead of never seeing her. I could drive up to my aunt's house. I can hang out with my parents, and Adam, and my friends.

Ah, friends. That will be different. They've gone on with their lives, and so have I, but I think we still have enough in common to rebuild those relationships.

So, I'm excited by this opportunity. I hope it works out. I know it will work out the way it should.

The big 5

My therapist and I were talking today about all the destructive things I do to myself. She asked if there was anything I was really thinking about, and I said, "Cigarettes." I am powerless over them, and my lungs have become unmanageable. Well, not really. I don't have a cough (knock on wood) or anything, but I really am powerless over cigarettes. They've become my go-to addiction.

So we counted out my addictions: alcohol, cigarettes, eating, sex, and I can't remember the last one. It was probably caffeine.

I'm taking care of the alcohol one, and the sex thing seems to have resolved itself with quitting drinking. I never really had sex unless I was drunk, and I don't have the compulsion now. My libido is definitely on hiatus, which is weird, especially when I'm manic. There is someone I want to sleep with, but it's for pure reasons, not just for the sex. For the relationship that comes with it. Anyways....

The eating and the cigarettes have become my obsessions and addictions. I can't seem to quit. I tell myself, "Self, no smoking at work." Ennnt. Wrong. "No smoking in the car." Ennnt. "Only smoke 4 a day." Ennt.

"Self, eat just what you need today." Ennt. "Don't go over your Weight Watchers points." Ennnt. "Do you really need another cookie, or another diet Coke?" Sigh.

So since I quit boozing, I've brought on two addictions to take it's place. And I've stopped running. I just can't seem to get myself out the door or to the gym. It takes way too much mental energy, and at lunch I'd rather go to a meeting than the gym. I could go after work, but 3 nights a week there are meetings at home at 6 or 7. Excuses, excuses. I know.

So let's get back on the bandwagon, here. I'm going to go purchase those Commit things tomorrow, and see if that helps. I'm not even going to take my cigarettes to work with me, and I'm too cheap to buy them in the city I work in, cause they're $2 more than at home.

And I'm really going to stop eating so much. No more going out for lunch for a month. I think that's a good thing wallet-wise, anyway.

These are my two end of August resolutions. Be better. Live better.

Icky poo yucky

I've been thinking about a big resentment I didn't know I was carrying around. I was sexually abused by a relative when I was in my late teens and early twenties. I never thought it was abuse; I thought it was my fault that I had put myself in that situation, and I must have said yes. But when I think about it, I feel small, and icky.

I didn't even realize I was carrying this around until today in therapy. All of a sudden, I spit out just what I said here. Nothing more, nothing less. My therapist congratulated me on being able to even say it, and told me when I was ready, we could talk about it.

I don't want to carry this around anymore, this feeling of guilt and ick. I want it gone. So I need to examine it, and let it go. It's just something that happened to me, and I'm sure I did have a part in it, because I know I was drunk and high when it happened. So I'll look at it here in step four. I'll let you know how it goes.

Bipolar can make you moon people

Ok, last one for tonight. Just a short story:

When I was 15 (I lied last time, it was 15 not 16) and living at Diane's in New England, my mom was on a serious manic high. My dad had sent me to stay with Diane to get me out of the house while they negotiated the divorce. What I didn't know, was when I came home I'd be shipped off to boarding school.

One day, my mom just showed up. She said she wanted to get away for a bit, and my cousin and I hesitantly let her in the house. It's like a vampire - don't let the manic in the house! Diane had this huge Victorian with three floors and a basement apartment, where I was living. My mom took over the attic floor.

One day, I was across the street at the frat house learning how to keg toss (I was pretty good at it. All those sports made me strong enough to pick one up) and my mom called out from the top window for me to come home. I had spent the last 2 months without any real supervision, and was learning how to be an adult. I said no, and continued what I was doing. And all of a sudden, she mooned us. My 45 year old mother pulled down her pants and mooned a frat house. Seriously? I slunk inside, totally embarrassed.

Eventually, mom just got crazier and crazier. One day she came home from God knows where, with McDonald's, and told me to get in the car cause we were going home. I took one look at her, and knew if I got in the car, I was going to die. She was going to drive us off a cliff in the mountains, and I'd never make it home. I refused. She got really angry, packed my bag, and put it in the trunk. I made it look like I was getting in the car, and then asked to get something out of the trunk. I grabbed my stuff and b-lined it back into the house.

By then, my 6 year old cousin was hiding underneath the kitchen table. "I don't want her to take me, too," he whined. How frightening for a little child. Even he knew she was dangerous.

My mom called the police and accused my cousin of kidnapping me. Yep. The police came, and my cousin immediately called my grandfather. I told him what was happening, and he said under no circumstances was I to get in the car with her. He would buy me a plane ticket the next day.

I stood on the front lawn between my mom and the house (where my cousin was hiding with her son), and told the police officer that he was sentencing me to death if he made me get in that car. He took me seriously, and asked my mom to leave.

I didn't see her again for a month or so, until I was kidnapped and sent to boarding school, but that's another story.

Drinking while driving

You would think I'm manic by how much I'm posting tonight, but I'm not. I actually feel pretty normal, I'm just bored with myself and thinking a lot.

I used to drink and drive. Well, of course, you say, you're an alcoholic. But what I really mean is, I used to drink while driving. I did it a lot. Not just putting beer into a cup and drinking it, though I did that, but learning how to take a swig off a champagne bottle without the person driving behind you seeing. Trust me, it's not that complicated. You just hold your head in a certain way.

My friend Amanda and I drove around the neighboring town one time on the way to a birthday party and finished off a bottle. I can't believe I was just driving around neighborhoods. Usually, I did it on the highway where no one is likely to see you. Wow! Just thinking about that makes me want to smack myself on the side of the head.

I learned it all from Diane. When I was 16 I was going up to her house in New England to stay for the summer and babysit her kid while she went back to school. With a 6 year old and a labrador in the back seat, we drove the 8 hours up there and finished 3 joints and two six packs of beer. Cheap beer, too. I think it was Coors, or something. She drove the whole way, cause I didn't have a license yet, but I thought it was so cool that we could get away with that. I looked up to her. Now, I realize she was only 28 and just as stupid as I was at 28. Though she's still stupid now.

I wish she would wise up to her addiction problems. She's got drug and alcohol problems, as well as being borderline personality. There's that dual-diagnosis again. One day, hopefully, she'll see the light. She's got another kid, now, a three year old, and she's still just as bad as when she was younger. All I can do is be there in his life like I was for his brother, and hope he turns out ok.

Addiction doesn't cause mental illness

"'The substance is not really causing the mental health problem, but it can be a precipitating factor that causes the condition to manifest,' Manevitz tells WebMD.

'In this respect, the mental health condition is already actively present when the substance abuse begins, but the patient just doesn't know it -- the problem is driving the addiction, it just hasn't yet been recognized or diagnosed,' Manevitz tells WebMD."

There we go, a better description than I found last week about the correlation between mental illness and addiction. It's not the addiction that brings on the mental illness, it just makes it present. You had it all along.

There are so many of us who started out using drugs only to realize they were mentally ill, and had been "self-medicating." I know some people hate that word, but it's really what you're doing. You're trying to make your symptoms go away by adding a substance that will bring you in one direction or another.

On the other hand, there are those of us who knew we were ill before we started to do drugs. I started doing drugs to piss off my parents, though I didn't know it at the time, and tried to hide my use from them. I don't think they ever would have figured it out if I hadn't overdosed. They are kind of oblivious to my bad behavior, me thinks. At least, they never pointed any of it out. I guess my mom knew I had an alcohol problem, but it's probably because I called her at 3am all the time. Apparently my cousin used to do that all the time when she was younger, and my mom told her to stop or she would kill her. I love it.

My cousin and my mom went to see an off broadway show last night and called me after. My cousin Diane was wasted, and it made me think about how I'm going to relate to her when I get back. We always drank together and told stories. She was my bad girl partner in crime. But I don't need to worry about it just yet. I need to find boundaries with her, besides just not calling her, and set them into place. I'm going to be fine, I know it.

Interview with the vampires (HR)

I have another interview in the morning, and I'm getting nervous. It's not a big deal - just the HR reps again, and the benefits coordinator. I don't know why I'm meeting with them, but there has to be some reason, so I'm going with it. Who knows.

I usually don't get nervous before interviews, but this means a lot. It's a great company, and they could offer me the change I need. They could give me the opportunity to move home, which is what I want.

So keep your fingers crossed for me. I'm letting go of it and just hoping it will turn out the way I would like it to.

I'm not a mind reader

So Adam read my earlier ramble where I said he was hesitant about reacting to the possibility of me moving home. And he got mad. "I'm not a book. You can't read me. If you want to know what I'm thinking, ask me."

Oops. I think it's just natural for people to try to read their surroundings, but it is unfair of me to think I could know what he's thinking. You can't tell what other people really feel unless you ask them. I have to be more aware of when I'm doing that, and really listen when I ask someone how they're doing.

Just for the record, he's excited.

Poor rats

They do such insane testing on animals now-a-days. I mean, injecting them with cocaine and fucking up their amgydalas? Jesus. I am grateful everyday to rats who have made the medication I take available. Anyway....

“Early emotional trauma, paired with a certain genetic background, may alter the early development of neural networks intrinsic to the amygdala, resulting in a cascade of brain effects and functional changes that present in adulthood as a dual-diagnosis disorder.”

These researchers did tests on rats whos amygdalas (the part of your brain that regulates fear and anxiety) were genetically messed up, and rats whose brains they messed with. It appears the brains that were genetically messed up (like those of us with mental illness) were more likely to become addicted to substances than even the rats who had trauma later in life.

So we do, in fact, have a pre-disposition to addiction. Of course, mentally ill people often search out fearful situations, or have trouble feeling fear anyway. I know I don't get scared often, and I like that rush from an adrenaline inducing experience. And drugs give you that great adrenaline, too.

But then they said something else: "dual diagnosis patients do less well on psychiatric medication." Really? I haven't been able to find anything to confirm this, but it doesn't really surprise me. People with addiction tend to a) abuse their prescription drugs (I never took mine when I was going to do other drugs) b) don't take them on time (it helps if you take them the same time every day) and c) drugs and alcohol react with meds. They all process through the liver, and that poor organ can only do so much.

I love reading articles on mental illness and addiction. It's good to know as much as you can about your illnesses. When you understand yourself, you don't have to go back. You can "think through that drink" or "play the tape all the way through" as they say in the program. You can be more aware of where you are, and what you're doing to yourself. Knowledge is power.

What the hell is bipolar?

"Bipolar disorder is a serious illness that causes a person to experience unusual thoughts and mood swings."

So you wonder, what is she talking about? What the hell is bipolar disorder? Bipolar is a mental illness which causes mood swings, like it says there. You can go from really, really "happy" to so depressed you can't move out of your bed. Some people swing like this (rapid-cycling) in days or even during one day. Some folks, it takes a little while to go back and forth.

Lots of people have "normal" periods between these swings. You can be perfectly fine - feeling happy and sad, but in regular ways, mostly due to situations in your life, but not so high or low that it's a mood swing.

Mania. Oh, mania can be fun, until it's not. Mania is the part when you're really high. You feel like you're on top of the world, and often have feelings that the world revolves around you. You're the most important person, and you have thoughts that others just don't understand, because you're so much smarter! But mania can also turn bad. You can have hallucinations, thoughts that you can fly (or other really grandiose thoughts), and often get so high that you can't even stand yourself anymore. It's a common thought that only depression leads to suicide, but often so does mania.

Depression is not fun, unless you like to wallow in self-pity all the time. Depression can make you feel like you're the shit on someone else's shoe. You're so low, you're not even an amoeba. You're unimportant, and this can become a paralyzing thought. All you want to do is lie in bed and hide from the world. But this isn't usually when suicide happens. You just don't have to energy to think up a plan.

But hypomania, that's when you have to look out. Often, when depressed people start to feel a little better, that's when they have the energy to make that kind of bad decision. Hypomania is that state of inbetween, when you're not quite normal, and you're not quite depressed or manic. You can still have thoughts that you're shit, or the shit. It just depends. Most people kill themselves while they're hypomanic.

Wow! This is so depressing, you think. It's not. It's a controllable illness (mostly) with modern medication and close observance by a therapist. You can limit the high and the low with medication. You may still get up, and still get down, but often it's not that bad. Medication can keep you semi-stable. It's not all bad news.

So I'm advocating for meds, here. All you bipolars who think, "But it changes my personality! It makes me fat! I get dumb!" Boo hoo. Get over it. The dumbness fades as you take it regularly (REGULARLY and on time. Don't skip doses or it doesn't work). And you can moderate the fat, well, ok, so sometimes you get fat, but it's better than wanting to kill yourself or jumping off buildings cause you think you can fly.

And be kind to yourself. You're not shit because you have this disease. It's just a disease, like diabetes. You have it, you treat it, you feel better.

This is not the Magic Kingdom

This morning the speaker was recounting what her partner said this morning. "You people are on a Disney ride! You go into this program and all of a sudden you have jobs, and lives, and things beyond your wildest dreams." And the speaker said, I quote, "Girl, this ain't the Magic Kingdom."

It's not all a fun ride. The whole quitting drinking thing takes a lot of self-control and patience, as well as a reliance on something other than you to help you along. That's a mighty tall order. "What an order! I can't go through with it." But it is the easier way. Easier than drinking yourself out of life. Easier than dying slowly, or quickly, in a gutter, friendless and lonely.

So yeah, like a roller coaster, there are ups and downs. We may function better now without alcohol in our systems, but we are still human and have our down times, too. We're not perfect. No one is. But we hang in there, and instead of gripping to the bars, we let go and take the ride as it comes.