Fat sucks

Talking to Jennifer this morning about my upcoming 29th interview, and she said, "isn't that e day of your one year anniversary?" Oh yeah! It is! I didn't even think about it. So it appears I'll be home for it instead of up north. I'll have to find a good chip meeting to go to. I don't really know which one. Maybe I can convince Adam to take me. It would be nice to celebrate with friends.

I still have no idea how I'm going to celebrate. But I've got to do something. I suppose a nice dinner, but I'm starting to get paranoid about being fat. I'm back where I used to live this week, staying with Michael, and he told me I'm fat. "you're just jigglier than before." thanks. My mom told me I'm getting "sloppy." What do you expect from 4 months of horrid depression, unemployment, and anti-psychotics? Whatever. Weni got up north I'm going to be running a lot and hopefully eating well. I figure if I really try, I can drop 15 pounds in 2 months. I need to drop 30, but half is good. I can take it from there.

Ok, I might not get to update again till I get home on Tuesday. I go to finish my tattoo on Monday and then I'm back home, and then off to the north.

The app is in

I hit the button. I pressed send on my application to grad school and sent off my requests for transcripts and references. Now, it's up to me to pass the GRE and up to the school to decide whether they want me in their program. I've had contact with two of the professors, so hopefully they will recognize my name and let me join them in research-ville.

I'm so nervous, now. What if they say no? I suppose I would just have to try again next year. It's the only program that looks like it has what I want. It's a small field, and so there aren't that many options, plus it's just right here in the city. My nerves are all a mess.

"I knew it was coming," say Tom, one of my references. He said, "With your love of learning, I knew one day you would go back to school." I asked Michael to be a reference, since he's known me for a long time, and he said he wouldn't even have to lie, that he really thinks I'd be a good candidate. Jennifer is my third reference, and she gladly hopped aboard this crazy train. I promised them all a shout out on my graduation cap, whenever that happens.

Of course, as soon as I hit send an employer called me looking for an interview.

Dave

Dave was a nice guy. He really was. He was 19 and I was 17, and I don't remember how we met. I think through mutual friends. He was a punk rocker and had dyed black hair (he was a natural toe-head) and piercings back before that was cool. He wore Doc Martens and chains on his wallet. You know, he was leaning more towards the Goth end of punk, cause he liked make-up, too, but he was still punk. He introduced me to NoFx and other good punk music. See, at the time, I was still a big hippie. I was a Deadhead to the core, wearing my ripped jeans and Dead shirts. I smelled like Patchouli and sandalwood and wore a hemp necklace. It was the 90s.

But Dave was sweet. He liked me, a lot, and I thought it was pretty cool that he liked me. He also had drugs. He had a never-ending supply of pot, and we tried ecstasy together for the first time. Then we did it as much as we could. I was already doing a lot of LSD, and he didn't discourage me. So we just had sex and did drugs, and he could drive, which at the time I could not, so we hung out all over the place and went to the underage clubs in the city.

Because we never thought about protection, I got pregnant. I was stunned. I guess I just didn't think it could happen. I only found out because I couldn't stop throwing up, and I NEVER throw up. I went to the school clinic and she knew before I even took the test. My dad came and got me for the first time that school year, and I was in all sorts of trouble. It was November.

I didn't know what to do. I'm Catholic, and he was Atheist, but both of our parents just assumed we would get married and raise the baby. He proposed and I said yes. About a month in I shook out of my stunned silence and thought: really? A baby? I don't even have a high school diploma and both of us live with our parents! And the really messed up thing, that I have never admitted, is I didn't want to marry him (for a lot of reasons) because he was poor and he could never give me the life I thought I deserved. Only child syndrome, maybe, or just little rich girl, whatever it was, I realized a few things. I realized he wasn't the man for me, and that it was too early to have a baby.

Again, I didn't drive, so I asked him to take me to have an abortion. He didn't want to (he wanted the baby and to get married) but somehow I convinced him it was a bad idea. I remember every moment about that day, but for some reason I don't remember what happened after. I just know that by January I was back in school and he and I had broken up.

We're Facebook friends, now. He's got a good life and a beautiful wife, and I'm happy for him. Like I said, Dave is a good guy.

Digging in the boxes

I just spent the last hour and a half going through old photos and posting them on Facebook. Random stuff from high school and old family photos. My grandmother was a dame! There are some great ones of her, and I think (hope) I look a little like her. I never met her (well, I did, but she died 2 months after I was born). She's a legend in my family, and I always feel like I missed out on a really important relationship.

There are some fun ones, too, of a professor of mine in high school who died senior year. He was a great, great man, and really funny. I couldn't even bring myself to go to his funeral. I got high instead. I wish I would have gone to at least say something to his wife, but I never did. Ah, youth and drug abuse.

Speaking of which, all the pics of me I'm so stoned. My senior photo I'm obviously blitzed, and everything I wrote on my page was horribly inappropriate or just weird. I remember thinking: what the hell do I even have to say? Our senior pages were just shout outs to your friends, so I riled my roommate a bit (my favorite pastime) and said hi to my fiance at the time. Oh yeah, I was engaged senior year. Only for a little bit, and only cause I was pregnant at the time. Jesus. It's a miracle I made it out alive.

Babble

Yep, manic. I've moved on to coffee, now. There's no point in trying to pretend. I'm feeling awfully chatty and there's no one awake to chat with. Even Emily, who moved across the world, is still at work and can't chat. So I'm just sitting here Facebook stalking people. I bet I could call my mom and harass her. She's my go-to cause I know at 6:30am she's awake. I could also go drive to the 7:15 meeting, but I don't know if that's going to happen. Actually, maybe that's the best idea. But traffic will suck. Ah, I just want to email chat with someone. Maybe I can be an ass and wake Michael up again. It's 3am there, that's not too bad.

So instead, I'll talk to you, dear reader, if you're still here.

Manic emailing

I worry that I manically send out emails. I mean, it was 3am when I sent my last one, but if anyone looks at the time stamp they're going to think I'm nuts. I do good work in the middle of the night, though!

So it's 5:30 and I have to decide if I'm going to the 6am meeting or if I'm going to try to sleep. I think I need to sleep. I'm starting to get tired now, but I know if I push through I can make it. But why force the matter? If I'm getting tired, I should go to bed, no?

Hypomani is not fun

It's 4:30am now, and I'm still awake. I've sent all the emails I can send in order to prepare for tomorrow (I'm asking some folks to be my grad references tomorrow), and I've applied for Federal grants already. I completed my grad school application, and am just waiting on confirmation of my references in order to hit send.

That's it. That's all it takes: filling in a bunch of forms and maybe writing a short essay. Now I have to do a bunch of paperwork like getting my transcripts sent, sending out reference forms, and taking my GRE. Once I do all those things, the college can evaluate me for admission. I hope they admit me for the fall. I really think this program would be an incredible mental exercise and lead me in a completely different direction in life.

But I do need a job in the meantime. I'm still applying and looking all over the place, and there's just nothing. Now that I've decided to go back to school, the prospects look even dimmer. There's just nothing out there that really speaks to me. But I've got to find something....

Hypomania is fun!

So it's 1:30am and I'm awake, wishing that Michael or someone was still up so I could chat with somebody. I've already exhausted a few avenues on the internet, and I'm currently reprogramming my phone. What does all this mean? I think I'm hypomanic. I'm not feeling like spending my money or traveling, but I can't sleep and I'm thinking about way too many things at once. And I'm smoking.

I'm taking my meds, though the dosage changes all the time. It just depends on what free dose the doctor has. The drug companies give him free samples and he gives them to me, so I've been on 15mg, 5mg, and now 10mg of the same stuff. He just gave me a big bag full of more today, so I should be fine for the summer while I'm away.

So what can I do about this? Is mania coming? I don't think so. I don't feel like it's going to get out of control. I feel like I'm just a little high, but not dangerously so. I think it will be good to get me through the summer. Oh! Wait! Look at me, displaying addict behavior. "I like this high. If I can just maintain it...."

So what do I really do? I think I'll split the 10mg and stay on a consistent 5mg for a while and see if that balances things out. It should even out within the week, and if I still can't sleep next week then I'll have to call the doc and see what to do. I've got to make sure I'm taking the best care of myself that I can!

Pay it forward

Helping another alcoholic is one of the basic tenets of AA. I know that I can't help anyone else until I help myself (get a sponsor, Anne....), but I was able to spread a little AA cheer today, and it makes me feel really good, and really good about the program.

I have a friend of a friend who just decided to get clean and sober. He's got 52 days, and asked me to go to a meeting with him on Sunday. We ended up going to 2, and then 3 yesterday, and one today. We stayed for the marathon yesterday because we both realized we needed a little AA in the day, and each meeting seemed to be on step one or sponsorship.

Anyway, we were talking in between meetings and I asked if he'd read Living Sober yet (remember my good friend the "pamphlet?"). He said, "No. I don't even have any of the books, yet." Well, we had to remedy that. There's a bookstore at the club and we got the woman to open after hours so I could find him a copy. "I don't even have a Big Book." Jesus. What are they teaching at rehab?

So we went through and I got him the Big Book, Living Sober, and a 12x12. He didn't have the money to get them, so I got them for him. Later on, I thought about it: I got all my books for free when I started. I suppose I'm just paying it forward, huh? Anyway, it felt really good to be able to do that for him. I like that now he's at least got the literature.

Smoke tastes bad

Yeah, yeah. So I bought another pack of cigarettes. I already smoked one, and now I'm on to this second one. I know, I shouldn't have had that first one at the wedding, but I just really wanted one. It felt like the right thing to do, even though it was so wrong. And now I'm addicted again; sneaking out like a high schooler onto my back porch at night when my dad is asleep. I really need to move out.

I really need to quit smoking, again. I realize I am powerless over my addiction. It has me in it's grasp. I'm coughing and sneezing, and I know it's not allergies. It's my allergy to the cigarettes. I need to put them down and be serious this time. I made it 6 months! I can make it another 6. And another. One day at a time.

It's nice that AA has taught me so much about addiction and letting go. I can just say: for today, I won't smoke. But after I finish this pack....

What's on my mind

I was talking to Michael again tonight, and he said some stuff that I need to think about. We were talking about me going back to school and finding a job in the meantime, since I need to pay for it somehow.

"You're not cut out for corporate culture. You're a dirty hippie. Not in a bad way, but you just don't fit in with the schmoozers." He's totally right. I hate schmoozing. I hate "managing up" and all that bullshit. I want a group of my peers running things. And I think that's what I'll find in academia. I don't know. I really don't.

I talked to my cousin today and her license was only suspended for 60 days, so I have till July 18 to get my ass in shape. I think that's doable. I'll drive her around, go to meetings, study for the GRE, and run. Sounds like a good summer to me!

Northern exposure

I just talked to my cousin up north, the one who got a DUI, and they reduced her charges to reckless, which means she only loses her license for 60 days. I'm headed up there on the 18th and I'm going to stay till July 19th. She's promised me days of running and yoga (and no diet Coke!), so I fully expect to be fit when I return.

I'm taking the GRE on the 18th of July. I'm a little nervous about it. I know I can do the English section just fine, but math? Hm. Math was never my forte. It's always a little intimidating to me, especially fractions. I had all the help in the world and yet could never get it. It just doesn't speak to me.

Speaking of speak, in the graduate program I'm going to apply for you have to design your own program, but there's still the regular PhD requirements. What are those, you say? One is being reading comprehensive in two languages other than English. So, we're back to French! Maybe I'll try Spanish, too, or just stick with German or Russian. I at least know the alphabet in those.

I really hope I get into the program!

Permission

They say in the program, we'll love you until you can love yourself. And you know what's funny? I love myself, now. I didn't used to.

I always thought it was just part of being bipolar. I had an innate hatred of myself. I used and abused every substance I could just to keep down that pain, to keep from feeling just how much I didn't like myself. I would wake up in the mornings and think, shit. Another day.

And then this program came along, and I stopped abusing myself. I stopped treating myself like shit. I started taking time to notice my feelings and work through them. I started doing little things for myself. Even just the buying myself flowers thing totally worked. Little by little, I started to like me.

I never know what I'm going to say in a meeting, but tonight I recounted that. "And the best part, is today, I gave myself permission to do something I've always wanted to do. I looked into a PhD program. I realized I liked myself enough to spend that time and money on improving myself. And that's only thanks to the program of recovery that AA offers."

So tonight, I'm celebrating me. I'm taking a shower, and going to bed.

Happy Mother's Day

There were so many mom issues brought up in the meetings today. Everyone either feels failed by, or failed their moms. It's amazing what power the person who carried us can still have over us, for the rest of our lives. What an amazing burden to put on someone! I've always believed that my mom is human, and defective, and can make mistakes. She tried as hard as she could to do a good job, and when she couldn't try anymore she at least made sure she had married a partner who could.

I don't know how I feel about my mom. I mean, I can sit here and say I love her, and I do because she's my mom, but I have massive resentments still. See, even though I know she's human and fallible doesn't mean I can't still resent the things she did. I know she often had no control, because of her mental illness and her own upbringing, but it's hard to forgive someone who abandoned you. Yes, she's a big part of my life even now, but I resent her a lot.

My dad always says love is built on trust. I don't trust her. I was always waiting for that other shoe to drop - for her to really lose it. There have been times I've plotted to kill her, and times she's almost killed me. Death has always been a constant in our relationship. I look at her scarred wrists and wonder, what if she had succeeded one of those times? What if she wasn't here anymore? Could I forgive her then, or would I be even more resentful?

What's nice is after 15 years of therapy I can say it wasn't about me. She didn't "do that to me," she just did things and they had ripple effects. She was never out to get me when she was hurting herself.

I still worry that she's going to kill herself, and it's been 6 years since she last tried. I still think that when she doesn't call she must be dead. Sometimes I walk up to her apartment half expecting it to be splattered in blood. It's happened before. I don't think I can ever trust her. But love? I think I can love her. I'm learning.

Don't get forgetful

Did I take my drugs this morning? I have no idea. I got up at an unGodly hour to meet someone in the city for a meeting and I may have forgotten to take them. It's probably ok, though, cause I think I might be getting a little manic. I'm booked for lunch and dinner all week, which hardly ever happens. It's only 2 and I've already been to two meetings and breakfast. I was supposed to go to a movie tonight with a friend, but I'm slowing myself down. I rescheduled for Tuesday.

It feels good to go to meetings, even when sometimes it's just the crazy people talking about their diabetes. I suppose sometimes you just need to get stuff like that off your chest. Even if it's not AA related.

Swinging that sword

The speaker this morning talked about how her drinking never had consequences, like DUIs or loss of family, but that she always had a sense of impending doom. She always felt like that sword of Damocles was about to drop on her head. That's how I felt. I knew something would happen. Some day I was bound to get a DUI or something car related like an accident. I may not have become a "rock bottom" drunk, but it was getting to the point where something bad was going to happen, and it was going to rock my world.

As I come up on my anniversary I get more and more grateful for sobriety. I'm glad I found it when I did, too! This past year would have been hell or death if I was still using. I couldn't have made it. Who knows what would have happened. It's just another example of the promises coming true: God doing for me what I couldn't for myself.

A few people have asked what I'm going to do to celebrate for my anniversary. I might be up north, so I don't know. There's a meeting that night, so I'm definitely going to that, but maybe I can find some sober people to take me out to dinner. If I stay here, I think I'll do a marathon meeting day. I'll hit an 8:30am, noon, 5:30pm, and 8:30pm. I suppose sobriety is present enough.