Now my pants fit

The painting and reorganizing of the apartment never seems to stop. My dad's stuff is still all in his storage, and he thinks it'll be a month before things move back in. I have got to got to get out of here.

So I went out to buy a suit today: a plain black, boring suit in the size I actually am now, not was 6 months ago. It's very depressing. I went to the gym and weighed myself and I've gained 16 pounds since I've been unemployed. "Part of that is just winter weight," says Julie, but it's still weight I have to lose.

Pants. So I had to buy pants two sizes up in order for them to fit. Sigh. I found a nice grey suit and a nice black suit, and then I rebelled and bought a black blazer that has a knit pattern on it. It's neat looking and not boring, but it's black and could be conservative. We'll see. The pants are just black. Works for me.

I got another call back from the place I met with last week. This will be interview number 3 with them, interview #21 in general. I don't care about the job anymore, I just need to be working. This job sounds horribly boring, the commute is 2 metro changes and $4.50 each way, and they all seem stiff and conservative. But I don't care. I don't have any other options, and I have to get out. I can't keep living here.

Damn interruptions

Great, so I was all set to go to bed, depressed and ready to crumple into bed, and then Michael started emailing. Now I can't sleep. I'm thinking about it, but now I'm not tired anymore. I think I need to start taking the Abilify in the morning. It might be what keeps me up later.

I think I'm just going to have to lie there till I fall asleep, no matter how long it takes. Sucks.

F*&# it all

Woah. Forgot to take my night meds two days in a row and almost had a breakdown. Proof positive that the only thing holding me together are the drugs.

I got a call today from a dear friend who talked to some of the people I've interviewed with and she had some really good advice for me. Easy stuff to fix, nothing bad or scary. Just adds to the frustration, though. I mean, really, are people that petty when they hire? Won't people just look at how qualified I am and how I can articulate that in person and know I can do a job? It's the little things, apparently, like not carrying a purse. Whatever. I'll make sure to do it next time.

But it set me off. I'm so over it. I'm fucking done. I've had an interview a week since I've been unemployed, over 5 months now, and I still don't have a job. And I don't know if any of the prospects out there are good jobs - at this point they all look the same: moving out. That's my goal. I need to get the fuck out of here immediately. I'm sick of living at home. Even if I have to take a job I know I'll hate. Whatever. I'm not above it.

Then my dad and my aunt took it upon themselves to council me about job hunting tonight. They spent 2 hours telling me how to do it. Like I don't know. I'm apparently a professional at it. I can get an interview. I can get a second interview. I just can't get a job. If it's all about dressing to the culture of the area, fine, I'll go buy some pinstripes. Whatever it takes.

But all of it just makes me long for the life I left. It's Jennifer's birthday today and everyone is out with her celebrating, and I'm here. Why the fuck am I here? Oh yeah, I wanted to be closer to family. Well I've discovered, family is overrated. I'm so done.

Danger to self or others

Pete Earley tells us the story of why we have to be a danger to self or others before commitment. As you can probably guess, it comes down to a man who was involuntarily committed for years because of his illness, though he wasn't dangerous. He fought back, and eventually won freedom.

There had to be something done. Back then, men and women were committed because of mental illness, but also some people were committed because they were a pain in the butt. There are all sorts of horror stories about wives thrown into institutions because the husband was cheating and wanted a "free" life of his own.

But only putting people in hospitals when they are "dangerous" has become a dangerous proposition on its own. Sometimes you're not obviously a danger to self or others, but it's truly obvious you need help. My mom used to walk naked around the city walking an invisible dog, but I couldn't get her committed. She was always so eloquent before the judges. She never seemed sick, but there was a history of bizarre behavior. Or she would try to kill herself but be released because she was no longer a danger. Made so much sense.

"Over the years, states began to lessen criteria, in part, because persons who were clearly mentally incapacitated where literally dying on the streets because they were not dangerous and they were not getting any meaningful treatment or services. This is where criteria, such as “gravely disabled” or “unable to care for self or others” came into play. The court’s “without more” ambiguous language provided the states with a opening that could be used to add these lesser criteria.

As the Fairfax father discovered, many judges, especially those with a strong civil rights background, refuse to consider anything but dangerousness when an ill person is brought before them– even if it means releasing someone who is clearly psychotic — even if it means putting their lives in jeopardy."

Yep.

Things I like about sobriety

So I've been pondering sobriety a lot lately. I really enjoy a few things about sobriety, but I wonder if I'm really an alcoholic. I suppose everyone does, and there are surely ways to convince myself that I am, or am not. I could find evidence on either side, for sure. But just for myself, I want to create a little list of things I like about being sober:

1. My meds work better. I am less depressed (I think). Of course, it's hard to tell with all the situational crap going on.
2. I'm saving a lot of money.
3. I'm not smoking. I really think they're tied so close together that if I started drinking again I would probably start smoking.
4. I'm not drunk dialing people.
5. I'm not blacking out.
6. I never have to worry about if I'm too drunk to drive or getting pulled over.

Things I miss about drinking:

1. The taste. I was developing a palate for wine and beer.
2. Festivals. I used to go to a bunch of wine festivals.
3. That buzzed, relaxed feeling.
4. Being a part of the crowd.
5. Smoking.

So really, it looks like I just miss being part of the group because the group is usually drinking. That's ok, I think. I can still hang out with them all. I think one day I'll probably try drinking again and see if I can just have one or two out with people instead of a bottle home alone. I need to get settled into my new life first, if it ever happens.

Cut on que

Um....: "Videos depicting self-injury, in which people deliberately cut or wound themselves as a coping strategy, are gaining an online audience."

Ok, so the internet brings us all together and normalizes behaviors, right? Think you're weird? You can probably find someone like you on the internet. But that extends to things like pro-anorexia websites (which I will not link to) which teach you how to be anorexic and show skinny celebs as influence. Now there are these cutting websites? Jesus.

When I was suicidal my therapist said, "At least you're not looking at suicide videos." Honestly, it never even occurred to me that that sort of thing would be on the internet, but I suppose everything is on there. I feel disgusted thinking about it. Death is such a personal thing and to publicize it for what? Your last 15 minutes of fame? So someone else can follow in your footsteps? How incredibly selfish and disgusting.

People just don't have boundaries anymore (says the girl who shares everything with an anonymous audience). People don't know when to stop. Well, trust me, I'm not posting death videos or describing my cutting experiences in depth so others can follow suit. Ugh. Sometimes I hate the connectivity of the world these days.

Achoo! Well, not quite

Well, the floors are done and the house is sort of back in order. Finally. I can actually get to my bed and not have to climb over other furniture to get there. My computer is back in operation, so no more short posts from the iPad with misspellings and frustrations. Hooray!

But this one is going to be short anyway. I don't feel so great, so I'm spending all my time in bed. I don't want to be awake because I just eat and have a headache. My head is killing me. Before I had some cold/hot flashes like a feverish person. You would think I was actually sick, but I'm guessing it's stress. So I'm going back to bed.