Like I needed another test to tell me something I already knew . . .

So I'm a total girlie girl (Duh!) but this is yet another test that has different questions, but comes up with the same result.

You Are a Total Girlie Girl

You love looking good, and wooing men with your womanly ways. You're so feminine, men are in awe of you ... which is a very good thing.

How Girlie Are You?

Mental Illness and medications

Okay, so as if having a birth defect isn't bad enough, more than plenty to deal with, I'm dealing with the specter of having a brain that is actually a bit off. Now I've not been formally diagnosed as bipolar, but I'm on meds that treat it and they seem to be helping. Having a "mood disorder" whatever it may be named is something like "emtional epilepsy" periodically the brain just kinda jumps track and starts playing tricks on one. Trust me it is NOT anything close to fun.

Inherited, learned, or the result of too many years of abuse is anyone's guess, but the simple fact is I'm NOT enjoying this, or the realization that I may needs meds for the rest of my life. I can hear some regular readers of my site thinking, what the frell is she talking about? She's going to be on meds for the rest of her life anyway? Sure, this is true, correction of my wonderful birth defect involves a lifetime supply of meds, so what are a couple more? Well honestly I don't know, but somehow having to take meds everyday to prevent your own mind from betraying you is a touch hard to deal with.

Betrayal, something I have had way too much experience with in my life, and something I'd hoped to put behind me. Sure, simple enough it is to isolate oneself from people that can hurt you. Trivial really for those who like the life of a hermit, just don't go anywhere, do anything, or talk to anyone. Done. So what to do when periodically the whole world goes wonky and your left wanting to die to get away from the pain? You take meds thats what, because while all the external pressors in your life remain the same, and you're living exactly the same life you were, it becomes more or less alien to you. The only way back is to re-balance brain chemistry to something easier to live with, hence medication.

Happy New Year!

Wow, somewhat had to believe that 2005 is gone, and it's now 2006!!! It is my great hope that 2006 is a MUCH better year for everyone. I've certainly had enough negativity and pain to last me several lifetimes, and honestly I seriously doubt I deserved it!

72 Hour Hold

Today is one I'd much rather forget about, let alone retell, but it is representative of some of the madness and confusion in and around my life.

I'd been feeling pretty good for me, depression held back a bit, and that anxiety, fear and panic also limited some all by medications. Better living through chemistry a friend of mine used to say. So, having finally managed to complete my name change, signed, sealed (both ways) and delivered to me by UPS overnight I decided that since my last few trips to the Social Security Administration office went well, I'd get the paperwork started.

I went in armed to the teeth with more documentation than the website claims they need in order to change my Social Security number. Earl, and his parents, are violent, nasty, evil people who making lying such a habit they don't know what turth is anymore. Worse still, because of their connections in Wall Street, they think they are above the law. They have said, on more than one occasion, since the day Earl and I announced our engagement, that he'd be better of if I were dead. They've also said that they can, and just might arrange that. So, I need some healthy space, and protection from these "evil-doers" and the Justice Department says that a name, and SSN change is the way to go.

Now changing your SSN isn't easy to start with, and one used to have to present an impossible amount of paperwork to even try to get it changed. In fact the only people allowed to change SSNs are the survivors of domestic violence. In 1998 by executive order from then Vice President Gore, the rules were changed to make it a bit easier on us, survivors that is. I went with more information than they required, and tried to get the ball rolling.

What a completely wretched mistake, a horrible, painful experience that were I not already scarred for life by my ex-husband, this would have done just as well. I have enough problems, and an existing fear, terror of "authority figures" and the woman I got stuck with 'Mrs. L------' of the  SSA was about as caustic and dangerous as any one person can get. I wonder if she knows Earl? Anyway dealing with her attitude, and the EXTREMELY offensive track she took was significantly more painful then having ACID poured onto my raw, exposed nerves.

I left hysterical in tears, fighting to see through the tears, pain and overwhelming desire to "put a more permanent end to my pain" than I could handle. I mean seriously, I was suicidal and wanted nothing more than to die and get it over with. I managed to fight it long enough to drive the fifteen or so miles to my therapists office where I spent more than an hour trying to save my life. Finally, composed enough not to be a threat to myself (or anyone else) I went home with orders to take a tranquilizer and take a nap. She (my therapist) called my sister-in-law and told her what had happened and asked her to wake me and check up on me when she got home from work.

I took my pill, but made the critical mistake of calling the SSA tollfree number to find out what happened, and all the pain came rushing back. In seconds I was hysterical in tears, and the woman there decided I was a danger to myself or others. She called the local police, had them rush to my house with the lights on, thankfully, no sirens and take the phone from me to let the folks at the SSA know they were there. The patrolman who showed up was patient, nice, and not there to make me feel worse, BUT he was required to either take me willingly to the local rubber room or hold me there until the medics could come and take me in. He said if I go willingly with him, I could get evaled and possibly sent home that night, if the medics took me I'd be in for a three day hold. What's a girl to do? I went with him and even gave him a shorter route to the hospital he'd never have thought of. He was impressed and surprised wanting to know how long I've been living here. Not long I said, I just spend too much time studying, in this case, maps . . .

Thank Goddess!!!

I got up this morning and called my lawyers office to see if there was an actual tracking number for the package he was going to send yesterday. Wow, there actually is!!! I went out to UPS online, and it says the package is out for delivery . . .

Then, without so much as a hi, how are you, the UPS guy shows up driving a rental truck and just leaves the package between my storm door and the front door. Not knowing the rental was them, and not actually seeing a guy in brown walk up, I figured just in case, I'll check and see who/what this was. I honestly thought it was going to be another Chinese menu, which sucks because I'm not the only one here that prefers my home made Chinese/Japanese/Thia food to delivery.

Sitting quietly between the two doors, looking for all the world like a kitten who'd been nosy and got stuck, was the UPS overnight letter!!! Finally, really, signed, sealed DELIVERED my new name!!! I didn't even need to go within 300 miles of the court house!

The waiting continues . . .

Well today was the day Jay was suppose to overnight my decree . . . Waiting can be such a pain sometimes!

Omigoddess!!! Finally!!!

Today the phone rings, caller id says it's my lawyer Jay, I groan and answer it certain he's going to have more BS reasons he cannot complete my name change anytime soon. I'm just waiting for it, after him putting me through hell on the phone about creditors and rights, I figure the excuse is coming. He said he ran around court much of the morning and the afternoon, and miracle of miracles EXACTLY like I said it would happen, my name change is done!!!

He said it was going to take them a few days to get everything typed up and finished, and everything would be ready on Wednesday. Did I want him to overnight the decree to me? Oh, yes, without question if you don't mind I'd love it if you overnighted it!

So now, I wait!!! Knowing that he's lied to me in the past, not certain I can believe until the paperwork is in hand, I wait . . .

A piece from October that I find myself thinking of . . .

. . . today. I wrote this "A piece from my 2005 diary" back in October and for some reason it is weighing heavy on my heart and mind right now. Quite possibly due to the fact that today is a cold, but sunny winter saturday, just the sort of day Earl and I would put to good use.

If he were alive, and still part of my life, we'd get ourselves together and go out driving, explore a small town. Wander through new housing developments looking at houses being built. Even wander around inside new houses while they were still under construction. We'd do some shopping, some cleaning, some laundry and nothing really pressing or difficult. Wouldn't need great amounts of money, just time and an interest having fun together.

That was then, this is now. Here I sit in Jersey, my roommate next to me, laptops madly clicking away as she works on making more lists, and I try to keep from losing what's left of my mind . . .

Making progress! Or at least getting more exercise!

Okay, compared to some people I'm a lightweight, I get that, compared to others however I'm a health freak. Whatever! The news however is every day for the last week I've managed at least 30 sit ups each day, and running up and down three flights of stairs. Yesterday I squeezed in a minute of probably too fast jumping jacks which came out to 140 someodd jumps. That's something like two per second, and now I'm a bit sore in a bunch of new places.

Today, I managed two loads of laundry, and 40 sit ups along with three flights of stairs. I'll stick with 40 sit ups for the next week and go from there. Oddly enough all this extra work feels good! So, I'm guessing I'm doing something right!

Someone recently asked me what my disability was . . .

. . . and I found my answer, while simple, interesting in it's ability to capture in so little space, something so complex? Here's what I wrote;

"Well, the fancy terms are Battered Wife Syndrome, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Chronic Depression.  In simpler terms, I'm trying to recover from years of abuse, from being raped, and violated more than once, by people who claimed to love and respect me.  From trying time and again to live the life expected of me, regardless of what  is possible.  I'm attempting to recover from years of being a good little girl, working harder and harder to make EVERYONE
around me happy thinking if I just work hard enough, fast enough and better than anyone else that eventually people would love me.  I'm attempting to recover from demands and expectations well outside what could ever be considered reasonable.  I have serious problems having people demand more from me than can reasonably be expected from five people and be expected to do it all instantly, because invariably they are unwilling to accept responsibility for their own actions, and are not accountable.  I have problems being treated like a little girl, told time and again that people around me were going to do something by a certain time and then NEVER doing it.  I'm suffering from having asked for almost nothing and gotten so much less that it made me question what was wrong with me so often I actually believed I must be some kind of freak, some kind of evil creature for having a heart and mind.  I'm suffering from being a woman with simple needs in a world of madness, greed and malice for people who are honest, feeling and emotional.  I'm suffering from life.

I'm sorry that was so dark, but unfortunately this is what I've been "living" with and right now quite honestly it has been, for more than a year, a battle to stay alive.  Domestic Violence against women and children is a plague on this planet, and I happened to be such a bad girl that people felt they could use and discard me.  Rape is bad enough, horrible enough that I feel it should be a capitol offense, being beaten and raped by someone who worked hard to gain my trust, respect and love is even worse.  I'm not perfect, and to answer my father's question (What did you do to deserve this?) anytime something went wrong; "I freely admit my guilt, I had a major hand in my own fate, I brought this on myself by loving, trusting, and respecting people who claimed to love me."  Yes, I'm guilty, it's all my fault, just shoot me and put me out of everyone's misery . . .

Ellie just pointed out that she gets the sarcasm in this last paragraph, and I should point out that yes, there is a great deal of that there.  It hasn't really made any of this easier, hasn't made dealing with the agony of life simpler, hasn't given me the resources I need to fight back.  While not quite at the same level, my lawyer(s) even have treated me in a similar fashion, discounting and disregarding my feelings, my needs because I don't have huge amounts of money to throw their way. 
You see my EX took everything from me when he left me . . .

So that's the nickel tour.  Sorry ladies to be so dark and heavy, but this is the shortest answer I could give . . ."