Monthly Archives: October 2012

Oct 30 2012
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mental illness

The Panhandler’s Dog

In the past decade or so, the downtown panhandlers in our fair city have embarked on an urban sprawl. It was weird when they came five miles south of downtown to my neighborhood but it was even stranger to see them twenty miles from the city on the off-ramp to my parent’s house.

I used to get irate with these folks. I viewed them as lazy.  I’d see the same guy when I left in the morning and returned at night.  Seriously?! I just worked my butt off at work and you spent 8+ hours begging?  Really?!

Preconceived notions and stereotypes are usually corrected by one of two ways: education or experience.

I started a job two years ago and learned about poverty. I learned that while I’m thinking about and planning for my life ten, twenty, thirty years from now, a person living on the streets can’t see past today.  He’s thinking about a dry, warm place to sleep tonight. Retirement plans?  Savings accounts? Pfft.  He’s more worried about if he’ll eat tonight.

Then there’s the issue of ‘lack.’  Lack of education. Lack of address. Lack of clean clothing or a place to shower.  Lack of healthy relationships. Lack of resources.

The greatest misperception of a person who is homeless is that she chose that life.  The biggest lie about a person addicted to substance is that it’s his fault.  Sure, there are always exceptions to the rule, but the vast majority of people who are homeless or addicted to drugs or alcohol comes down to one thing our society shuns: mental illness.

If breast cancer is the prom queen, mental illness is the redheaded stepchild not cool enough for the AV Club.  Sure mental illness is scary and uncomfortable – just think about what it’s like in the shoes of the person living with it. Imagine not being able to control your own brain.  Let’s call mental illness what it is: a brain cancer. It’s just like cancer: they can’t control it and they sure as hell don’t want it.

Oct 29 2012
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cancer, mental illness, reduce, renew

‘Malaise,’ It’s Hipster for ‘Depressed’

Malaise sucks. Being an advocate for people with mental illness is easy, the idea that I might be clinically depressed, well…that’s a whole other pill to swallow.  It can be twisted and presented as a digestible ‘situational depression malaise’ because after all, my best friend will die of cancer and it’s a Vegas crap shoot which ailment will soon claim my mom’s life. Clinical or situational, it’s hard to be happy in the middle of feeling helpless and out of control.

TB and I were working on our homework from ‘marriage continuing ed’ last night.  We had one simple assignment: list the things that are exciting about having a baby.  Two hours, puffy eyes, and a half a box of Kleenex later, I still didn’t have an answer…or any clue as to what the hell was the root issue of the crying.  The only answer I came up with is that the idea of something else needing me, taking from me, being a bigger priority than me – is just overwhelming.

Even though I want a family, I’m not excited to have a baby. Rather I’m completely exhausted by the mere idea.

So, we’ve moved the goal post on babies.  And while the OMG moment here might be realizing that I will feel indefinitely helpless and out of control with kids, I still need to figure out how to manage feeling helpless and out of control since I can’t do anything about S’s cancer or my mom’s mental illness.  And, dammit, I’m tired of life under this cloud of doom and gloom.  I want to be happy and vibrant and lively again (like I was when TB first met me – before the last five years of Schizoaffective Disorder Bipolar Type, strokes, cancer, PTSD, etc.) and I want to learn how to not ride the roller coaster with my loved ones, but instead be there for them when they get on and off.  And I have no earthly idea how to do that.

So back to therapy I go…

Oct 14 2012
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adventure, reduce

Stuck, Shellac & A Side of Yes-piration

Stuck
The month after we married in 2011, TB, as he says, began working “without drawing a salary” from his start-up business (see: unemployed.)  In September, a friend threw him a bone and he’s working a contract job for the election making half of what he did in early 2011.  Marrying a man who immediately after was unable to contribute to our new family, but rather starting borrowing my emergency savings was not only scary but really a hard pill to swallow.  Normally Type A and very fiscally responsible (thanks, dad), I’ve surprised myself in being pretty cool about the whole situation.  But now, after more than a year without being able to take a vacation or do any house projects, and being on the heavy side of our 50/50 arrangement, resentment and restlessness are setting in.

I’m sick to death of the abstract conversations about refinishing the tub, fixing the sink, cleaning the ducts, updating the kitchen, finishing the basement, etc. Fed up feeling stuck, I purchased a light fixture to replace the awful light in the office.  Since electricity scares the bajesus out of me, TB lovingly agreed to install it. After he surely fried the unit’s wiring trying to install,  it’s now collecting dust on the floor.  Deflated doesn’t even begin to describe the disappointment.

Lately, any financial woes have always resulted in the same fear: going into debt to have a baby. The idea of taking on the stress of the financial burden of a kid is just too much. Kids are off the table until this family achieves financial stability.

Shellac
S and I went for pedicures and to try gel (Shellac) manicures today.  If this manicure lasts the two weeks it’s advertised to do, I’m hooked.  It was set before we left the salon – having yet to ever successfully fasten a seat belt without dinging a fresh manicure, this is HUGE.  TB loathes the smell of nail polish, so I rarely have well-manicured nails.  This would be a game-changer and a step forward in my attempt to look like less of a trainwreck. Stand by for a final report.

Yes-piration
Early on it was evident that TB was a keeper for several reasons. Including his friends. We already had a bunch of mutual friends, but each of us fit right into the others circle of friends.  His friends are awesome.  I adore all of them.

Saturday we went out with a bunch of his our friends.  I had a particularly awesome conversation with B-Dub. ‘Lemons into lemonade’ might as well be this guy’s mantra.  He was laid off six months ago and turned a healthy severance package into a six-month journey of self-exploration. In taking an improv class, he talked about learning to say ‘yes’ to almost anything.  He learned to forge a path outside of his comfort zone and took boxing lessons, joined a bowling league, took cooking lessons, and a dozen other things he’s always wanted to do. He reminded me that I really do need to chase down my next ‘thing.’

So now, with gentle nudge from a friend, the focus will be to get ‘unstuck’ and to identify my new ‘thing’ because I’ve got to do something with this pent up energy other than simply putting twice the energy into maintaining composure and trying not to lash out at TB.

Oct 08 2012
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recycle

Green 101

The reduction of household trash as a direct result of composting and increased recycling efforts has been amazing.  The goal to reduce to one bag of trash a month has been successful to date.

While one bag of trash is great, it’s becoming apparent that the bulk of our  waste is now comprised of soiled paper products like Kleenex, napkins, paper towels, Q-Tips, etc.  Our city launched a pilot program in one of the neighborhoods (not mine) to recycle this type of waste and if this program is implemented citywide, I would estimate our trash would be reduced to one bag every quarter. But what to do in the interim or if this program is abandoned?

The county will let constituents bring this type of trash to a recycling center located just a little too far away.  A decent option if we had a place to store and accumulate waste in order to make a quarterly trip, but since space is limited, onto the next plan.

The fancy washing machine has a sanitary setting that could be the conduit of change to cloth napkins, and to reduce paper towels in favor of old rags to dust, wash the windows, clean the kitchen, and parts of the bathroom.  But alas, a quick search for ‘alternatives to Q-tips’ yielded nothing worth repeating and handkerchiefs sound like a really bad plan during cold season, so those may remain vices for the time being.

A friend has also raved about the Diva Cup and while it’s an attractive idea from the waste and toxic shock syndrome standpoint, but for now, we’ll consider that ‘extreme green’ to my adventures in Green 101.

Oct 07 2012
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renew

My Brethern

TB’s cousin was married on Friday night bringing together three of his siblings and their respective plus ones.  As far as in-laws go, they’re pretty okay.  But it’s the plus ones are who I look forward to seeing.  And giggling and gossiping like school girls in the corner is where you’ll see us.

Technically, there are five of us: one wife of 15 years, a husband of five years, a boyfriend of eight years, a husband of nine months, and me.  However, Wife+15 left after dinner (she’s awesome, but without a doubt her husband’s infidelities will soon require renaming her Ex-Wife #1) and we’ve yet to meet Husband+9mo, so as usual, it was just Husband+5, Boyfriend+8, and me. My Brethren.

I look forward to TB’s family events because of them.  TB’s family isn’t any more or less crazy or functional than any other, but to have comrades with which to hide in the corner during holidays, life events, and the thankfully infrequent loathsome occasions like first birthday parties is truly invaluable.  Besides, where there is drama, passive-aggression, in-fighting, and caddishness in the family that brings us together, there is none of that to be found in the brethren.

Last, and contrary to anything I’ve ever known, the spirits are always free flowing at family events. Oh Shiraz and Malbec, you brilliant rainmakers of patience.

Booze and brethren. That’s all you need to survive in-laws.

Oct 03 2012
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adventure, reduce, renew

Career A, Job B, or Career C

Career A: what began in non-profit, ended twelve years later in corporate burnout…

Job B: scraping together barely enough suitable experience and an executive director with one foot out the door, I landed a job in non-profit that I’m not really qualified to do…nor do I love.

Career C: unknown possible future career?

Job B is fine. It’s good enough. It’s a decent salary, my boss is awesome, and I get to do a bunch of stuff I like doing. But I don’t love it…like I loved Career A.  The trouble with Career A is that the travel and the long hours are suited for a single twenty-something, but not so much for a married thirty-something on the verge of starting a family.

In comes Career C. The next job behind door number three. The leap of faith into something completely new.  The next thing for which I have great passion. The job that isn’t a job but rather something I just love to do. The only trouble with Career C…I don’t know what that career is just yet.

So, I’m fine in Job B until it comes times to bear any future children at which time I do not have short term disability (see: small non-profit) and my insurance rates go through the roof with a plus one.

But in swoops Career A with a potential opportunity. One with better benefits, short term disability, and a shorter commute.  But with a dark side full of Blackberrys, 16-hour days, too many airports, and stress.

I kind of hope the Career A opportunity doesn’t pan out. I don’t want to choose. Because just the thought of being tethered to a Blackberry makes me exhausted…