habibiti: (Default)
( Sep. 20th, 2009 11:06 pm)
Habibi has been weird for weeks. We got into a fight on Monday that ended in tears and revelations, or so I thought. Though we haven't fought again things are tense. I can feel it in the air just being in the same room as him. I can't tell if he's just wrapped up in his own thoughts and feelings (which is fine) or if he just doesn't want to be with me anymore. (Not so fine.)

Tonight he went to a meeting on campus that is supposed to be a few hours long. 5 hours later I finally get a message saying he got 'caught up' and is on his way home now. This whole thing is making me sick to my stomach. It's 11 p.m. I have a 9 a.m. class and a 7 a.m. wake up time and I'm sitting up, awake, acid churning in my stomach trying to figure out how he got 'caught up' for 5 hours. Don't want to suspect the worse, but at best he was just wildly inconsiderate and didn't even think to let anyone know where he was for the last 4-5 hours. At worse he was playing tonsil hockey with some random girl.

I'm sure the truth is some where in the middle. He was probably fully aware of the fact that he wasn't letting anyone know where he was and decided to just stand around and talk with someone from the club for the last several hours, or maybe went to dinner or drinks or something. Either way; this is fucked up and I don't know what to do about it.

I can't decide if I should jump his shit the second he walks through the door about being an asshole or if I should just let it slide because I know he's depressed and hasn't barely left the house in weeks as it is. I feel like throwing up and he's taking his time coming home.

What the fuck.
The manic in manic depression is fun sometimes. But sometimes it means days, weeks even months without any real sleep. I get so tired of doping myself up to get even 4 hours of fitful sleep. My boyfriend ends up sleeping in the spare room some nights because I sleep so weirdly that I either a) toss and turn and keep him up or b) finally get to sleep and he's afraid he'll wake me and I'll never get any sleep.

The mania has got me through this tough semester. The mania got my ass graduated this semester. The mania propelled me to apply to the university before I lost my nerve. The mania has planned my trip to Colorado next month, the mania even promised my paternal grandmother that I would drive to Washington this summer to visit. The mania has helped me keep my tiny crafting empire up and running, has kept me pushing through and trying new things. The mania has forced me to order 5 lbs of soap base plus fixin's for a business I'm intent on starting even though I know nothing of the industry. That terrifies me, but it also seems fun and I have an enthusiastic business partner so what could go wrong? (Amy; are you sure you want to get in bed with this hot mess?) The mania has inspired me to write, prolifically as it comes to be, on my blog, for a website, in my paper journal and on a variety of sites that limit you to 140 characters or less.

The mania is keeping me up right now, back lit by the computer screen listening to the "Please Clap Your Hands" EP from The Bird and The Bee. I got all wired when I listened to "Recollection"; a best of album by Concrete Blonde. That propelled me to write a whole new article for the website I'm pseudo employed by. Now "Polite Dance Song" is making me want to wander out into the court yard and smoke cloves and dance by myself until I pass out from exhaustion.

The mania has to be referred to in third person because the mania is NOT ME. I know it's not. It seems like it, it even feels like it but I know it's not. I just want to sit still and read. That's me. The mania wants me to dye super wash merino in the kitchen sink at 2 a.m. The mania wants to go to the grocery store at midnight to buy the makings for root beer floats. (ooooh, that sounds so good.) The mania wants to drive to the California coast so I can put my toes in the sand (and then the mania wants to drive home right away because the mania doesn't have a job and can't pay for a hotel room.)

The mania also kills my sex drive, makes me pick fights with loved ones and fuck up important projects because I can't focus. I hate the mania.

I hate the depressive even more. And I know it's coming. Soon.
habibiti: (Default)
( May. 17th, 2009 07:40 pm)
I'm feeling sorry for myself. I've been feeling sorry for myself for awhile and I felt bad about it for awhile because there was really nothing wrong with my life for me to be so 'oh woe is me' about. I was being a whiney bitch.

And now my Grandma's sick. My grandmother who is one of the few people left on the planet who has not abused, abandoned or otherwise betrayed me. My grandmother is a tiny spitfire of a woman who has lived a hard knock life and kept her wits and sense of humor about her the entire time. Now she's reliant on tubes pumping her full of oxygen, chemicals and a strict diet just to keep her going from day to day. That didn't really slow her down much though.

Here we are again; mystery sickness. We've already got emphysema, diabetes and old age working against her and now we've added some sort of colon/intestinal trauma that is causing vomiting and rectal bleeding.


I will never forgive myself if something happens to her during her procedure tomorrow while I'm sitting around waiting to flip my tassel from one side of my cap to the other.
habibiti: (Default)
( May. 13th, 2009 08:57 pm)
Despite weeks of self doubt and self loathing things are starting to look up. I'm terrified to feel hopeful or proud or excited because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I'm twitchy and uncomfortable with good news. I don't know how to take compliments. My right leg is constantly bobbing because I am filled with nervous energy but I am exhausted at the same time.

Do I just break out into the happy dance, consequences be damned?
I'm trying really hard to keep my head above water here. I feel like I'm starting to flail and bob though and that my head will submerge any minute now. I'm battling this with lists of things I need to do, things I want to do and things I don't want to do but should do anyways. I know I'm getting things done, but at the end of the day when I lay down to go to sleep I feel guilty that I didn't get more done or didn't get certain things done or that I'm 27 and wasting my life playing with sticks and string when other people are getting married, having babies, raising babies, graduating from real colleges and pursuing real careers. It makes me feel panic stricken and paralyzed by fear.

I don't know if I've over extended myself or I just don't have enough natural ambition and motivation to follow through on what I have promised to myself and others to get done. I have a huge list of things I've been putting off doing that could all possibly lead to money making avenues, or at least more recognition in the field I've chosen. (Knitting? Really, Dani, you need to be knitting famous?)

The list for today:
Pick up mail from a house I'm house sitting while the owners are back East.
Mail their mail + a half dozen packages for swaps, orders, Phat Fiber samples and co-op items.
Figure out if I'm going to actually participate in the fiber co-op business I've been invited to join or if I just paid dues to watch their yahoo list send me messages about things I don't have time or energy to accomplish.
Study for chemistry final. Which I'm undoubtedly going to fail, which sort of removes the motivation to study for it.
Write up the gigantic blog post for my sock club showing off May's yarn + goodies, and announcing the AS YET TO BE FREAKING DETERMINED band for June.
Buy, write and mail thank you cards to various far flung family for graduation cards/money.
Go to work for 3 hours and pretend not to be freaking out that I'm running out of time to finish things and be polite to the biddies.

More of the same but it different forms and levels of anxiety.

Here's the problem, I'm always like a half step away from complete emotional collapse but if I take my anxiety pills I'm useless. So I walk around a half step away from tears and blubbering and try to hold my shit together long enough to get home and be a mess in private.
habibiti: (Default)
( May. 11th, 2009 10:32 pm)
So here's to having another place to brain dump. I closed my LJ account months ago because it was too widely known and published and watched/stalked/etc. I need someplace new to put the swirling thoughts and underachieved ambition that lives inside my head. This is not a knitting blog, though I may at times talk about knitting since it is basically my whole life, but more often than not there is going to be a whole lot of sulking, self depreciation and inner torment.

Let's start with this: I'm graduating from college in a week. Should be a happy occasion, no? Something to be super proud of? I'm not. I didn't graduate from high school and it's taken me 5 years and 2 colleges to end up with an associates degree without any declared major. Oh sure, I have a shit ton of credits in Sociology and if I was patient enough to wait another semester I would have an associates in sociology at the very least. But no, I was so motivated by just not letting my brothers graduate college before me that I had to rush it.

I'm walking with my honor sash and cords even though I was removed from the honor society over a year ago for falling below the required GPA. I can still 'legally' walk with the sash and cord because technically I'm alumni. I feel really, um, shitty I think is the word I'm looking for, that I don't get the 'high honors' recognition when my name is announced though. There are plenty of excuses for this; I've worked full time the whole time I've been in college. I was managing a coffee house, taking full course loads each semester AND was the regional president for the honor society all at the same time and I buckled under the pressure. I know something had to give and unfortunately it was my excellent GPA. Now, granted, I still have a pretty decent GPA (3.34) but not 'high honors' good.

Ugh, even writing this out has given me a headache. I'm going to put on my game face and I'm going to walk across that stage next week and make this promise to myself: I'll do better next time.


habibiti: (Default)


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