Monthly Archives: August 2018

Lensed

by in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Rant and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Writhing helplessly–

Interpreted by refluxing bile,

A forlorn victim of restraint,

Choked by the smothering–

Endless gnawing of memory rewritten,

Devoured in reimagined atrocities.

—

Supplementing the real,

An alternative to acceptance–

Presented like a sweet pastry,

Masking the unpalatable truth.

Changing the lie or flavor–

Pleasure wanes in rehearsal.

—

Sight shackled to what is,

An unforgiving reality–

Of pain, loneliness, yearning.

Many incinerated pieces–

Dustbin swept–

Belching presumed repugnance,

Dashed in form until particulate–

Forgotten but not gone,

Peering out from under a round stone–

Wondering…

Fleeterly

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

For me, being a part of “something” is a carnal need. I do not exist to affect nothing or no one. The beauty of being alive is a one-time gift even in the darkest recesses of contemplation. Have the traumas of my life shaped who I am? Undoubtedly and proudly. There is no strength quite like being whole unto oneself. Am I there yet…? No, I’m not. There is still a big nasty growing of snaggy brambles and thistles in the way. Better than I used to be, though. This last should be a damn mantra by now. I believe, I act, and I empower. The answer has always been in me, which makes me aware of how to stimulate the joy of realization to someone in need.

Today positively added to my recovery journey. I ventured out to talk with my psychologist and enjoyed a table outreach event at a utility company campus. I’m looking back on all the events I’ve done this. So many more than I would have projected months ago. I’m growing, Blog, and I feel myself unfurling and snipper-snapping into a crisp breeze. I am making my path through the world, proudly.

Reaching people is a wonderful feeling. Establishing a connection, agreeing to build a bridge, or even just a firm, earnest handshake can be beneficial. I see the pieces of realization scattered about in disarray for the present. One day soon, the picture will begin to develop from all those pieces. Integration, driven by genuine enthusiasm promotes my outward identity. Put the mask on and vanish into a persona. I wish I could take it off and show someone my real face. I have many strings being pulled by loneliness.

The empty space. A hole in my core self that can’t be healed. Ever. Trauma takes me back there, for a time. This is acceptable in comparison to stuffing feelings into an already crowded lunchbox.

There’s today’s thought-vomit. Enjoy? >.>

Have a good night.

Fantasy Football League Career Statistics (Retired)

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Sports Pontifications, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The image below captures all aspects of my FFL history. Judge me as you see fit. It was very stressful to have that going on year after year.

In one of my leagues there was money every time, if I finished 3rd. I finished in the top three on FIVE occasions. That’s 5 times in the 6 years we had a league.

Interesting stats:

Finished in First: Twice

Finished in Second: Four Times

Finished in Third: Three Times

The Studyball Kurmudgeons: Fantasy Baseball League?

by in Mental Illness, Sports Pontifications, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

I know I have said at other times that I was “satisfied” with the tinkering of the scoring. I wanted to do a “past 7 days” filter so I could see what a scoring summary might look like for that interval. I had whole season numbers, but I wanted the Head-to-Head games to be competitive, not boring and incrementally relevant despite the season’s length. I saw what a above average season point output would look like, and there were clearly some areas that needed adjusting.opportunity to scale some things back. The I ran a new set of season numbers with mid level talent and tinkered with the balance some more.

The latest set of numbers came from a pretty high-output names, and some not so much. I think this latest tinkering is the best to date, since I am very concerned with the individual games not being monotonous. I also added a handful of “high level” achievement in the game, like a grand slam, a no hitter… etc.

The overall model is balanced enough to keep things competitive among similarly knowledgeable players, mind you. The bonus FPs from a big play is probably enough to lift someone who is trailing late, or crush your foe into the turf with a massive play that sets you on the path to victory.

Let me first show you the scorecard, which was totally redone as of last time I wrote about it.

 

 

 

 

95% of that is real data from active players over the last week, and it helped me to see where the final adjustments to the scoring were to be made. With the recent live-data scenario, I can say that the current scoring setup promotes intense and interesting games, and that’s the main point. Here are the (maybe) final scoring tweaks.

 

Clearly position players other than pitchers do well in this mode, but the pitchers come out looking like NFL fantasy quarterbacks. When they’re hot, they’re lighting everyone up and things are generally: yay! When they’re not, they become a vast, expanding black hole consuming all nearby fantasy points if they stray too close.

 

Big plays get rewarded, sometimes massively. Emongously. Trabookafred!

 

 

Maybe one day I might run this league… probably not though.

It’s just fun to think about.

Another, differently shaped golden trophy would look nice in my castle.

5-4 Triple Play

by in Sports Pontifications and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Two Texas Rangers infielders made 3 outs all by themselves, which is among the more insane things I’ve seen happen during live sports over the years. I’ve never seen two pickles in one play, or any of those shenanigans.

Pretty miraculous play (this being the third time since 1961 that it has ever happened)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqcdoLUB4Jwhttp://www.espn.com/video/clip?id=24395792

**Sorry, that other link broke

Concealed

by in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Rant and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Ghost-fingers cold–

That spine-shuddering touch,

Eyes scream out in unknowing fear.

Emptied of dreams; memories–

They fall into a dark chasm,

Forsaken, purged by lightning,

Agony–

Again! Again!

Those hopes in trust–

Smeared into opaque nothingness,

Irrelevantly hoping–

Still met by a stranger,

Bereft of words,

Emotions swirling downstream.

Cast into the crucible of torment–

Straining against the surges that come.

Once proud foundations–

Crumbling decay into rot,

Detritus swept away by an outgoing tide.

Chuggy McChuggerson

by in Mental Illness and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Score: 3

Today was one of the better that I’ve had recently. I was active, productive and further entrenching my relevance in the workplace.

Tonight though, I’m still a little sad. I played a lot of music that brought me back. I do miss them, and their love, but the time for that has passed. I am what I have earned. I carry the weight of my decisions, every day. There are just some moral boundaries I will never cross, so no guilt or need of repentance is shielded from plain sight.

There is no point in struggling over the past, and the tendrils of regret slithering their way through it. Nothing can be resolved. Never. Wounds that don’t fester, but stay open and fresh, reminding. That is my quandary.

I have already said goodbye to them. There is no more to be done but turn away and walk into a new yet distant narrative.

Expectations should be realistic, and therefore, achievable. There is a big cookie of satisfaction for those who meet their target. I have on multiple occasions enjoyed that glorious victory cookie, but have also dropped it into the cat litterbox more than once. Goals should be achievable, not powder puff nor Mount Everest.

I feel relevant. Involved. I’m not fading away in shame, I’m thriving in the only reality I know.

12. We will never give up hope.

Explodey-Head

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Hi Blog. I have detailed my depression centered lack of expressions, but that doesn’t mean I was idle. I graduated from NAMI Peer-To-Peer and snagged a Connection Recovery Support Group Facilitator certification. With some practice and knowledge acquisition, I fully intend to regularly facilitate a daytime Connection group at American River College.

NAMI is also lining up several outreach events in the last half of August and into a full September.

Those good thing having now been said, I am also having some noticeable side effects since I started the Risperdal. Two things:

  1. My mood and motivation have been noticeably changing. After tomorrow, I should know whether or not the med and I have a truce. In the meantime, I’m dealing with a symptom that I have affectionately named “head-explodies.” This feels like there are, occasionally, little cramps in my brain that cause a moment of disorientation, but resolve quickly. In the past, I have experienced them on withdrawal, but this time as I’m cycling up. Hopefully it’s not too long-lasting. I’m going to give it the full two weeks and talk to my doctor after.
  2. I have noticed a significant increase in motivation. I am starting to make something of the down time I have, instead of loafing or otherwise remaining inert. This is a promising sign for me because getting things done is what I’m all about. It’s odd, I don’t feel particularly happy, but I am able to work and put my mind to accomplishing something of worth much easier than it had been a few days ago.

I’m also going to start keeping those daily scores again as I transition on to the new medications I’m taking. This sort of data helps my doctors see me in a way that makes sense to them. Makes sense for me too, as I am a very data-driven individual. My skills have helped get me on a path that is actually going somewhere, with a future I am eager to participate in. Hopefully the new medication will work out, but there is definitely no certainty. We are are aware of the ongoing science experiment on mentally ill individuals we call BigPharma. Their guessing and presumptatory science sometimes has good, or terrible outcomes.

The side-effect cannon fire goes on into the night… and that Goddamn belltower… I hope those fucking Side-Effects blow that thing up and relieve us all of the incessant noise of the bell being rung. I JUST NEED AN HOUR TO GET SOME SLEEP! FUCKING WAR IS SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS!

Unabashed

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Survivor of mental illness

15 years lived experience

Mindfulness practitioner

Side-By-Side Companion

Volunteer

Temporary Employee

Grant-Writer

Website Administrator

Peer Connection Program Coordinator

Peer Connection Support Group Facilitator

+++

Stacking up makes for taller piles of things. Looking at the sum of the things also pleases, especially since the evidence is right there.

My thoughts are moving around, or by. Too fast these days, and the little ribbons of the flapping as they whiz makes many dizzy and not good thoughts. Little pieces. Shrugged, slumped. Tired.

Activities such as this thumb message help. The realness of fact. The providence of knowing the self. So much remains covered in dried leaves.

Brick-Related Nonesene

by in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have found my words to be infrequent. I’m less inclined to open, having found safety in being closed.

I’m understanding my uniqueness better, in terms that aren’t shaming (mostly). I feel untethered from possibility because of the inherent isolation imposed by my traits, flaws, preferences and composition. The bridge I built to acceptance spans a mighty chasm, but will endure (show me how to unknow something and you can have my adoration).

Bricks are appropriate because you can’t make anything with just a couple and it usually takes a shitload of them all piled up to assemble something worth marveling at.

Just like bricks, their integrity remains solid until the ground starts moving.

I see out from the peephole. I’m here, but I only want to come out if I have one of my masks on. I have become familiar with how it fits, but it is still taking little pipet-drops away each time. I don’t notice it happening, I just do what I have to in the present. I see the quantity getting lower only as I glance away and back again after a time.

This is the mode. Survival is paramount; effectiveness depends on forward momentum. The masking suits that idea, while shielding. I won’t argue that it’s healthy, but it is not overtly destructive. My personas help move my life forward in most cases, and they are still me. Yet, they dissolve away in my solitude, and the truth hidden behind the guise is exposed. Within me lies the pile of smelly socks that is the inmost nature my true self. Having a history of repulsion, the imagery seemed appropriate.

Do you know what I’m talking about? I have simply embraced my “never” and moved on. Do you know what “never again” feels like? I do. I remind myself every day that choices have consequences.

More words will come, and maybe they will be more coherent next time.

Gurjection

by in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My trajectory has been unclear recently, or, wobblier than usual. Symptoms have cost me much of the momentum I had going, but not forever.

These down times are a regular event in my town. We get out the fancy streamers and everyone dresses up like sad clowns. Tickets available on StubHub.

Point being, I’ve survived worse and more help is on the horizon.

I have recently established a career path that is ever curving toward a fully self-sustaining state. 40 hours a week. I can, quite literally, raise money to pay my salary through my own actions. A successful grant or two would accomplish that. This is the full time plateau I have sought.

I have been here with me the whole time, and I can say with confidence that he is doing about as well as he ever has. I’m pleased that he hasn’t imploded into a singularity or shattered the world with recklessly destructive explodination-related incendiary activities.

Fight! Do not let Toejamela McHosebeasterson put the sweaty foot to your throat. There is a shitload left to do our here in the world. Are you going to let Moopybritches Sucktoadersplats kick your ass today? I didn’t think so Charlie Championship. So grab your vitamin water and spiked cudgel and get out there! Let’s do this!!

My pep talks only work on the hopelessly insane.

Less-Spikey

by in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My emotional regulation has been “askew” as it were, but also quite volatile. I imagine my emotional planet during the Late Heavy Bombardment, with a surface slowly succumbing to a primordial molten state… I’d rather not reach that point, which is a lifeless one to say the least.

Being alive is being in the real, the now, and present in the moment of existence in which we find ourselves. When I’m experiencing symptoms, reality is often filtered through a kaleidoscope of nonsensical responses, urges, reactions, thoughts and core feelings in clear defiance of logic or common sense based coherence. There is some part of me that is going, “hey, wait a second… that sounds pretty fucked up.” That’s the logic guy, he hasn’t been corrupted yet because he is strong. That part of me is the last bastion before the deep, black chasm of forgetting.

I don’t feel under siege just yet, but the armies of darkness are out there, inching closer.

Enough of that. The truth is, there will always be a part of me that will strain, because it goes on unacknowledged. I’d say that only 1 person in my whole life even has a good understanding of my personality and not run away screaming. Others have tried, and they were repelled, tortured, and damaged in their attempts to disarm or simply survive my radioactive properties. Sadly, being Bipolar and never truly having any handle on it created the inevitable trail of bodies in my wake as I shambled recklessly along the path of life. The guilt hangs on me like a heavy sack of feed that the animals of depression plunder as I toil forward. I have managed to become strong enough to not be constantly crushed by that load, and still make something positive of my life.

I work so hard being proud of who I am, but no one sees me. I have come to a place in my life where I am okay with not being “seen.” I know what it feels like, for the brief glimmers and shining moments in my adolescence I captured lightning in my hands. I know what I felt, the power and majesty of love, and no one can take it from me. If I go on in my reality without ever having that again, I am okay with that. I will not die in ignorance of happiness.

Looking up. I know who I am. Things are hard now, but I’m doing good holding my pants on without my belt. My recent plateau of stability is eroding…

Disenchanted

by in Mental Illness and tagged , , , , , ,

Abstractly contemplating. My state is one of conflicting strata exposed to uplift and rupture. Acknowledged in a history of strikes and slips, withering valleys and colossal peaks. Time washes the mountains to sand… but the story of what they were remains.

I crumbled within. Isolating for now, but thinking about my future. I know there are things I can do still. I missed my chance to go to group tonight. I just was not in an “okay” place. I felt antisocial and somewhat hostile about having to put on the mask, or exert any energy towards the thought. Preservation is paramount, especially when the self is vulnerable, fractured, and worsening.

I’m trying for better tomorrow. No one reads or cares most of the time here anymore. I don’t matter out here. Poor sad me with no friends on WordPress. Boo fucking hoo. The only place I have any worth is within my consciousness, as it should be. I am my only fan, and the only one who can improve my state unassisted. No outside intervention will be a solution without my help. So help I yes, with of many them goods.

Flatness

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Back from event this evening, many tired. My body hurts, and breathing wildfire smoke all afternoon was not a friend. I feel stretched, like thousands of tiny hooks are trying to peel off my skin. Achy creaks and general grunty responses are commonplace.

Good was dispensed this afternoon, assuredly. I muscled up and strapped on the happy smiles professional guise. La la! Have a happy fun!

Retreating to my soft place now, I recall how I was haunted by music today. Their faces came back to me. I saw things, and felt. I remembered. It was largely not a good thing.

All day it has been this way. I need rest, peace, sleep. I tried to do a good job, and I was told that I had. Positive affirmations. Progress. Steps forward, despite foreboding

It’s just me now. There will never be another. I am all there is left. I must go forward.

Action Distraction

by in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today has been difficult so far, but this afternoon’s booth duty should help that. I’m at the 24th St. bypass today at the Kumbaya Festival and I know that will keep me occupied. The festival lasts until 7 pm so I should be good and tired. I’m hearing a lot of music now, all the time today unless I am focusing on something else. Idle times bring the strings and beats of emotionally charged melodies. Lyrics marked as impactful slide next to amplified connectivity to memories, moments, good and bad. It sends me reeling at times, contrasted with a crushing weight of sadness that flattens me between hard metal plates. The defenses and constant optimistic spin has a cost, and the energy has been diminished over the last few months.

Salvation will be in the strength of will I contain in my desire to not collapse or crumble. I have taken action to remedy my neurochemical status but still have a good deal of time to go. My hope is to continue to prevail against the symptoms, the deep gravity of the abyss strengthening. There are so many things I feel pain over, for the things I have done to myself and others… there are many moments I wish had not been, but were nonetheless. Making sense of that pain has been my lesson, and it never stops hurting no matter how I cope with it. I can have benefit, but still know the ache of the sorrow. It reminds me of why I step forward.

I have no desire to fall apart, only to endure this challenge and emerge stronger. I used to quit on things, and myself, but now I know I won’t. It will be hard, yes, unavoidably so. So are all things that are truly worth having.

None

by in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

The thing is, I just don’t have anything I want to say anymore. My preferences aren’t relevant. My opinions are inane, fleeting and easily ignored. Sometimes I have good thoughts, ideas that seem poignant. Then, those precious seconds pass into the spinning whirl of activity. Then absorbed into the nauseating flow of other monkey mind activities.

I’m really learning that external control is impossible. So is respect; which has become little more that an intent hiding beneath a big pile of actual disregard. People are in their own private worlds; no one wants to be reached.

I gave up on that. I’m plodding forward in a passive state, more intent on absorbing than mitigating. I can take a great deal of toxicity before an overload, which I’m sure is to be expected on this untenable course. I know that the world outside of my head is entirely beyond influence while my own responses to it remain as the factor in my reach.

I just don’t have enough energy to fight back. I don’t care. You can have the trophy for whatever it is you’ve won, I’m going to go lay down. There’s not enough left to care about this anymore with so many other things to address.

The lights are going out in the auditorium. Slowly.