I don't even know what to say here.

I thought I wanted to write but I'm not sure what it is that I actually want to say to anyone.

I guess I've been really contemplative lately. I've been thinking a lot about where I am and all that has led up to me being here. And how things might have been different. And if I'm doing the right things. If I'm honestly doing the best I could be doing for myself. If I'm making the choices that are best for me. If what I'm doing is making me as happy as it is possible for me to be.

I'm questioning everything, I'm not sure why or for how long I'll need to do this. My thoughts are very cyclical and the end is not clear at this point.

Some time though, I'll need to be satisfied with what I've got, what's going on for me right now. I'll need to accept what is.

But I can't force it. I'm not going to try.

The last week of the term is this one and I'm caught up in this. 

Because nothing is going to change suddenly, I have to move forward with what I've got. So we'll see. I'm not holding my breath and neither should you.

See ya on the other side.

Zine Work

I've been working on a zine with my friend Katie over the past few weeks. I'm using a piece I wrote after a horrific manic episode. I remember sitting on the couch in the living room with my roommates and while they were watching something, I was writing and coming down hard. For some reason in that moment, I wanted people to know him. I wanted others to know my beast.

It's written much like children's books are written. The language is very simple, very clear. It isn't long or very complicated. But I think that's the right place to start. In this zine, accompanied by Katie's illustrations, my beast is given shape. He looks very much like the way I have imagined him.

This process has been surprising, affecting me in ways I couldn't have predicted. Sitting with Katie in a cafe yesterday, watching her bring to life this creature, this companion, was so strange. Suddenly there he was. Suddenly he was real.

It surprised me that when we first talked about the kind of illustrations I wanted with each line, how quickly the images came to me. I know what this looks like though. I have known what this looks like for so long.

This might be the most vulnerable I have chosen to be about him, ever. For some reason this feels bigger than a conversation or a blog post. This feels like the beginning of something. A door.

Maybe this is the beginning of a series. Maybe it has been an experiment and a step in my healing process.

I'm going to try to keep the beast from ruining it, whatever this is.

I haven't decided exactly how many copies I'm going to make and I feel weird about selling them even if it's only for a dollar or two. But if you want one, maybe let me know?

Friendsgiving 2015

Last night I hosted Friendsgiving, a little tradition that has been passed down to me over the last few years.

It's a night once a year that I have the opportunity to gather with a bunch of my good friends, eat delicious food and celebrate gratitude.
It's the day after but I'm still running on the warm glow of Friendsgiving.

I don't think I realized how much I needed it this year, specifically. Earlier in the day yesterday, my mom called me so we could finalize our Thanksgiving plans. I've known for a while now that this year would be very different from past years and that I would be responsible for more of it than I have been before. But I felt the full weight of it when I realized that it's less than a week away. And I don't even mean that cooking dinner is a burden, though it may be a challenge. I feel heavy with loss. I am grieving over the family I was given, the family that is out of touch and apart.

I understand why it needs to be this way. I really do.

But yesterday, that understanding still found a way of surrendering to the weight, and the grief.

My family is big, loud and chaos is our natural habitat. The holidays always arrive too quickly, we are never prepared, but we always manage to celebrate our togetherness just in time. Usually, the holidays are a reminder of the unconditional love we possess for one another. It is true magic.

Yet here we are. We aren't strong enough this time to pull it together. It was bound to happen, really.

And Max. I don't know if I can actually say more than his name right now. But there's grief there too.

In this time of uncertainty and pain, I am carried by my friends. I have been embraced. I am loved.
This family of mine, this family I have chosen, is everything.

Well, I slept in and have been sitting on the couch with my sister and my pup, drinking coffee for hours.

So, yeah.
That happened.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Update this in few hours, maybe it'll be a good way to stay accountable? Or another way to shame and humiliate myself. We'll see, I guess.

Cross your fingers it's the former? Thx.

I think I'm on my way out.
I'm surprised that I've managed to get here before the term ends. Most of the time it doesn't work that way. I'm thankful though and I'm not going to spend any more time questioning it. I'm just going to let a good thing, be a good thing for once.

In the last three months I've seen within myself all of the things that matter and all that I am capable of. A lot of the time what I experience is so internal that I'm overwhelmed by my own emotions. My mood cycles catch me up and carry me for unpredictable and sometimes indefinite, periods of time. My brain is so full of this internal chaos, I'm unable to think or pay attention to anything else.

This is when my beast gets opportunistic.
While I'm preoccupied he cuts me down.
My back is turned and he's fucking shit up.
I'm a stick of dynamite and my beast is the one to light me and watch me blow.

I come back around later and I'm surrounded by wreckage;
All of the things I've neglected
All of people that have been trying to get a hold of me
All of the ways I've failed myself

I forget so easily what it feels like to be capable of things.

Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the day studying. I'm going to sit in the feeling of it.
I'm gonna tell my beast he can fuck right off.

There's nothing like working with a group of girls who have survived so much in their young lives, to remind you to pull your head out of your ass and do work.

I'm not pulling out of this fast enough and I'm not anywhere near caught up but I've done this shit before and I'll do it again because I fucking can.

I wasn't able to fall asleep until 6am this morning but with only four hours of sleep I made it to my Girl Power group. I found myself sharing my life story with teenage girls I had never met. I told them I had been diagnosed as bipolar when I was 14 and in response a girl said, "That's what's up". We all laughed.

It was not the response that I had expected but for some reason her phrasing resonated with me.

She was right. That's what's up for me right now. And that's okay.

Last night I was talking to my sister and in that conversation I started to piece together a sequence of triggers. That's what they've been, even if I couldn't name them in the moment. I've been triggered, multiple times in the past two weeks. What did I expect to happen? That I would be able to get up, dust myself off and walk away unscathed?

Old wounds have been reopened.
Every time this happens, there must be healing.
The wounds are there, the scars will never truly fade.

That's what's up.

Oh Brother

Today my brother Max was readmitted to sub-acute, a residential home for kids with behavioral and developmental issues. I knew this was coming for a while and was frustrated when it seemed like no one outside of our family saw that we were in crisis, that we needed help. It doesn't make it any easier though, to think that he may not be with us for the holidays. 
Yesterday I was talking with my mom about the choices we make in our lives and how much they shape our experiences. Although the choice to bring my brothers Zach and Max into our family wasn't mine, it has shaped me in ways that I'm still discovering. I know without a doubt that I would not be the person I am if they had not come into my life.

I remember the night Max came home. He was wearing a jacket at least three sizes to big for him and I remember thinking his head fit his body in a similar way. It was huge! And goofy, bald and the cutest thing I had ever seen. 
Then the many days I would lay with him on the floor of his bedroom (the one I had given up), watching him roll around and giggle and play.
Feeding him in his baby chair. Watching his head bob to "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley and thinking he was the smartest baby I had ever encountered.
He grew to be this ball of energy, with a sense of humor way beyond his years.  

It has been heart breaking to see his struggle. These days he is a person I feel I hardly know. It's not his fault and I don't believe it's forever. But the days and moments he is someone recognizable have become far and few between.

I love him fiercely. I want my brother back.

The first picture here was taken three Halloweens ago, when Max was in sub acute the first time. We had all hoped it would be the last.
Yet here we are, again.

I know I should be studying but I am overwhelmed with grief.
I have been waiting so long for our family to be whole. It has been years, for many reasons.
It has been too long.

I don't feel like this is what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it. Oh well.

My dearest Max,

You are so funny, resilient and loving. You have been my brother since the day you were born, before I had even met you. You are a choice I make everyday.

Love,

Your Deedster

7/10

It's week seven out of ten in the term, I need to keep my shit together. Now is not the time to fucking lose it. I have to remind myself that however bad I've felt over the last couple of weeks is nothing compared to previous terms. I'm currently taking more credits than I ever imagined I would and even though it hasn't been perfect I've still managed to do better than I have before.
Last weekend I dipped, it happened quick and without any warning. Friday I woke up late and leisurely, not too concerned with getting all of my studying done because I had the whole weekend. Friday's have become the day where I do anything but school. Mostly I lounge around at home, alone, without responsibility or structure. I should have recognized that this specific Friday felt different, however slightly. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.
But you know how I knew? What tipped me off that this was the beginning of a plummet into nothingness?

I didn't shower.
I was eating without restraint.
I was watching Netflix and playing a game on my phone. (This is when my brain has gotten to the point where watching something isn't enough to numb myself and detach from reality, I need another layer of protection)
I didn't get off the couch and go to sleep until after 4:30am.

You know what happened then?
I did it all the next day.

Katie came over Saturday night after work to keep me company and maybe help motivate me to study. I didn't study but her presence definitely kept me somewhat present.
We watched an episode of a show we've been trying to watch together since the beginning of the summer. Our schedules don't allow for much time together.
I didn't want to watch it. I said it would be too heavy for me. I wanted to stick to cartoons and humor.
I was right.
I should have listened to my instinct and refused to watch. I didn't want to disappoint her and I felt bad for not being able to watch it with her for so long. And honestly, there is no way that either of us could have predicted exactly what was going to happen. But I knew enough of the plot and I should have stood my ground. That she is not responsible for.
I don't know if I was nice about the way I communicated my regret after we had finished the episode. I had been triggered and felt panic and grief rise up in me all at once. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get it out of my mind, I couldn't unsee it.
Every night since, I think about it before I go to sleep. I'm thinking about it now.
I'm hoping it will pass. I've been affected like this by things I've watched many times before, time usually heals.

Sunday was no different.

This week I've had moments but even people that don't know me well have noticed. This feeds the lie my beast tells me, the one where everyone has noticed.

Now I've had more absences in classes than I would like. I had to ask for an extension on an assignment. I hope my accommodations through the Disability Resource Center will help me in my self-advocacy, but they've been of little use before. I guess we'll see.

This is still good though, right? This is better? I'm in week seven out of ten. Usually this would have happened in the first few weeks of the term, once the novelty had worn off. I haven't missed as many classes as I have before. I've only asked for one extension.
This is good. Tell me this is good.

I need to fucking keep my shit together. Fuck.

If I can just hold on a little longer. When winter break comes I can release my crazy. But not yet, not now.