Farewell, Tribal Leader

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It’s Sass’s turn to speak her piece.

I’ve had a rough week.  Nothing like sitting in your doctor’s office for your pre-surgery visit when you find out you’ve lost another friend to suicide.  You’ve got all kinds of questions banging around in your head. That’s 2 in less than 11 months.  It fucking sucks.  Though Ulla and I didn’t correspond like alot of you guys, I still consider her my friend, even if loosely based.  I have closer friendships here than out in the real world.  Anyway…

I read those sorrowful words and sat crying waiting to get registered for labs.  And I wasn’t crying so much for the fact that she made her decision, I was crying for the fact we lost our Tribal Leader.  Because, in essence, she was.  She was the one who we kind of all flocked too, like chicks to a mother hen, because she knew so much about so many things!  Once she told me she just knew a little bit about alot of things.  And that was her being modest.  Her linkdumps were informative, shocking, and funny at times.  She talked about putting the “Butch” into embroidery.  I often wonder if she pulled it off?

There were MANY inside jokes between us tribespeople.  There was orgasmic chocolate hand rolled on the legs of lesbians, syphilisporks, pegacorns, isporkacorns, riding giraffes through streets, and of course her dragon.  Her dragon wasn’t for used for transport, I found out.  He was quite testy.

Her love of art, poetry, Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit-Gandalf specifically, the beach with the sunrise and sunset and her beloved Solo.  She got me with a Mark Rothko post.  I became OBSESSED with learning about him, and he has a church in Texas-BEAUTIFUL place.  I should go there as a salute to her.   We talked about his work and how it can be seen as simplistic and complex, and you can even use it to explain bipolar with the way he uses the colors.  Let me point out-I am not an art person.  At. All.  But this work she shared, spoke VOLUMES to me.  And I’m fucking grateful she shared one of her favorite artists.  

Her heart was so big and golden even while she was deep in the dark.  She encouraged us when she had little encouragement herself.  Even with the single word Strongs she was able to help any of us know we aren’t ever alone.  Her dark, raw, real and true honesty made people sit back and really think about things from a different perspective.  She was never one to bullshit or sugarcoat, and I don’t think she expected us to do so in return.

Yes, she struggled with the darkness and yes she talked about not wanting to live in that place anymore.  It’s real and honest and part and parcel with Bipolar and depression, along with being treatment resistant and the medi-go-round and therapists and COUNTLESS asshole doctors.  It fucking sucks that she isn’t here anymore.  Am I angry?   No, because she’s finally at peace and back with her dear mother whom was her world.  Do I miss her?  Fuck yes I do.  Who wouldn’t miss her snappy comebacks and linkdumps and her honesty?  I think we all fucking miss her for a myriad of reasons, no more or less than the next person.

She showed us all a little piece of her, and together, we get the whole picture.  And today, we remember and love and honor her, and celebrate her life and her freedom.  Jill, I hope she had that cheese sandwich.

Peace and Love, Dear Ulla.  May you never have to smack anyone in the face with a barbed wired dildo. 💖

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Surgery Yesterday

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*I started this yesterday when i had a little bit of alertness* 

In light of the losses we’ve all felt recently, and the outpouring of love for one of the Tribe is infuckibgcredible, I know that Blah would still want us to carry on and not mourn for who she was, but where she is now. No longer in torment or pain, though we still miss our Tribal Leader. Here’s to you, Blah, just keeping on.

Today was good and successful.  I had to be at the surgery center by 6 am, and we were actually there before it opened.  Got in, registered, and back in a room before 620.  My nurse had a hard time with my IV (God love her she blew a vein and felt terrible) and another nurse came in and had it in, no problems.  I have very small and zig-zaggy veins, so they were shocked when I said use this one, but up here, and it went in just fine.  I found out I’m NOT allergic to Morphine, that the itching is one of the common side effects of it.  Doesn’t matter.  Don’t gimme that shit.  I was rolled back to the OR, “hopped” up on the table as best I could considering I didn’t have contacts in or my glasses, got cozy and they said “Get ready to dream”.  Boy did I.   I dreamed of the beach, and the ocean and a beautiful sunset, and Florida and my kids were there running around.

Next thing I know I hear someone talking to me asking if I’m thirsty.  Fuck yes I am.  Apple juice and Graham crackers sound delicious.  I woke up much easier than the last time.  I could vaguely see the clock.  If I squinted really hard it said 930ish.  I told my mom and the nurse I dreamed about the beach, though I didn’t go into specifics.  I got to talk to my Dr, though I couldn’t see the pictures (dammit) but he said not to worry, I’ll see them next week.  Ok.  He said I made a good call having my ovary and fallopian tube removed.  They were a mess.  I looked at mom and said, “I know my body like I know my car.”  Smartass much?  Hehehe. I had/have 1 small cyst on my left ovary but everything looks good.  Woohoo!  I was back home before 11.

Yesterday and some of today I’ve slept.  My pain is more from the gas used as it works its way through my body, and less from the surgery itself.  I have 3 incisions, and this time he used regular sutures instead of the disolveable kind.  I’m pretty weak and slow to move, but I’m determined to get a shower today.  Gotta get this betadine off me, and I’m sure I’ll feel even better once I’m showered.  My appetite is still missing.  I eat because I have to, not because it sounds good.  I still blame the lithium.

Grays! Tenderloin with white gravy, green beans, mashed taters with brown gravy.  Not pictured, Peach cobbler.  Took 2.5 hours to eat.

My dog is driving me crazy.  She wants attention, no she doesnt, she wants to eat, no she doesn’t, she wants to go out, no she doesn’t.   GAH.  Monkey let me sleep with her Baymax, then she came in when she went to go to bed and slept with him.  Probably the best money ever spent was an unstuffed Baymax from Build-A-Bear.  She takes him everywhere, and if any of us are feeling bad, she shares him.  She really does have a wonderful heart.

Anyway, I’m lying in bed, having eaten 2 donuts, and all I can think about is going back to sleep.  I’m not in pain like I was, thank gawd, but I’m in that recovery pain where everything hurts and if you’re upright too long you feel like you’ll pass out, and everything you eat makes you wanna hurl.  I really just want mashed taters and French fries.  Yeah, I know it makes no sense.  I guess I just want salt.  Oh, and I’m slowly, S L O W L Y loosing weight. Down 3 pounds.  (Lithium I’m sure). 

I’m off to sleep again.  Sass, out. ✌

Surgery Yesterday

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*I started thid yesterday when i had a little bit of aletness* 

In light of the losses we’ve all felt recently, and the outpouring of love for one of the Tribe is infuckibgcredible, I know that Blah would still want us to carry on and not mourn for who she was, but where she is now. No longer in torment or pain, though we still miss our Tribal Leader. Here’s to you, Blah, just keeping on.

Today was good and successful.  I had to be at the surgery center by 6 am, and we were actually there before it opened.  Got in, registered, and back in a room before 620.  My nurse had a hard time with my IV (God love her she blew a vein and felt terrible) and another nurse came in and had it in, no problems.  I have very small and zig-zaggy veins, so they were shocked when I said use this one, but up here, and it went in just fine.  I found out I’m NOT allergic to Morphine, that the itching is one of the common side effects of it.  Doesn’t matter.  Don’t gimme that shit.  I was rolled back to the OR, “hopped” up on the table as best I could considering I didn’t have contacts in or my glasses, got cozy and they said “Get ready to dream”.  Boy did I.   I dreamed of the beach, and the ocean and a beautiful sunset, and Florida and my kids were there running around.

Next thing I know I hear someone talking to me asking if I’m thirsty.  Fuck yes I am.  Apple juice and Graham crackers sound delicious.  I woke up much easier than the last time.  I could vaguely see the clock.  If I squinted really hard it said 930ish.  I told my mom and the nurse I dreamed about the beach, though I didn’t go into specifics.  I got to talk to my Dr, though I couldn’t see the pictures (dammit) but he said not to worry, I’ll see them next week.  Ok.  He said I made a good call having my ovary and fallopian tube removed.  They were a mess.  I looked at mom and said, “I know my body like I know my car.”  Smartass much?  Hehehe. I had/have 1 small cyst on my left ovary but everything looks good.  Woohoo!

Yesterday and some of today I’ve slet.  My pain is more from the gas used as it works its way through my body, and less from the surgery itself.  I have 3 incisions, and this time he used regular sutures instead of the disolveable kind.  I’m pretty weak and slow to move, but I’m determined to get a shower today.  Gotta get this betadine off me, and I’m sure I’ll feel even better once I’m showered.  My appetite is still missing.  I eat because I have to, not because it sounds good.  I still blame the lithium.

Grays! Tenderloin with white gravy, green beans, mashed taters with brown gravy.  Not pictured, Peach cobbler.  Took 2.5 hours to eat.

My dog is driving me crazy.  She wants attention, no she doesnt, she wants to eat, no she doesn’t, she wants to go out, no she doesn’t.   GAH.  Monkey let me sleep with her Baymax, then she came in when she went to go to bed and slept with him.  Probably the best money ever spent was an unstuffed Baymax from Build-A-Bear.  She takes him everywhere, and if any of us are feeling bad, she shares him.  She really does have a wonderful heart.

Anyway, I’m lying in bed, having eaten 2 donuts, and all I can think about is going back to sleep.  I’m not in pain like I was, thank gawd, but I’m in that recovery pain where everything hurts and if you’re upright too long you feel like you’ll pass out, and everything you eat makes you wanna hurl.  I really just want mashed taters and French fries.  Yeah, I know it makes no sense.  I guess I just want salt.  Oh, and I’m slowly, S L O W L Y loosing weight. Down 3 pounds.  (Lithium I’m sure). 

I’m off to sleep again.  Sass, out. ✌

love is a beautiful bruise

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I saved a couple of email notifications on posts that really struck a chord with me from Blah’s page.  Going through it a few minutes ago, I came across this one, and I think it’s perfect for all of us that are hurting.  She always knew how she would leave this dark and weighted down planet.  She even wrote about on her blog.  While skimming her blog trying to find this post, I saw all her linkdumps, her raw honesty about Ward 13, and the struggle with her Bipolar II and the deep depression that consumed her beautiful soul.  You’ll also find her safari pictures (I’m still jealous about the hippos) and if you look REALLY CLOSE AND HARD, in one picture you can see most of her beautiful face. *Particularly for DM*

ANYWAY.  The whole point of this is that with the grief comes love, and with that love, we can “gentle the grief”.  It’ll never ever fully go away.  And why should it? ☆If you know anything about Blah, then you’ll know why this quote is right☆

“If this is love, I do not want it. Take it away, please! Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because it was real.”

Sail across the seas, to a green land.

“Duty? No… I would have you smile again, not grieve for those whose time has come. You shall live to see these days renewed. No more despair.”

Grief is the price we pay for love, quoth Queen Elizabeth II (and she definitely knows grief). You love, you lose, you grieve, you swear you’ll never love again, you love more. You’re h…

Source: love is a beautiful bruise

This Needs A Title

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It’s been a stressful time round here.  Very stressful.  

I have surgery on Wednesday, and I’m nervous about that, ya know.  Last Wednesday was the child support and provisional hearing for my divorce…I. HATE. That. Man.  HATE HATE HATE HATE!  I was so pissed off that I was crying after. I’m not going to go into it right now because it still makes me fucking angry.  I will, eventually.  

I started back on lithium.  Because I was tired of feeling nothing.  I didn’t want to do anything.  I didn’t want to go anywhere.  I didn’t feel anything other than that despair that just floats under the surface  (and has been for MONTHS).  I was on autopilot, and we all know how that goes.  Had my labs drawn the day I started and would you believe my lithium level was .1?  It’s to be between .6-1, and mine was damn near non existent.  Probably a HUGE reason as to why I wasn’t feeling anything. 

So I’ve been on it for 3 weeks and I went from Numb Navy back to Sassy.  Though, as Morgue calls it, i hit the Lithium Lotto…though its more like Craps for me and im constantly rolling snake eyes.  Nausea, wanting to eat but nothung tastes good or hits the spot.  Blah. Everything irritates me.  Noise, people, life, my car.  Not work though. I find peace and comfort there.  It’s routine and predictable, yet not.  And quiet most of the time.  I enjoy it.  I honestly would rather be at work than dealing with people.  Shocking, I know.  And I know that there are alot of you that read my blog and who wish they could work again, and I wish that for you too.  I REALLY and TRULY do.  I wish I could take all of my friends and work together because it’s quiet in the sense there’s no overbearing asshole bosses or coworkers coming in, but there’s noise from the music we play, and the clinking of keys and locks.  But it’s not bad.  And it doesn’t require alot of knowledge right off the bat, you can slowly learn things.  It’s a challenge but not a hinderence.  Maybe one day I’ll start a non-profit for my blog buddies…(I think that’s a bit of the racing thoughts coming back).  And the anxiety is back, but probably because I’ve been stressed.  Or now that I’m back in the land of the feeling, things are heightened again.  Even my relationship with Florida has been stressed, for many reasons.  

Seems there are a shit ton of factors lately that are hell bent of bringing some of us down.  But we will all get through it.  We always do.

I’ve missed blogging.  I’ve missed feeling my feelings.  I’ve missed being lippy and loud and smartassy.  I’ve missed my blog friends, old and new.  I know the lithium probably won’t work forever, and I’ll continue on the medi-go-round, but that’s what keeps us fighting, right?

Yeah, I know this seems like a  unicorns that shit rainbows kinda post. It’s not.  Yes, there’s been some good, but there’s still alot of shit mixed in there.  I’m just not in a place to discuss it.

I am, however, in a place to smack people in the face…with cement blocks.  Repeatedly.  Because I can’t deal with any more idiocy.  Thank God Z Nation starts soon. Or I’d find a way to off myself with a homemade Z Whacker ala Morgue’s custom shop.

Broken

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I sit on the corner ledge of the rooftop building, looking at the world below carry on.  The chilly wind whips my firey red hair about my face, obscuring my view from time to time, making my eyes water and stinging my skin.

It’s the first time I’ve felt anything.  I have become numb, empty, a husk, a shadow of my former glory.  My eyes are empty and hollow.  My smile is fake and forced.  My voice is empty and deadened of emotion.  My touch is dulled and I never really know if I’m touching something or imagining what things felt like in my once tactile grasp.

No one knows the emptiness that is within, because no one wants to really hear the bad things.  No one wants to see how hollow I’ve become and that I am only going through the motions to “act normal”.  

I don’t sleep well, because the emptiness weighs me down.  I don’t eat because I can’t taste the food and it makes me nauseous.  I sleep too much because it’s easier than living with the nothingness that is inside.  I can’t stand to be around people as noise sounds like a freight train barreling through my ears, yet the quietness of solitude is deafening and suffocating.  

The weighted blanket of despair pulls me ever more slowly further down into the chill of the blackness and waits with bated breath to engulf me.  

I stand up on the corner ledge of the rooftop and wonder if I really have the balls to just ever so slightly lean over and fall, and hope I will once again be warm and happy and free.  I am shattered inside, shards of my soul pierce my once indestructible exterior, showing them my weakness.  

My eyes are empty and hollow.  My smile is fake and forced.  My voice is void of emotion.  My soul is wounded and broken.  I am wounded and broken.

And as always, no one sees me as I suffer alone in a crowded room.

Fort Blankie

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I’m waving the white flag of surrender.  I am giving up on today.  I can no longer adult or people.  I am defeated today, as well as I’m in pain on my entire right side (thank you shoulder and fucked up lady parts).  I want to sleep until the weekend, and even then I’m not looking forward to the festivities of Saturday.  Because, people.  And noise.  And light.  And life.  I want to commiserate with misery for a couple days.  

In Fort Blankie.  And my personalized Z Whacker.  And booze.  And ear plugs.  And blackest black sunglasses. 

Because right now, life doth sucketh. 

🏳🏳🏳🏳🏳