Moving on with the Dirt

It's another Monday, and it's time for another blog. Where did the last week go? It went to numerous appointments, that's where it went. My day is one constantly full calendar. I live for Tuesdays when I can go to work and know that's the only thing I'm doing during the day. Maybe I'll run an errand or two for the boss, maybe not, but the expectations are pretty much the same for me every Tuesday. And I love the car ride - it's such a great time to unwind and get ready for what's ahead of me. Speaking of cars, Nick got me a 2008 Chevy HHR to beat around in. I call the car "Ye Ole Jalopy." He has a ton of character (the car, although Nick does, too). He's got his scratches and dents (again, the car), a chip in the windshield, and I absolutely love him (both the car and Nick). Nick put on new tires and fixed the awful exhaust rattle. Here's my new baby: What else did I do in this past week? I got my tattoo! It took half an hour, and I fel...

When I was 8 years old, I was raped by the son of my mom's friend. I can remember everything so clearly - the layout of the house, the toys we were playing with that day, where the windows were and the prints/pictures on the walls. I especially remember the ballerina jewelry box I opened after and just listened to the music, mortified and ruined. I never screamed, not because I was told not to, but because I knew I wasn't supposed to. Good girls don't fight. I had such a screwed up imagine of what sex was even back then due to being molested at a young age (but that's an entirely different story), that I knew you didn't fight, you didn't scream, and you just took it. You didn't tell or something bad would happen. Now I know those things aren't true. But, man, did it screw up my life and sexuality for many years. Throughout my teenage years, I couldn't stand to be touched, except hugs. I couldn't even kiss a guy. Then I would get manic, I would be...

This month, Mental Illness Awareness Week was October 3-9. I know that it's passed, but I feel like I should give some facts from nami.org that I find interesting. I hope that you'll find them interesting, too. It's my part of educating you, hoping that maybe you'll understand me a little better. As most of you know, I'm rocking my bipolar disorder. I'm taking my meds, keeping track of my moods, and checking in with myself constantly. I also have anxiety, which I've been keeping a handle on. Those are two of the disorders which NAMI tracks. Here are some stats (which NAMI actually called fun facts on their website): Annual prevalence among U.S. adults, by condition: Anxiety Disorders: 19.1% (estimated 48 million people) Major Depressive Episode: 7.8% (19.4 million people) Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: 3.6% (estimated 9 million people) Bipolar Disorder: 2.8% (estimated 7 million people) Borderline Personality Disorder: 1.4% (estimated 3.5 million people) Obs...

 I've learned many things in my time away this past week. I originally went away to this writer's retreat because I was stuck in my writing and was ready to give up. I thought I had lost any talent I believed I may have possessed, if I even possessed any with which to begin. I was seriously doubting myself. I submitted a short story I had written, "Nathan," to be evaluated. I was proud of it, but hadn't received any feedback on it before. I wasn't hopeful. The feedback I received at the writer's retreat made my spirits soar again. I was told it was an excellent piece and with a little cleaning up, I should submit it. I think that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go through it with a critical editor's eye, clean out all the mistakes in grammar and redundancy, and try submitting it to a parent's magazine. I'm currently stuck on a book I'm writing. I'm three chapters into the book; those chapters pounded out like my muse wa...