Hi, it's been *looks at last post* a while...a long while.
I live in Pittsburgh now. That happened in 2015. Pittsburgh is great. I stopped blogging a little before that process began because I was overwhelmed. My meds were all wrong, I had to get my old house ready to sell and had to find a place to live and new doctors and everything in Pittsburgh. It took longer than expected to find a new house, and it took about as long as expected to unload the old house (went into contract on the day we packed up our stuff to move).
I've been diagnosed with Bipolar and OCD now. That doesn't change much, but it changes how I try to manage my thoughts. And it's more of a balancing act to keep my meds correct. Too much help for OCD=hypomanic episodes. Hypomanic could become manic and then turn into paranoid delusions, which would cause the OCD symptoms to get worse, etc. It's such a joy.
Other updates--
In 2016, my poem Covalence was published in the poetry anthology Ardency for Animosity (Kindle version costs less than a dollar, so please check that out)
This past October I attended the World Fantasy Convention in Columbus, OH
In a little over a week I'll be visiting NYC. I'm going to try to blog more in general, but during that time I'll probably be more active on Twitter and Instagram.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Dream: Unconventional Ways of Getting Cancer
This dream was pretty weird, but it's short. Contains some body-related weirdness.
I dropped into this dream in a grocery store of some sort, and I knew my mission as soon as I got there. I was going to get me some cancer. (This was the sort of dream where I could only observe and not change anything, so don’t judge me.)
I lifted the edge of my shirt up about halfway and looked down. Just below my navel was a horizontal slice through my skin, and from that cut protruded a segment of PVC pipe—probably about 1/2 inch in diameter and 2 inches long. I really didn't have an opinion about having a pipe sticking out of my abdomen. But I set off to figure out how I could get cancer…because, yeah, I don’t know.
First I found a plastic bag in the produce section. I examined it very carefully and made sure it didn't have any holes in it. I stared at the bag and at the pipe in my belly. Something was missing.
So I walked around for a while. Studied the cereal aisle. Looked at the meat case. Crunched up corn flakes. Ground beef and pork. I wondered if that would work, but decided against it. I went to the dairy section. Yes. This was it.
I opened a container of whipped cream cheese and put a good-sized glob into the plastic bag. After that I squished it around until it was spread around the inside of the bag. I sized up the bag and the pipe. It was time to get cancer. I wiggled the pipe to see how secure it was and then tried to feed the plastic bag of cream cheese into the opening. I tried all sorts of ways of getting the bag in there. I tried to poke it in with my finger. I tried to stick the corner of the bag in first. It didn't work. I was left there looking at the pipe and the bag. Not sure what the fuck I was doing. Oh, and there were people in the store now. Looking. Judging.
I really don't where this dream came from, but as it was happening I was judging myself too. The weirdest part was that I experienced a pain sensation whenever I’d mess with the pipe. It was a sensation similar to playing with a still-healing body piercing.
I dropped into this dream in a grocery store of some sort, and I knew my mission as soon as I got there. I was going to get me some cancer. (This was the sort of dream where I could only observe and not change anything, so don’t judge me.)
I lifted the edge of my shirt up about halfway and looked down. Just below my navel was a horizontal slice through my skin, and from that cut protruded a segment of PVC pipe—probably about 1/2 inch in diameter and 2 inches long. I really didn't have an opinion about having a pipe sticking out of my abdomen. But I set off to figure out how I could get cancer…because, yeah, I don’t know.
First I found a plastic bag in the produce section. I examined it very carefully and made sure it didn't have any holes in it. I stared at the bag and at the pipe in my belly. Something was missing.
So I walked around for a while. Studied the cereal aisle. Looked at the meat case. Crunched up corn flakes. Ground beef and pork. I wondered if that would work, but decided against it. I went to the dairy section. Yes. This was it.
I opened a container of whipped cream cheese and put a good-sized glob into the plastic bag. After that I squished it around until it was spread around the inside of the bag. I sized up the bag and the pipe. It was time to get cancer. I wiggled the pipe to see how secure it was and then tried to feed the plastic bag of cream cheese into the opening. I tried all sorts of ways of getting the bag in there. I tried to poke it in with my finger. I tried to stick the corner of the bag in first. It didn't work. I was left there looking at the pipe and the bag. Not sure what the fuck I was doing. Oh, and there were people in the store now. Looking. Judging.
I really don't where this dream came from, but as it was happening I was judging myself too. The weirdest part was that I experienced a pain sensation whenever I’d mess with the pipe. It was a sensation similar to playing with a still-healing body piercing.
Friday, January 30, 2015
The Joys of Being Psychotic
Trigger warning for mental health issues, suicidal ideation and disturbing content
I've been wanting to blog more, but also wanted to explain why I haven't been around. The short answer is that I've been sick. I guess I've always been sick in this way, but it just got to the point where I couldn't function all that well. I have been hallucinating and experiencing episodes of delusions for a long time…since my teens. It may sound strange to say that I got used to hallucinating, but I can usually tell the difference between reality and my brain throwing bullshit at me. The hallucinations also set in slowly, so I could adapt to the nonsense. Delusions are a whole different animal—the kind of animal that is really tough to explain.
I could always throw these occasional episodes into the “maybe depression symptoms” bin and move on once they passed. I only had one other time when the delusions were severe enough to be an impairment (I was too scared to leave my apartment), but I couldn't articulate why shit was getting weird for me and at the time my main problem was the fact that I couldn't sleep. I could hear everything. And I was living in an apartment that had neighbors all around so there were a lot of little noises to keep me awake. I figured that was why I was having problems. So I got medicated and eventually I could sleep again.
Fast forward to more recent times. I have no idea when this episode all started, but for a long time—a few years—the main images stuck in my head were extremely violent. It wasn't along the lines of “oh, I read something weird so now I'm going to think about it” or even “I wrote something fucked up and it's going to stick with me.” It was “I may be walking by the side of the road and there's no traffic but a car is going to come out of nowhere and crush me against this wall and my entrails will splatter across the sidewalk.” When I'd get stressed out the image that plagued my mind was that of me smashing my head repeatedly against something until my face was gone. This was constant. But this was also something that I didn't think of as unreasonable because the images were just so unreasonable that I knew they were impossible. I didn't honestly think those things were going to happen, but the images were always there and that constant exposure to such things didn't make me feel all that good. (When the images got more realistic—as in things that I could feasibly do to myself—then that’s when I'd know I was really suicidal or could possibly hurt myself.)
So I had my regular depression and insomnia (staying awake for 3-4 days at a time), and this underpinning of fucked up images running wild through my mind whenever they felt like it. Last summer I started taking Paxil—which had helped me in the past but made things worse this time around. Then something triggered an episode of paranoid delusions…I know what it was and I don't want to talk about that. But the delusions triggered the hallucinations. And shit got real. I could no longer tell the difference between reality and hallucinations. And the more often I experienced these lapses in reality, the more intense they became. Luckily I had an upcoming therapist appointment and a medication management appointment, and I went into the psych office in the middle of a psychotic break. I barely avoided being put in-patient, but they'd been impressed with my coping skills prior to this so I got to chill at home rather than in the hospital.
They diagnosed me with Bipolar I with Psychotic Features—I think that was in early September. Since then I've been figuring out what that means exactly and trying different medications. I've had bad reactions to so many medications…strange reactions that don't make sense. Reactions that made me even less functional when I really needed to be functional. I also had a couple suicidal episodes that entered the “planning” phase. I've been close to going in-patient a few times, but I managed to get through it.
I’m on Zoloft now, which is helping in general, but without all the intrusive images and noise in my head the hallucinations have stayed pretty clear. That wasn't something I was expecting to happen. They’re not as scary as they were at their worst so I guess I'll take this improvement.
So that's where I've been. I didn't really accomplish much in the last few months, but I decided to not beat myself up over it because that wouldn't be very helpful. I'm still a First Reader for Crossed Genres and I was Co-ML for Centre County for NaNoWriMo. I didn't get close to winning NaNoWriMo though, but oh well. I'm looking forward to reading more and writing more and editing more and just getting everything back on track as I'm able to.
And I do have some kind of funny stories about hallucinations to share once I figure out how to write about them in a non-terrifying way.
I've been wanting to blog more, but also wanted to explain why I haven't been around. The short answer is that I've been sick. I guess I've always been sick in this way, but it just got to the point where I couldn't function all that well. I have been hallucinating and experiencing episodes of delusions for a long time…since my teens. It may sound strange to say that I got used to hallucinating, but I can usually tell the difference between reality and my brain throwing bullshit at me. The hallucinations also set in slowly, so I could adapt to the nonsense. Delusions are a whole different animal—the kind of animal that is really tough to explain.
I could always throw these occasional episodes into the “maybe depression symptoms” bin and move on once they passed. I only had one other time when the delusions were severe enough to be an impairment (I was too scared to leave my apartment), but I couldn't articulate why shit was getting weird for me and at the time my main problem was the fact that I couldn't sleep. I could hear everything. And I was living in an apartment that had neighbors all around so there were a lot of little noises to keep me awake. I figured that was why I was having problems. So I got medicated and eventually I could sleep again.
Fast forward to more recent times. I have no idea when this episode all started, but for a long time—a few years—the main images stuck in my head were extremely violent. It wasn't along the lines of “oh, I read something weird so now I'm going to think about it” or even “I wrote something fucked up and it's going to stick with me.” It was “I may be walking by the side of the road and there's no traffic but a car is going to come out of nowhere and crush me against this wall and my entrails will splatter across the sidewalk.” When I'd get stressed out the image that plagued my mind was that of me smashing my head repeatedly against something until my face was gone. This was constant. But this was also something that I didn't think of as unreasonable because the images were just so unreasonable that I knew they were impossible. I didn't honestly think those things were going to happen, but the images were always there and that constant exposure to such things didn't make me feel all that good. (When the images got more realistic—as in things that I could feasibly do to myself—then that’s when I'd know I was really suicidal or could possibly hurt myself.)
So I had my regular depression and insomnia (staying awake for 3-4 days at a time), and this underpinning of fucked up images running wild through my mind whenever they felt like it. Last summer I started taking Paxil—which had helped me in the past but made things worse this time around. Then something triggered an episode of paranoid delusions…I know what it was and I don't want to talk about that. But the delusions triggered the hallucinations. And shit got real. I could no longer tell the difference between reality and hallucinations. And the more often I experienced these lapses in reality, the more intense they became. Luckily I had an upcoming therapist appointment and a medication management appointment, and I went into the psych office in the middle of a psychotic break. I barely avoided being put in-patient, but they'd been impressed with my coping skills prior to this so I got to chill at home rather than in the hospital.
They diagnosed me with Bipolar I with Psychotic Features—I think that was in early September. Since then I've been figuring out what that means exactly and trying different medications. I've had bad reactions to so many medications…strange reactions that don't make sense. Reactions that made me even less functional when I really needed to be functional. I also had a couple suicidal episodes that entered the “planning” phase. I've been close to going in-patient a few times, but I managed to get through it.
I’m on Zoloft now, which is helping in general, but without all the intrusive images and noise in my head the hallucinations have stayed pretty clear. That wasn't something I was expecting to happen. They’re not as scary as they were at their worst so I guess I'll take this improvement.
So that's where I've been. I didn't really accomplish much in the last few months, but I decided to not beat myself up over it because that wouldn't be very helpful. I'm still a First Reader for Crossed Genres and I was Co-ML for Centre County for NaNoWriMo. I didn't get close to winning NaNoWriMo though, but oh well. I'm looking forward to reading more and writing more and editing more and just getting everything back on track as I'm able to.
And I do have some kind of funny stories about hallucinations to share once I figure out how to write about them in a non-terrifying way.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Chappell's Field
Here is a little bit of the area near Chappell's Field at Blue Knob State Park--just the pictures I have on my phone.
The park maps have vistas listed on them, which I thought was more of a suggestion as to where the best views might be in the park rather than a truly defined location. But I was wrong.
I really like the idea of designated vistas.
The park service has decided that the world looks especially good right here.
I only walked part of this trail, but the pictures I took were all pretty similar. Trail. Trees, ferns and stuff. Light and shadow.
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