inlovewithwords: (Default)
I'm bipolar.

Don't know how politic it is to have that out there. But it should be no more or less stigmatized than having cancer or diabetes or arrhythmia or needing to wear glasses because your parents left you genes for eyes which really don't want to settle down or stop getting more terrible.

It is, though. And I hate that, and I hate that I have internalized it so well that I have been so scared of saying it for so long that I planned to build up to it over time, and then when failing to keep a journal online, never did.

This has been heavily implied here before. This is the first time I'm saying it directly, here and now. After a very stressful morning, Dad suggested I write about it, and about what happened to me, because every time I describe it to him he learns something new. I held off for about two and a half weeks, partly due to a suddenly busy schedule and partly because, again, the prospect of actually saying this out loud, to the internet, including to people who do not know me and for whom this may be their first exposure to me--especially as I am job hunting--is a really scary endeavor. But it shouldn't be scary, so I am going to put that out there.

I suppose I won't talk about it much in this post--it really is quite late, there are other things I want to write for fun tonight, and I have serious work to do tomorrow before another installment in "the endless rehearsals that make up this month."

But for now, we'll start here: I'm bipolar.

It's not the only problem, of course. I had various psycho-social traumas which kept building for years, one after another, approximately any time I was close to healing from the last one and the various bipolar episodes they set off. But shortly before I first posted to this again after two years, something just clicked into place.

It's strange, now, because I woke up metaphorically one day--I had been Not Sleeping for some hours before that--and realized I had... basically no idea where or when I was. I was confused, because it was 2008 or 2009, right? I was 18, 19. I had options and a future. And then suddenly here I am, 26, many good things about my life change but also many things that I am just confused about because I... can match dates to events, because I am good at memories like that, but I honestly can't even tell how time passed in large chunks of that. It's a grey blank.

Hypomanic episodes do not last a month--and that is what it is nearing--and I am learning to balance things, and how to de-stress after a crazy week, and how to say no and how to let go. And I have been absurdly productive at times.

And there are ways in which I am simply not hurting anymore. For the first time in years, I actually have hope that the future will not be The Worst Thing. I have hope that I can take actions to make my life better; I have reason to believe my brain is actively trying to make me happy, not drowning in an endless quagmire of despair.

Nothing will ever really change that I am ill, and that it will need to be managed, and maybe one day if trauma happens yet again it will spiral out of control. But I can well and truly hope it won't. Being safe and loved and supported really helps with that, and not feeling alone, and knowing maybe in the future I really won't be alone. We'll see.

I am still not doing everything I'd like to, and putting things off, and indulging in silliness. But even so, I am hacking away at real life plots and may be solving them at something like a steady pace. That is a relief unlike any I can describe.

But for the first time in seven years, maybe more like ten or twelve, I have some kind of hope for a day when I am secure, happy, and no longer in pain.

I had trauma, and I am bipolar.

I can hope it will get better.
inlovewithwords: (Default)
Two years.

A lot of things happened in those two years.

Some changes here to care about:

As I try to make myself use this again, I will be mirroring the more musing-about-something posts to a WordPress blog. I'll probably keep this one separate for more personal, minutiae of the day kinds of things, or things that I feel like just looking slightly less organized about.


We will see how things go.
inlovewithwords: (shooting stars)
I think there is a difference between depression, bipolar, a condition, whatever, and being broken. I'm not entirely sure how to characterize the difference right now. I don't have quite the words and almost don't want to because introspection can get really unfun. But while two conditions can feed each other, you have to live with them anyway--I don't think it's a reason to avoid reaching out to people, in whatever form, no matter what lies your brain tells you. Broken... shouldn't be a reason to curl up either. And there are different forms.

But I think I've been avoiding things because I thought I was broken. And I think in some ways I am. But I guess it's mostly ones I've done to myself by listening to the lies my brain tells me. Bad side, it still hurts. Good side: I... think I can stop listening. If I find a way. Some things wrong with me are just part of me. I've been scared of what it will do to me and that I won't be able to stop it from controlling me, and I think the result is I've been letting it. Fear is a paralytic and all that.

I can get... not unbroken, maybe, but reforged. I do think I can, at least in this moment, which I expect is not one that will last. I'm having an odd moment of clarity after a prickly moment. But I also know this is the basic hurdle. I need to find a way not to be scared. Rather, to make myself act despite being scared, not caring. And need to stop letting broken break me more.

Because I want to reach out, I do. I don't want to let it shut me in. I don't want to feel like I can't place the burden of knowing me on anyone--because it shouldn't be a burden. I know this.

Honestly, I don't know how not to be terrified anymore. I hope I'll figure it out soon.

Until then, I'll smile. However much it hurts, I'll smile.
inlovewithwords: (collide)
I failed to post on time, or keep up the daily--I told you I would. And yet, this did turn out to be a post on love.

An acquaintance of mine asked in the University Social Media, Not Quite Twitter/Plurk messaging system of those who follow their posts, ‘What does romantic relationship mean to you?’ I meant to just write a thing for her posts. It ended up so insanely long that I am posting it here instead. Because of the nature of the question, some of this will be my generalizations, while other parts will be what it means for me.

Somehow this turned into something of a ‘what should be required for it.’ I don’t know, I think I ended up missing the point, but this is stream of consciousness in how I answered. The tl;dr is at the end.

My interpretation as a 1-on-the-Kinsey-scale-emotionally heterosexual female (1.5 crushes on girls years ago) and hopeless romantic:

How do you measure? )

tl;dr: Trust, devotion, communication, willingness to fight, sharing, friendship, and for my view at least sex. To me, this makes up a romance.

I’ve gone on too long about this, so I’ll end here.

Maybe one day I’ll find a way to clean this up, make it more coherent. We’ll see.

(Side note: And now the question is making me think of the part on the Four Questions in the Haggadah…)
inlovewithwords: (collide)
Right. About that ‘I will write more.’

Tomorrow, in honor of Singles’ Awareness Day and V-Day, I will start with a thing on love and then move to my things about The LBD and Once Upon a Time. As far as today goes: also on the sexuality side of things, I absolutely adore Twelfth Night. I desperately want to write a sci-fi, action-packed, has-an-arc-besides-that adaptation of it. I mean, really. Twelfth Night, in space.

(It really is true, everything gains a cool factor by virtue of the words ‘in space.’)

E’en so (too much Shakespeare for me in the last twelve or fourteen hours) I have watched Trevor Nunn’s Twelfth Night several times over the course of this sleepless night, and finally landed on something which had been bothering me for a while. The entire production is fantastic, and I love it, and I need the DVD desperately. And I need to talk about Viola and why I love her so at some point. Probably also Beatrice.

What I figured out, though, has basically nothing to do with the play or the movie.

Signing off for now. At least I didn’t pre-write the next post, so I’ll have to actually write tomorrow. Right now I have a date with a tissue box to keep.
inlovewithwords: (bound to write)
I woke up to the newest addition to the universe of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries. Being a Tuesday, it was a non-Lizzie video, now Gigi (god, poor Lydia). In a move I would normally regret in every possible way, I read the YouTube comments.

(I know, I know. Stupid.)

By some grace, however (possibly to ‘everyone knows it is a Pride and Prejudice adaptation’) most of the comments non-purely-fan-squeeing comments have at least general rationality about them. They bring up a lot of points about aspects of the writing and plot, including comments that have been made by the writers.

And I feel so terrible for writing so very little these last few days. I honestly couldn’t say if it’s just my immediately burning out on a project or the fact that my brain is baking in my skull. Either way, I’m going to just jot down a few things so I can remember to come back to it when I am slightly less… discombobulated:

- I have developed an Opinion of the long discussion about female sexual empowerment/victimization/how well or badly the LBD writers are handling the Lydia situation. Seeing as I don’t actually read what the writers discuss about it, this will be based entirely on my own observations from Pride and Prejudice and from the vlogs. But it’s a long enough discussion and a twitchy enough discussion I don’t feel like going into it right now.
- Some thoughts and feelings on Once Upon a Time, specifically Regina (no this is not unconnected). This one can probably wait until I have another dry spell, and one which I can’t quite support with idleness entirely.

In the mean time, I’m going off to try to make my brain stop cooking.
inlovewithwords: (Book fetish)
So, that epic sluggishness and total lack of inspiration I have been attributing mostly to my predictable-in-several-ways drop-off in energy?

Last night, just after I’d closed the computer for the night and headed off to bed, my roommate got home and we instituted a House Cleaning. I had done some, and did a little more, but I was feeling light-headed and stuffy and just entirely off. Now, as a rule I run hot (somehow I need colder living environment than the others) but I was switching between that and freezing. ‘Oh well, it is winter,’ I thought. My roommate saw how I looked, told me to take it easier. I thought to myself, ‘huh, she was sick last week. Funny, that.’

Hah. Ha ha. Ha.

Yes, yes, I know. I should pay attention more often, but there you have it. It’s only a low-grade fever, and it’s not so bad. It does explain the lethargy and the greater-than-usual lack of appetite. Despite all that, I dragged myself out to lunch with K today (thankfully my ear-warming headband arrived before then, or it would have been painful). Better, only Roommate J’s boyfriend and two very dear friends turned up at our Monday Night In gathering, so I actually stayed in the living room and chatted with people till almost midnight.

As such, I am a little bit people’d out and my brain is still simmering. So I’ll just say ‘night for now.
inlovewithwords: (Book fetish)
So a friend turned up spontaneously earlier, so it and Roommate B are hanging out, while my new and adored JRPG idles. I did finish the plot—and oh god late last night I had a complete freak out. Stupid reason, really, and a lot of spoilers for the game, so I’ll just leave it for another day. I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.

(Let’s just say that I was wandering along playing the game, loving it, loving the way the scenes were unfolding—and then heard one word, did a knee-jerk, got a backstory, and had a minor breakdown.)

Instead, some more on The Laundry Files Campaign! )

Crap, it’s almost midnight, and I’m feeling too dizzy to do the housecleaning K promised. I’ll leave this story for an on-going thing, then. I am off to take refuge in sleep.
inlovewithwords: (Default)
The world is white.

I love it just after a snowstorm.

Everything is so quiet and still in the immediate aftermath, and then just that slow awakening as people dig themselves out. And I know the latter is perverse, too, because all that ‘digging out’ isn’t even remotely romantic. The snowploughs came through, of course. It was kind of hilariously glorious, too, because this resulted in a pile of snow outside our house that was over six feet tall. I got a picture of my roommate and her boyfriend atop that pile.

I’d kind of intended to go out and do things today, mainly like play in the snow. But with the roads all stopped up, my ear-warming-headband-thing I’d ordered isn’t here, and I kind of don’t want to go out without it just yet.

And—I don’t know, guys. Sorry. I’m feeling really off. I’m just doing the ‘swore-I-wouldn’t-minutiae-out’ thing to make sure I actually keep in the writing habit. I think I’m just going to go play my JRPG some more. I’m getting suspicious of the plot progression.
inlovewithwords: (bound to write)
One of my friends has termed this storm ‘The Little Blizzard that Could.’ I’ll second this. My idea of blizzards, based entirely on my first three years here in New England, is of sheets of white and almost no visibility.

This one isn’t so much that, but it also isn’t in the swells and ebbs of those storms. It’s fairly constant, however. One of my roommates complained that the hard part was walking into the wind and the inability to see past his glasses. So roads are shut down, the world is going quiet, and all my roommates are in the living room and we’re just sitting all quietly.

I’m feeling under the weather (as it were), though. I’m not sure why.

Sorry, guys. This is not helping my vow to do this, I know. But I honestly can’t focus right now.

(Sadly, the roads closing did keep my ear-warming-headband thing from delivering today. Naturally it just missed the storm. Bah.)
inlovewithwords: (Wal-Mart)
Well then.

I am still lacking in inspiration, so I suppose I can spend some time today on tabletop campaigns. My house was supposed to play host to two campaigns, one Dresden Files and one Laundry Files. Sadly, I am/was the GM for the first one. That one had all three of my then-current roommates as players, although one moved away before we got started, and he Skyped in. I had a really bad fall that time, though, so that fell through. One day I’ll plot enough to do that properly. Bah, humbug.

(‘Skyped.’ ‘Googled.’ Once upon a time it was ‘phoned,’ I’m sure. Developments in the English language are fascinating, even if some of them make me want to kill people.

Playing at preventing Cthulhu summonings in Her Majesty's Occult Secret Service )

Cookies to the one who guesses which I play—but store-bought, it ain’t hard.
inlovewithwords: (bound to write)
Things to stop doing: hallucinating writing this already due to some form of sleep oddity. Ugh.

As sure as I am of this, I am equally sure my accidental strategy of the day—‘stay awake to offset the oversleeping’—is almost certain to fail horribly. It usually does.

Unfortunately, of course, this leaves me with even less to say to the world today than yesterday. I suppose if I were more on top of my reading, literature and politics both, I wouldn’t have nearly as much of a problem with this as I am having right now. Such is life, however. (Arguably, ‘such is my lack-thereof.’) Either way, hopefully this will be over (until the next run-around through it…) within a few days.


My predictability aside, hopefully the advent of a blizzard this weekend (assuming it is that, I remain skeptical) will inspire enough creativity for me to actually write anything, let alone anything worthwhile.

So I think I’m out for now. It’s better than grasping at straws, neh?
inlovewithwords: (bound to write)
Huh. I thought I had this written, and then it turned out I hadn’t. I suspect falling asleep before writing it and then hallucinating that I wrote it to be the culprit here.

Unfortunately, not a lot happened today... )

Sorry today’s post is a little minutiae-full and not as interesting as I’d like it to be. I guess it’s just kind of what happens when a day somehow vanishes without my understanding quite how.

(Side note: I am working to become a mastermind.)
inlovewithwords: (collide)
Remember how I said the hard part was going to be keeping things up after that initial spike? I know myself pretty well. I’m starting to run into that problem, at least a little bit. Luckily I am still capable of forcing myself to write, even when my brain starts spouting things like “Eh, it’s all right, just take it easy and you’ll make up the words tomorrow.”

Of course, it’s not about full count of words, it’s about regularity. Getting that idea through my head will be hard. Maybe I’ll learn to stop procrastinating, though. That would be helpful for going back to school.

About that mandolin thing... )

Tomorrow, with any luck, I will have news of music and/or volunteer-sign-up responses. For now, let’s see if I can scrounge up something my stomach and brain will allow me to eat and then I will go smash cute Ghibli animated animals in the face. With a vengeance.

(Also, I need to straighten out my sleep. After mandolin and volunteer emails are sent, that’s next.)
inlovewithwords: (bound to write)
Apparently ‘per day’ means ‘per sleep cycle,’ due to the bizarreness of how my sleep is currently functioning. Then again, I’m not entirely sure when it has been regular any time in the last… what, two years, probably more? Maybe ever. I really do need to do something about this.

Most of my non-cleaning-time today was spent playing Ni no Kuni some more. It remains the epitome of A Tales-x-Pokémon game as done by Studio Ghibli, or else An Interactive Studio Ghibli movie as presented by Namco (à la Tales-x-Pokémon). Either way, it remains highly entertaining and, rather shockingly, non-trivial. Battles seem to remain interesting and difficult for longer periods of time. Not only that, but resources seem rarer and more expensive, and money isn’t as powerful as I’m quite used to/would like. All in all it’s really being a wonderful playing experience—and to think I’ve got… probably at least another four major dungeons left to go. It’s exciting.

I will be off at an open mic thing tonight, and as most of yesterday was spent asleep/feeling sick/etc, with some gaming thrown in, I will have another entry up once I have slept and had another ‘day.’

(Sadly, my schedule and the world’s are not aligning well yet. I’m working on it.)
inlovewithwords: (shooting stars)
I was going to be far more competent with the entry-writing today than I am, and technically it’s the third and I’m therefore late, but it turns out that I was up until 06:30 this morning thanks to roommate rambling about the current LARP and then just came home from ten hours out with Araeph at The Hobbit and then dinner and drinks and endless conversation. I have therefore resigned from proper functionality or competence. Between not as much food as I should have had, two sidecars, some scotch, the cold, and much squee, my brain is frankly just not up to deep and serious introspection or whatever else I had planned.


It's like being Sheridan, only with justification! )

…Okay then. I am off to eat a slice of pie, have some scotch and then a cup of tea.

(I. Need. The Hobbit. Soundtrack.)
inlovewithwords: (Default)
In the trivial-minutiae update: Sleep schedules are really, really hard to manage. Blah.

To pick up where I left off yesterday... )

I still needed one other push to actually start this journal-blog-attempt, though. More on that—well, maybe not tomorrow. Tomorrow might be drowned in chatter about The Hobbit. We’ll see.

*This is a split infinitive I'm okay with using. I feel like I'll eventually end up doing a rant on this subject. Why, brain, why.
inlovewithwords: (collide)
My name is Lee, and this is my life.

(This is why I shouldn’t throw myself whole-heartedly into fandom: I pick up syntax. Once, when I was young, I watched the horrific old BBC versions of Narnia—yes, buck-toothed Lucy. My mother insists I spoke in a British accent for weeks. I’ll stop after this one, promise. Okay, realistically, probably not. But I’ll try.)

This idea has been kicking around in my head for a long time... )

Stay tuned for more tomorrow.
inlovewithwords: (Default)
Having had an hour or two on my hands, I decided to do a bit of singing, and on a whim recorded. And re-recorded ad nauseum. I'm still not entirely happy, but they'll do.

"Mal's Song," Firefly filk, by Michelle Dockrey

Online recording software >>

"Come by the Hills" by Loreena McKennitt, Take One: a l'alto

Audio and voice recording >>

"Come by the Hills" by Loreena McKennitt, Take Two: a la soprano

Audio and voice recording >>
inlovewithwords: (Default)
Barely twenty-four hours into this new resolution, I can already tell what the main problem with this whole endeavor will be. Like I said, I’m bad at following through on projects. The past forty-eight to seventy-two hours have been the out-pouring of creativity and obsessive-compulsive organizing behavior that precedes this. I am willing to bet very good money that it will dry up within the next couple days again. But I’ll try to keep it up this time. Hopefully it won’t just be me dashing to post the first thing on my mind, or hysterics or random (and possibly unmerited) gleefulness. I’d kind of like this to be worth it. It’s an odd feeling, to say the least.

Hmm. I was about to type ‘maybe if I get badgered about it by people, I will keep it up this time.’ But that’s actually the wrong approach, isn’t it? This needs to be for me. It doesn’t stop me from hoping other people will enjoy it, of course. I like entertaining and informing and educating, assuming I know enough to educate.

The other, very real danger with all this is that I might do an outpouring of material, saved on my computer, and then decide to post that ‘instead of writing that day’ due to having a backlog. So, I am going to set some ground-rules:
  • Each day will have new writing, at least a hundred words, preferably closer to five hundred.
  • If I think I may develop an overabundance of backlog posts, I will begin writing down ideas, but not write out the entry itself. If I lack material for that day, I will post that instead.
  • If I feel, for some reason, that I have something which must go up sooner rather than later, I am allowed two (max three) entries for the day, bar emergency needs.
  • I am allowed to schedule posts as I feel the need to talk about them, but make myself pace things.
  • I may use a separate tag for such extra posts, to distinguish from the daily entries.
  • Every week I will post a ‘fractal image of choice’ or maybe a song/CD/whatever.
  • I feel something is really too private, I won’t feel obligated to post it. If I do post, though, I will not, absolutely will not be afraid to say what is on my mind (bar some allowance for discretion).
  • Corollary: I will try not to have knee-jerk reactions. No promises.
  • If I really feel the need for some emotional release, I will actually do so.
  • After the initial post or two to set the tone, I promise I’ll use cuts. Non-scout’s honor.
You have been given fair warning. Will you follow me into this attempt to find some order in the chaos, while letting it flow free?

Finally, if anyone wants to point me to places for awesome icons, make/find me a pretty profile layout, and/or suggest/make/whatever a good journal layout (though I’m fond of the one I have), I’d love that.

(I think I successfully avoided split infinitives in this post! I am so happy.)

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