4-25-10                 3:12pm

Society has failed to program me correctly. I’m missing essential code.

4:10pm

Spike in anxiety. Trouble breathing. When is it my turn? I’ve asked this before. When do they call our the guard for me and the guard actually comes and helps?

Just got a text from J- (no doubt a mass message) about FC being at BSL and being lonely, a request for calls and visitors. I’m so sick of being expected to help people! The last time I was in the hospital for a month I made it clear I wanted no random visitors. No extra stress. But my group didn’t even get me a card. J’s response when I asked why – they (whoever they is) figured I wouldn’t want it. What? Just because I can’t stand seeing you face to face it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate some show of support. The only message I got of appreciation on Wednesday was Angel’s status update that came to my phone & woke me up. I saw some ladies in  Tio Leo’s with roses. When I asked why, they confirmed the text. It was Secretaries’ Day. Admin Professionals’ Day. Whatever you want to call it. Last year I bought Mags flowers for it. Nobody remembers.

Do me a favor? When you get an email or text or letter from someone you don’t absolutely hate, SEND ONE BACK! (big sigh) And if you hate them, send a message back to say that. For me, not hearing anything back is brutal. I know people are busy – (breathing heavy) You may not know the effort it took to write and send out, how many hours of deliberation and thought, how many sessions of therapy it came up in. You don’t know. And if you do, why wait? It’s just mean. I don’t understand.

I’m waiting on a response from 2 people. One of them I sent of a letter of support she requested about something that happened a few weeks ago. She knows this letter was hard for me. I told her. The event kept playing in my head. It terrified me. I conquered the letter. I’d appreciate a response. You know? The second person I’m not sure I’ll ever get a response from.

Solitary confinement in prison would kill me.

4-24-10                 3:30am

Do you ever sit next to someone and you really want to just hug them but you can’t?

I don’t like this habit of crying in my kitchen at night. Last night I sat next to S- and I needed him so much. But I didn’t say it. I don’t want to scare him. I think I already have and I’m sad. I’m more sad that I’m crying alone in my kitchen.

J- went on this diatribe tonight about how I should back off and not scare S- away with expectations and future thoughts. Scare him away? He couldn’t BE more away. I know. I’m scary. I get it. I can’t be any less me. I don’t send him tons of emails. I rarely text or call. I don’t understand. What is so wrong about pursuing something or someone that brings me comfort? I’m not contagious. I’m not toxic.

Listening to others and their fears messes me up. I’m trying really really hard to appear as needless as possible, but I’m not. I’m extremely lonely…

5:39am

Yes, I’m still up. I’m feeling desperate. Damn birds are starting to chirp. Thankfully, my rain gutter hasn’t coughed up any more dead ones.

What is it that school was trying to prepare me for? Or us? What I use are my writing skills, my ability to convince people to do things, my networking savvy, and my creativity. Occasionally I use math. The rest is useless to me. Except the theater and choir, but that’s not academic. Is the goal to teach you how to learn? (light bulb) No. It’s to teach you how to blindly follow, with a few facts thrown in along the way. The higher up you go in academia the closer you get to the levels where people question why they follow but they still do. Who teaches how to lead and how to lead leaders?

Like I said, I’m still up. I need people. And I need some movement. Walking today felt great. Sleep is impossible with the birds. And Daylight Savings? That’s Darkness Stealing Time for me.

I have nothing to do AND IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS! Yes, I need to do the post-work from the NAMI Walk. Not urgent. Have a paper to edit for a friend – not sure why. Also not urgent. What IS urgent is my restless uneasiness. I don’t want to sleep. I want to scream. I want to be comforted. I want to kick something.

I don’t want to go to the event in 7 hours. Officially 2 hours (which turns into 5) at a buffet whose food I don’t really like with people I try to avoid. The smart ones aren’t going. They realize the set-up, but it’s my event. I have to be there. Self-imposed rule. Last time it was awful. But it’s the only thing I have this weekend.

6:15am

I lay in bed and start to pray and my first thought to God is, “I’m so sorry.” I don’t’ know what for but I’m so very sorry. It’s like the process from Avoidance. If there is a cause and effect for everything this feeling has a cause. But I don’t know what it is. And therefore I can’t fix it. But I feel very guilty.

Neediness is insipid. I don’t know what that means right now but it feels like the right word. It’s mere existence sabotages you. Not the need for an outfit or a head of lettuce. Emotional need. I need someone. But the fact that I need someone makes someones not want me, which makes me more needy. I can’t not need, but I can’t look for people when I need them. It’s too late. And the friends I make when I’m not needy aren’t equipped to or don’t want to deal with the need.

10:50pm

Insipid isn’t right. It’s the “in” word that means self-defeating vicious cycle.

4-24-10                 2am

If I’m hopeful or happy, just be happy for me. It took a long time to get here and it’s fragile. I don’t want or need your advice or predictions of doom or warnings. They fuck with my head. Even if I don’t agree they stick.

And when I’m not happy, just be my friend. I don’t need my problems solved. I just need you to listen, or a hug, or someone to sit with. (close my eyes) Just a friend.

I really need a friend tonight. I’m writing about advice while fighting with my mom, whom I rarely understand. My “friends” are all in some sort of crisis or otherwise unavailable, unhelpful or asleep. I feel alone. —

I sat at the OCD group tonight, which was particularly odd, and thought, “I am surrounded by crazy people.” I don’t want to be.

I’m finding it harder to have hope and be happy than to function depressed. And I say that because people don’t like happy people. Even I don’t usually like happy people. But I don’t try to burst their bubble when I meet them. It’s like there’s a hope-intolerance. There are still people whose joy I can’t take, whose hope makes me sick. But I don’t think I’m one of those people. I’m kind of in between. I’m a person who understands the depths of suffering and now feels hope in the suffering but is not yet through it.

And I am quick to point out the bullshit and to simplify. I have no desire to dance around the truth most days and I don’t appreciate people lying to me. Just say it. Whatever it is, just say it. And if you can’t, say that. This Green Peace guy stopped me on the way to choir the other day and I kept asking what he wanted me to do. He kept on with his plug. Finally, he said he wanted a monthly donation. He could’ve saved us both time and energy had he just said that to begin with. People seem to lack the ability to answer a question directly. And it drives me fucking nuts. I’m a writer. I appreciate flowery language. But I despise unnecessary crap. (sigh)

Life is like a live interview on CNN. You don’t get a do-over, 30 million people are watching and you have to make due with the question you’re given in a short amount of time. Sure you can bullshit your way around it, but why? Answer the damn question.

(sigh) I’m so tired. Oh, and answer it correctly with accurate information that makes sense. (roll my eyes) What a novel idea.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

4-24-10                 1:07am

I just turned the tv off. Mom’s playing Chinese checkers on the computer. I’m sick of people giving me advice, of telling me not just what to do but what not to. The person who gave me a ride home tonight asked about S—. He listened for a bit, then gave me a long explanation of what I shouldn’t do and how he doesn’t understand why all people don’t function like he does. Blah blah blah. I did not solicit this advice nor do I want or appreciate it.

I don’t know where people get off thinking my sharing is equivalent to giving them permission to tell me what to do and tell me all of their largely unrelated examples. If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, just shut up.

It’s a group rule at DBSA that we don’t give advice unless someone asks for it or you ask first. It’s just courtesy. More people need to learn the art of listening. I may know the solution to someone’s problem, but that doesn’t mean they want to know, or that they want me to tell them, or that it’s even appropriate for me to get involved.

There are two things in particular I do not want unsolicited advice on. 1) Relationships. Just don’t. 2) My Health. 99.9% of the population has nothing that could remotely help me, no knowledge that even approaches what I need.

And if you don’t want to know, don’t ask. Okay? Yes, I’ve lost a lot of weight. No, I’m not on a diet. And no, I don’t want to hear your diet stories, or why I shouldn’t eat ice cream and ramen, and how salt makes you bloated, or how your cousin’s 4^th ex-wife’s best friend’s brother found some magic healing food in Africa. I don’t care. It’s too much information. Just because you covet losing weight doesn’t mean it’s a good thing for me. I’m grateful to look healthy and be thinner, but I lost the weight because I’m sick.

Resist the urge to ask. Ask yourself first, “Do I really want to know?” I’m almost sure the answer is no. If not you can send me an email. But for most people that’s a good enough description. I’m sick. Period. If you ask me my symptoms, you will be overwhelmed and I in turn will feel shitty. For now, I’m just sick. I can live with that…

My Advice:

Please, think before giving advice. It can really change a life.

4-23-10                 5:38pm

I found out something today that makes me angry, shakes me to my core. It’s hard to breathe. I am freezing on this bus.

I talked to Jane today. Called to tell her about life. I haven’t talked to her since December. And my illness came up. And she said she doesn’t understand why my mom always refused to have my dad’s blood tested for HD. What? I’m sorry, what? The first time Jane mentioned anything of that nature to me was last summer, but apparently it’s been a topic for several years. She even gave my mom the paperwork. (Breathe…)

That woman, my mother, watched me struggle last year with that decision. Trying to get information, to get connected with the right people. And all the while she had what I needed. I asked her today why she never even bothered to tell me. “I got rid of them. You decided you didn’t want to,” she said.

Fucking Bitch. I am shocked and hurt and angry. Her inability to deal with change should not affect my access to information or interfere. I’m pissed. I don’t want or need to be protected and I would appreciate it if she would just realize that.

She had the papers. She held the power. But she made it another secret, another lie. I’m so sick of this shit.

Jane said they (the doctors) dropped the ball with me. Heck ya. That’s an understatement. But it’s not her fault. I’ve heard some of the shittiest non-explanations from doctors. That I should stop eating ramen because it’s poison. That it’s all in my head. That if I go to the gym for 2 hours every morning or stop staying up all night or am just happy that it will all go away. That I’m just a complicated case. Sometimes it’s just silence. They don’t call me back, forget who I am or dread seeing me. They don’t want my ideas. The woman who told me ramen was poison accused me of wanting to be sick. What? They didn’t drop the ball. They just lost it. And every time they find it they hide it somewhere else. I don’t want to look at this today. Let’s stash it in the closet.

Yesterday I had a good day. Today was okay. I was even happy when I got off the phone. But I was hungry and trapped in my house and my mind. And it hit me what she’d said and a few other things. I feel very agitated and anxious. I screamed at a stack of papers and threw them across the room. Then I walked a mile to catch a bus. Now I’m going to be late. (sigh)

I don’t understand. Talking to this person I love so much almost always upsets me… I feel sad. She is one of those people from the “What is love?” post that I travel thousands of miles just to be near. If I were nearer, I’m sure I’d have an answer by now.

4-23-10                 2:23am

I had a rough night tonight. Wonderful but difficult. Today I nailed jelly to a tree, which I was quite happy about. On cloud 9. I got dressed up for the screening tonight, the West Coast premiere of “The Misunderstood Epidemic: Depression,” a documentary made by my good friend Susan Polis Schutz. I was excited to see Stan. He makes me happy and I got to sit next to him. There was mingling and food. I felt at home.

The documentary was great. It was powerful. Almost too powerful. I think it was one of the longest 52 minutes of my life. Not because it was bad but because it was a trigger. It covered every aspect of depression and families and treatment and life. I was caught off guard by the very small part I had in it, not by what I said by what I looked like. I’ve lost a significant amount of weight since it was filmed last year and I just felt fat and really ugly. And really glad that’s not me anymore.

My body was hurting. I needed to stand up and stretch but I really couldn’t so I squirmed around in my seat. When it was over they went straight into the panel, which was equally as exciting and triggering. My heart was racing and I kept zapping and jerking and shaking. My anxiety was so high. I took a Xanax and brought out the Play-Doh. It was comforting when Stan said he loves the smell of Play-Doh. Me too. I just needed to get out of there. I needed a hug and someone’s shoulder to put my head on. It’s a lot.

I’m home now. My heart beats slightly slower but not much, because when we got home my mom started searching for the tapes of Susan’s interviews with us. She couldn’t find those interviews but she found the DVDs of the 3 hour group I led that was taped for the film. And she put the first DVD in. I didn’t want to see it. I still don’t. But I sat there to watch. (breathe…) It’s too much. Too real. There isn’t a pill or a teddy bear that can take that away. No amount of hours on FB or scoops of chocolate ice cream. No amount of fantasy can make that go away.

I love that I’m good at what I do. I love that I’ve made a name for myself in the mental health community. People know who I am and what I do and I’m respected. I feel honored to know the people at the top of the game and to call them my friends and partners in crime. But that doesn’t mean I want to be there. I don’t WANT to have these diseases. I don’t WANT to know almost everyone in that film and their story and where they’re sitting and why they’re crying. It’s painful. I don’t want to know that in me. I just want someone to hold me.

Tonight I end a very good day feeling sad. And that’s okay. I just need someone to feel sad with. OCD group tomorrow night. 16 hours away. (deep breath) I’ve got to find something to do that’s out of my kitchen and not work. Gosh, it’s cold.

I’m grateful tonight for getting to spend time with Stan and for Susan’s premiere being a success, for getting to meet her daughter and see her son again and meet his partner. I’m grateful for awesome free food and FB. I need to sleep. This picture’s of me and Stan tonight.

Me & Stan at the screening tonight

4-21-10              1:38am

Something strange happened the other night. I’ve been having religious experiences. Some might call them psychotic but I don’t think they are. I’ve been getting messages from all sorts of things – songs, movies, people. It’s not like the movie is telling me to go do something. But there are lessons I’m learning in many things. And the other night I sat down to write about love and this song was suddenly very strong in my head. The chorus played over and over:

I will praise You in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I couldn’t write. I was laying on my mom’s bed and I could feel and see the outlines of people or spirits standing around the bed. Not good spirits though, evil ones or demons. I was scared. Then I saw these little demon fairies flying all around my legs and slicing them up. I couldn’t feel it, just see their energy. Naturally, this freaked me out. And I couldn’t think of a single person to call. If I called my doctor he’d tell me I was psychotic. If I called KLOVE, they’re in the middle of a pledge drive and I’d get a phone bank person. It was really late so I didn’t want to wake up Ken. So I prayed. And I cried. And the song continued to play. And then the evil spirits faded and to my right God or Jesus was standing there. He was like the spirits, invisible but I could feel Him. And I reached my hand out and laid it on the bed next to Him. I felt warm and safe. The evil spirits were still there but the fairies were gone and I wasn’t afraid. And ever since then He’s been following me. I feel him with me wherever I go. I don’t know what it means but I know it’s not a bad thing. And I don’t think I’m psychotic. I told Ken today (my choir director who’s also a pastor) and he said, “God’s got your back.” Lol. I’d thought that too. (weary smile)

Has God ever followed you?

4-14-10                 2:18pm

I see this image in my head of S- and I on opposite sides of a glass wall each with one hand stretched out, palm to palm. It’s as if we’re in adjacent exhibits at the zoo, two close yet very separate worlds. The glass is what protects us but what keeps our hearts broken. If it shattered, the world might just die. Nothing would be right, even though right is so wrong…

I have such a deep compassion for S-. I have watched through the glass for so long this quiet suffering. He is broken but I’m not sure he sees his beauty. He said my summary was harsh today when I said I like him a lot and I have for a long time but I know I can’t have him because he’s not there. I didn’t mean for it to be. He said, “My heart is not mine to give.” Someone really hurt him. That makes me sad. I know that he has to discover the beauty in himself but I wish I could help ease the pain.

I’m really glad I gave him that note today. I really have nothing to lose. Only a friend to gain. I’ll see him again on Saturday.

1-25-10                 1:41pm

…But what I said to him about relationships was followed by, “And I hate myself anyway.” I stopped. I really do hate myself. I hate how I feel. I hate my body. I feel dirty. I hate that old men are attracted to me and I let them be. I hate that I know I don’t deserve a good guy my own age. I hate that my body doesn’t work and that even when it does I’m too ashamed and too tired to use it. I am the crazy cat lady, the librarian, the one with all the love and information who goes to the prom alone and dances with no one, who gets LEFT at the formal and lied to, who stays after so late at school that she’s paged multiple times over the intercom because she doesn’t want to go home.                                Like Vickie…

“Alyssa Lies”

I hate walking outside the lines because there’s no one safe to walk with me. Little pieces of me I leave behind. Soon I’ll just be a hologram. Still walking, alone at night on an endless freeway, just right of the line. The sun comes up, sun goes down. Still walking. It just doesn’t end. I keep thinking maybe the next exit will work. It doesn’t. I sit down sometimes. People ask, “Why are you sitting on the freeway? Are you crazy? That’s dangerous.” I know. Call me crazy if you want. I’m just tired. Now leave me alone.

I watch the ants and the cars and the silence. The people as they fly by. The angry ones in traffic. Does it really matter that you’re late? And they think I’m crazy, walking step by step down an endless freeway that they probably never stopped to look at.

Don’t get me wrong. There are breaks. There is the ride to the restaurant from the farmer, the new pair of shoes, a night of dancing. And there are the nights I run as fast as I can to get away and scream and cry and cry out to God, “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME? WHY CAN’T YOU FIX IT?” But in the end I just keep walking because there’s nothing else to do.

“I’m All Alone” – Spamalot

I was thinking this night of what I do and don’t have to give, what it is that I bring to the table in a relationship.

Excerpt from journal entry

12-29-09               11:57pm

…

What I do have/can give:

I have passion and the ability to listen. I am honest, almost always. I am loyal and I give myself. Really, it’s all the I have to give. I am broken and I appreciate the brokenness of others. And I want them to appreciate me.

I am smart and crazy and moody and wild. I get angry and people bug me. I can appear to be happy and be dying inside. And I often won’t tell you unless you ask. Sometimes not even then.

I am not generally a happy person these days. I have a lot of things on my mind. I’m often quiet. I do what I have to and I help a lot of people. But I don’t get the help.

I long to be held, to have someone to be quiet with. I want to have someone, a friend, who’s good at listening, who I don’t have to carry. A give and take. A respect, loyalty. Someone I don’t have to hide from. Someone who doesn’t hide from me.

I see other people who have versions of this. It’s like the poem I can’t find about the girl who walks outside in the rain watching families through the windows. I don’t want to watch anymore. It’s painful. I want to take part in life. I want to experience life and love.

–

I’m tired. I’m fucking tired. I’m fucking tired of feeling lonely. Tired of pain. Tired of flying solo, doing things on my own. Stan was right tonight. You can have the best psychiatrists and therapists in the world but without a friend, you (and I) have nothing.

I wrote these rules back in September. There are many of them I don’t subscribe to anymore and fight actively every day, but these are the rules that make up the foundation to who I am and why I do what I do.

9/12/09

Rules About How the World Works

• Trust no one.
• No one is safe.
• Everyone wants something from you.
• You will lose everything.
• You deserved none of it.
• No one can save you, not even God.
• Only you can save yourself and usually even you can’t.
• People die.
• Don’t get attached (or attacked).
• You are not now and will never be good enough. Yet you will spend your life trying to be perfect.
• No one really cares about you.
• Get over it.
• It’s always your fault.
• You are not allowed to get angry or say “No.” You are a bad person if you do this.
• Taking care of you should be avoided at all cost. Others are more important. You can wait.
• Men are evil and unsafe, the root of the world’s problems.
• You should always be (or appear) happy. It’s not okay to feel bad. Depression is a sin. So is anger.
• Never question the preacher, teacher, person of authority. They are RIGHT, whether they are or not.
• It’s my responsibility to deal with the victim but I’m not allowed to confront the attacker. (helping & helpless)
• It’s not okay to have my own opinion if it’s different than hers or theirs.
• If I speak out or stand up for myself, I will lose everything. (Mom)
• As long as I please people I will be safe and feel love, be treated well.
• I’m only worthy if I am successful and important, have power.
• People hate needy people.
• Being “needy” is not okay.
• Most people really don’t care about me.
• Money CAN buy a little happiness and a LOT of power.
• Without money, you are nothing and no one.
• People are often much happier knowing nothing or next to nothing about you than the truth.
• There are no atheists in foxholes.
• Church can be Heaven or Hell depending on who’s preaching and who’s singing.
• Take everything free you can get, even if you don’t need it.
• Never pass up a sale.
• Always answer the phone.
• It’s okay to be late as long as you apologize profusely and bring food.
• Pretending to love someone you hate is very difficult. Pretending to hate someone you love is even harder.
• You can’t buy your way into or bribe a true friendship.
• It is possible to say “I love you” too much.
• Keep your emergency info in order.
• Pay attention to your receipts.
• Shred everything.
• Keep everything you don’t shred or throw out. Even if you don’t want it now, you might in 10 years.
• The holidays suck. Spend them sleeping, dancing or doing something you enjoy.
• There is no such thing as a happy family.
• Never buy milk for $2 when you could drive halfway across town & get it for $1.99.
• I am never equal, either above or below another person, or often just separate.
• I have no control over other people, but what they do greatly affects me.
• Red nail polish & lipstick are reserved for hookers. (Mom & Estergren)
• High heels are for adults-only.
• Sex is nasty and evil.
• A dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s. (Grandma)
• Be tough. Don’t cry.
• Your opinion doesn’t matter.
• You don’t count.
• Christmas & birthdays are about the presents & guilt.
• Work the system until you get what you want. If it won’t give, find another system.
• You don’t deserve to have what you want so hold on tight before you lose it.
• I am entitled to greatness, the very best & nothing less.
• Being crazy gives me meaning.
• I was put on this Earth for a purpose.
• God is testing me with this suffering to teach me something.
• I am damaged.

It is easier for me to believe that I’m damaged and there must be something horribly wrong with me than to acknowledge that the world is out of my control and I am powerless to stop it.

• Skinny is good & fat is bad, but skinny is mean and fat is happy.
• You can never be thin enough.
• My heartbeat will always be there for me.
• Doctors are not usually all that brilliant or even nice.
• Assuming people care about you or expecting them to is dangerous.
• Take chances and risks, but know that you WILL get burned.
• The safe way is not always the fun or right way to go.
• You can do anything you want, as long as you can keep a secret.
• Become good at lying. You’ll need it.
• Go straight to the top. Don’t bother with the middle men. They just bullshit you and make your life Hell.
• Children learn what they live.
• There’s always someone watching or listening.
• There are people out there you don’t even know who know you and like you more than you like yourself. (OC Fair girl)
• Always use a coupon.
• If your food is bad, send it back.
• Don’t expect anyone to know what you want or need. Tell them.
• Music heals.
• So does dance.

4-11-10                 4:57am

Do you ever get lost in a project? So close to the end but you just can’t finish? And you’re really not sure just what the project is?

I don’t know what I sat down to do tonight. I got up yesterday around 4pm, took a nap at 6. I think I got online to pay a bill after midnight, which I’ve yet to do, but somehow that led me into cleaning off my table, sorting papers. So in the past few hours I’ve cleared off most of my table, which means it actually looks worse than it did to start with. Before there were neat piles. Now it’s just a mess. Halfway through I decided I needed a sticker chart for paying bills so I played around in Excel for awhile and made one. I’ve had my iTunes on shuffle. There is no better way to confuse my emotions than to shuffle. “For Good” from Wicked came on and caught my attention, so I listened to the Wicked soundtrack. Beforehand I had felt pretty good but after that cd I just felt shitty. So I went back to shuffle, which was worse. So now I’m on Disney music, which is better. And I have a confusing mess on the table, another box of now organized things I still don’t know what to do with.

As I look around I see SO many things to do. I’m rather convinced it will never all be done. And I think that’s good cuz it’s stuff I don’t want to do. And in every pile there are memories, some that surprise me with their goodness, others I’d rather stay forgotten. In this process D- IMed me on FB. Her dad died tonight, which reminded me of when my dad died. Also something I’d like to forget.

I LOVE “Shrek Dance Party!” Lol. Sorry, distracted by music. :)

I’m really good at organizing and coming up with creative solutions to things. But less so when I’m completely surrounded by the things I’m supposed to organize and tied in by so many rules. The simpler rules are things like having to keep bank and credit card statements and medical bills for x number of years. The more complicated ones are about things I’m supposed to read or should read or want to do something about, fortunes from fortune cookies, anything given to me, things with memories attached to them, things I may EVER be able to use in the future or that might help someone else. I have boxes of things to give away, but I haven’t given them away. They just sit there… (sigh) Grrr… And now it’s after 5am, I’m exhausted, surrounded by projects and overwhelmed by the idea of them.

Goal – talk to Jim this week about hoarding and OCD. I should email him in case I forget or avoid the topic. (sigh) It makes me angry to have this issue. WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I GET RID OF STUFF? Or just stop acquiring it? I know I learned the behavior and most of the rules from my mom, but it wasn’t always this way and I don’t know when it started. At least it wasn’t always this bad… I’m ashamed of it. My mom doesn’t like inviting people over. Other people seeing my house and all my stuff doesn’t bother me. I don’t care what THEY think. I care what I think. It’s more of feeling like I’ll never be free from it than that other people will hate me for it. They can leave. I LIVE here. I live with myself.

God, I miss the Main Street Electrical Parade… :) Now THAT’s a good memory.

4-7-10              2am

My mind is like a chameleon – the reptile kind. Whatever I see or hear just plays over and over until something else replaces it. Words, thoughts, music, images, colors. I only have MY thoughts in certain environments. It’s weird.

Like when I go to Bing Crosby’s and have jazz music surrounding me, my OWN thoughts come out loud and clear. It’s amazing. But step outside and they’re gone.

I cut out an Oprah quote that says, “Alone time is when I distance myself from the voices of the world so I can hear my own.” It’s so true. When I’m alone, I can hear myself think better. I went in the grocery store tonight to get 4 things. I came out with about 8. Pretty good for me. But I was talking to myself almost the whole time, then trying to remind myself what I actually came in for. I kept catching myself actually talking out loud and stopping. But I’ve got to have someone to report all my thoughts to, even if it’s an imaginary person or the one behind me in line. However, the real ones rarely appreciate them.

Other places I think well are on the bus staring out the window, listening to my ipod, walking, and chatting with my friend Christy. In situations where it’s okay just to be me, whatever that means at the moment. Dark and brooding, super serious, happy, hyper, childish, intellectual. Whatever. I like not having to think about my thoughts before I say them…

I had a thought I was going to write down but now it’s gone. Got sucked up by the stream of distractions in front of me.

It’s different with the music though. When there’s not a constant source of external input it takes its own direction. It’s like streaming audio 24/7. Sometimes it’s like a radio station. Others it’s a small part of one song that plays over and over and over again. I can change the song for a short time some days but it usually migrates back to whatever it was playing. Now it’s “I Will Not Be Moved” by Natalie Grant, a song I absolutely love. However, it’s 2:30 in the morning and that song makes me hyper. Lol. My brain fails to take that into account.

Sometimes my mom will ask what I’m thinking or say, “Penny for your thoughts,” but she can never quite follow what I’m thinking. And I can never quite make it comprehendible to her. At any given moment I could be thinking about printer paper, life insurance, pencil lead, and the meaning of life or school lunches, roadways, and shoe box organization at Target. You never know. It’s difficult and fun, like a puzzle, to try to track back to what it is that got me started thinking of those things. It’s such a long long journey. Lol. When I ask her the same thing she says, “Nothing,” or “I’m just tired,” or something similar. HOW CAN YOU BE THINKING NOTHING?! (sigh) That I do not understand.

Whatever. I’m tired. Chatting with Christy about cold toes, big dogs, and glowing boobs. I love my life. Lol. Goodnight.

PS – I also don’t think well “in the moment.” If you’re giving me a lot of information or telling me something important, my actual response you will probably receive in writing several hours or days later. I just need time to process. My brain doesn’t do real-time well.

I want to know what other kinds of ketchup there are. I don’t know of any OTHER than tomato ketchup, but all the bottles say “tomato ketchup.” I’ve heard of “Nomato ketchup,” which I just don’t understand, but it wouldn’t BE nomato ketchup if everything else didn’t say tomato. Have you ever heard of orange ketchup or kiwi ketchup? I really must know.

4/6/10                   3:03am

I realized this tonight, again. Modern expectations are insane. I was drinking milk from the container and my mom said to get a glass. “You should thank me,” I replied. “What?” “You’re the one who does the dishes.” If we used more of this logic, there would be much less to do.

I am a living testament. I drink from the carton. I reuse dishes. I lived in LA for 9 months and never once did dishes. I owned 4 cups and 2 plates. And I didn’t die. I don’t like soap. I avoid it whenever humanly possible. Don’t come NEAR me with anything resembling hand sanitizer. I don’t shower daily. I rewear my clothes. I eat what I’m hungry for when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m tired. I don’t diet or take fish oil or work out. I don’t wash my face with fancy potions. I don’t do any of that crap. And I’m not dead! And I rarely get sick! (Knock on wood.)

I may be ill but it’s not from behavior and I don’t have what everyone does all these things to avoid. I don’t have cancer, a cold or the flu. I don’t have food poisoning, salmonella or hepatitis. And no, I don’t wash my produce and I eat raw cookie dough. I do wear sunscreen, occasionally. I do nothing to my fingernails and they’re stronger than anyone’s I know. I’ll give you that my teeth are rotting. That is my fault. But for doing EVERYTHING wrong, I’ve turned out pretty right. I don’t even have allergies.

I say throw caution to the wind. Take a chance! Germs are your friends. I can’t imagine how much time and money I would waste if I did all these things, and how much worry I would gain. A set of ridiculous expectations.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

4/5/10                   2:32am

First the lid to the trash can next to me moved twice without me touching it, then a noise on the other side of my kitchen. I just went in the bathroom to trim my fingernail and the door was mostly closed. We don’t close the bathroom door when we’re not in it, my mom’s asleep, and I didn’t close it. This, of course, caused me to check the bathtub for monsters, intruders, serial rapists. You know, the standard. I wish my front door didn’t have a window. I’m always afraid people are watching me.

And tonight I’m afraid of the fucking dark – more than usual. Something’s not right…

I’m always afraid of the dark but usually things aren’t moving and out of place.

And I found TWO, count ’em TWO, dead baby birds on my front walkway today.

BAD omen in my book.

And one of them looked like it had swallowed a marble. Creepy.

And then there was the earthquake. Are these signs God forgot to warn us about in Revelation???

I’d LIKE to make a bagel but I’m afraid the sound of the microwave might mask another clue.

My friend says:

As an ex-witch… (leave that one alone)… I think that either is a really bad sign, or one of the neighborhood cats REALLY hates you!

The birds fall out of our rain gutters where they nest. I’d like to sleep but I’m seriously frightened.

But it’s not like I want to be AWAKE to confront whatever’s in my house. Not that I want to be asleep and helpless either…

(An hour later) I’m still hungry…

4/4/2010              6:09pm

Well, I’m sitting at Bing’s again. It feels like home to be back. The music melts my troubles away. Sorry it’s been so long. It’s been rough. But an earthquake has made my day wonderful.

I went to church with my mom this morning for Easter. I was upset by the program, bored by the sermon, and appalled by the music. The drama was great though. It’s your typical huge white conservative middle to upper class church with a few token blacks. I counted four today – the pianist, a soloist, an usher, and a driver/deacon. (deep breath)

We were going to go to Las Parillas for lunch but they were closed. Apparently Catholics celebrate Easter too. So we ended up at Applebee’s, and Applebee’s guy was there. Yeah. (The guy from “A New Low, or is it a High?”) However, we were not in his section. Damn. I gave our waiter a note to give to him. It said something close to:

A peanut butter sandwich cut in 4 pieces, French fries & a Diet Coke.

They will not spill the Coke. It’s too valuable. The fries will keep them at the table & they will have 4 chances to get something semi-nutritious in their mouth & not on the floor.

It was a response to a FB post of his 3 weeks ago about what to feed a retard – only I’m not his FB friend and he doesn’t know me. Then I left. I left no identifying information, just this mystery note. It was exciting, like a game, like a scavenger hunt. But I’m the only one playing.

By the time I got home I was convinced I’m a horrible person and that it was a stupid thing to do. Blah blah blah. Really it’s just Michelle thing to do. But I was exhausted and stuffed and laid down for a nap. I was awakened less than an hour later by an earthquake.

Now, nothing wakes me up. I haven’t awakened for an earthquake I think ever. This was a 7.2 centered a little over 100 miles away. Mom was on the phone. I said, “We’re having an earthquake.” “What?” “We’re having an earthquake.” “What?” “EARTHQUAKE.” Then started the show. Lol. She’s on the phone with my aunt screaming for me to get in the living room with her, then to get my shoes on, then to go outside. I’m just laughing. Really? Cuz shoes aren’t gonna save me from getting crushed and I certainly don’t want to be trapped next to the person who’s most likely to be rescuing me.

(S- needs some champagne. She’s nervous and off tonight. The noise of the bar is bothering me.)

When she dropped me off tonight Mom was scared there would be another earthquake and we would die apart. That’s sweet but unlikely. I was more afraid of dying last week than I am today. I have no regrets. I’m ready to go.

It’s funny because I’ve lived in California my whole life (that I can remember) and earthquakes don’t scare me. I think they’re cool. They fill me with awe and wonder and excitement. When things are crashing down around me I’ll be scared, but not now. It’s ironic because, no matter how long you’ve lived here, when the Earth starts to shake your first thought and sometimes question is, “Is this an earthquake?” I think it too. But there aren’t many other options.

A) Earthquake

B) Second coming of Christ

C) Really big monster dancing outside your window

Most likely A will always be your answer. You’re a liar if you claim you’ve ever been through a big one and not wondered about B. But we still ask, “What is that?”

When the shaking was over and the screaming stopped, the news and FB stream started. I could send a text during the quake but not for about 30 minutes after. Nor could I call another Verizon customer. But I could call land lines. I was excited. Adrenaline rush. A 7.2 quake is nothing to blink at. There was a small moment of fear, uncertainty, quickly followed by the knowledge that it is completely out of my control. But I don’t have to be scared. It doesn’t help. It’s not productive… …

Listening to this tonight is like sinking in quicksand. It’s bad. Mostly the mix. It also lacks energy. S- moved this weekend. I know she’s tired.

So I left a confusing note for Applebee’s guy and an earthquake made me feel better, I’m glad to be back at Bing’s and the sound is challenging me. I should get the results on my tests for Dr. L this week. We’ll see. I’m not dead yet. I walked out my front door to find two dead baby birds on my walkway. Pretty bad omen if you ask me. But that’s coming from a girl whose day was just brightened by

(There is it! The energy! It was the cheesiness of D- it so greatly needed.  And some awesome harmony. And some acapella.)

a natural disaster.

9:12pm

… I just feel calmly happy. I’m okay. I don’t need anything tonight. I can get food later. S’s drama is not my drama… I am attachment-free. I get to walk away from this. I get to go back to the drama I know, the drama that is uniquely mine. I close my eyes and just listen and breathe…

4/5/10                   1:17am

After the energy hit, the music was all uphill. I’m tired. I sent Applebee’s guy a FB message and ate some ramen. Did some planning tonight for an event in the works and a dream. It’s weird. Last week I thought I was dying and tonight I have more projects than I can handle. I also can’t stop feeling hungry and am craving El Pollo Loco. I hate that the jewelry box is paying for my vision. Optometrist tomorrow. No, I’m not pregnant. But my feet are super cold. Weird. Goodnight. –