I am the yellow clock

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6-5-11     11:12pm

I am afraid of this clock.
I found it staring up at me from a pile of magazine clippings.
This clock is my life.

I have no concept of time, which usually doesn’t bother me. But lately the things I have in place of numbers have fallen away and I am not able to navigate very well. My confusion is growing by the day, and I can’t process or remember things. I am so tired. I don’t know what’s going on.

I am the yellow clock.
My motor keeps on ticking, even though my hands are broken and my numbers have fallen away. I would buy it. The tick’s all I care about anyway. I don’t want to know what time it is.

Time increases my anxiety. You have to do this right away or that by tomorrow. Hurry up. Call him now. Answer the phone. Have you sent that email? Did you prepare for tomorrow? What’s tomorrow? I don’t even know today. And I don’t care about tomorrow. Can’t you see?

I don’t know what’s going on in my brain. Whatever it is is good at what it’s doing. Last year I thought I was gonna die, and I didn’t. But I’m not convinced that I’m here to stay. Or even if I am how much longer I will be Michelle. I’m scared because I don’t know it, I can’t control it and it won’t go away. It is slowly taking me.

The clock cannot fight the clock maker. I can’t even see what He’s doing. I just watch how it affects me. I once was an intelligent person. Now it’s a struggle to order dinner. I don’t understand things. My emotions are not in my control. I don’t read. I write when I can. And can is fading. I can’t remember. (staring…) Please.

I am the yellow clock.
If you find me please tell me what time it is and what that time means.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

I feel

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5-16-11       11:36pm

I feel so sad… Like I’m wearing a cape of sad. It’s gray and warm. It weighs me down. I have to carry it everywhere with me. Doesn’t carry it’s own weight.

I am so tired. Tired lives with sad. It comes in purple polka dots and rides along on the cape. It won’t let go. It won’t let go of me. It becomes part of the sad.

I am so angry. It sets my sad on fire but the tired puts it out. I’m afraid of my anger. It’s not afraid of me. It ravages me insides, takes my life. But all they see is sad & tired. It’s so important to me and nobody sees.

I need to take a class on anger. Not how to “manage” it but how to feel it. How to own that I’m angry and not have it eat me. How to coexist. How to do that.

I feel. I feel. I feel. (sigh)
Then I don’t.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Fucked-upness

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I used to want to be a therapist. But then I realized I’m too fucked up to be a therapist. But many of the fucked up people I know want to be therapists. Which makes me wonder just how many of our therapists are just well-dressed fucked up people with degrees. Which makes me wonder… I just want a therapist that is fucked up enough to know where I’m coming from but not enough to kill me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Soooo…

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3-29-11 11:43am

I know I haven’t blogged in forever. Sorry about that. My blog starts in my journal and there hasn’t been much I could put online.

I wanted to check in, let you know I’m not dead. I spent 3 weeks in the hospital trying to get my meds right. Still working on that. Not even close. Tweaking my list of diagnoses. Dealing with voices in my head, confusion, and big mood swings. Random happiness. I’m functioning more efficiently than a month ago… It’s not good.

I went to a clog convention this weekend that was a short reprieve from the madness, polka-dotted with madness. I’m so grateful for Scotty. And for learning I still can dance. Pain or not, it’s do-able. And I decided I should teach dance again and came up with this grand plan. I brainstormed all day and was so happy. And then I got home. And now none of it seems possible. I don’t understand. A friend wrote on my FB wall, “Michelle has returned from her alternate life on Planet Scotty to the real world on Planet Shit.” Exactly. It’s like detox.

My mom’s having surgery tomorrow. Instead of spending time with me she’s cleaning the house. What? She’s freaking out about it. My doctor told her I am NOT to take care of her.

(break for Mom to freak out in apology for something she didn’t do. I can’t take this. I feel like I’m gonna throw up. And I’m pissed.)

I went to my group last night. I just wanted to talk. Instead I facilitated the most intense group of my life. My stalker is back and came to my group. I also had a very manic guy. I’m really glad I had a good group there to help. I can’t do this. I am alone.

Right now I am supposed to be supportive and empathetic of my mom, productive for my choir and the group, and effective at taking care of myself. Well, I’m not. I’m angry and sad and completely NOT effective. My new med’s making me fat. And I don’t know what to do. It is simply too much.

Soooo… I stopped for a moment to pass you a note. (deep breath). Lady Gaga sings “Just Dance” behind me. You have no idea.

-Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Remember

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2-20-11                4:30pm

Some things should just stay forgotten. I found something today, something I didn’t remember existed. A book of notes from the cast of My Fair Lady. In it were so many memories and accolades, things I need to hear and things I wish I had never found. Not because they’re not wonderful but because they are too difficult to read. I miss that life. It was a very hard time for me but it was the best. It is so far away now. And I am not in the theater. And I’m not doing what I love. Yet it’s here, in this box, reminding me what I’m not. What I could be. What I was. What I don’t want to remember. It wasn’t all bad. I wasn’t all bad.

I don’t want to remember anymore.

M

I am not touched

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1/11/11 2:10am

I just got an email that says, “We have all been touched by the tragic event in Arizona.” (sigh… twice) I am so angry to keep hearing about this thing. I’ve been trying to lower my stress level. I get stressed very easily. Confused very easily. I had just succeeded in lowering my blood pressure to a non-explosive level and was calmly sitting in my aunt’s kitchen when she handed me the paper with the headline “Congresswoman Shot in the Head.” Really? I immediately could not breathe and my heart was pounding. Not because I care about this woman. It was an involuntary response. I skipped that article but read a tiny one about Obama and the whole Wikileaks thing. And I was so upset. Why? It’s all out of my control.

I’m not touched by the event in Arizona. I really don’t give a shit. The dj on the radio was freaking out about it, comparing it to the Kennedy assasination and 9/11. What? Do you not have anything better to worry about? Maybe something concerning your own life or family? Sure, I could be a news junky and devote my life to being distressed about every horrible thing in the world. But I prefer to spend my energy on doing things I enjoy and caring for people I love. Is that really such a bad thing?

I don’t watch the news. I don’t read the paper. If it’s really that important someone will tell me. I take a sweater and an umbrella if it’s cloudy. Everything else will settle on its own. Why can’t people understand that? Do not assume that I am touched.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

More about Jenga

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1/4/11     9:49pm

I saw Dr. T today. I made it through my appointment without crying. By the time I left, my lips and eyes were twitching, I was fighting my urge to vomit and couldn’t breathe. I took some Xanax, sat in the sun on his steps and sang “Lord, I Love You.” Then I got cinnastix from Pizza Hut and potato soup and salad from Outback. Then I went to sleep. I just woke up.

I texted S- earlier. She really sucks at empathy but it was nice to interact. I was gonna go to the cog lecture with M- but I need to knock myself out.

I didn’t go to Mom’s appointment today but I sent questions to ask the doc and notes. She’d told me there was a tear (singular) and I assumed this surgery would be simpler, less difficult to recover from. But she didn’t ask what her most recent MRI means ’til today. She has 4 tears again, like last time, but THIS time she may have “blown her bicep.” What? As well as redoing a more complicated version of last year’s surgery, he may have to “cut through and reroute” the muscle.

She didn’t seem concerned as she told me this. I stayed as calm as I could. I asked what happens if this doesn’t work, since she only has workman’s comp until August. She doesn’t know. (deep breath…)

I just sit here, not numb but not feeling, eating hot dogs, repulsed by the sound and light from the tv. Make it rain, please. I’m sleepy.

When the Jenga tower is falling, it’s scary. But once I’m on the ground in the rubble it doesn’t matter anymore. I just stare and wait. I texted S- earlier that I feel like my life is a Jenga game and someone just toppled the tower. She sucks at empathy. Kiwis in a shoe store is a lesson I never learn. She said, “Well then change it and don’t let anyone control the tower but you.” “I am the tower,” I said. “Well be the board too,” she replied. I don’t think she’s ever played Jenga.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Jenga: Life Edition

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1/4/11     3:24am

I keep thinking “I feel like I’m going crazy.” I know it’s a thought. I’m experiencing crazy.

Last night I slept in a chair in my living room. By 4am, several hours into an SVU marathon, I was so confused. I felt my eyes melt and roll down my face and was convinced the computer chair in the kitchen was going to kill me. It was safer just to sleep. I went to group tonight. I did pretty well except for not being aware enough of the people around me, which is something I’m usually good at. I expect decompensation in the winter and summer but I’m not sure how to combat it. Jenga explains everything.

If you’ve ever played Jenga you know there are 3 blocks at the base of that skinny tower holding everything up. The object of the game is to remove as many pieces as possible placing them on top to make it taller. Each of the other levels starts with 3 pieces too but the foundation is the most important. For me those blocks are Music, Safety/Food/Sleep, and Therapy.


If I don’t have the safety piece, music and therapy can still hold me up. But if music and therapy/support are out and it all rests on food & sleep, anything can topple the tower.

Right now the whole thing is teetering. I’m on the edge looking down. Don’t take that piece! But it’s scheduled to be taken the 19th, like wisdom teeth. And I don’t know what to do.

The blocks higher up in Jenga: Life Edition don’t seem equally as strong as the wooden ones.

(click)…

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Melting

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1-3-11     2:46am

My eyes
They melt & run down my face
Law & Order will not make me better
I feel confused, distracted
Stressed.

I feel so sad
So desperate & lonely
I miss S-
I need a hug.

I work really hard to stay stable…
But I can’t control what goes on outside me.
I can’t be on my own.
It makes me crazy.

I haven’t seen S- in 2 weeks.
Mind keeps telling me she’s dead,
I’ll never see her again,
I’ll be alone forever.
I’m cranky.
I fight with my mom.

I don’t understand.
My brain works slowly.
Annoyed M- in the card game.
Let me work at my pace.

I don’t want to go
Please don’t leave me.
Please
Please
You’re hurting me.

If you take down the walls of an aquarium, how’s the water supposed to stay in?
Holes take longer but you still lose it all.

Jenga explains everything.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Wilting

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1-2-11     3:12pm

I feel like crying. I feel very alone and I don’t know what to do. I’m sitting on my bed. Just came in from writing about trees after storming out because Mom was bugging me. If you ask for my help you can’t get mad at me for not doing it YOUR way – “the right way.”

I stood outside for awhile hearing Silent Night. I am so confused yet so aware. And so tired… My season is gray. I am surrounded by stupidity, evil, things that make no sense, things I wish didn’t make sense. And it’s all beyond my reach. I’ve been trying to convince my mom to get a dog. I can’t even take care of myself.

In all likelihood, soon I won’t remember this and I will feel pleasantly confused and tuned out. But I’m not there yet. There are windows of reality to endure. Mom doesn’t understand why I’m  mad. And she thinks I’m mad at her. I’m usually not. And there’s no way to fix it. It just is. Need some disco and a nap.
—
I am wilting. I am laying on wet leaves in the forest staring up through the trees at the sky. I know the wolf is coming, the flood. I just need to lay here.

Reality is contagious. Careful where you point that thought.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Tree Seasons

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1-2-11     2:52pm

There are 3 trees and a daisy bush that I watch from my back stoop. They teach me about life. (pause)

I’ve been watching them lose their leaves and wondering what they must be thinking.

Why are you leaving me?
Oh my God, what’s happening?!
No! No! Please! That one is my favorite!
He’s my best friend!
I’m cold.
Why isn’t anyone helping me?

Then humans come in and cut off branches completely out of their control and haul off their leaves on the ground.

It’s much like our lives. And it happens in seasons. But do they know? Do they understand? Is the tree freaked out by this major loss or does it understand what is happening, why? Is there an innate acceptance that this is what is and any attempts to stop it are futile?

Each of the trees is in a different stage of unleafing. I wonder if they compare themselves to one another and feel jealous or proud.

Why does HE still have leaves?
Haha! Sucker. I have more than YOU do.
You all lose. I’m leafless first.

What do they think of the nonshedding trees? Is there grief over the loss? It got me thinking about the cycle of grief.

Life has cycles, like trees, but not Kubler-Ross’s five cycles. I believe there are four, matched to the seasons. Love (summer), Loss (fall), Grief (winter), and Acceptance (spring). They can change at any time for any reason but in my life they tend to go in this order.

Love (intense feeling) could be a person, a project, an idea or ideal. Loss (involuntary action) is its fall from dream-state, it’s emerging reality of flaws or its actual loss. Grief (reaction) is the processing of loss, reaction to a lack of control, and reassessment of who we are without this and why we are still here. And Acceptance is the freedom to move on openly knowing we will lose again but embracing the moment anyway.

Some days I look in the mirror and am surprised at my leaf count. I thought there were 3 left. I was sure of it. But today they are gone. And it’s cold. And the daisy bush is dead. I know just on the outside but that is all I see.

What are your tree seasons?

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© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

Garth Therapy

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12-31-10     4:57pm

I’m sitting in the car outside Albertson’s listening to Garth Double Live. Mom’s in freak out mode for the party tonight, that starts in 3 hours. (deep breathing…)

I want to trade my Wii for Possum Trot. I really want to go to BYU but I think Possum is more attainable. As long as Scotty’s there… Yep. He’s there.

I really need some stuff to look forward to. Right now I am groundless. No choir, no S-, no jazz, no talking in group, no dance, no predictable non-stressful social interations, nothing fun coming up on the calendar. No real reason to be here. I don’t want to not be here. I just need meaning and purpose and fun. Time for me to relax and to be productive and to play, scheduled, with other people, regularly.

Sitting alone in a dark car listening to Garth & writing is therapeutic.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Shoutout to the Jedi

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12-25-10     11:04pm

I’m so grateful for Dr. Collan. My symptoms have improved drastically since seeing him. For those of you who know me, you’ll understand how much that means.

  • I’m not as tired all the time.
  • Not sleeping as much
  • Much less agitated
  • Less pain
  • Fewer headaches & migraines
  • Very few zaps/tics and zap storms
  • Less nausea and vomiting
  • Dizziness is rare
  • No tingling
  • Few tremors
  • Feel calmer
  • Less mood swings

Since I’m not freaking out about my body I don’t want to die. I’m not cured but I feel human again. I climbed stairs at church without stopping and without pain. I walked to 7-11 and lifted the turkey today.

I still have symptoms but they are less intense. Mostly cognitive and psych stuff. I feel mostly calm and pleasantly out of touch with reality. I need structure and can’t handle being rushed, but I get things done in my own time.

I ran across Dr. Collan quite by chance. (Dr. Collan Koeppen – aka Upper Cervical Jedi) Met him in a free check at a walk. I won the most fucked-up patient of the day award. I like that. ;) I bought a discount visit certificate and figured if no one else can help this couldn’t hurt. I never go by those booths and I don’t have lots of money to pay, but I’m so glad I stopped at this one. Glad I took a chance and believed.

Dr. Collan is kind and gentle, quite knowledgeable and rather funny too. Check out his website and try him out if your body ails you or you need a great chiropractor or you know someone who does. Tell him Michelle sent you. ;) Six weeks ago my body was falling apart and I was freaking out and wanted to die. My neurologist actually gave up on me. He said, “This is where the science ends.” Today I celebrated Christmas with my family, cooked and rode in the car for awhile and I didn’t freak out AND I wasn’t in pain – except when I hit my elbow on the door. ;) Miracle-worker I don’t know. But he’s damn good, that’s for sure.

Thanks, Dr. Collan. You’ve made my life worth living. I’m so thankful for you.

1-5-11     3:03am

Update – Saw my primary doctor today. He was both impressed and flabbergasted by the improvements. Lol. Said he’ll have to remember chiropractic really does work and remember to refer people. I certainly hope so.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Disco Heaven

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1-2-11        2:19am

So, I found my cassette tape player in a box I was going through today and put on my FAVORITE tape – Disco Sweatracks. Euphoria ensued. ;) I was texting a friend and sent her this. I just have to share.

I’m experiencing a series of involuntary timeless choreography complete with jazz hands, the airplane, disco fingers, the pony, swimming… even those 50s circle arms. The twist, boogie fingers, a little Richard Simmons, running man, peace fingers, Grease, the YMCA, fake ice skater, bad ballerina twirl, bad melodramatic singer… Daniel Boone searching for a coon to You Light Up My Life… Ahhhhh. Wow. That was awesome. WAY better than sex. My doctors should stop telling me to exercise and just throw on some disco.

I told her I look like a drunk 50 year old Jazzercize instructor – complete with brown yoga pants, a Solvang hoodie from the 80s, rainbow slippers and a red plastic cup of OJ. Lol.

(sigh) I have so many memories of that tape. Road trips with my mom – many a day drying my hair out the car window on the freeway to it. Palm Springs. Lots of Palm Springs memories. I taught to a song from it in Idaho. HD dance always opens with We Are Family. Made friends with the moon… (smile) Good times… Good times.

Now I know where these odd dance moves came from. They were involuntary musical reactions that stuck. ;) Man, I’m tired. :)

-Michelle

Messed Up Morals

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12-22-10    1:51am

Have you ever examined the morals behind songs and fairytales? I was considering Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer while wandering hopelessly lost through Walmart today. It’s a messed up story. The moral or message or conditional-belief lesson is basically:

Don’t fret if you’re a social outcast. You’ll be loveable if you’re just perfect and save everyone. Otherwise you’re worthless and will be alone forever.

If that doesn’t put you in therapy, try having a label for a name. That’s like naming your kid Judy the One-eyed Retard and having Lady Gaga put out a single about her pathetic life and one glory day. Really? Alright then. Merry Christmas to you too.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Tree Philosophy

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12-21-10    6:19pm

I just finished decorating the tree with Mom. Lance was here earlier. S-’s boycotting Christmas.

I feel partly calm and part very tense, like the vibrations of a very high note on a harp string. Inside of me trembles. The cars are so loud outside. It’s been raining. I love the rain. I want to go out in it, to watch, to play, but I’m here on the couch. Time fades away.

I approach tree decorating like an all-you-can-eat salad bar. A little bit of a lot of things comes out to a reasonable sized meal that doesn’t make me sick. My mom’s philosophy is to take as much of each thing as you can eat, leave nothing behind, and go home feeling like you’re going to die. She did leave one box of ornaments in the garage (thank God), but our tree has 3 other boxes of keepsake ornaments, 4 strings of lights, and about 150 glass bulbs. We’re skipping the garland this year. The star is held on by rubber bands. Our tree tried to commit suicide twice last year. Simple is good. It’s beautiful though – filled with memories.

There’s nothing to distract me. No activities today. Nothing on the calendar. Mom wants me to clean and organize and move boxes. i want to bake and to get out of the house. I’m supposed to be moderately busy, remember? No structure is the death of me.

I’ve been thinking about sidecars…

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Dear Daddy (Nov 2003)

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written on the 2nd anniversary of my dad’s death, posted now for Jingle’s Poetry Potluck (and because I’ve been thinking about it).

Dear Daddy,

Need me.
Feed me, the way I fed you.
Comb my hair.
Don’t tear.
DON’T TOUCH ME

Where did you go?
I don’t know.
I NEVER KNOW
And for as much as I’d like to I can’t, pray I never will.

The bruises, restraints, overpowering drugs.
The anger
The incredible loneliness.
Talk to me Daddy.
Be one of the voices in my head.

Why did you hit me that day?
Why didn’t you stay on that mountain?
GET OUT OF MY LIFE – hold me tight
If you could come back and do it again, would you?
Would you call me your child?
Why in the sky do the clouds always shroud the image of your body from my wandering eyes?

© Michelle Routhieaux 11/17/03

Just One

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12-21-10    3:01am

People don’t get it. It just takes one. One tiny thing to change my mood. A look, a thought, a smell, a word, a song. Just one.

I work really hard to maintain my sanity, to balance all the people and memories and places, to refute the distortions, to pick out what’s real from what’s not. It’s like walking backwards on a tight rope 100 feet in the sky blindfolded during Santa Annas in the desert over a pit of hungry tigers and fire. Most days I do okay. But it just takes one thing.

Today was very stressful. I made it through my group and my meeting, enjoyed dinner with a friend, worked on the Thursday Poets Rally. And I had found a bit of peace. The sound of the rain. The feel of my breath. And there it appears – a Facebook message that reads, “Thanx for nothing!” Really? Do you have to be such a bitch? I can’t control the fact that you have no tact but I also can’t control how you make me feel. I can attempt to use logic to change that feeling, but I can’t change the seething anger in my soul. You take perverse delight in waking the colicky child I had finally calmed for the night. Just because you can! And for what reason? (Don’t reach) It’s all about you.

People don’t think. Most people I interact with don’t take the time to wonder how what they say will affect the next person. They don’t care if I’m teetering on the edge. Not their problem. I might be able to handle just one. But they’re everywhere.

I want to move away, get a new phone number, change my email and my FB, and my blog. I can’t take it anymore. People are making me crazy. I am too tired to put up with their shit. It’s too much.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Insufficient Funds

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12-20-10    12:10pm

I fucking HATE PEOPLE! Oooooooh! I just want to scream. All they ever think about is themselves. You should read the messages I get – email, text, IM. They tell me their problems, what they want, why they’re mad. Why I should care, say “poor baby,” kiss it and make it all better. Most days I can handle the rush. Not today. I’m not afraid of the storm but don’t shower me with shit.

There are some people who are predictable – like the girl who texts me symptoms. Not “Hi, how are you?” but things like “my scalp is really itchy”

(call from a stupid person)

or that she’s having horrible heartburn. There is the one who calls but doesn’t want me to answer, the ones that are 99% of the time mass messages, and the ones from people who always want my immediate attention. I am surrounded by people in various states of disrepair.

And then there are people like J- who send multi-text rants to me about my friends, complete with insults against me, with not so much as a forward and are CONFUSED when I’m upset. What? About 10 texts in I texted back, “J- I don’t need this right now. You just randomly text me to bitch about S- and then insult me for no apparent reason. Leave me the fuck alone. You didn’t even ask how I am today.” His response? “Are you ill? If so, my apology.” Ill or NOT this is ridiculous. He continued his rant and said he’ll text me later.

I have a board meeting tonight. My mom is freaking out about our mostly bare Christmas tree and her online bill thing not working and the rain. She said to eat cereal for breakfast but when I was eating it changed her mind and said I should eat a bagel. I open the door to hear the rain. She shuts it and goes back in her room. I’m gonna make brownies. She decided maybe she should make them. Maybe we should NOT decorate the tree we fought so much about (because she refused to decide) because of Zoe. Or MAYBE since it’s raining we should only put on the generic glass bulbs that shatter instead of the breakable ornaments we love. I don’t get it. Then she cries because she’s making me mad and if I’m mad it must mean she’s a horrible person and she should just die.

**NEWSFLASH! I have feelings too!**

I don’t mind helping friends in need but it’s not my job to rescue you. And if I do and you jump back in the water, don’t expect me to happily risk my life for you again. I woke up to a call from Illinois about this woman’s brother who is bipolar and has a restraining order against him (blah, blah, blah) for threatening to kill his wife. Do you think that’s a happy way to wake up? Everyone wants something from me. There’s not much left to give.

I’m so angry…

Now Mom’s bitching about food. She’s upset that I don’t want to eat because she told me to eat cereal and I did. She said that’s not what she said, then that it is. Is it too much to ask for a little peace? When the walls of my castle are under attack it would be nice if the people inside didn’t add to the stress.

There is a board meeting tonight. I hope it goes off without a hitch. I’m tired of people saying they’ll do things and bailing, doing things that require damage control, or being all bitch and no work.

I am tired. I feel weary and beat. I want to be alone. Just leave me alone. I want to go somewhere on the bus in the rain, to get wet, to listen to music. To feel my jaw unclench itself, my eyes let go. I want to ride the train. Get out of my way. You’re cramping my brain.

The bank of Michelle has insufficient funds. Please seek help elsewhere.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010