I wish it was Tuesday

11/28/2013     10:29pm

Dear God,

I wish it was Tuesday. My voice is stuck inside me and nothing reaches the page.

I’m sitting in the car outside Mesa Vista. Light from Cog lights my page. I feel myself falling in slow motion, like a feather through Jello. Life moves quickly around me. I feel lifeless. Can’t move. Can’t stop. Another holiday out of touch. I need to catch this one early.

December is coming. Tomorrow’s Black Friday. I’m about to break. Double on Wednesday. I need so badly to be held. God? What are you training me for? What do you need me for now? I need you. I need a lot of things. I don’t want to end up back in the hospital and that’s the direction I’m headed.

Red flags

  • Self-harm
  • Dissociation (more frequent & intense)
  • Desperation/Agitation cycle
  • Nightly dreaming
  • No interest in food (ED + decreased appetite)
  • Increase in blood pressure
  • Episodes of tachycardia
  • Weak/Dizzy
  • Depersonalization
  • Derealization
  • Really out of it
  • Increase in switching
  • Intense need to be held
  • Confusion
  • Decrease in personal hygeine
  • Severe fatigue
  • Rocking
  • Racing thoughts or no thoughts
  • Feel my face hanging, heavy
  • Late frequently
  • Anhedonia
  • Can’t complete tasks
  • Catastrophize more often
  • Don’t care about my appearance
  • Not feeding animals
  • Sleeping in makes me feel worse
  • Soul-crushing depression
  • I just watch from behind the glass

Coping Skills I’m Using

  • Day list (when I remember)
  • Walking Ellie
  • Sticking to a schedule
  • Eating nut bars
  • Deep breathing
  • Singing
  • Watching NCIS
  • Decluttering
  • Sensory distraction – light, temperature, sound
  • Scented candles
  • Getting out of the house
  • Eating regularly
  • Rocking
  • Chewing gum
  • Projects


  • Driving
  • Mom
  • Too busy – outreach, S, appts
  • No music nights
  • No free/down time
  • Money problems
  • Ankle injury
  • Gluten-free transition
  • -‘s episode, –
  • J/M/S drama – trust
  • Brother’s HD
  • DBSA business woes
  • Heartland scuffle on Monday
  • Clogging – Quarternote end, dying, teaching, etc.

What do I need?

  • Modified schedule w/emphasis on self-care
  • Talk to my providers
  • back to Day List
  • Go back to the bus half time
  • Meet with a dietician
  • Go back to Dizzy’s
  • Start writing again
  • Find/schedule more alone time
  • Go back to the gym
  • Schedule garage time
  • Pray

Let go.

  1. Schedule – weekly
  2. Menu

© Michelle Routhieaux 2013

The only change that matters

8/16/13     8:04am

I feel sad. Tonight is my 10 year reunion – prime time for comparisons. In typical me fashion, I wish there was an RSVP list so I could plan out my night. There is no agenda. I don’t know what to expect. I posted on FB last night in the reunion group asking what “casual cocktail attire” means – the official dress code. Several people I know replied they’re wearing quite fancy cocktail dresses and that their husbands are dressing up. I was just planning on wearing a dress I like, nothing fancy.

I have my doubts about even going. I anticipate it being a huge trigger. I wanted to be successful, to have degrees and a car and family. I am successful. Just not by my standard. I’m like that firework that shoots off in unexpected directions. Dazzling yet unpredictable. I only like it in the sky.

Who am I?

  • I am a girl looking to be loved.
  • I am a woman discovering herself.
  • I am creative.
  • I am talented.
  • I am hungry.
  • I am a cat mom.
  • I am a planner.
  • I am the voice of reason on a stormy sea and a mess of emotion in silence.
  • I am unstable and I am a rock.
  • I just am.
  • Michelle

I will be faced with many questions if I engage tonight. Where do I work? How many kids do I have? What degrees did I get? What am I doing with my life? I don’t know. And I don’t really care. I wish this was a barbeque picnic. Too much hype. Too much pressure.

I’m very tired. I woke up at 7:30, even though I went to bed late. In sharp contrast to the past several mornings, I do not feel bright, chipper or productive. I don’t want to be alive. My body is heavy. I don’t want to move. Yet, I’m awake. Is this from skipping 2 doses of my Flexeril yesterday or not sleeping? Why did I wake up?

I don’t know who I am.
I feel angry.
I want to sleep.

Whatever I decide to do tonight will be okay. I don’t have to share my secrets. I don’t have to be strong. God is my date. All powerful. He will lead me.

PS: Compare me to me if you must. That’s the only change that matters.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2013

To New Beginnings

7-10-13     1:45pm


It’s official. I got my driver’s license. What a trip. Exhausting. I’m sitting now in the quiet of our mechanic’s waiting room, letting myself settle to the ticks of a clock. (Eyes closed…) In here it is cool. I can begin to relax.

I believe that I failed my driving test. God passed for me. Praise God I had a nice examiner. I almost hit a truck and had to try backing up 3 times. I was terrified, fighting to stay in the moment and ignore or combat the automatic negative thoughts and keep driving through the flashbacks.

When we pulled in I was shaking, fighting off tears. I didn’t believe her when she said I passed. All she said was, “Ok.” Odd. I held it together long enough to get through the line and to the bathroom to cry. These voices were screaming in my head, “You FAILED. AGAIN. You are NOTHING. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! You’re right back where you started. DIE!” I pulled myself together enough to go out to Mom and then lost it again. I was crying so hard. All the stress from this month all came out in tears and sobs. She held me, pouring out reassurance about driving, which had nothing to do with my crying. It was nice just me and her. I finally calmed down after some Jamba Juice. Now I’m exhausted.

I didn’t expect that reaction. I couldn’t forsee, nor would I want to. It helped a lot that I went to the gym this morning and wore my new outfit. I had a pep talk with God, felt empowered. I met my goal today – to take the drive test. I faced one of my demons. I didn’t back down. I did it. I just happen to have gotten a license in the process.

(deep quiet breaths…)

To new beginnings.
To spiral journals.
To taking back ME.
Life. Me.
To new beginnings.
To starting over.
To cleaning house.
To owning my behavior.
To God.
To love.
To faith.
To life transparency.
To me.

To new beginnings.
Cheerio. ~

© Michelle Routhieaux 2013

Being set free

6-14-13     10:36am

I woke up today feeling good. God is moving me quickly in a new direction. I’m not sure toward what but I am following as best I can, sometimes running to catch up. The past week has been bad, complete with temporary paralysis, aphasia and severe SI. But right now, in the moment, I feel good. I see color today. I am taking my mom to join my gym. I’m hoping we can spend some time working out together on our shared goal of getting healthier and losing weight. It will help to have something in common.

I’m moving forward in my room. I bought new wall art, a butterfly shower curtain I had intended for the bathroom but will work perfectly for the closet, and started condensing boxes in my closet and garage. I have a vision of a new white full bed and new mattress covered beautifully in the comforter and sheet set I had at USC. A regal safe place to lie my head. I want to build a home for myself. The hospital is the only place that has ever felt safe and I consider it my home. But it’s changing and I’m changing and I need my own safe place.

I stopped BrainPaint on Monday. My mom turned 65. My psychiatrist is going on vacation. We’re battling my insurance to get one of my meds. I have new neighbors. That is a trip. More about that later. Our house is infested with brown widow spiders. I’m not hungry anymore. I’m really spacey and I can’t remember anything. But in this moment I’m happy. I started doing GRAPES again last week. Today my E goal is to do 5 minutes on a machine at the gym. I don’t want to but I did get dressed. I am floating through my day. I feel the happy wearing into confused.

I’m scared to go to Dizzy’s. It doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t been going to jazz things in forever and I’m afraid C will be mad at me. I feel ashamed that I forgot, afraid I’ve been replaced. A friend pointed out a few weeks ago that since I got out of the hospital I haven’t gone back to my life. I guess not. Another jazz friend wanted to know where the fuck I’ve been and if I’m ok. A valid query. I didn’t tell him I forgot. Until he confronted me I had no idea I wasn’t going to jazz. I had no memory. I don’t remember what I was doing and when I do I don’t care or get scared. My slate has been wiped clean – without the use of ECT. ;) I do remember praying for a release from all of the pressure and stress and things I was tied into. I guess this is it. It does feel freeing to have no idea what’s going on. (stare…) I don’t know what day or month it is and I don’t care. I forget what time it is. I forget to take my meds. Not good. I forget to eat. I don’t know where I’m going. I miss deadlines and appointments. Usually this would upset me but I don’t really care. It takes a lot to get me agitated these days. It’s like BrainPaint erased that response. I like it. Except when I need to feel upset and I simply feel nothing. Either way, I’m moving forward.

I feel like I’m being moved by God’s current down the river that is my life. It is moving so fast that I can’t see the shore. I close my eyes and feel myself move. He carries me. He brings me through the rapids, over the falls and safely to shore. I just have to let go. I put my arms out. I am free. I hear this song a lot. I am a child of the one true king. :) I have nightmares that tell me different, that scare me. They’re not me. I’m being set free.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2013

Headache & the Music of God

(dictated into my phone a few days ago)
12/1/12   2:35am

Well, it’s 2:20 in the morning. I’m lying in my bed wondering what I should do. The kitty’s asleep. I would wiggle my feet if they weren’t curled up over my body. I have a really bad headache. I’m 5 medications in now and just finally calming down enough to be able to sit here and Facebook on my phone in the dark while almost crying. It’s ridiculous. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I don’t know how to fix it or if it can be fixed. It certainly is distressing.

I went to see Life of Pi with a friend tonight. It’s a fascinating movie. The story. The scenery. The filming. Amazing. But my head hurts. It’s hurts and it won’t stop hurting. I found this great medication that worked perfectly for me but I can’t get it. So I stopped taking it. And now I take it on and off but it doesn’t work right. I had something formulated at a different pharmacy but that wasn’t right either. So, I tried two rounds of both of them tonight and then Excedrin and then Maxalt  and then I took some Xanax in the hopes that I would fall asleep while my head was hurting so bad so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I have a giant ice pack over my face. But I’m not sleeping. Xanax usually  makes me sleep, and my head still hurts. I’m not really sure what to do.

I’m really out of it lately. Disoriented. Having all sorts of mood crashes. I’m pretty sure it’s related to the headaches. I had my first ever command hallucination a few days ago. I was wandering. I was walking, talking to my doctor in my head even though he wasn’t there. I mean I was talking out loud but he wasn’t there. And I hear the voice of God sometimes, which is wonderful. But sometimes I hear this voice that tells me things that aren’t God. And that day the voice told me that it was time to kill myself. And um, I was a bit disturbed by that. You know, I just kept walking and I felt sad and I just thought, “No. No,  I don’t think it is. I don’t think that’s right.” I was concerned.

I’m really glad I didn’t fire my therapist because I had a good session with him yesterday. I really needed it. Someone who gets me. Someone I trust. Someone who cares.

Tonight I sit here in the dark and I imagine what my ceiling would look like if it had stars and unicorns on it from one of those Pillow Pet Dream Lites. But I don’t have one. So I just imagine. I decided a few weeks ago that I need to go through all my possessions because my possessions overwhelm me, especially when I’m feeling a lot of pain, which is a time I’m least likely to be able to deal with them. So I decided that I would pack up all my possessions as if I was moving and then unpack them, get rid of the stuff I don’t want. Seems easier that way. I started, yesterday I think, and it actually works pretty well.  I got through maybe like one or two bookshelves and it feels good. It works to pull my possessions out of their original environment and at least take them to another room. I want my life to be simple, and stress-free, and as pain-free as possible.

I watched a TED Talk tonight that was a great distraction while I was waiting for the meds to kick in. The talk was about how a broken body doesn’t mean a broken person. And a broken person doesn’t mean a broken life. It was encouraging. A good distraction. I’m so glad Divya turned me on to TED Talks. They are quite engaging for the mind but they’re so good to just focus on when you can’t focus on anything else. And the fact that my phone streams them is very helpful.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. Or why. Why I have these headaches. I’ve had a headache for at least a week and a half now, which means it should be gone in maybe 4 or 5 more days, I hope. They seem to come for about two weeks at a time. I just remembered tonight that I probably could call my headache doctor and be like, “Dude, what the fuck should I do?” but when I’m having bad headaches I really, I can’t do it. It’s too much. I don’t know what to tell him. And I can’t remember to call him. And if I do call him I wouldn’t know what to say. And even if I could say something, I wouldn’t know what he said back. I would feel confused and sad. It’s hard enough dealing with him in person. I like the dude, but he’s confusing.

I feel bewildered. And disoriented. It’s kinda like, there are thoughts in my head but I feel like my brain is paralyzed. Like it’s just sorta sitting there, very heavy, not doing any work. Like it’s on lunch break. But I’m still here. Waiting. I went out to dinner with some jazz friends last night and I just couldn’t really produce any viable thought. Any useful response.


I did so much shopping recently that I’m all shopped out. Anyone who knows me knows that that’s very very unlike me. I shop. I like shopping. And I do it a lot. But I don’t wanna shop any more. I just don’t feel like it. Lately I just feel like sitting and waiting for the pain to go away. Not even sleeping ‘cuz when I sleep my body hurts and I wake up thrashing my head back and forth and I don’t know why. I don’t know why. My food doesn’t taste good. And I don’t wanna eat. I’m not really taking care of myself.

There are a lot of stressors going on in my life. And I’m proud of myself for the way I’m handling them. I’m doing really well. But at the same time I’m crashing, hard. I told my therapist this week that, you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was in the hospital in a month. But I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t. And he asked which I would prefer. And I told him I honestly don’t care. I really just don’t care about anything right now. I can’t think. And my head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts.

So I sit here in the dark. And I talk to my phone. And hopefully I’ll transcribe you into a blog post, but I can’t do that right now. ‘Cuz my head hurts and I was hoping to fall asleep. If the drugs don’t kick in in another half hour I’m gonna start taking any PRN I have here for any purpose I have it in the hopes that it will do something. If it doesn’t, well, God help us.

I love you. Thanks for listening. -Michelle

*I did wanna say that this week I started hearing original music again. In and out. I would like to hear more of it. Sort of interesting. I wish I was a musician, that I could make it real, make other people hear it. Record or write down, transcribe what I’m hearing. Sometimes it can be amazing. It’s not really a good thing because me hearing original music is, well, a red flag. Some of it can be so beautiful.

The last time I heard original music was several years ago. And I was hearing the most beautiful electric guitar music. It was beautiful in the beginning. And then I guess it kept being beautiful but it didn’t stop for about three weeks and it was just wretched. It sorta wore on me. But if I played the electric guitar it would’ve been wonderful wonderful music. This time it’s more like a soundtrack and it comes in and out. I do wish it would come more in than out. I like hearing the music of God.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

I know longing well

9-7-12     11:23pm

So, I’m sitting in my kitchen. I feel trapped. The sprinklers outside have filled the air with the smell of ant spray. My mom’s boyfriend has turned our living room into a movie room and they’ve been watching movies for hours. Loud movies. Sad movies. “What Dreams May Come” was last. I have the soundtrack on my ipod but I don’t need to see it.

I went shopping today. I spent too much money. I know that, but I didn’t know what to do. I managed to get to the social security office today to drop off some papers and was struck with “fear of life,” as Joe calls it. Fear of life is when I’m scared of everything and don’t know what to do. I’ve been extremely confused lately too and the mall was the closest safe place to me. I ate Chinese food, which gave me the stinky farts (who knew?), and shopped. And shopped some more. I thought long and hard before buying things. Did math. Put things on hold. I came away with 4 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of slacks, an awesome shirt, a new glasses case, and a journal. A pink pearl necklace is now waiting for me on layaway.

Today I thought intently of a friend’s happiness. I will call that friend J. (No, not Joe and probably not anyone else I’ve represented with the letter J in the past.) I like J. He’s special to me. I’d like to be his girl. I’m not sure what he wants from me. He’s always busy and the time we spend together doesn’t involve much talking. Yesterday he said he’s having a rough time and today I spent my time intently thinking of his happiness, sending warmth and love his way.

I don’t have experience with relationships. But I know longing well. It has a strange life. The experts say when you feel the primal/caveman feeling of love or affection the accompanying action urge is to embrace. They also say our pattern of action urges changes based on life experiences. Through life I’ve learned that I need to stay away from what or whom I am drawn to because if I embrace or move toward they will hurt or leave me.

I know longing well. I know the desperate need to be held, the wanting nothing in the world more than for the other person to be safe, warm, comforted, happy. Spending every waking moment thinking, praying, trying to find ways to make their life better and quell my own pain at not being able to be near them. But I don’t want it to always be that way. I don’t think it has to be. And I think this person might not hate me for not staying away. But I don’t know how to do that. It’s like a blind person painting.

I know how to get through the pain of being alone.
I don’t know how to be with people.
I know how to distance or detach myself.
I don’t know how to be authentic. It’s scary. Terrifying.
But I’m being honest, authentic, with him. When I talk to him. Which is almost never. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be me. Trying to find that girl I left on a park bench somewhere years ago and bring her back to life. Reintegrate her into the community. For now she wanders and rocks and sings and talks to herself somewhat happily. Except when she’s scared or mad. Don’t make her mad.

I want to feel loved, whatever that is. I’m accustomed to wanting or loving people who don’t want or love me back, so it doesn’t take much to make my day. But it takes something.

So tonight I feel that longing with all of my soul to be held by this person. And my involuntary urge is to turn away, to shut down. But I don’t want to. I think he’s safe. But I don’t know what to do. What do people do instead of shut down that doesn’t cause the other person to leave? (pause) I want to do that.

When asked what I think love is my answer lies along the lines of finding someone to grow old with. According to my therapist I know more of parental love than romantic love. I’ve never seen what people call “love” in front of me. I lived with my mom growing up. None of my friends had happy couple parents. I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know what it means. I do know, however, that I need to find out. And stop rambling.

Tonight I eat salsa that tastes like the smell of rubbing alcohol and spy on my mom who’s cuddled on the couch with her boyfriend watching a movie and write to an internet of strangers about my current inner struggle with learning how to love, how to be vulnerable. Seems a stretch, doesn’t it?

I have to go now. This moment of thought is fading and I feel really confused again. Thanks for listening. I’m grateful to have this outlet.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Pondering imaginary dragons…

9-6-12     12:14am

I find myself pondering imaginary dragons tonight and sending long poetic FB messages to people I barely know. About imaginary dragons. “Leverage” is on the tv and my cat’s in the window behind me. So much is going on.

I haven’t been writing because I haven’t been writing. Nothing seems to make sense. Not all of which is a bad thing. But most of which is rather trite. Or is that trifling? I’m not sure.

My mom’s boyfriend is staying with us. A love story for sure, except the part where I live with it. Everything is changing. I gave Zoe a tampon (in the wrapper) tonight to play with. She’s having a ball.

I want to write witty or poignant pieces to share with the world. Most days recently I’m working on just thinking. The blog crosses my mind without substance and I let it go. But writing about dragons tonight was, for a moment, in the right voice. And then it passed. Wisdom and truth from the voice in my head. This is what she says:

“About imaginary dragons… Sometimes what we train for is not what we’re meant to do. And the skills we learn are not for the purpose that we learned them. And sometimes windmills are shapeshifting dragons. And sometimes dragons aren’t dragons at all. But your dragon’s existence doesn’t hinge on your belief in it…”

She is smart. I miss her.

I really enjoyed choir tonight. Singing with my choir and my people are healing. So was the carne asada burrito.

I ramble a lot lately. I don’t make much sense. I can’t remember things and I can’t concentrate and I don’t really care. I go back and forth between uber confused and really agitated. Mood’s good when I’m confused most of the time. I type well with my eyes shut but not with them open. When I can’t stop staring at the ceiling I’m extra confused. I sing and talk to myself and rock. I am functionally impaired. The writing doesn’t come.

My old doctor was nice to me today, congratulated me on my success with my group. Then he backed me into a corner. I didn’t show my anger, just my confusion. I bypassed his request/rule and left. But all the memories came flooding back. This man who didn’t help me, who made me SO angry, whom I couldn’t leave for 5 years thanks to his prescribing, was nice to me. I had to leave. I walked around the parking lot talking to myself for awhile. Unresolved past now in the present. Imaginary dragons. Isn’t everything imaginary?

Do you ever just stare at things and utter seemingly meaningless sentences to hummingbirds or air? I can count backwards from 100 by 3 or 7 just fine. It’s counting back by 1 that gets tricky. Do you have change for a ten? I can’t find it. People just don’t get why I can’t handle change. IT’S NOT SAFE. I have enough trouble navigating the world with a constant set of rules. Quit fucking around. I’ve got mail to open.

My sequin shirt doesn’t fit now. What a shame. I like bacon. Do you like unicorns? I need to dye one purple. There’s a guy I like. I think he likes me too. So I ponder imaginary unicorns. Or was it dragons? I’m not sure. Maybe one day soon I’ll be writing with substance again. Until then, yogurt for all.

From the unicorn base,

PS – If I haven’t told you already, Icees from Target are quite helpful when I’m very upset. So is wandering. I wander a lot. ;)

PPS – (stare and listen…)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Pain is the price of admission

(a conversation between me & a voice in my head after hours and hours of writing)
4-11-12     1:43am

(big breath)
I am alive.
I am alive.

If I have no control over what happens to or around me and what I do doesn’t matter…
If there is no such thing as should or real…
If I’m the only one my importance matters to, why am I here?

‘Cuz I like it.

(??) What?

I said because I like it. And I always get what I want. You can’t have hugs and the ocean without pain. Face it. You fear life.

No shit. I know that.

Yeah. But you don’t know that you love it too. You can’t see that in order to feel joy, you must know pain. The music comes with heartache. The ocean comes with pain. The dancing comes with a loneliness that pushes you to death. There are no substitutions. You can’t get away. You can’t strain off the bad. It is one.


Michelle, you don’t want to die. You want not to feel the pain. The fire inside and the physical stress of your body melting away. But it’s not going away. It’s here to stay. What you do with it is your choice. But, like you said, you have no control.

There is no anti-life pill. You can’t strain out the seeds. Can’t sugarcoat it. You have pain.

You also have music. And hugs, and flowers, and writing and what you see in your head. You have God and the pirates.


You have me.

But it hurts so much.

I know.

I’m so scared.

Like Jim said, you don’t have to understand right now.

I just have to be.

Just be.

I love you, Mom.

I love you too.

Acceptance is realizing the pain is an entry fee, a price of admission, to the theme park of life. Non-refundable. It’s your choice if you have fun or not.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Cheetos in a teacup

3-30-12     4:23am

Sometimes I wonder why I’m still awake at four o’clock in the morning, like tonight as I sit here eating my Cheetos out of a teacup. Chip bags are just annoying. And then something happens. Something always happens. Right as I started to think about heading for bed I got a crisis FB message. Now I’m chatting with said friend.

The conversation reminded me of something my doctor told me a few weeks ago. He said he doesn’t believe that I’m going to get better. I let the comment slide. Had I been feeling particularly awful it could’ve pushed me over the edge. But I’m not. It was actually helpful. After feeling upset for awhile, I decided that if I’m not going to get better I might as well have fun where I’m at. I don’t have to like it, but I don’t have to feel tortured by not healing. I spend an enormous amount of time and energy trying to figure out what’s wrong with me and how to fix it. It’s exhausting. It goes in waves. Energy, answer-seeking, exhaustion, loss of hope, lull, happy, hopeless, desperate, repeat. I’m not abandoning the cycle completely, but right now I’m not searching. I’m coping. My goal is to start LIVING.

Wow. What a concept. I don’t really understand this living thing. It’s always been about getting better and doing worse and fending off death. Or hastening death. But never about life… (ponder as I continue my crisis chat)

I never thought I’d live to be this old. 26. People say it’s a small number, that I’m young. I don’t see it that way. When I was little my dad had Huntington’s Disease. It’s a nasty illness that basically eats your brain and you die. And there was a good chance that I had it too. It wasn’t an option to consider the future. I still don’t even really understand what that means. So it baffles me when I realize I’m 26. Half the time (really more) I don’t remember how old I am and people think I’m either dramatically older or younger, depending on the day.

I’m not sure I want to embrace the concepts of life or future. It’s almost safer to just have now. If I expect to live ’til I’m 40 and then become terminally ill at 30, I’m gonna be pissed. But if I only expected to live ’til yesterday, it’s a prize. You know? They say life’s a bitch, but it’s much quieter.

Anyway, there’s always a reason that pops up when I think there’s no reason. Tonight it was a good one. I just wish my teacup of Cheetos was bottomless. DAMN! I just remembered I wanted to try eating them with chopsticks. Do I even own chopsticks? I don’t know.

It’s 4:45am and I can feel the wave of energy come over me. I would call it psychomotor agitation but it’s not unpleasant, more like a hyper puppy waiting to play. I still follow the sunrise rule but it’s dark out. I guess my internal sunrise comes sooner. That or I’m sensitive to Cheetos and crisis. I feel like a teenage girl about to meet Justin Beiber. Seriously. Only I’m alone in my kitchen talking to my invisible computer friends. Maybe one of them’s Justin Beiber. Could be. You never know. He could be randomly googling the Panda Express kids meal, which is oddly the number one thing people google to get to this blog. Who knew? Eat a kids meal, get new readers. Works for me. All for the low price of $4.95. Sweet. And sour. ;)

Gosh I’m bored. This darkness sunrise makes my thoughts race. I need to bounce up and down and yell and shout and sing and MOVE. AHHHHHHHHHHHH! (deep breath) I should take my night meds.

I’m 26. I found a Subway today that still carries regular mayonnaise. Thank the good Lord. And the bad one too. I’ve yet to learn how to be a kid but it’s on my to do list. Workin’ on it. I should take my night meds. Stream of consciousness. Does a body good… So does Oscar the Grouch, and drugs, and Cheetos in a teacup. Here’s to hoping my friend lives.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Polka Dots & Puppy Dogs

2-27-12     12am

I’m sitting in my living room working on my friend’s MacBook Pro, with which I am falling in love. We are helping my mom with an aptitude test online and I can faintly hear the radio coming from my room.

I haven’t journaled in some time. I’m afraid to open the book. And when I do I just draw. I drew a picture today of my feelings. It was a bit weird. I send bizarre emails to my therapist and have started walking in circles talking to myself again. There is simply too much going on in my life. But my friend’s boyfriend fixed my wifi so I can work from the couch. I also love her dog. Quite helpful. And my cat is readjusting to life with a dog in the house.

I know I haven’t blogged in forever. I’m sorry. There just hasn’t been anything I can really say online. I’ve been having a lot of really intense symptoms mental health wise and some nasty body symptoms as well. My body is just freakin’ out and they finally found something wrong with me. But not something definitive. They’re slowly trying to figure out what’s going on with my neck/throat. I’m having trouble swallowing and throwing up and choking. The muscles connected to my larynx are popping and it hurts to sing. And apparently I have a nodule on my thyroid. So I went for a barium swallowing test and upper GI series and will have a biopsy of the nodule. I don’t really care what comes of it. I just need it to be over.

I just finished helping teach a clogging class at an elementary school. I had so much fun. It was physically more than I could really handle, but I loved the kids and having a reason to be out of my house. I also started bowling again. I didn’t go this week but I really like it. And the bowling alley cafe has awesome food.

My mom’s looking for a job. I’m trying to make meaning of my life. And it’s almost my birthday. I seem to have a birthday every other year and this is an on year. Last year I had a non-birthday. This year I want to celebrate. I’m not sure how but I’ll figure something out. I’m alive and I’m grateful. I pray a lot more these days. Give myself over to God. I realize that I have no control over my life and that scares me. But instead of just being scared I can acknowledge that I don’t have to be scared alone, that He is always with me.

I don’t know what’s going on or how to fix it. I know not the how or why. I’m just cruisin’. Sticking to one moment at a time. Not trying to write a masterpiece here but just a note to say I’m still alive and haven’t forgotten this thing called a blog. I’m just in the middle of a twister right now waiting to get out. Having some fun. When the writing comes back I will blog again.

Take home message: I recently discovered I love bowling alley corndogs and I’m now in love with the new version of leggings. I now like wearing dresses. And I’m getting tired of pizza. I thought I wanted a dog, until I lived with one and realized they don’t purr. If dogs purred, they’d be close to perfect pets. I love having a friend living here. I wish I was the one looking for a place to live. I feel scared a lot. I miss my tv. I haven’t gone to jazz in a long time and the void is rotting my brain. I still love laundry. I still want to feed the ducks. And I still love NCIS and stickers. I wear a lot of mismatched things now. I love polka dots, and all things sparkly. I’d really like to pay my bills. And going to an awful board meeting today made me appreciate my board meetings SO much more. I love being alive. Finally.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Jenga: Life Edition

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.


© Michelle Routhieaux 2011

What do you do when you’re lonely?

11-7-10                1:59am

I hear “Without You” tonight from RENT in my head. I’m not sure what to do. Sitting at the computer. The time just changed back to 1am. Great. Another hour. What I’m supposed to do with this hour I have no idea… So I’m eating Oreos and milk. My head feels like it’s vibrating.

What do you do when you’re lonely? I asked Facebook and someone asked why I’m lonely. My response: “Cuz everyone I know has a life and no one new I meet seems to understand mine.” Their response was that I have a wonderful life, that I’m an inspiration and make a difference. Blah Blah Blah. I DON’T CARE! That doesn’t make it any better. Doesn’t make a difference. I save lives. I help people. I change things. I make waves. It feels good in the moment, usually. But it doesn’t last.

I come home from my life to my life every night and wake up to it every day. I don’t wake up thinking, “Gosh, I’m gonna save the world today.” I sleep as long as I can before whatever I’m doing and when it’s over I need something else to do. But there isn’t anything to do. Now don’t fight me. I made a list of people this week, most of whom are local, that I could ping to do something with. People far off my usual radar. I need people who don’t need me. And I don’t have them.

People think I have “a wonderful life.” But what is a wonderful life? What you see on FB is not my life. What you see on my blog is not my life. It’s the parts of my life that are acceptable enough to share in public. I don’t even share with my group. The only person I actually talk to is my therapist. There are people I would like to hang out with. But they have lives. They are the people who can meet for lunch 8 weeks from next Thursday but only if the babysitter doesn’t cancel or they’re not out of town or they don’t fall asleep that day and forget. They have families. They have people they come home to voluntarily and hang out with for fun.

It is when I am lonely that I wish I had family. Not the friends I consider my family but blood. My family. The people I never see. At 1:30 in the morning when I’m sitting in my quiet house bullshitting on the computer wasting time I am at a loss for what to do. I found some Oreos in my pantry tonight – comfort food. I’d like an actual meal but there’s rarely food here that I’m willing to eat and I ate the last of the pizza for breakfast.

It’s not my wonderful life. I’m just a character in it. Marc used to talk about having a “life worth living.” That was the goal. I never really understood that. I don’t spite the people who point out all the wonderful things I do or change. They mean well. But it’s what I feel that’s important. If you were to triage a patient in the ER who came in with chest pains and was wearing a beautiful diamond necklace, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t say, “Gosh that’s such an incredible necklace. You must be rich or have someone who loves you very much. Your fabulous life is so much more important than those chest pains. Scurry along now.” Right? It seems unrelated but it’s not. Like there are people who call me to ask how I am but not because they care what the answer is or want to hear it. The purpose of their asking is so that I will ask them back. I want validation. I don’t need reassurance about my life…

I’m sorry. (sigh) I just don’t understand. Meetup can’t cure a broken heart. I could just go do things by myself, which I love to do, but I have no money. So I just am. I go to appointments and to groups and to choir when it happens. I take care of business, listen to music when I can, and Facebook too much. And I pray. And I sit in my kitchen wondering what do you do when you’re lonely?

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010