Tag Archives: stream of consciousness

Keep up the fight

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10/20/12     10:50pm

So, I worked a DBSA table at the Out of the Darkness Walk today. It was fun. I went to bed early last night, which was good since my alarm went off at 4:30 this morning and I got up at five. I was dragging but awake until I had 4 pixie sticks and a mini candy bar from the table next to us. I was suddenly alive. ;) It was nice to have people there working with me, to not be alone. I’ve been relying more on other people lately while my mom’s in New York and it feels good. I’m spreading my wings, expanding my person-ness.

After the walk we went to Kansas City Barbecue and I stuffed my face and then to Seaport Village. I love food. It brings me comfort. I did something stupid though. I indulged in onion rings. I’ve been trying to stay away from onions as much as possible as they make me feel awful and interfere with my breathing. But I forgot how dreadful they make life and decided to get them anyway. Ten hours later I still feel awful. I slept for four and woke up to pee. I’m moving slowly, can’t think, head hurts, watery eyes. I thought I’d just go back to sleep but my mind started racing and I had to take a Xanax to calm down enough to read Facebook. I don’t know what’s happening. Total system shutdown. But it’s not like yesterday.

Yesterday I got in a fight with my therapist. I was already feeling overwhelmed and then a mere comment about a group he leads turned into a horribly triggering conversation. I went from feeling somewhat okay to total rage in an instant. He asked what was going on and I told him straight up I felt the need to burn down his office. We continued to argue. He checked in again and I told him I no longer cared to burn down his office, I just wanted to die. I probably would’ve tried it except that I had a two and a half hour bus ride home and by the time I got there I was exhausted and had been triggered by other things and just gave up and slept. I was thoroughly exhausted and went to bed at 9:45pm. Worked out okay since I had to get up early today. And today it was like it didn’t exist, until I was having an anxiety attack while unable to move a whole lot and started talking to him out loud in bed. It helped. I need to eventually type out my thoughts and send them to him. But for tonight, I just make notes here with my kitty asleep on my lap. I love my kitty.

Found out today that my mom will be back in a few days. I’m glad. I could use some predictability around here, even if it comes with extra house guests. If we ever go eat, don’t let me eat onion rings. I’d really like to ride a carousel. And I like my pink polka dotted shirt. It fits now. 

Well, here’s to unicorns and snowy brows. I must try to sleep now. I’m counting tomorrow as a day of rest. A day just for me. I deserve it and so do you. 

Keep up the fight.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Grateful to breathe

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10/16/12     9:54pm

Gosh, life is hard. (deep breath…)

I made food tonight. I’m so proud of myself. On the energy of a Rice Krispie treat I made chicken-flavored rice, popcorn and a few pieces of bacon. I never cook. It terrifies me. But I was hungry tonight and less terrified than usual. I sit here now listening to KLOVE and cry. I feel so alone.

Today was the first day in a very long time when I could rest. I slept in and took a shower and did some errands, at my own pace, on my own time. I tried the tv but settled on silence, then KLOVE. I feel so alone.

I went to Sea World with my boyfriend yesterday. (He prefers I call us “co-persons.” I don’t.) I had a really hard day, some of which was great. I’m having trouble communicating and getting sucked into the Borderline attachment/abandonment vortex. He’s leaving. It’s not that I’m imagining his leaving or that I’m scared that he will or that I did something to make him leave. He’s leaving the area for a traveling job and he doesn’t know if he’s coming back. I don’t want him to go. I feel safe with him. I’m using every skill I know to be honest and open, even when it terrifies me, and I’m astonished to find that he doesn’t hate me. He actually likes me most days.

I feel so alone. I know there is a purpose for this leaving, but I can’t see it right now. And tonight it is quiet and it all covers me. We’ve been playing house this week and I’ve been thinking I’d really like to do that, to play house with someone or on my own… My mom’s coming back from NY soon with her boyfriend and my guy will leave and I guess all will go back to the way it was. But I’ll be different. (crying)

I want to love. I want to have a family. I want not to be lonely. I want to need to cook more than three pieces of bacon. And to feel okay enough not to cry every time there is silence.

I feel close to God lately. He’s not but I pray for him. I know God is doing something in me. I want to use whatever that is for good. Tonight I just cry. I trust Him. I trust Him. I surrender it all. Every day. Every time. (deep breath)

I’m so grateful for the ability to breathe.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Waking up

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10/1/12     12:20am

I’m sitting in the quiet of my living room. Zoe is wrapped up in a blanket beside me. I feel time moving. I don’t try to fight it.

Mom and Don are asleep. I’ve been tasked with waking them up in an hour so they can drive to New York. I don’t want them to go. Mom’s nervous. I want her to have fun. I want her to enjoy her life.

I’m just waking up from several weeks of intense fog. Something happened to me and it was not okay. There isn’t really a word for it. To me, it was rape. My therapist says it was “a physical trauma to your sexual organs.” Any way you put it, it fucked me up. I wanted to write about it but I couldn’t think or write or do anything. So confused, so scared. Not moving. My doctor doubled my Seroquel and we wait.

Yesterday I felt my brain coming back a little. I’m starting to think. My head hurts. My eyes feel open. I did have flashbacks today but they are fewer. I still can’t take in information. But tonight’s stress of Mom packing and leaving, and my Sunday night radio, and now the quiet has me able to write for a moment. My throat feels filled with vapor.

I feel so far away from last week when Jesus was a unicorn and Christmas a rainbow. Dr. N said, “It makes me sad to see you like this.” I just stared. I am emerging into anxiety, agitation & physical pain, which is probably a good thing. Better on the whole to be freakin’ out than non-responsive, like in the ER. It doesn’t feel that way.

Strange how waking up, coming back, is unwelcome. There is a comfort to the peace, to being sick. When I am incapacitated I take care of myself. I put myself first. I give me permission to feel and cry and do what I need to do without guilt. The rest of the time I’m supposed to be perfect. I’m not perfect. I don’t want to be. But it’s expected. I should push myself. I should do it anyway. I should. But I is not me. Why can’t I have compassion for myself always? Or even most of the time?

My head hurts.

I’m sleepy.

I need to cry.

Mom’s going to New York. I feel overwhelmed. I want to go back to sleep.

I am not okay.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Excited to be Alive

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9-12-12     6:30pm

I feel excited to be alive.
I prayed earlier to feel the Holy Spirit in me and to be filled with healing. Around 5:30pm something changed. Every cell tingles, sparkles with the love of God. I feel excited to be alive. Not just alive, which I rarely feel. I feel happy and connected and free.

(big sigh)

I could float up in the sky…
I feel happy. I feel free. 

I don’t feel manic or depressed or paranoid. My head does hurt. I sing. I want to be alive. I want God to work through me for His good. I want to be.

I’ve believed in God all my life, but today I feel God. I don’t ever want it to go away. I raise my hands and twirl and sing and pray. I’m so thankful. And to think it started with a healing card. ;)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

I know longing well

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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…

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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,
M

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

I will drink water

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8/3/12     9:42pm

I will drink water. It will cleanse me, form a shield to protect me from drama and stress. A readily-accessible remedy. I’ll grow me a magnetic bullshit shield lined with peace. I will call this a distress tolerance skill. It also fits into PLEASE Master. Self-care combats the stupid people, builds tolerance. Makes me into a warrior.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Life doesn’t come with airbags

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7-26-12     3:01pm

Wow. That is ridiculous. I just called a doctor’s office to request records they failed to send to Social Security. And the lady went off on me. I tried to listen with empathy but finally I said, “Well, I can see how that sucks for you, but it sucks for me too.”

She was telling me how she’s begged and pleaded with Social Security and doesn’t understand why they can’t send someone to the office to copy the records. That she has SO many records she has to do and send and that it’s only her in the office and she’s overwhelmed. (silence) Okay. There are many solutions to this problem. Telling me is not one of them. It’s part of a medical practice to keep records and distribute them as needed. It’s a huge part of a neurology practice that specializes in serious illness. It is unacceptable to be unable to provide the requested documents in a timely manner because you overwhelm your staff and they’re freakin’ out. She literally asked me why they couldn’t just come copy them. I told her that would be a breech of privacy. She said it wouldn’t. Yes it would. To allow access to all patient records by an outsider with copy privileges IS a breech of privacy, in the biggest way. I felt sorry for this lady but I still need those papers.
She said she’d get to them when she can. I said, “Is when you can a month? six months?” She said not six months. (deep breath)

She seemed to think there was a vast pool of resources and available people to just gallivant around town making copies in offices. I’d make the copies myself but she didn’t ask. I’d send her a nice card but I don’t want her to think I’m manipulating her. I’m not sure what to do. The SS guy wouldn’t call me back so I talked to his supervisor today who was so very nice. I was surprised. They’re usually not. (just keep breathing.)

I completed my goals today – make needed phone calls. Email is beyond me. I’m exhausted now. If you’ve sent me an email recently and not received a response, you’re not alone. I’m avoiding it entirely. I just delete what I know is not relevant. I am easily spooked and set off, angered or upset. And I can’t think to deal with business issues. Or any other issues of the sort. I look forward to getting on the bus and riding away. No Acer foreign representatives to frustrate me. No mom on the phone with her boyfriend who is preparing for a tornado, literally. Why do people live in places with tornados? I don’t know. I feel slivly. No, I don’t know what that means.

I’ve been writing a lot. A LOT. I’m glad I see Dr. N next week. I saw him this week too. Dropped off 22 pages of writing yesterday. Too much stress. Life doesn’t come with airbags. I am exhausted.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

I am free

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7/18/12     9:30pm

Thought of the Day

I am not an asset.
I do not belong to anyone.
I belong to God.

I choose whom I work for, when and what I do.
I set clear boundaries.
I enforce me.

I am on a journey in a set direction and nothing will deter me.

I am free.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

A colony of crickets

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7/17/12     12:14am

Big eyes.
       I want to be like Daddy.
       If I’m like Daddy, then he’ll love me.

I like George Bob. He’s my new plant. D-‘s concerned about me. I’m okay. Just young and in touch with the energy of the universe. I feel joy and my head is expanding. I feel pressure on all sides, want to sleep in my backyard. My toe burns. I wish I was seeing Dr. N tomorrow. I feel frenzied.

D- said he doesn’t believe that I believe I’m crazy. I do. I find that offensive. Crazy is at the core of my being. It’s who I am. I take pride in it. It has led me on this journey and given me wisdom. Crazy is me. I follow in my father’s footsteps. The gift has given me plenty. I don’t most days consider myself ill. I rarely think about diagnosis. I just experience, use the tools and grow. I learn from the richness of that which is crazy, that which is God and my life. 

I hope D- doesn’t freak out. I didn’t mean to weird him out with my imagination and energy stories and George Bob. The vibe. I can’t close my eyes but I can’t stop smiling and my face feels warm joy. :)

I feel like smashing George Bob.
I don’t know why.

I feel my heart beat in my stomach and I don’t know why. My thoughts have an odd cadence and they start to rhyme. When the rain in Spain falls on the plain in late July, I shall have to recommend that I do go awry. In the sky. In the nigh. On the mend. Amen.

I bought a plant named Bob in a pot named George at Ralphs on a Monday night after a board meeting and a crisis group. I did very well leading the group. Zoe makes funny sounds. My elbow hurts.

I want to run away.

12:52am

I took a mindful walk. Just got back. A beautiful experience. I was anxious, paranoid – needed to go – and scared that something would get me. I prayed and forged on, not willing to stop. It was a wonderful experience.

Cool breeze on my face. Trust. Night. I came upon a colony of crickets, the sound of which I’d never heard. A mighty wave. A binaural beat. The scent of gardenias danced in the air. I discovered a new crack in the way I hadn’t seen. I feel so much better. Mom’s mad because it’s 1am. Well she can mind her own fucking business. I’m experience the universe here. God can’t wait.

My brain is in orange pin curls. I want to talk to Dr. N. I want to talk to Dr. N. And color.

I just remembered L- is coming in the morning. I want to make it through my research tomorrow, get my $-. I don’t think it’s a good day to meet with R-. I should cancel that. The universe calls and its strength is uncanny. Its power is unkempt. Dangerous, yet beautiful. I’d say I’m a 7 leaning on an 8. I want to see Dr. N. I don’t want to stop the connection, just be in the right neighborhood. (rocking) I feel like playing Legos. And crying. I love George Bob.

I do not feel like sleeping.
I am very sleepy.
I shall listen to the colony of crickets.
Left to right. Left to right.

A colony of crickets.
I want to see Dr. N.
_

People get weirded out when I’m like this. They impose their own fears and judgments. I know how to keep myself safe.  I’ve been doing it for 26 years. I haven’t died or been injured or injured myself or someone else. I haven’t committed a crime or been arrested. My life is plain. I appreciate the excitement before the paranoia. LEAVE ME ALONE.

I have the energy of the universe in me. I hear music and the crickets. And I rock.
_

I wonder if other people feel how fast the world is spinning…

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012 

Anita sings the sky

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7-15-12     7:45ish pm

Jamie plays the circles that are purple.

At Dizzy’s.
Feeling fragile.
They don’t have my soda.
Flute lady is playing.
Candles are flashing.
                              Like LSD.

Got to sit with the Lizfest people. I like them. Hugged Chuck. I went on a boat today. Flute lady makes me crazy. Jumbles my brains. Maybe it’s a good thing. I don’t mind being psychotic now and then. Candles are warm.

Chuck says I look worn. I am.

Mixing drugs – Lori’s flute, Jamie’s electric violin, Mikan’s keys. Bluegrass later. My mind spins.

The sound moves in a counterclockwise motion. I feel vibration. The light flickers. I glide back and forth. Springs dangle. Orange hovers in the night. Brown never touches the ground. 

If time was a feeling it would float. Like dust in the air. Time flurries. Body & soul. And bread…

Orange. Thick on the ground, fills my soul, envelopes my mind. Beat beat, flicker, stomp (yell!). I do despise the yelling. Slam! Pause  Too much mind…

My eyeballs. They float in it. Time.

(zap)

I feel sad that Allison be here. She no voice be drug. Fairytale not psychadelic. Hummmmmm.
          Too much dichotomy. Too low for her. Makes mind hurt.

Feel like I’m being attacked by a flute bird wielding a strobe light accompanied by an attack band. Quite the posse. –

:) Mikan’s trio

The pirates aren’t coming.  They’re always here. They live among us. I only can see them sometimes. I feel them in my cheeks.

Oh do play a ballad please.
The drums are killin’ me.

I prefer when Allison sings Allison in Allison keys. This night confuses me. Grandly.

I wanted to come tonight to see friends, be around people, have me time and experience music – a most powerful drug and often mood lifter. I forgot flute Lori would be here. I feel overwhelmed.

Mindfulness of Emotion (anxiety):
Face – teeth clenched, eyes squinty, cheeks tight
Body – barely breathing, legs crossed, dizzy, rocking, feel energy coursing through me, tight muscles, runny nose, light/noise intolerance.

Action urges – leave, scream, take a break, cry, do nothing

(rock to trio – thankful)

The best closing.

Mikan makes emotions.
Jamie makes the world unwind.
Lori twists it tighter clockwise & brings the pirates.
Allison sings the fairytale.
I don’t know what Duncan does.
He feels like middle school.
Haven’t met the other guy.

This night is confusing & uncohesive.
What’s the word for that? I do love music though. I miss these people.

(smile) the encore is a good ending.
_
I keep thinking “Anita sings the sky.”

7/15/12     10:35pm

I feel God.
          I feel warm.
                    I feel love.

My skin feels warm. My mind is calm. My lips are hot. Cry Holy.

Music + Hugs + Acceptance + Positive socialization = PEACE

                    God is in me.
                    And God IS me.

11:11pm

The energy of the universe wells up in me. I am warm. My body temperature is rising. My face feels tingly. I feel it in me. Head pain. I start to feel very hot. Need to sing. It must pour from me. Make beautiful music. Anita sings the sky.

I feel the God within me. (Hum…)
I feel the God within me.

                    Hear my heart beat.
                    I am alive. 

I have FAITH.
          I BELIEVE.
     I have OUR FATHER.

– is not my friend.
(statement crashed the energy)

(singing prayer)

I am so sleepy.
Thank God for music friends.
Need a hug.
(put on Jamie’s robe)
I’m renaming it The Hug Robe.
Thank you. <3

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012 

I found myself in a Walmart mirror

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7/13/12     8:05pm

Just got to the airport. Chuck‘s playing with Beat.itude. Ran into Barbara. Chuck’s with his grandson. I’m late ‘cuz I bought a homeless man KFC but it let me see a beautiful sunset.

Mom smashed her finger in the garage door today causing her body to go into shock. She was confused and cold, sweating profusely, throwing up, unsteady. It was bad. She refused to go to urgent care and I had to leave so I had the neighbor come sit with her. When I got home a few hours later she was still out of it but a bit better. She just came back to life around 5 o’clock, has no recollection of most of the day.

I feel a warm happiness, a lessening of senses. The past few days I have been dissociated but on alert, joyful and terrified, physically anxious and at peace. At the same time. Yeah.

Last night Joe mentioned he likes all my recent changes. I do too, although I haven’t paid them much attention. I guess I have changed a lot.

(ground noise from the speaker)

The music gives me tingles…
A gathering of souls.

Adorable.

I cut my hair last month, changed my bangs. Bought new clothes, started wearing dresses and shorts. I got new jewelry, wear a flower in my hair. I am tan from riding the bus. I got my toenails done. I redid my room. I bought a special bra. I restructured my finances. I see my therapist less often.

I’ve been largely without thought, not writing, cancelling events, tired. Attending to me. I like me. I named the nodule on my thyroid Steve, stopped reading my email. My body hurts. Me hurts. But I like me.

I found myself in a Walmart mirror on the 2nd floor in the kids section. Quite by accident. When I saw her I turned around and went back. We talked. Now we talk every time I’m there. The mirror doesn’t lie to me. It shows who’s in the driver’s seat. She tells me how she’s doing. Mirrors at home don’t work this way. (music energy)

I found my self in a Walmart mirror. She misses dancing. She likes my new room.

I feel energy lately. I’m open to it. Good and bad. Colors, frequencies.

I took a nap today.
I need some energy.
And a Walmart mirror.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

the ocean and jello

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7-12-12   1:03am

Changin’ up my life is turning out to be a good thing. Rearranged my whole room tonight. Unearthed all my stashes of crap. Now I’m not sure what to do with them. The energy feels so much better though. And I purchased a netbook today that I feel a bit uneasy about but I think I’m okay with. I don’t wanna use -‘s Mac and I want to be able to work out of the kitchen, especially when D’s here. I got a friend to loan me 2/3 of the money so I feel less nervous about spending that much.

I feel like I’m standing in the ocean. The waves come and go. Creativity, pain. I am not washed away. I got a pedicure today. Felt really good. The thing I chose to do for me in July. Not sure what August will hold. I feel confused and dizzy with hours of anxiety, but there is a peace. A release. I feel like I’m dying, like I’m getting close. It’s probably just a phase but it’s a good feeling. When the ails of the world are distant and there is no time. When I walk through jello and wander and the world stands still. And I feel like I am not in it. That I am separate from everything around me. I want to cry but I don’t feel sad. I feel like a bumblebee.

I try to write but I mostly just stare. Music is too much. I snap at people unexpectedly. But the ocean is me.

Michelle

PS – I’m talking in accents this week. I need to sing.

Grown-up things

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7-4-12     10:46pm

I didn’t feel like sitting in traffic so I walked 3 miles after the fireworks tonight. Fireworks make me cry.

As I walked I talked to myself and God, enjoyed the cool night air, the freedom to move and to be me. I was thinking about a DBT lecture note in my journal:

Acceptance allows gentleness – making room for something in our lives without approving or judging.

I thought about Mom and Don and about independence. I’ve been thinking and planning and dreaming lately about what I want and what my future could look like. It greatly raises my anxiety. So as I walked and talked to God I tested out some positive affirmations, things to say to myself to make it less scary. I came upon this one that hits the spot:

I can do grown-up things without losing me.

(breathe…) I can do grown-up things without losing me. Growing up scares me. I don’t want to do it and thinking about it freaks me out. Like someone trying to kill me. But I can do grown-up things without losing me. Or killing me. Or changing me. I like me. I love me. I need to keep loving me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

I want to fall in

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7-2-12     8:04pm

I am SO tired. I skipped group tonight, which I rarely do. My body is rebelling. I don’t blame it.

I did some work for a friend today, helped with some organizing and grounding. I knew about halfway through I needed to stop but I stuck it out. I wrapped up nicely and went on my merry way. But I was barely breathing and in full body freakout mode and when I got to my other friend’s house (Mj) my legs gave up on walking right and then came the dizziness and head pain. I am so tired that it’s hard to stay upright, yet I’m not sleepy. I can’t explain it. Mj understands. I really enjoyed staying with her, having some moments to myself.

I find myself questioning if doing this work (helping) is worth it. Is helping and getting out of my house and my head and being somewhat social worth the toll it takes on mind and body? My friend doesn’t know what I’m going through and it’s hard for me to explain. Hard to explain why 4 hours of help causes massive body shutdown. Why I can organize and create systems but not eat. Why I LOOK fine when I’m really not. And it’s harder for me to say, “Hey, I’m not ok.” (tears) I want to be ok. I REALLY want to be ok. I don’t want to be a secret and I don’t want to be a lie. And I don’t want to feel ashamed… But I do. So I just press through it and deal with the fallout. I want to fall in.

I went walking with Mj and her dog a few times. It felt really good. I just got home to my mom on the phone with her boyfriend and Zoe. I don’t want to be here. (deep breath and tears) I can’t make it go away.

I’m so tired. My face burns and I’m tired.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

What does July feel like?

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7/1/12     3:18am

It’s 3am and I’m entering chart data and listening to youtube music. I just hate everyone today. I didn’t wake up feeling this way. At least I didn’t think I did. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on how to make my life better and on what independence looks like to me. I was having a few okay days but not today. Today I am pissed at life and everyone in it. My mom is miffed that I’m bitchy. She drives me nuts. I tolerate a lot of things but when I feel like this I tolerate nothing. I don’t want to see or hear anything wonderful much less anything incoherent, incorrect or nonsensical. I just can’t do it.

Just a few days ago I enjoyed twirling randomly, pulling weeds and eating ice cream. Tonight I just sit here, working and angry. This is the 49th week of the charting system I designed with my psychiatrist. I’ve got 4 different systems going right now, but this one is ours. I have a daily record for the past 49 weeks of what I did and felt, my states of functioning in percentages and pretty colors, my period and when I had suicidal ideations. I started reading through some of it and remembering. I’ll have to read it in chunks. It’s intense.

It doesn’t feel like almost a year. I don’t feel time at all really. The calendar says tomorrow (or today) is the first day of July. What does July feel like? Does it feel any different than March? Or 1987? The days and hours melt into colors and numbers and refills. Appointments and sleep. A month is such a long time to wait to pay my bills again, yet so short when it comes to a calendar page… (quiet)

It’s 3am and I don’t want to sleep. I need to write about my mom and her new boyfriend and about my fear and independence. But it’s late. And my eyes hurt. And I can’t think. I still don’t want to sleep. Just thought I’d check in.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

House of Cards

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6-5-12     12:54pm

I just got home from a choir concert. Not my choir. A different choir. The last pops concert of my high school choir director. I got to sing as an alumnus.

I saw a lot of people tonight and had a good 3 hours to reflect on my life. On the dynamics between and not between us and on how I have changed, how I’ve stayed the same. It was not a fun 3 hours but I enjoyed the singing.

I am upset by something that happened. There are large portions of my life for which I have no memory. I remember a snapshot here or there, but the rest is blank. I haven’t had ECT. I just have gaps in memory. So, people were coming up to me tonight that expected me to know them and I hadn’t the foggiest idea who they were. My mom says that’s normal, but it’s not. I played along as best I could. I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t an environment in which I could just say I can’t remember ‘cuz I’m crazy. Or sick. Or whatever. I don’t understand. They were sharing memories about some concerts we did. I remember one song because I did the choreography, but I don’t remember the concert. I remember the music but not the events. I remember that I liked the guy I was talking to in high school and he remembered me, but I couldn’t remember who he is. 

I sit in my kitchen and cry. I DON’T WANT THIS! I don’t want to see these people and their lives. It hurts SO much… I don’t want to remember what I could’ve been. Please. Please. 

I seem rude for not remembering, as if these people weren’t important to me or special. And I feel scared that they will find out my secret, that I’m not okay and that although I’m becoming more honest I still lie every day. I always wanted to have a people. I’ve always had a book.

I sat next to a group of people I always looked up to but was never friends with. And I watched the choir director, whom I most days can’t tolerate, end her career as a high school teacher. And I was so angry at the kids next to me talking during her solo. I turned around and smacked one of ’em with my music. I’m old enough now to realize the gravity of the moment. And to remember to shut up. ;)

In my day to day life I’m not confronted with opportunities for comparison. I know it’s not good to play the what if card. But tonight… (pause) I want that. I want what they have. I don’t even know what it is. But they have independence and freedom. I have a house of cards held together by a lie. A journal. And a black card at Staples.

Would my life be different if I remembered? I think not remembering protects me. But I don’t remember me. Sometimes I ask people what they remember about me. I can’t remember.
—
I hear “O Sifuni Mungu” (Swahili) in my head and my whole body tingles. Oh to be 13.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Rainbow Update

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5/30/12     9:09pm

I know I haven’t blogged in forever. I feel it only fair to give an update.

Today I woke up with a horrible headache, probably from a new medication last night, and I cried and cried and cried. I put on a pretty dress and went to lunch with a friend. I’m so glad I have good friends. When I got home another friend was waiting in my driveway to take me shopping for items for my Comfort Drive. I’m exhausted.

I’ve been really all over lately. I haven’t posted because there haven’t been many postable things. I’m swingin’ and switchin’ and crashing all the time. In the span of a day I can hit happy, productive, rageful, depressed, suicidal and euphoric. There are hours that I am a Rainbow and light is God and God is in me and I am God. When I hear him talk to me and I twirl and skip and there is this peace like I’ve never felt. A quiet calm in the middle of the storm. My head hurts almost constantly and whatever’s going on in my neck comes and goes. Yesterday I found myself hiding behind some dumpsters crying and fighting my thoughts.

My psychiatrist says he’s proud of me for surviving the crises and that I’m doing a good job. My therapist is becoming a life coach. My mom has a boyfriend and a job. And my cat cries a good portion of the day. I agree that I’m doing a good job handling crisis, but I want to be more stable. I want to be able to live one day at a time instead of fighting for moment to moment.

I saw a new doctor yesterday way the Hell up in Encinitas. He seems a bit cocky but like someone I could trust. He wants me to get off as many meds as possible to figure out what symptoms are side effects and what symptoms are organic. This terrifies me, as I know what happens when I don’t take medication. Last summer I was all for a wash. That’s what they call stopping all your meds. I was ready to do whatever it took to get better. But right now I just want to stop hurting. I want to be better or dead. A wash is a long painful process that doesn’t really establish any betterness. It’s sole goal is to bring out the worseness and identify the actual problem, which in this moment I don’t care about. I care about not hurting. And about preserving my inpatient Medicare days. I might be willing to do it at a facility that did not affect my Medicare days, definitely not at home.

I use my phone a lot as a coping skill and tool. I work on the bus, communicate, look up my medications and bus information. I went to group with my phone a few days ago and didn’t leave with it. It walked away. So now I have my old phone, which is great for texting but does none of the things I use my phone for now. I feel like I’m in some other world. Like everything is changing and it’s only a mirage. Today I shopped with a friend for stuff for people in the hospital. I had a good time. I felt bad because he was paying and I was shopping and I usually finance my own impulsive spending. But it was his idea. I just feel like I’m on the edge and I’m livin’ it.

I keep fighting. I’m not writing much. I’m switching too fast to follow. When I do write it’s in several colors. I go in and out of being afraid of certain colors and there are voices talking/writing that have their own colors. I’m exhausted. I need some time as Rainbow.

Thanks for listening. I really appreciate it.

Love, Michelle

PS – I gave up on brushing my teeth after a bad encounter with the dentist. I still like the toothpaste.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Pain is the price of admission

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(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.

(stare)

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.

(crying)

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

The Butterfly Flower

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(stream of consciousness during Electric Ladyland II at Anthology)
4/8/12     6:50pm

Dear Anthology,

I hate your guts and all the surroundings. It would have been EXTREMELY helpful if the girl on the phone had said I can buy some tickets at the door, but not the ones I want and they will be much more expensive. Oh, and a warning that your staff is rude would have been helpful too.

I don’t understand why every time I come here “upstairs is closed.” Last time they told me I had been “upgraded” to the bar lounge. It’s not an upgrade. I Hate the bar. I can’t see, there’s a flashing tv, and it’s freezing.

The music is wonderful but I’m having a really hard time sitting here.

—

I LOVE the music. It breaks free the broken pieces of me.

Your music is the sound of feelings, the color of magenta bold. It braids my brain.

Open my mouth to breathe.
Juicy Fruit gum.

Bandaid for a Brain Bleed. There should be a song called that.

If I were defusing a bomb, I’d like to be listening to this. It snakes though my brain grabbing wisdom.

“Braised bacon” does NOT taste like bacon.

Is there such a thing as an electric banjo?

When the channel is open the feelings are mobile. They dance in the air.
Oh, such color.

When you play, the dots float in the air. You make the dots and they float and dance. And everyone’s dots are a different color, like neurons and atoms. Yours are purple. Mikan’s are yellow. They float upward and build on each other. Voices are twisting bending lines. Everything up in the air. It is an electric ballet.

When the green man sings I hear you play JP’s love. I don’t know why. It is a loving pain that spins to become free.
Brings a warm smile to me.
Shut up, people. Love is made here. The dots disappear.

Pink!

What is that sound? Like a thought bent by riding the train…
Fluid thoughts are much prettier than crooked ones. As actual bacon is better than braised. And jalapenos shouldn’t taste like pickles. Pickled or not.

It is the red dots that get in the way.

Like cat food for the soul.

The music of brown carpet & hugs.

Must dance.

(big smile) I want to be in the dots as they turn orange.
Breathe it in.

Shut up you pre-clappers…
Let the dots fall slowly.

New dots caused raindrops, clear the truth.

I hear the sound of a heartbeat when it cries. Alone.
The texture of the taste of dark red.
Memory full.

Sometimes it is beautiful. And it is nothing else.

(goosebumps)

Michael Londra. That’s what it is.
Too many dots. TOO MANY DOTS!
(whooooo…)

Hummingbird-like dragon makes magic cat food dots for dancer’s soul.
Yes, I like it.
I rock and hum so they don’t explode in me.

(hug from -. “Glad to see you out, smiling.” me too)

Hard to hear Jamie’s awesome solo. When the wall turned blue, the music got softer.

Drum solos always get me.

The dots are like bubbles but don’t fall and take longer to pop.

My cells jump inside me! Aaaaahhhh!
Space Mountain jumping music. :)

(my candle went out – smoke)

The pink is over my soul and the train sounds outside. I love trains.
Smile in the night.

The sound is shiny.

Thank you, God.

Need to bounce! Happy comes when the candle is out.

The music is in my face.
The music IS my face.
She begs to make the orange. (big smile)

Hey, now. Don’t drop the orange ball.

Thank you, Electric Ladyland. Thank you, Jamie.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012