Unhealthy relationship with food

I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I love food. I love eating. I love experiencing new flavor combinations and all that great stuff. But I have an awful lack of self control. I eat when I'm sad, stressed, angry, bored... you name it. The answer is food. So I fucking hate food. I'm fat, and of course it's food's fault I'm fat, not mine. :( I've had this problem for years and years and years. I used to kind of circumvent it by being bulimic, but now I just... get fatter. Now I'm on a diet. It's not a horribly restrictive diet, just kind of eating less and eating healthier. I won't lie, the healthier food is definitely delicious, but it just kills me that I'm basically forced to make certain choices because I've gotten so damn fat. I have gained nearly 60 pounds in the last two years. Granted I have a thyroid problem and 2 years ago I was throwing up everything I ate, but it's hard not to get disgusted with myself over something like that. I'm trying to be smart about this whole healthy eating thing... having small snacks during the day to keep my metabolism up, doing some exercise, eating fruits, veggies, lean meat, Greek yogurt, etc. It's just so hard not to pig out when I'm as stressed as I am now. It's a battle between how stressed I am by being fat versus how stressed I am by the rest of my life. I miss my comfort eating. I'm going through some hard times right now, and I really, really want to just console myself with a pint of ice cream. My stupid husband hasn't signed the divorce papers yet, apparently I'm unwittingly in a feud with Clayton's mom, we're trying to get things in place to move at some point in the next couple months, etc. It just makes me want to cry all the time and consequently stuff my face. How do you give up a source of comfort like that? I want to quit smoking too, but I'm pretty sure I'd be about ready to kill people if I were to do that at this juncture. Well, I may not have a choice about quitting smoking... we're going to be super broke next week, and it's going to come down to a choice between eating and smoking. That thought right there just makes me want to cry. I haven't eaten lunch yet. I know I shouldn't skip it, but I'm so angry at food right now I just don't want to eat. As if me not eating will teach food a lesson for making me fat. I'm such an idiot.

Wedding fever

Even though I'm currently going through a divorce, I've recently been caught up in trying to decide what Clayton and I will do for our wedding. It's actually probably in reaction to the fact that I'm getting divorced... like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it's probably in reaction to the whole royal wedding thing too. I dunno. In any case, it's a subject that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later if we're going to be getting married in a little over a year. The biggest challenge we'll have to address is that my parents won't be paying for my second wedding, so we're probably going to have to fund the whole thing ourselves, which rules out a lot of options as far as where we'd have a ceremony and all that. There's a minute chance that Clayton's family might pay for things, but we certainly won't be counting on it. So... yeah. At most we might be able to put away a couple hundred bucks a month, but I would much rather go on a honeymoon than have a wedding. It seems like the most likely scenario is that we'll end up going to the courthouse or something anticlimactic like that. Yay, so exciting. I'm not going to say I won't be happy just to go to the courthouse, because in the end we'll still be married, but it would be nice if we could actually have a ceremony of some sort. But then we have to take into account Clayton's huge family and the fact that they wouldn't be satisfied unless every one of them in a 500 mile radius was there. That's terribly frustrating. I don't want 100 people at my wedding, I really don't, but Clayton said that's not a terribly unrealistic estimate (assuming 10-20 guests from my side). GAH! Maybe it's just because I've been through planning a wedding before and he hasn't, but I don't think he even comes close to grasping just how stressful planning a wedding is, no matter how simple you try to keep it. Not to mention we'd be getting married in Missouri, and planning a wedding in another state would be way more stressful than planning something local. The courthouse is sounding like a better and better option by the second.

Not a fan of my bad health

My health has completely been in the toilet recently, even more so than usual. I had mono, which I'm just about over, I had a huge freaking ovarian cyst that I had to have surgery to remove, and on top of that I had freaking pneumonia. But then there's the pain. So much pain. And the vomiting on a daily basis. Those have yet to be explained. I have to get an upper endoscopy and another colonoscopy next week to make sure there's nothing serious going on. Had a couple lumps in one of my breasts, which thankfully weren't cancer but still must be monitored. I'm also having an ultrasound next week of my gallbladder and other stuff in the region since my liver enzymes are (still?) high. So in a nutshell my physical health is a complete and utter mess, and my psychological health isn't much better. To make matters more infuriating, the health care in this stupid fucking town is so crappy that I have to travel an hour out of town just to see a gastroenterologist, but seeing as I have a history of having an enlarged liver, I don't even know that he's the kind of specialist I need to be seeing. What makes me nervous though is that Clayton's mom has cancer, and she and I have some of the same digestive symptoms. I think that would make anyone nervous. I'm done bitching. Just needed to get it out. Got to focus on my crochet. Working on a special project.

It's easy to point the finger

I am livid. So. Fucking. Livid. This time it's not my future ex-husband or a boss or anyone like that. It's my dad. He said one of the most ignorant and hurtful things he could possibly say, which was that it was my fault for "allowing" my husband to cheat on me. So he basically blamed me for the most painful event in my life. Okay, here's the scenario: You're a newlywed with horrible self-esteem and basically no income, completely financially supported by your new husband. You find out less than three months into your marriage that he's cheating. What do you do? Okay, so here was my thought process. First, I wanted a divorce. I confronted him about it. He said he would stop. I had a horrible gut feeling this was a total and utter lie, but I pretty much had no place to go, especially with negligible income at that point. Plus, having low self esteem, I thought "What man in his right mind would want me?" So I tried to believe he would stop, but it ate away at me. I never stopped my vigilant search for proof he was cheating. I never let my guard down. And eventually it got the better of me. My mental health was in the toilet, he wasn't even lying about cheating anymore, and I finally came into some money and had some income, so I decided I'd had more than enough and I left. My parents said I should have moved back home with them, but aside from the fact that I couldn't have brought my cat (who was essential to my happiness) with me, the fucking shame of admitting I'd married the wrong man so shortly after the wedding kept me from even confiding in anyone about it aside from my therapist. I didn't fucking "allow" him to cheat on me. I gave him a second chance I shouldn't have given him, but I didn't have a whole lot of fucking options at the time. Another reason I'm so mad at my dad is he keeps treating me like I'm so irresponsible. I am almost completely out of their pocket aside from my phone bill, which they pay because I'm an extra line on their plan. I have a steady job and so does Clayton, our bills get paid on time, I don't ask them for money, and we're starting to even put money away for things. I'd say that's a hell of a lot more responsible than I've been in the past. But it would be irresponsible to have a real wedding with a nice dress and all. My first marriage was the most painful experience of my life. On what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I don't want to be constantly reminded that I fucked up by going to a courthouse in a potato sack (I guess that's what he expects me to wear) and going to a shady motel across town for one night for a honeymoon. God forbid I should want to feel pretty and special for one fucking day! I don't want a $10,000 wedding. I don't want a $2,000 wedding. I don't care if we just go to a park with some rented chairs and a few flowers and get married by a justice of the peace then go back to Clayton's family's house and do a pot luck thing. I really don't. But I want to feel like I don't have to settle for absolutely nothing just because I've been married once already. I don't see why I can't have anything nice because bad things happened to me. I don't expect my parents to shell out a fucking dime for my wedding to Clayton. That's fine. They don't even have to fucking show up. I'll get over it. But don't call me fucking irresponsible when my bills are getting paid, our debts are being paid off, and maybe, just maybe, I want to save up money we can easily spare on something special. If they're not bailing me out I really don't see what the fucking problem is.

I'll be home for Christmas...

*sigh* That implies that my parents' house is my "home", which it is most definitely NOT. They moved out of my childhood home last year, and I absolutely feel like an outsider now more than ever before. I haven't lived with them (for more than three days, as in summer '09) for over five years, but going back to their old house, it always felt familiar. Now nearly every trace of my existence as a part of their lives is gone. They have a few pictures of me around the house, but when it comes to "my" room (the guest room) and all my surroundings, nothing is the way it was when I was growing up. All my trophies and medals and damn near everything from my childhood is in the attic somewhere collecting dust. My sister, of course, still lives with them, so I suppose she doesn't have the same emotional crisis about the whole thing. But... I dunno. In some way them moving out of the old house was one of the final straws that made moving halfway across the country not seem like a half bad idea. I miss them, there's no doubt of that, but something just doesn't feel right about being here. Nebraska has become my home. I have my own life with Clayton and the cats, and it's nearly mutually exclusive from my family's life. I always felt like an outsider though. A lot of it has to do with my illness. I am most certainly not the only person in the family who has *ahem* emotional problems, but I'm the only one who acknowledges it. It makes things very tense to have to walk on eggshells around people to avoid hurting their feelings. Honestly, with all the medication I'm on and therapy I've had the past six years or so, aside from hearing voices I'm pretty well adjusted. I think the problem is since I moved away in 2005 I have lost my sense of what my role in the family is. When I finished high school and my first year of college, before my hospitalizations, they were so proud of me and had such high expectations for my future. Now... I don't know that they're not still proud of me in some way, but it's a completely different dynamic. I didn't finish college, I don't have a great career or a "career" at all really, my marriage was a disaster, I just... they won't come out and say I'm a failure or anything, but I know in the back of their minds there's that nagging thought about how all my intelligence and talent was just wasted. I feel like a complete waste of space around them. They don't get why I couldn't finish my degree. They don't get why I can't suck it up and work a real job. They keep saying, well, maybe down the road, when you're stable, blah blah blah blah blah. I'm the most stable I've been in the last seven years, but with my illness comes serious limitations. The way my brain functions has changed... I don't have the drive and the focus I once did. I'm horribly forgetful. I get stressed out really easily, and my ability to function is inversely proportional to my stress level. I don't have the luxury of being able to not work so I can go back to school, and I can't handle both. School... I just don't have the mind for it anymore. When you sit through an hour-long lecture and not one word sticks in your head, and then you read the textbook and that doesn't stick either no matter how much you outline and highlight and all that, what's the fucking point of going to school? It becomes a waste of time, money, and sanity. So basically the fact that I haven't at all lived up to their expectations and the lack of understanding they have for the limitations posed by my illness have seriously been bothering me. Gah. And in everything I do with them, it's as an outsider. The family is mom, dad, and my sister, and I'm just... company. I'm not an integral part of the family. I'm an accessory... nice to have around, but certainly not necessary. The worst part of this whole mess is that Clayton is still in Nebraska for the holidays, so I'm here alone. Skype helps, but I don't have the one person who understands me around, and it makes it so hard to not lose it. Merry Christmas.

Christmas time rolling around

Wow. I haven't blogged in nearly two months. Bad me! Ah well, I can't say I've really had anything better to do, I just forget sometimes. So, what have I been up to? Well, until recently, sleeping ALL THE TIME. I'd literally sleep about 16-18 hours a day. It was mostly due to a couple of my medications that have since been discontinued, allowing me to theoretically be more productive. I suppose I've been more productive. I managed to crochet scarves and hats for my mom and sister for Christmas, and I've been a lot better about keeping up with chores lately. Gah... speaking of chores, I finally had to talk to Clayton about being such a slob. I love him to death, but it makes me resent him when I'm constantly either cleaning up after him or living in a pig sty. I take on a good share of the chores because I don't work as much as he does, but having to clean up the mess he makes when the trash can is mere feet away really gets my goat and I really don't think I should have to be his maid. He has been a little better since I said something, so I guess communication is good for something.Oh! We got a Christmas tree! I was so excited to get it. Last year Clayton and I were super broke and didn't have one. I'd had Christmases where I didn't have a tree, but my parents always had one I got to help decorate, so it was kind of okay. But then they didn't have one last year either, so it was really kind of depressing for me because that's one of my favorite things about Christmas. The initial investment of getting ornaments, a tree stand, lights, beads, etc. was kind of pricey, but now we have everything we'll need for years to come aside from a tree and maybe a couple special ornaments a year. We spent pretty much the whole day yesterday decorating and doing Christmas related stuff, which really made me realize how much of a drag my husband was around Christmas. Clayton and I had so much fun putting up the tree, singing Christmas carols, decorating the living room, making clove-studded oranges and so on. It really makes me wonder why I was with someone who didn't share my enthusiasm about such things. One of the biggest lessons I've learned since being with Clayton is that I shouldn't have to change myself for somebody. I was a different person around my husband. I wasn't allowed to be emotional or weird or slightly crude, and God forbid I should show even a hint of my insanity. I was constantly having to hide the real me because I felt like it would push him away. That was part of the nice thing about meeting Clayton in the hospital with no original intentions of entering a relationship with him. He got to see ME. The real me, uncensored, uninhibited, exactly as I am. And when it did lead to a relationship, it was great because I knew he loved me the way I am, not an image of myself I tried to project to get his approval. It's liberating.

There's something very erotic about cello music

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdnD8660_W0

I am a really, really big fan of cello music, and I think I know why. Cello music reminds me of sex. It really does. It's bold or gentle, sweet or passionate, but always beautiful. Just the motion of playing the cello is very erotic, how a person's body moves with the music. I dunno, all I'm saying is that Clayton needs to learn to play the cello should we ever have the means of acquiring one. I think the real reason I bring that up is that literally everything recently reminds me of sex. I don't know if I'm going into some sort of hypomania or something, but hypersexual would definitely be an accurate description of me lately. Nearly every second of the day I'm thinking about it or dreaming about it or fantasizing or actively trying to get it. Not that he's unwilling to oblige me. If I want it I get it, and I love that about our relationship. We still cuddle and talk and all the things I need to keep me emotionally satisfied, but there's a good balance of the emotional and physical sides of our relationship, and thankfully those two things are not mutually exclusive.

I feel worthless

My marriage still has me fucked up. I can't shake the mentality that I'm worthless, just because my stupid horrible son of a bitch husband didn't find me attractive, didn't respect me at all, and married me out of pity. It's gotten really bad. I've been having nightmares about him. And in all of them he's showing preference to other women and devaluing me and my feelings. I know his opinion shouldn't matter. I've got a man that loves me very much and treats me like an equal, but that fucking asshole is still in my fucking head!!! I don't know what to do. :(

Wow. Just... wow.

Well, just when I thought my husband couldn't be more of a dirtbag, out of the blue the chick he cheated on me with, well, one of them, contacts me. She was the one who actually lived with us for a week because her husband was beating her and she was a "friend" (wow I was stupid). I found out later he was cheating with her, but that's not where I was going with this. Anyway, she contacted me on Facebook saying she needed help getting in contact with him. I thought, well, whatever, the past is the past, so I gave her his contact information. Oddly enough she and I get to talking (mainly facilitated by the fact that she apologized profusely for putting me through what she did... little did she know that was the tip of the iceberg) and she tells me that one of her kids is his. Moreover, the kid was conceived while she was living with us. Honestly it wasn't that much of a shock because she was my friend on MySpace and I thought it was kind of suspicious that she had a kid approx. nine months after she'd lived with us, but still. This was the man that tirelessly tried to convince me I didn't want children, and he knocks up some chick. The worst part about it is that, from what she says, he's completely distant and shows no intention of ever meeting his daughter. That coupled with the fact that he'd changed his e-mail address and phone number without telling her... he's changed his phone number again so now I can't even get in touch with him except by e-mail, which he's not answering. Not good seeing as he and I aren't divorced yet. He makes me sick. And honestly, it wasn't his convincing that made me not want to have kids, it was the sinking feeling that he'd be a horrible father. I know I got my tubes tied after I left him, and I feel like it was the right thing to do, but the whole thing made me really question what kind of father I'd want a kid of mine to have. Clayton and I have talked a little about having my surgery reversed at some point if we're ever in a stable enough position to do it... we'll see what happens with that, but deep down I'm kind of hoping it happens. I know I couldn't handle a child now, but I'm only 26... I've got many more fertile years ahead of me in case things change. Uhg... got off topic. Basically my husband (I can't wait till I can call him my ex-husband) is a horrible waste of a human being and I'm glad I got away from him when I did.

Happy 4th of July... I guess

Not a lot has been going on lately. My psychiatrist changed my meds around on Thursday, and although I've been more sleepy during the day and less sleepy at night, my mood's been a lot more stable throughout the day, which has definitely been a good thing. I must be PMSing though considering how overly emotional I've been. It's not really a mood thing, it's just emotional reactions. I'm having a hard time with Clayton being in such a funk. The worst part is that I can't really do anything to make him feel better other than listen and try to be positive. I'm not a therapist. I really don't know what I'm doing other than trying to mimic what my therapists in the past have done with me. As far as the mood swings, the ups and downs, I understand what he's going through, but the anxiety problems he has are completely foreign territory. I've had a few panic attacks, but it's nothing compared to what he deals with on a daily basis, and I really don't know what to do to help him when he's feeling bad. It's been stressful, but having my mood more evened out helps me a lot. We went and saw Toy Story 3 last night. It was pretty good. I'm looking forward to Inception coming out. Just seeing the trailers makes me want to see it so badly. I just realized that seeing the movie last night was the first time we'd seen a movie in the theater since Clayton was in the navy. It was nice, even though we didn't really have the money for it. I'm tossing around the idea of canceling my husband's life insurance. He doesn't help me out financially at all and I no longer have his health insurance, so I really don't see the point in benefitting from his death should he die. I really don't want him to die or anything like that, and it seems kinda morbid to insure him in case he does. I dunno. My dad thinks I should hold off till after we're divorced.

Trying to get by

Money's going to be really tight the next few weeks. Clayton took three days off work for the sake of his sanity, which, although I completely understand the necessity of it, is really going to hurt us financially. We have a lot of mid-month bills, namely two different debts I'm paying on totaling over $200. We'll have to work really hard to stretch our money as far as it'll go. The paycheck after that should be fine, assuming Clayton is able to work his full schedule, especially because I'll be getting more hours at work pretty much from next week on. Actually this past week I got over 19 hours, with my limit being 20, so the paycheck after this coming one should be quite a bit better than this one, as I only worked about 25 hours on this paycheck. I like working more. It gets me out of the house and interacting with people, plus I feel like I'm doing something productive besides sitting around and occasionally doing housework. I have to bake a German chocolate cake either today or tomorrow. It's a late birthday cake for Clayton. His 21st birthday and our anniversary were last Tuesday. We celebrated our anniversary on Monday seeing as we were having his family over for his birthday and we wanted to do something with just the two of us. We had a really special night. We made dinner together (feta-crusted chicken breasts with sauteed veggies and hummus and pita... I definitely must make the chicken again. It was awesome!) and ate by candlelight with a glass of wine. I don't think I have to say what else happened, but it was very special, and I've never felt closer to him. His birthday was kind of a bust for me though. First off, I had a few drinks after midnight the night of his birthday, which was a few too many considering how sick I got. Had the worst hangover the first part of the day, and then when we had his family over, I got stuck cooking alone in the kitchen while everyone else was having a good time and I felt very isolated. The worst part was not being able to really share in Clayton's birthday because I was busy entertaining his family. Granted his family was pretty gracious about the amount of work I put into entertaining them, but it didn't offset the feelings of isolation much.

Things aren't going so well

Clayton's illness is getting worse, to the point he's barely able to work. I'm going to try my hardest to beg and plead for more work at my job, but I don't know how well that'll go over. He's having to take some time off work and we really need something to help close the gap. Not to mention my hours have been cut severely, so really we've needed the money for a while, but we need it even more so now. It's really hard watching him get worse and knowing there's nothing I can say or do to stop it. He's doing what he can... he's getting treatment with a psychiatrist, but the meds aren't doing anything to level him out as far as his bipolar goes, and his anxiety has become almost crippling and that hasn't really been addressed by his doctor. One thing that really worries me about him is that schizophrenia runs on one side of his family. Although his mom doesn't have it, she has bipolar and has a half-brother that's full-blown schizophrenic, so I fear that his problems now may only be the tip of the iceberg. I have been trying so hard to deal with it with as much love and patience as I have, but I find myself getting so frustrated and feeling so helpless because there's nothing I can do to make him feel better. I love him so much, but watching him fall apart is tearing my heart to pieces. I don't know what else to do. I take him to his appointments, I make sure he takes his medicine, I give him the best pep talks I can muster, I comfort him when he's sad, and none of it seems to make a bit of difference. All the while I'm trying to get my emotions under control, because I've been up, down, and all over the place lately. The instability always seems to hit during the summer. I've got to get it under control. I've got to keep it together. I can't go to the hospital... who would take care of him? *sigh* I don't know. It's hard being the stable one in a relationship when really you're not stable at all.

Just when I want to be mad...

Okay, so I really don't go out of my way to be mad at my husband, but sometimes he does things that really, really infuriate me. But it seems like every time I have good reason to be mad at him he has another stroke of bad luck. This time it has to do with my health insurance. My policy was terminated recently and I'm almost certain he was the one who terminated it. I realize it was costing him a lot of extra money every month, but he told me he'd keep me covered till our divorce. Thankfully I have Medicare and Medicaid to fall back on, but they don't cover absolutely everything and I'll be very lucky if I don't end up in a monstrous amount of debt. So I honestly had good reason to be pissed off. Then his house burned down. I am sooooooo pissed at him, but at the same time, it's hard to be too angry at someone when their house burns down. I really don't know what to say. It honestly seems like every time I'm pissed at him he has a run of bad luck. Shortly after I left and he hit me up for $800 I really didn't have he had a motorcycle accident. The girl he cheated on me with who was his "soulmate" dumped him after I went in the hospital the second time last summer because she thought what he was putting me through was cruel. I find out he's trying to move to New York over some woman and leave the company he worked with (thus canceling my policy), and although he ended up staying with that company, the girl cheats on him right before he moves up there and dumps him a month later, and now with the insurance and his house burning down. Either he just has really bad luck or karma's biting him in the butt.

It makes me sad sometimes

Clayton and I were talking last night, and it brought up something that makes me sad when I stop to think about it, which would be all the things I've lost because of my illness. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't necessarily change things because I love him very much and my illness led me to meet him, but sometimes it's hard thinking about the way things could have been. I had a full scholarship to a good school in a good program, and I was unable to finish because of my illness. Right now I could have a masters degree (which is what I'd planned on) and a job I really enjoyed and made good money doing. I could've possibly avoided my disastrous relationship with my husband had I not been so dependent on him. I'm not saying I would've been happy with my ex-boyfriend, but him breaking up with me might not have led to a nearly-successful suicide attempt. Not to mention all the years and years of misery leading up to my eventual breakdown and loss of functioning. I could've had been a functional member of society rather than someone living off government assistance unable to work a real job. *sigh* I'm not saying I'm unhappy with my life the way it is now. It's just one of those things where you wonder how things could've been different in a different situation. Some of it too is wondering how things would've been different had I sought help sooner. I went a few years without treatment while my symptoms just got worse... not smart. I just didn't want concrete proof that I wasn't normal. I thought I could handle my illness without meds and I was really, really wrong.

On another note

I checked out my credit report today. Not my score, but my report. Although I'm using most of my available credit, which isn't such a good thing, I have nothing negatively affecting my score right now, so I'm pretty happy about that. I've got a couple bills in collections, but I'm making payments on them at least, so that seems to be keeping my credit out of the red. Now I just have to work on paying off my credit card and those debts, as well as paying off Clayton's debts. I thought I'd always be content to live an an apartment, but really, having a house to ourselves is so much better, and one day I'd like to own a house. I know home ownership is down the road a ways, but I'd really like to have our credit repaired so we have the option of getting a mortgage rather than renting for the rest of our lives. As far as future plans go, I'd really really like to be able to get off government assistance and have a real job. I want a normal life... as normal as it gets for a person with my illness. I'm just really scared to go off social security disability, because there's no getting it back once I lose it, and what if I can't handle a real job?

Crazy idea may not be so crazy

For the longest time it's really gotten to me that I haven't finished my bachelor's degree. A lot of it has had to do with my illness. Okay, like 99% of it. When I started college I was a really good student and got nearly straight A's. When the illness became overwhelming and I started being heavily medicated, everything went downhill, to the point that I couldn't focus on school at all. It didn't help that I kept changing majors. I really didn't intend to. When I started at Clemson University I was a food science major, and I loved it and was really good at it. After I slit my wrist and had to move closer to home, I enrolled in College of Charleston, which didn't have my major. I made the switch to being a biology major, but I kept having to withdraw from my classes for hospitalizations and actually straight up failed one semester due to leaving school after the withdraw date on account of hospitalizations and lack of focus. I had intermittent bouts of academic success... a semester here or there with a 4.0 and then back to doing poorly depending on how long my focus held out. I transfered to a technical college for one semester as a human services major, did great, went back to the biology program at CofC and lost my focus again. I came within 4 classes of a BA in biology but couldn't finish, mostly because I was never stable enough to make it through a full semester. Then I decided I'd try culinary school and I LOVED it, but after a couple semesters it became clear that it wasn't the right program for me because I could never be a chef for a few reasons. A) I can't work a 60+ hour work week. B) I would get bored making the same food over and over. And C) I would never be able to get the healthcare benefits I needed to keep my illness under control. So... fuck. What do I do now? Well, recently Clayton got his VA benefits we've been fighting for, which should include his GI bill. He wants to be an electrical engineer, starting off at the local community college and continuing on to University of Nebraska at Lincoln. So I was doing some research into UNL and found out they have a food science program, and I was shocked at how excited that made me feel. That old longing to finish my degree came barreling back into my life, and the chance to finish my original major, the one that seemed to suit me so perfectly, seems almost too good to pass up. As far as funding it goes, I might possibly be able to get some scholarships through the state, and they have this reintegration scholarship for schizophrenic, schizoaffective (like me!), and bipolar people that I might be able to get. *Sigh* I don't know if my focus or my mental stability would hold out long enough for me to finish my degree, but honestly, with all the course credits I have, both general education and in the major, I can't imagine it'd take me more than a year or two. I dunno. I hope that I wouldn't have to start over from square one since I will have been out of school for so long. But finishing my degree would mean everything to me... it would make me feel a lot less like a huge failure, and hey, maybe I'll get stable enough that I can actually work a full time job. My dream job would be doing research and development... coming up with new food products for a big company like Kraft or something. I dunno. It might be a crazy idea, but maybe not.

Okay, maybe "normal" was a strong word...

I hear voices. Most of the time it's just random shit and they're not actually talking to me, but yesterday one was talking to me and saying some really mean things. It went away after I took my medicine with food. I'm supposed to take it with food every night, but lately I haven't been eating nearly as much and thus have neglected to take it with food most nights. It doesn't absorb nearly as well without food, so... yeah. But it's better now and I just have to be vigilant about taking my meds the way they're supposed to be taken. I still think something's not quite right with my medicine. Lately I haven't been sleeping through the night, and last night I only slept for about four and a half hours before I couldn't go back to sleep... been up since about 1:45. Bleh. I tried to go back to sleep, I really did, but after I got Clayton up for work at 3:30 and I'd been awake for nearly 2 hours, I decided there wasn't much point to getting back in bed feeling so wide awake. I'm seeing my doctor in two days, so maybe I can get this straightened out. I take medicine for sleep, but the last couple nights I've been taking NyQuil so I haven't taken it because you're not supposed to mix the two (benzo's + alcohol = bad). I'll forgo the NyQuil tonight though so I can get a good night's sleep (hopefully). I'm seeing a dermatologist tomorrow because I've been a little broken out lately and that definitely needs to go away. Honestly, I've struggled most of my adult life with acne, and the only thing that really made it go away was birth control, which I obviously haven't been on since I had my tubes tied. *sigh* I really didn't want to be up this early. I might have a photo shoot in Wichita later this month/ early July. It's focusing on cutting scars, and sadly I have plenty of those. I've had problems with it for about 11 years now, although in the past six years it hasn't been nearly as bad as it was. In my teens I would often cut every other day and I would never really give myself a chance to heal. I only had to get stitches once, but that one time nearly freaking killed me. That was almost six years ago, and thankfully it has never gotten nearly that bad again.

Life's back to normal

... or as normal as my life can be. I got back on the full dose of my antidepressant and feel soooooooo much better. Things had gotten a little rocky between Clayton and me there for a hot minute, but that seems to have improved with being back on my full dose too. It also helps that he's finally getting help for his mental illness (recently diagnosed bipolar). Huge relief. It was definitely wearing me down being his (nearly) sole support when he had his highs and lows. Of course I wanted to be there for him, but at some point it was starting to negatively affect my psychological well being too. I felt helpless. I've put so much energy into making him feel better that I've had to sacrifice some of my happiness. It's a lot to ask of me to be the stable one in a relationship, but that's what I've had to be. But I think now that he's starting on some mood stabilizers and going to therapy, some of that weight is going to be lifted from my shoulders.

Not much else is going on. I've finally got all my canning supplies together and ready to go, so I'm going to make some jam today. I got mangoes, raspberries, and blueberries. I was supposed to just use mangoes and raspberries for the recipe, but raspberries were expensive and blueberries were on sale, so I decided to go for a happy medium and get some of each. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I got way too many mangoes. I might see if there's a different mango recipe in my book that calls for more mango and just eat the berries. That would make me happy. :)

Not having the best time

So I've only been taking half doses of my antidepressant for more than a week, and I feel like shit. It was necessary because Clayton ran out of his and I was sharing my prescription with him till I had no more to share. He goes to the doctor next week and I can refill mine next week as well, so it's temporary, but for the time being I'm sad and crabby all the time, not aided at all by the fact I've got PMS. Oddly, despite the PMS I have lost three pounds in the last 5 days, which I'm sure isn't healthy. I think the thyroid medicine is finally kicking in, because even accounting for dieting and exercise, there's no other way I should have lost so much so quickly. I'm not exactly complaining... I've been struggling with my weight for years, to the point that I was making myself throw up after every meal for a year and a half. My husband was pretty dense about it... I'm mysteriously sick all the time, but only after I eat? Come on. I wasn't covering my tracks that well. But it kept my weight pretty constant, and I even lost a little. Once I stopped doing it though, I ballooned. That's the problem with bulemia. Even though you don't necessarily go on "binges", you're still used to eating whatever you want without many consequences weight-wise, and then when you stop you still think you can eat whatever you want with no consequences. I had a fast food problem, and more than that, before we left I had a serious problem with Dunkin Donuts. I would have the largest possible iced mocha, a breakfast sandwich, and at least one donut, and that was if I only went once a day. I was unemployed and I filled my hours and coped with my stress by eating. Odd thing is, now that we're not constantly poor I don't feel the need to eat fast food every day, let alone twice or three times a day. That's saved us a lot of money too, to be sure. Back home, pretty much the only way we survived was Clayton bringing home free food from work. We never cooked at home. In the beginning of our relationship we were always going out to restaurants, every night. You can't keep track of how many calories you're taking in when you're constantly eating out. Geez, I sound so obsessed with my weight. That's not healthy. If I somehow miraculously keep losing weight at the rate I am though, I might try wearing a two-piece for my planned photo shoot in New York. Granted, both my swimsuits I have are technically two pieces, but they're both tankinis and not really the look I want to have. Plus one has a skirted bottom, and that's definitely NOT cute. I want to go look at bathing suits later today, but it seems like it would be a waste of money in two possible scenarios: A) I buy one the size I am now and lose weight to the point it doesn't fit, or B) I buy one that's too small now and fail to lose enough weight for it to fit right. I'm probably going to have to get new lingerie too, as that's supposed to be part of one of the shoots and I don't really have what the photographer had in mind on hand at the moment. What else exciting is going on? Well, having my hours cut at work sucks, but at least it's temporary, so I can probably tough out a couple lousy paychecks. Last night, with the exception of the new assistant manager being a bitch and a know-it-all, as usual, things were pretty harmonious and ran pretty smoothly. I definitely noted the absence of the bitchiest girl I work with last night, as I'm pretty sure that's the reason things were as harmonious as they were. The assistant manager though... she thinks she knows better than I do how to do my job, when she's the one (while I'm off doing something important like getting ice) getting drinks sent back for being made wrong and stocking WAY too much of certain beers in my already overcrowded beer cooler. Seriously, MGD is NOT so popular that I need 10 of them stocked. And who mistakes tonic water for club soda? And she orders me in a passive aggressive way to do this and that AT THIS MOMENT when it's not even remotely imperative that it be done so urgently. I know how to do my job. I do my job well. I could do my job just as well (and with much less under-my-breath mutterings and hostility) if she weren't constantly up in my business. I try to deal with it with the least possible confrontation, but I don't like being treated like a five year old. Most the time I hold my tongue and just stay quiet around her so I don't risk saying something she could construe as insubordination. Then she asks me why I'm being so quiet. Perhaps she hasn't noticed that I'm not quiet around anybody else. I'm downright chatty. But my mom told me if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all, and I have nothing nice to say to her. Would I love to tell her how dumb and absolutely infuriating she is and that she doesn't know the ins and outs of doing my job so she should just shut the fuck up and let me work in peace (as much peace as I can have on a busy night)? Hell yes I would. But I also like having a job. She's not worth losing my job over.

Hooray for windfalls

I recently got Medicaid to go along with my Medicare, which is pretty great in and of itself because it cuts my copays down significantly. Today, however, I checked my bank account and $110.50 had mysteriously appeared in it from the Social Security Administration. That's the exact amount I pay for my Medicare premium. So this leads me to believe that it was my last month's premium reimbursed to me, which also leads me to believe that the state of Nebraska will be paying my premium. And hey, who couldn't use an extra $110 a month? I sure could...