Here we go again, with another update on my life before I get into the meat of my blog.
The update is: since January, when I completely fucking lost my mind, I've been playing with my medications to try and find the right balance. We thought just popping me onto Wellbutrin in the winter, then back off again in the summer would be fine, but as soon as I went off of it, I started getting manic - not happy fun manic, but angry manic, because why should I have anything good in my life? That was mostly a joke.
Anyway, I was super high anxiety, angry at myself and others, and getting these super weird suicidal urges. I have literally never had that before. I've been what I would call suicidal before, but it came from an empty place and wasn't like this. Plus, I figure if I was actually going to do it, there'd be drama. I'd put on opera and light candles and shit. I mean, you don't know for sure, but what I'm saying is, these were not like that, and were super weird. It wasn't like I was dwelling, or had a plan, it was a sudden, very strong urge to whack my head as hard as I could against any hard, smooth thing that I happened to see. Sinks, granite counter-tops, stone railings, etc. WEIRD. Also: CLEARLY A PROBLEM
So I went back to the doctor and she put me back on Wellbutrin and also on a mood stabilizer and now:
I am feeling better than I have in years. I haven't felt this good since I first went on Lamotrigine. I guess I know that my illness is degenerative, which is terrifying, but I had been on the same dose of the same medication for 6 years, and I figured I would be ok if I just kept it up forever. Not so.
I am sleeping normally and have no particular desire to drink/fuck everything, so I'm pretty sure I'm not manic. That's the most frustrating thing about this whole business.
Friday, July 29, 2016
Monday, February 1, 2016
On Identity as Cultural Appropriation
This blog is 3 1/2 years old. It is tremendously bizarre to me how far I have come in those years. I read some of my older posts and think, "I can't believe I said that!" But that's what this is. A chronicle of my life, growing up, and whatnot.
Speaking of growing up, this post is one about some oddities of my upbringing that make me uncomfortable. I swear on me mum that it is pure weird coincidence that I am writing this on the first day of black history month. I've been thinking on it for a few months but...you know, "stuff" has been "up."
The first thing you need to know is this: I am a white girl. My mom, a Lehman, is a white lady. Her mom, a Wolff, is a white lady. We're not pure German, like my dad's side, or German-Irish-Polish like Husband. We don't really know fully where we come from, but that's not important. What is important is that I joke, in the summer, about bringing back the "Elizabeth I look," and that I spent my formative years in suburban/rural Wisconsin. I am a white girl.
And yet.
Speaking of growing up, this post is one about some oddities of my upbringing that make me uncomfortable. I swear on me mum that it is pure weird coincidence that I am writing this on the first day of black history month. I've been thinking on it for a few months but...you know, "stuff" has been "up."
The first thing you need to know is this: I am a white girl. My mom, a Lehman, is a white lady. Her mom, a Wolff, is a white lady. We're not pure German, like my dad's side, or German-Irish-Polish like Husband. We don't really know fully where we come from, but that's not important. What is important is that I joke, in the summer, about bringing back the "Elizabeth I look," and that I spent my formative years in suburban/rural Wisconsin. I am a white girl.
And yet.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Poor Old Michael Finnigan, Begin Again
Well, I have settled on my excuse for not writing more lately: I was in the throes of a major depressive episode that I didn't know I was having. Or maybe I talked myself out of thinking I was having it. Because October is always bad, so obviously that was just October. And November, I was getting over October. Then the holidays are always rough, and December is a hectic mess. Then January is for getting over the holidays, so of course I was low, and also, my husband is a huge jerk. It all seemed so rational.
When I finally did figure out that I was too low, I had my reasons, and I just thought it was a slight overreaction to serious provocation. I had a prescheduled check-up with my doctor, and she put me on some Wellbutrin to boost my normal stuff, and I figured it would help a bit. I was really low by this point, crying every night before I went to bed and every morning when I got up, because, you know, I had grievances. Then a few days later, I completely lost my mind. I told Husband that I couldn't remember why I ever thought he'd loved me. I spent the next day in an impenetrable fog, working 8 hours that I mostly don't remember, so low that my coworker could hear it over the phone, so tired that I had trouble moving my body and I kept dropping things and knocking them over because I just couldn't function.
Then the next day, I woke up. I rolled over. I was...fine. Just fine. Not *All better!* Not suddenly happy, just fine. As the day went on, the horror of what I had said to my husband started to dawn on me. I still took issue with some things (we live together, this is inevitable), but none of them seemed to matter as much. Then the next day, I woke up and I was fine again, and he was still there. I told him that I ever said something like that again, he could site this incident as proof that he loved me. I said awful, horrible things to him, but he just sort of waited it out. He was still here when I came back.
I mean, I know he married me and whatever, but seriously.
When I finally did figure out that I was too low, I had my reasons, and I just thought it was a slight overreaction to serious provocation. I had a prescheduled check-up with my doctor, and she put me on some Wellbutrin to boost my normal stuff, and I figured it would help a bit. I was really low by this point, crying every night before I went to bed and every morning when I got up, because, you know, I had grievances. Then a few days later, I completely lost my mind. I told Husband that I couldn't remember why I ever thought he'd loved me. I spent the next day in an impenetrable fog, working 8 hours that I mostly don't remember, so low that my coworker could hear it over the phone, so tired that I had trouble moving my body and I kept dropping things and knocking them over because I just couldn't function.
Then the next day, I woke up. I rolled over. I was...fine. Just fine. Not *All better!* Not suddenly happy, just fine. As the day went on, the horror of what I had said to my husband started to dawn on me. I still took issue with some things (we live together, this is inevitable), but none of them seemed to matter as much. Then the next day, I woke up and I was fine again, and he was still there. I told him that I ever said something like that again, he could site this incident as proof that he loved me. I said awful, horrible things to him, but he just sort of waited it out. He was still here when I came back.
I mean, I know he married me and whatever, but seriously.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Random Recipe Post: Historical Thanksgiving Menus
This Thanksgiving, I was ruminating on our food traditions, how it seems like it's the same every year. Not that I'm complaining! I love Thanksgiving supper soooooooooooo much. Turkey is my favorite. I love leftovers - cold turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, and bowls full of literally everything (mashed potatoes on bottom, then green beans, then cranberry, then turkey, gravy on top - oh mama).
After a little research, I figured out that the menu's been the same since...well, since forever! The ladies over at Inn at the Crossroads found a menu from 1779 that featured "Haunch of Venison, Roast Chine of Pork, Roast Turkey, Pigeon Pasties, Roast Goose, Onions in Cream, Cauliflower, Squash, Potatoes, Raw Celery, Mincemeat Pie, Pumpkin Pie, Apple Pie, Indian Pudding, Plum Pudding, (and) Cider." That's way more (and way more meat) than I've ever had, but it seems the basics, like turkey, squash, potatoes, cider, and pumpkin and apple pies were there from the beginning, and as any Wisconsinite can tell you, Venison is a Thanksgiving tradition, too!
Anyway, although the basics have been the same, I thought it might be fun to construct a couple menus featuring recipes, cooking methods, and supplies from our nation's past. I have one menu from each century. I will admit that in order to make the recipes distinct, I started to ignore old standbys, but I think I've done a good job balancing the traditional with the merely old-timey. I haven't done extensive research, but I've spent a good day or so on each one. If anyone has any suggestions for additions or improvements, let me know! I found the project really diverting, and am thinking about maybe attempting these menus when I have kids, as a little history learning exercise once a year or so.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
On Memory, Inevitability, and Healing from Wounds You Didn't Know You Had
(Consider this a warning, both for the length of this post, and for triggering material)
If I could go back in time, there are not many things I'd change. Mostly because you can't know how little changes might affect you, and in making changes to my past, I'd be killing myself. Which is all nonsense, as every time I see sci-fi shows where someone is faced with helping the heroes put back the past, they struggle with the knowledge that they will kill themselves in the process, and I think, "Well that's dumb. Don't they know it's better this way?" But that's not the point. Better or not, at the end, you become a new person, and whoever you would have become down that alternate timeline, whether they liked themselves or not, whether they were a good person or not, they are dead. Chances are, it was not so straightforward - everyone is a mix of good and bad, everyone likes and dislikes themselves or part of themselves at times. Maybe weathering this battle made them better and stronger, and although the whole world is better because the battle never happened, something will be missing from this version of that one person. They are dead.
If I could go back in time, I've said before that there were things about my wedding I would change. Certain things that I had fixed in my head that were unnecessary, because at the time, I was a staunch traditionalist. I still am, in my way. I debated for a long time whether to have my mom or my step-dad walk me down the aisle. My mom has been there for me forever. She's always been my primary parent. At the same time, my step-dad and I had formed a close bond, and he had been my dad for 20 years. I chose him, in my own way symbolically adopting him. I chose him.
When he walked me down the aisle, he was already cheating on my mom. He was already in the process of ruining everything. When it all came out, the world fell down around my ears - the narratives I'd built up about second chances, about religious conversion, about all kinds of things. For those reasons, I would go back and not choose him. For a while, I thought I should have chosen my mom. Now, I think, I would choose no one.
If I could go back in time, there are not many things I'd change. Mostly because you can't know how little changes might affect you, and in making changes to my past, I'd be killing myself. Which is all nonsense, as every time I see sci-fi shows where someone is faced with helping the heroes put back the past, they struggle with the knowledge that they will kill themselves in the process, and I think, "Well that's dumb. Don't they know it's better this way?" But that's not the point. Better or not, at the end, you become a new person, and whoever you would have become down that alternate timeline, whether they liked themselves or not, whether they were a good person or not, they are dead. Chances are, it was not so straightforward - everyone is a mix of good and bad, everyone likes and dislikes themselves or part of themselves at times. Maybe weathering this battle made them better and stronger, and although the whole world is better because the battle never happened, something will be missing from this version of that one person. They are dead.
If I could go back in time, I've said before that there were things about my wedding I would change. Certain things that I had fixed in my head that were unnecessary, because at the time, I was a staunch traditionalist. I still am, in my way. I debated for a long time whether to have my mom or my step-dad walk me down the aisle. My mom has been there for me forever. She's always been my primary parent. At the same time, my step-dad and I had formed a close bond, and he had been my dad for 20 years. I chose him, in my own way symbolically adopting him. I chose him.
When he walked me down the aisle, he was already cheating on my mom. He was already in the process of ruining everything. When it all came out, the world fell down around my ears - the narratives I'd built up about second chances, about religious conversion, about all kinds of things. For those reasons, I would go back and not choose him. For a while, I thought I should have chosen my mom. Now, I think, I would choose no one.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Once Upon a Time, My Life
I really should have known that adjusting to a new position would hinder my ability to write as often as I'd like. However, I'm getting better at the job and just adjusting in general - not that the job is that hard or that stressful, just that things need adjusted to, I guess, so I've been coming home for 3 months with no desire to cook or write or interact with humans or do anything other than watch tv or play video games. And that's ok.
I sometimes worry that being ok with my own laziness will carry me away. My mom always complains that I'm not "ambitious," but I do like to always be looking for that "next thing" - graduated HS, next is college; out of college, next is job; have husband, next is baby; have job, next is promotion; have degree, next is grad school - and on and on ad infinitum. It is so. gorram. hard. for me to just enjoy life at the point it is now. It's partially Adventure! and partially Anxiety! and partially Boredom! - no, wait, just boredom. Stillness is not in my nature. So to sit and chill seems like a great concession for me.
At the same time, movement for the sake of movement hardly counts as anything. That's what I feel like I'm doing. The next thing, the next thing, the next thing - what is that thing? Doesn't matter. It's Next. New. Different. Sometimes I feel like a hamster on a wheel. And when a hamster climbs off the wheel and chills with his water bottle in his little blue plastic hut, has he deserved his rest?
IDK, MAN!
I fear that I am too careful with myself. Since finding out about my mental illness, since I started getting migraines, I give myself permission to rest. I let myself rely on Husband for things that stress me out (like leaving the house - I go to work, I come home. He does the shopping, he runs the errands, etc.). I give myself permission to flake out on plans when having friends is just too much for me. It's true that I have some conditions, and it's true that I work hard, and it's true that I have been perhaps too self-reliant for too long, but I worry that if I give myself enough leeway, I'll collapse into a pile of useless mush or something. (That happens to people, right?)
THEN AGAIN, I got a new job, then a year later, got a promotion. I'm only 3 months in. I'm just now getting to the point of comfortableness, and I'm coming back out of my shell a little. Adjustment is hard, and it's been a busy year-or-so for adjustments. Maybe I need to lay off myself.
Anyway, here's my latest slew of quarter-life crises for your enjoyment:
I sometimes worry that being ok with my own laziness will carry me away. My mom always complains that I'm not "ambitious," but I do like to always be looking for that "next thing" - graduated HS, next is college; out of college, next is job; have husband, next is baby; have job, next is promotion; have degree, next is grad school - and on and on ad infinitum. It is so. gorram. hard. for me to just enjoy life at the point it is now. It's partially Adventure! and partially Anxiety! and partially Boredom! - no, wait, just boredom. Stillness is not in my nature. So to sit and chill seems like a great concession for me.
At the same time, movement for the sake of movement hardly counts as anything. That's what I feel like I'm doing. The next thing, the next thing, the next thing - what is that thing? Doesn't matter. It's Next. New. Different. Sometimes I feel like a hamster on a wheel. And when a hamster climbs off the wheel and chills with his water bottle in his little blue plastic hut, has he deserved his rest?
IDK, MAN!
I fear that I am too careful with myself. Since finding out about my mental illness, since I started getting migraines, I give myself permission to rest. I let myself rely on Husband for things that stress me out (like leaving the house - I go to work, I come home. He does the shopping, he runs the errands, etc.). I give myself permission to flake out on plans when having friends is just too much for me. It's true that I have some conditions, and it's true that I work hard, and it's true that I have been perhaps too self-reliant for too long, but I worry that if I give myself enough leeway, I'll collapse into a pile of useless mush or something. (That happens to people, right?)
THEN AGAIN, I got a new job, then a year later, got a promotion. I'm only 3 months in. I'm just now getting to the point of comfortableness, and I'm coming back out of my shell a little. Adjustment is hard, and it's been a busy year-or-so for adjustments. Maybe I need to lay off myself.
Anyway, here's my latest slew of quarter-life crises for your enjoyment:
Thursday, July 23, 2015
On "Encouragement"
Hi,
I am a member of the Bd. of Elders at GS [that's my church. Don't worry, it took me a second, too] and want to encourage you to take advantage of the blessings to worship and commune at GS. Our records show that Linfalas last attended church on 4/5/15 and last communed on 9/14/14. Husband last attended GS on 5/31/15 and last communed on 5/10/15. There may be a mistake in our records but this is what they show.
Both of you know how important it is to stay close to your Savior. He has done great things for all of us and we are forever grateful. Attending church and communing regularly is clearly a way of demonstrating our love and thankfulness and is a fruit of our faith. This Sunday we will celebrate the Lord's Supper at all of our services. Please make an effort to attend Sunday or in the very near future.
May God bless you.
[NAME REDACTED]
I am a member of the Bd. of Elders at GS [that's my church. Don't worry, it took me a second, too] and want to encourage you to take advantage of the blessings to worship and commune at GS. Our records show that Linfalas last attended church on 4/5/15 and last communed on 9/14/14. Husband last attended GS on 5/31/15 and last communed on 5/10/15. There may be a mistake in our records but this is what they show.
Both of you know how important it is to stay close to your Savior. He has done great things for all of us and we are forever grateful. Attending church and communing regularly is clearly a way of demonstrating our love and thankfulness and is a fruit of our faith. This Sunday we will celebrate the Lord's Supper at all of our services. Please make an effort to attend Sunday or in the very near future.
May God bless you.
[NAME REDACTED]
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