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A friend is someone who knows where all your bodies are buried. Because they're the ones who helped you put them there.\' And sometimes, if you're really lucky, they help you dig them back up.
I try to be appreciative of what I have instead of bitter about what I've lost.
No,\' I replied testily. \'I'm pretty sure 'digital' is Latin for 'fingeral,' so finger cancer equals digital cancer. This is all basic anatomy, Dr. Roland.\' The Dr. Roland told me that he thought I was overreacting, and the \'fingeral\' wasn't even a real word. Then I told him that I though he was underreacting, probably because he's embarrassed that he doesn't know how Latin works. Then he claimed that \'underrecating\' isn't a word either. The man has a terrible bedside manner.
When I was in junior high I read a lot of Danielle Steele. So I always assumed that the day I got engaged I'd be naked, covered in rose petals, and sleeping with the brother of the man who'd kidnapped me.
It's true, I did say I wanted girlfriends,\' I capitulated hesitantly, \'but couldn't we start with something smaller and less terrifying? Like maybe spend a weekend at a crack house? I heard those people are very nonjudgmental, and if you accidentally say something offensive you can just blame it on their hallucinations.
One of the most important things I learned is forging a rapport with someone at your insurance company. Know their names. You'll eventually get someone who will tell you, \'This is how you do an appeal. This is what you need to say in your letter. \' You can also always go to the ER to get whatever you need to tide you over for a few days.
I have trouble getting approvals from my heath insurance company for basic antidepressants. And I have the best plan my agency has. I can't get high off this stuff! I'm not going to sell it! Getting my medication is critical. It's me saying, \'I just want to live.\' And their response seems to be, \'We agree that it's a matter of life and death; that's why we're declining it.\' Every time I get a cold, I have Tylenol with codeine coming out the wazoo. But the medication I need to live? Nah.
I wanted to write about my disorders for people like my husband or mother who don't suffer but have saved people. Mentally ill people don't have a choice in who they are. But those that stand by the mentally ill make an enormous difference. Even when I'm healthy enough to take care of myself I face constant battles, especially with insurance companies.
When someone writes something hateful and threatening I respond with something like, \'I want to be so much like you; I want to wear your skin.\' By messing with them in that way you change what they're selling. They won't share it. And it halts the conversation. Or I'll change it to \'Jenny, you're like a rose bush that grew a watermelon.\' They come back pissed off and write, \'I didn't say that!\'
Some people we define as trolls are just critics. Sometimes they have a point. And I hear them. But for the ones who comment \'I want to kill you in your sleep,\' I respond to them too.
Like books, the Internet has saved my life. It helped me recognize that so many people I adore suffer from the same things I do.
I was always shy. Writing was my only outlet. Because I always hid in a room, I spent a lot of time watching people. When I was a small child I could detect hidden body language in others only I could see. People's emotions rub off on me. When I told this to my therapist she said, \'Well, you're an empath.\' I thought, \'No way. Like Star Trek?\' And she clarified: because I am so socially uncomfortable, I have compassion for others who I recognize are also struggling. People with anxiety are acutely aware.
When you're really crazy you don't question it. Being aware of my behaviors stops them. Sure, a lot of people pick their cuticles, but how many people cut big parts of their skin off? It's unfair because I have been judged.
There's so much shame involved in not being like everyone else. But I learned that the things that made me unique were good. Dealing with problems can be awful. But in the end I got positive results. I don't think I would have been a writer if I didn't have anxiety.
In fact almost everyone in my yearbook wrote the same thing to me: \'To weird girl, you're nice.\' I didn't think it was bad. When I showed my mother she said, \'Everyone is different.\' Being weird became my tool. I'm weird; that's who I am. It was my coping badge.
I had very low self-esteem. Books saved me. I found friends in stories like The Chronicles of Narnia and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. During lunch hour at school I'd avoid social interactions by sitting on the bathroom sink and reading. My mother worked in my school cafeteria. When my anxiety got really bad, I'd put a coat on, grab my book and a flashlight, and hide in the freezer with the mac and cheese.
Writing about my illness put me into places. It was very triggering. I had to completely remove myself and practice self-care. I learned to be patient.
When Hailey was born my first thought was that I needed a drink and that hospitals should have bars in them.
I picked up the phone to call the police, but then I considered how it would sound when I told them that I was calling from inside my bathroom, where I'd OD'ed on laxatives, and that a possible rapist was quietly passing me notes under the bathroom door.
A house should look lived in, and I consider it clean as long as I don't stick to it and it doesn't give me cholera.
...you are defined not by life's imperfect moments, but by your reaction to them.
Meanwhile, I was doodling pictures of vampiric cougars.
I can finally see that all the terrible parts of my life, the embarrassing parts, the incidents I wanted to pretend never happened, and the things that make me \'weird\' and \'different,\' were actually the most important parts of my life. They were the parts that made me ME.
I am the Wizard of Oz of housewives (in that I am both \'Great and Terrible\' and because I sometimes hide behind the curtains
...and whenever I had menstral cramps, I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.
I'm pretty sure 'ferral cats' is code for 'vampire cougars.
YOU are using a frisbee as a plate.\' \'Uh, what? I'm not using a--oh hang on, this is a frisbee. Weird.\' Victor glared at me. \'Dude, calm down, I'll wash it afterward. It's probably dishwasher safe.
Because you are defined not by life's imperfect moments, but by your reaction to them. And because there is joy in embracing - rather than running from - the utter absurdity of life.
It's funny because the most sane women I've ever met are my mom and my grandmothers. I think you have to be incredibly sane and self-aware to function in relatively insane environments.
When I'm blogging, I think book writing is easier and vice versa. Writing is lonely work, and the good thing about blogging is that you have immediate feedback from commenters.