Posted in Adulting, Art, Cat Mom, Health

I got some new markers and my cat got a new fashion accessory…

Those two things actually have nothing to do with each other though.

On Monday the set of markers that I’ve wanted for years and recently went ahead and ordered arrived in the mail. I now am fairly certain I have all the colors that this company has to offer.


I haven’t had the chance to do anything with these new markers though, because very early Tuesday morning I noticed my cat, Teddy Bear, seemed to be licking his behind an excessive amount. Him being a cat though it can sometimes be hard to figure out what’s behavior to be worried about and what is just normal cat neuroticism. This turned out to be the worrying type because when I finally fought my way to a look at his behind I noticed a sore.
We’ve been down this road before, so I knew that this was probably an anal gland that was either about to burst or had already burst.
He’d just been at the vet’s office a few days ago for a pedicure and now he had to go back.
So I woke my husband at around 3am and informed him that we had a problem and that he’d have to call the vet when he got up in a few hours and see if they could see our cat that day.
And then he’d have to bundle our cat into his carrier, walk to the bus stop, take one bus to the end of the line and then switch to another bus to get to the vet’s office to drop him off.
And then he could go into work for the day.

They were able to see our cat, and my home diagnosis was correct, one of his anal glands had burst on him again. They’d have to put him under for the procedure to fix him up, but there was a problem. They noticed a heart murmur and would have to do an x-ray to determine the seriousness of it before they could anesthetize him.

And the x-ray was going to pretty much double the cost of his treatment.

We told them to go ahead and do the x-ray and let us know what the results were.

And then we waited…
And waited…
And waited…
And waited…

Around 3pm my husband called them for an update and found out that they hadn’t even given him the x-ray yet. My husband asked them again to call us with the results and we continued to wait.

Around 5pm they called my husband and let him know that the entire procedure went well and they wanted us to come pick him up around 6pm.

So much for calling us after the x-ray..

We were lucky enough to have one of my husband’s co-workers offer to let us borrow his car to pick up our cat and avoided having to take buses there and back during rush hour.
He’s on pain meds for the next few days and they want to see him back in 2 weeks.
And during those 2 weeks he has to wear a cone.


This is going to be a long 2 weeks…

Posted in Childless by Choice, Mental Health, Stay at Home Wife

I really am doing okay, but…

I really am doing okay, but it’s not easy.

I am more stable now than I was when I was seeing doctors and was medicated, but anxiety, panic and depression are still things that I deal with daily.

I have learned how to manage them, but managing them means having strict control over my environment. Which is not always possible.

The way that I have structured my life to manage my disorders is not always respected or understood by others. I am judged for my choice to not work. That I am a stay at home wife, even though I do not have children. I am judged for the fact that I do not even like kids and therefore obviously have no interest in having children.

I am not a social person, but some people cannot understand or respect that. I am told that I would feel better if I got out and socialized more by people who have no idea what socializing takes out of me. Not only am I one hundred percent introvert, but I have extreme anxiety. I do enjoy going out and socializing every so often, but I always pay a price for it. Which is why I love messaging and texting people (in moderation), I am able to socialize but I am also able to still be alone at the same time.

Hang up and text

It’s not that I don’t love my friends, but I have to love myself more and take care of myself. I know that this might make me a terrible friend, but I am who I am. Even if I am medicated again at some point, the medication will never completely “fix” all the things that other people think are wrong with me.

I’m always going to be an introvert, sorrynotsorry.

There are days when I wake full of purpose and can easily get up and start my day, and there are days where I feel as though I am a prisoner to that purpose or that everything is pointless. There are some mornings when just the thought of my normal daily routine is overwhelming. Where the thought of having to decide what to wear that day is paralyzing. I fear that at some point things are going to get bad enough for long enough that I will have to be hospitalized again.

The fear of hospitalization is a crippling fear.

I am aware that paranoia and mild delusions are part of my life because of my bipolar disorder. Because I know that I am prone to these things I can try to keep them under control and label them for what they are. I do fear that one day I will not recognize my delusions for what they are, that my hold on reality will slip without me realizing it. I do hope that if that ever happens that I will be able to find help quickly and that my husband and I will be able to afford it.

It shouldn’t be that way, I shouldn’t be worried about being able to afford treatment if my mental health deteriorates. I may seek treatment again before it ever gets to that point, if it ever does, but unfortunately being able to pay for that treatment has to be a primary concern.

I am honestly also somewhat reluctant to seek treatment again because I am afraid to start taking medications again. Some of the times when I was at my worst was while I was trying to find the right combination of medications to stabilize me.

It was hell.

I know that things have probably come a long way in the over a decade since I last took medications, but I am afraid that medications will only upset what balance I have found instead of help me keep it.  I do wish that I had a bit more control over my anxiety and panic, but I don’t want that at the expense of exacerbating my bipolar disorder.

Besides, I heard somewhere that some study found that people who are excessive worriers are more than likely creative geniuses.

I’m a creative genius, people. Deal with it.

Posted in Bullying, Family, Keeping my promises, Mental Health

Keeping my promises, part 7…

Previous “Keeping my promises” post can be found here.

I had just been arrested because the police thought I was running a prostitution ring at my high school by a detective who I thought was going to help me get away from a guy that was bad news. Then immediately after being arrested was transferred via ambulance to a local hospital because the police had lied to my parents and told them that I had threatened to kill myself. I waited around for hours to be seen by somebody and eventually was left waiting alone because it was the middle of the night and my parents had to go home and take care of my siblings. I was told to go and lie down on one of the beds that were separated by thin walls and continue to wait for the doctor to be able to see me. That was when the drunk lady in the little bed alcove next to mine started screaming and cursing at the top of her lungs. Nobody had told me that this was not actually the psych ward, it was probably actually more like a “drunk tank” type area, but since I had no idea what was going on I started to panic. Especially after I got up and talked to the lady at the counter behind the glass about the screaming lady and she basically told me to just go and lie down again. I was afraid that right there in that room with the hospital beds in little alcoves and the little waiting area with all the plastic chairs, and my drunk screaming neighbor, right there was where I was going to be forced to stay for some undetermined amount of time. That this was my final destination. I was terrified and nobody would tell me what was going on.

I was so relieved when the doctor finally showed up to talk with me and I was told that I was going to be transferred to the pediatric psychiatric ward of another hospital. I had another short ambulance ride and arrived at the mental hospital at around 3 am or so. I was on suicide watch for the first night and had to be watched by someone at all times. Someone sat in a chair in my doorway and watched me sleep. I was awoken at 6 am (after only have arrived at around 3 am) to go and have some blood tests done and go and speak with another doctor. I don’t remember much about this, it was a fuzzy blur. After talking with the doctor I was allowed to go back to sleep.

When I was awoken again later on the reality of my situation hit me. I had been arrested for something I didn’t do and was now locked away in some mental hospital for an unspecified amount of time. I was told that they were going to let me get away with not following the schedule that day since it was my first day, but that I was going to be expected to start following it soon. I then met my fellow patients. Luckily they were all very nice and gave me a lot of space at first. I was given a tour of the space, and although I really didn’t want to be there I had to admit that it was at least an improvement over the “drunk tank” from the night before. I was taken off suicide watch by that first night and was assigned a roommate. I can’t for the life of me remember her name now, but we had an instant connection and wondered if perhaps we might have met each other at some point when we were much younger.

I quickly fell into the routine and got to know and like a lot of my fellow patients. At some point my parents stopped by and dropped off some stuff from home for me including my toe socks, my Walkman and some of my cassette tapes (this was before mp3s), and some of my stuffed animals. I walked around with a teddy bear constantly in my arms the entire rest of my stay. At some point the doctors informed me that they believed that I was bipolar and that I was going to be taken off of the Zoloft that I had been taking and be started on a different medication. I don’t remember when it was that I found out that I never should have been on the Zoloft in the first place, it might have been later on after leaving the hospital. Zoloft is not meant for people with bipolar disorder, in fact it tends to make people with bipolar disorder worse. And instead of listening to me when I kept telling her that the medication wasn’t working, my therapist just kept upping the dosage. When I got out of the hospital I had to find a new therapist, because my old one decided that she couldn’t be my doctor anymore… I wonder if that had anything to do with the fact that she had me on an extremely high dosage of a medication that could have caused me to have suicidal thoughts or actions?

I don’t remember how long I was in the hospital. It was at least a couple of weeks. I can still remember how happy I was just to be allowed to go down to the cafeteria for meals instead of having to stay on the ward. Or when I was allowed to go outside for a little bit after some group therapy sessions that I had been cleared to attend that were held in another area of the hospital. After finally being released from the hospital I still had to attend outpatient group therapy sessions at the hospital for a while. And then I was finally free.

But then the reality of what had happened while I was in the hospital set in. I lived in a small New England town and news of my arrest had spread. Reporters had been calling or showing up outside my house. And the worst part was that even though I was still a minor they used both my name and my picture on the evening news. Everybody knew what I had been arrested for, and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t true. Luckily I was given a private tutor in order to try and get caught up on all the school work that I had missed while I was in the hospital and didn’t have to return to school right away.

I had to appear in court before a judge at the same time as Antonio because we had both been charged together. And even though I had actually done nothing wrong, and was trying to get Antonio out of my life when this whole mess blew up in my face we were both given the same sentence. A bunch of hours of community service and probation. I was lucky that I was a minor, because since I stayed out of trouble my record was wiped clean once I turned 18.

The real punishment came when I returned to school though. The kids were cruel. They all knew what had happened to me, and since it fit into their view of me already, completely believed that I had become a prostitute and was trying to lead a prostitution ring in the school. There was a day when in one of my social studies classes (a class about the 60’s) we were watching a video. Something was said about prostitution and one the girls in my class yelled out my last name. The teacher did nothing and I had to go up to her at the end of the class and point out to her that she needed to control her students better. The girl claimed that she didn’t realize that I was in the room, which was a lie, and completely irrelevant. She never should have done it in the first place. This was just one example of what my high school life had become, but luckily I had started dating the man who later became my husband before returning to school. He helped me deal with all the idiots and just make it through the end of the school year and the year after that. I don’t know what I would have done without him.

And I think that I have now finally come to the end of my long and rambling story.

Posted in Abusive Relationships, Bullying, Family, Keeping my promises, Mental Health

Keeping my promises, part 6…

Previous “Keeping my promises” posts can be found here.

My junior year of high school was a rough one for me. Not only was Justin no longer in school with me, but he was no longer dating me either. I tried to pick up old friendships that I had somewhat neglected while dating Justin, and for the most part my friends were happy to have me back. They were all happy that I was no longer with Justin, seeing as none of them had liked me dating him from the beginning. They had no idea how hard of a time I was still having with losing him. You don’t have a close to 2 year relationship with someone and then just get over them immediately after you split up. Justin had been my world, and I was having a hard time navigating my life after suddenly finding myself alone again.

I dated a few people, trying to move on from Justin. But none of the relationships lasted very long, and after splitting up with my latest boyfriend I was back to missing Justin and wishing for him back in my life. It was during this time that a new student named Antonio moved into my hometown and started attending my high school. The girls in my group were intrigued by this new guy and he ended up becoming our friend. When he started talking about how he was a “pimp” we didn’t think he was being serious, and we started joking with him about becoming his “girls”. We thought that it was funny and never really thought that it would amount to anything, but we made the mistake of writing him a note (this was back before cellphones) talking about prices for services and joked that we weren’t “cheap whores”. Like I said, we all thought it was a joke and never intended to actually perform any of these services that we had listed prices for. We found it exciting that this guy found us attractive and that he thought others would find us attractive too. We were all sophomores and juniors in high school happy for the attention that this guy (a junior himself) was giving us. I ended up hanging out with him alone after school a couple of times. He had his own car and offered to drive me home. Things started to get weird one afternoon while I was hanging out with him though. He stopped by another boy from my high school’s house and we went inside for a few minutes. There were a few guys hanging out in the living room and Antonio started talking to them about his prostitution idea, and pointed to me as a example of what he’d have to offer. I should have known to run from this guy at this point, but I was not in my right mind. By this point my dosage on my Zoloft had been upped by quite a bit, and my decision making skills and impulse control were significantly decreased. I was probably in a full blown manic state at this point, but wouldn’t know that until a month or so later. So I didn’t run, and when Antonio drove me to a secluded spot and we parked there talking I decided to try and pursue the possibility of having him as my boyfriend. He said that he would not be tied down, but he had also talked about wanting to “test the merchandise” for all his “girls”. So I decided to go for broke and see if sex with me would convince him that I was worth being with and we had sex right there in the backseat of his car.

My experiment didn’t work, and I wasn’t the only one who had sex with him trying to convince him to date them either. We didn’t really have any contact over Winter break, and when I got back from break I had come to my senses somewhat. I decided that he really was serious about his prostitution idea and that my friends and I needed to get as far away from this guy as we could. But one of my friends who had also had sex with him couldn’t be convinced that this guy was bad news. She had fallen for him and wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t going to start dating her. Unfortunately, our discussion about Antonio was happening in a classroom and the teacher decided to send us to the dean’s office to try and help us sort the whole mess out. One of my other friends and I told the dean about Antonio and how we just wanted for him to leave us alone now, and we thought that he would help us out. (My other friend was still upset though, and still couldn’t see that this guy for who he was.) Next thing I knew I was having an interview, without my parents present, with a detective in an office at my school. I was under the impression that he was there to help us, and so I was honest with him. I told him that we had joked with Antonio about prostitution. And that, yes, some of us had slept with him. But we had never actually done anything with anyone else, and that we were never really serious about it. I was the oldest girl out of the group and I told the detective that I felt that I needed to protect my younger friends from Antonio… only I made an unfortunate choice of words at this point… I called them “my girls”. I didn’t realize at the time how big of a mistake this was. But I know that I told both the dean and the detective that I wanted Antonio to leave me and my friends alone, and that I no longer wanted to have anything to do with him. But by that point it was already too late. More interviews followed, and I still thought that this detective was going to help me out. Right up until the day that he was scheduled to come by my house for another interview. Before the time that he was supposed to arrive he called my house and told me that I needed to come down to the station. I don’t remember if he made it clear over the phone that I was going to be arrested, but it was made abundantly clear once we got down to the station. I was being arrested for running a prostitution ring at my high school. You see, Antonio had saved that note that we had written joking about price lists and showed it to the detective. I figure that the detective looked at that, plus the fact that I slept with Antonio, and then decided to misinterpret my having called my girl-friends “my girls” at one point during my interview and see me as some sort of high school prostitution ring madam. Never mind the fact that this whole mess started because we went to the dean for help in getting away from a situation that we belatedly realized was very, very bad. Or the fact that absolutely nothing criminal happened. No sex acts were performed in exchange for money. The system failed.

My mother was the one that drove me down to the police station and I remember her bursting out in tears and me being annoyed with her. I think I might have even said something to her about stopping crying, but the reality of my situation still hadn’t set in for me yet at this point.

It became very real when they brought me back to a room and took my mugshot pictures and fingerprints and then locked me in the little cell in one corner of the room. Then as I was sitting there on the little bolted to the ground stool in the cell in shock they started asking me more questions. I don’t remember all of the questions that I was asked, but one of them was about if I had ever felt suicidal. I was honest and told them that I had been suicidal in the past. They also asked how I was feeling right then, and I answered honestly again by telling them that I didn’t know. The next thing I knew they had decided that I needed to be admitted to a mental hospital. (I found out later that they had told my parents that I had threatened to kill myself. Which was not true at all.) They called an ambulance for transport and I was driven to a nearby hospital where my parents met me. We waited around for hours for a doctor to come and talk with me. We eventually found out that at some point earlier I had apparently accidentally been discharged. The waiting continued and then my parents and I were eventually moved to another area of the hospital to wait for the doctor to talk with me. It had become really late at night, and my parents had to go home to my younger siblings. So I was left there to wait by myself. I was told to go lay down on one of the beds that were separated by thin walls for a while. That’s when one of the scariest nights of my life started.

To be continued…

Posted in Abusive Relationships, Keeping my promises, Mental Health

Keeping my promises, part 5…

Previous “Keeping my promises” posts can be found here.

After that first time that Justin and I hung out with John and Lauren, I think we spent more time with them than we did alone together. Part of it was when we hung out over at Lauren’s house in Lauren’s room there was no supervision. Lauren still lived at her mother’s house, but even when her mother was home, her mother never bothered us. John and Lauren were both adults, and therefore in our parents’ minds they were the adult supervision for Justin and I. Our parents had no idea what the nature of our friendship was of course. They had no idea that we were all drinking beers and smoking cigarettes while listening to music in Lauren’s room. John and Lauren were both legally old enough to do so, Justin and I were not. But what our parents probably would have been most upset to find out was how the theme of nakedness that started in the car on the way home from Salem, MA continued in our friendship. I don’t remember how it started, but eventually we were naked pretty much all the time that we were in Lauren’s room together. We weren’t necessarily engaged in sexual behavior all the time that we were hanging out together, but shedding our clothes once we entered Lauren’s room and the door was shut behind us just seemed to become a habit. It was almost like her room had become a nudist colony space.

There was a lot of sexual activity that occurred in that room though, and not just between individual couples either. Lauren and I began a sexual relationship, which was what the guys had hoped for, seeing as they always got to watch. But I also began a sexual relationship with John, and Justin began one with Lauren. This all worked out fine for the most part, we were all happy and were all having a good time together. There were some rough times though, like the night that I walked in on Lauren giving Justin a blowjob and was completely unprepared for it. It wasn’t what she was doing that upset me though, it was the looks that I felt like they gave me while Lauren continued to do what she was doing. I saw them as mean spirited, although they later claimed that they were not meant that way. I had to turn around and walk out of the room and try to get my jealous impulses under control. John sat with me on the couch in the living room as I tried to calm myself down. That turned into a pretty ugly night though. Even though I didn’t want to be upset and angry, I just couldn’t seem to shake it. We ended up out on the front lawn of  Lauren’s house with Lauren offering to get me a knife so that I could cut myself  because she said that she knew that it could help sometimes. I didn’t take her up on her offer. I didn’t end up getting home until after 3 am and when I walked in the door I found that my father had waited up for me. And boy was he pissed about me coming in so past curfew. A huge screaming match then ensued, but I can’t remember if I was punished in anyway at all. That was definitely not the best night of my life.

Another not so great night was the one where they all stood me up. They were supposed to come by and pick me up so we could all hang out for Lauren’s birthday. I got all dressed up and was waiting for them to show up. I sat at the kitchen table looking out the window waiting for their car to pull in the driveway for hours until I finally realized that they weren’t showing up. I couldn’t believe that they would just not stop by to get me, so I spent most of the night worrying that something happened to them. When I eventually did talk with Justin the next day he told me some story about John and him deciding to just hang out and play basketball and that they never ended up going over to Lauren’s and that Lauren decided to do something else for her birthday other than hang out with us. I chose to believe him and forgive him, though I made it clear that next time we had plans and he was going to cancel them that he should call me and let me know.

There was also the night (I can’t remember if this was before or after the “basketball” night…) when all four of us were fooling around together. John was having sex with Lauren, and I was kneeling on all fours on the bed next to John kissing him. Then, without any warning at all, Justin was inside me. Justin, knowing my history of sexual assault (which I wrote about here), should have known better. I froze, I had no idea how to react. After it was over, right there in front of John and Lauren, I told Justin that I wasn’t okay with what he did. If he wanted to have sex with me, he could let me know and ask me. Forcing himself upon me without asking was not okay. His response shocked me. He told me that that was how foursomes worked (…like he’d ever participated in any before our relationship…) and that he could do whatever he wanted without asking and that I had no right to be upset because what happened is exactly what I should have expected to happen. I informed him that I had every right to be upset, because when you get right down to it, what he did was rape and that I had every right to have a chance to say no to having sex with anybody. He continued to say that he did nothing wrong and that I just needed to calm down. I decided to forgive him, but that night was probably the beginning of the end for Justin and I, even though I didn’t know it at the time. Soon after is when he told me out of the blue that he wanted to break up with me. (I wrote about our breakup in this post here)

On the day after he broke up with me, when he had come over to my house and then got a call and had just walked out on me, the person who had called him was Lauren. He had told me that he was going to be hanging out with some friends, but had never told me what friends. It wasn’t until John called me to let me know that Justin was with Lauren that I realized that it was Lauren that had called him. John offered to come pick me up, he said that there were some things that I needed to know. When he came and got me he told me what really happened back on Lauren’s birthday. They were all together, but Justin didn’t want me there, so they never went and picked me up. Why Justin felt the need to lie and hide things from me when it was abundantly clear that I was okay with our open relationship is something I will never understand. Justin also apparently thought that he might be able to steal Lauren away from John, which was never going to happen, but was probably one of the main reasons why he left me. Justin had been starting to imply to me before that the only reason that John and Lauren hung out with me, was so that they could hang out with him. But once Justin and I broke up, I still spent most of my time with John and Lauren who kept telling me that I shouldn’t be upset over losing Justin because he was an annoying idiot. My relationship with Lauren was a bit strained after Justin left, but John and I still got along just fine. I really don’t know what I would have done without John reminding me that I was better than Justin and that my worth wasn’t tied to that relationship.

Soon the summer ended and I started my junior year of high school, and John, Lauren and I started hanging out less and less as I started to hang out with my friends from school more and more. And even with how things ended up, I still don’t regret my relationship with John and Lauren. Even with knowing that Justin was a liar and was doing things behind my back while we were dating, I still wasn’t over him. It was months into the school year before I realized that he probably was never going to come back to me. I even dated other people during this time, but still was always hoping that one day Justin would come back into my life and we could pick up where we left off. That obsession with getting Justin back or finding anyway that I could to forget the pain that not being with him caused me, coupled with therapy that had become ineffectual and medication that wasn’t helping (I wrote about this here) are part of what caused the events that soon would turn my life upside down.

To be continued…

Posted in Abusive Relationships, Family, Keeping my promises, Mental Health

Keeping my promises, part 3…

You can read parts 1 and 2 here and here.

To continue on with my story I need to back up a bit. During the time that Justin and I were dating I had a nervous breakdown/panic attack in the high school foyer one day before school. The details of that day are a bit fuzzy, but I can remember all of a sudden starting to cry and not being able to stop. Justin tried to get me to calm down, to get me to tell him what was wrong, but he couldn’t and I couldn’t give him answer. I had no idea what was wrong. He brought me to the guidance counselor’s office and sat with me while I continued to cry uncontrollably. I can remember sitting there on the couch with a deteriorating tissue in one hand and Justin’s hand in the other. When the guidance counselor was unable to help me, my mom was called in to pick me up and bring me home. I had absolutely no idea what was going on or what was wrong with me. I was scared and confused. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that somewhat similar things had happened to me before. Once when I was in Kindergarten and just all of a sudden had to get out of there and go home, and the time that I skipped school and ended up being raped. Only the time that I skipped school didn’t involve uncontrollable tears.

Anyway, when my mom arrived Justin walked me out to my mom’s car. I was still holding his hand and the thought of having to let go of his hand and leave him brought on even further panic. My mom literally had to order Justin to let go of my hand and walk away back to school so that she could get me in the car to go home. All while I was screaming and crying hysterically. Justin had tears streaming down his face while he kept apologizing to me as he pulled his hand from mine and walked away.

Once home I was able to calm down some. My mom called and set up an emergency appointment with a therapist for later that afternoon. I had been dragged to therapists appointments years before, but I never cooperated. I would refuse to talk and would tell the therapist and my mother that I wasn’t going to talk and that continuing to make me go was just going to be a waste of money. I would tell them that I didn’t need to see any shrinks because I was not crazy. This therapist appointment was the first one that I ever took seriously. It was clear from what happened to me at the school earlier that something wasn’t right and that I needed help. Being reassured by the therapist that being depressed and needing to see someone for it did not make me crazy was a huge revelation for me. I was prescribed and started taking my first antidepressant that day: Zoloft.

I continued with therapy regularly and my dosage of Zoloft kept slowly being raised. I thought that it might have been helping some, at least there weren’t anymore breakdowns in the middle of the high school foyer. My therapist told me that it would help me and I believed her and let her continue to up my dosage as she saw fit. She had diagnosed me with major depression in that very first visit and assumed that that’s all that was wrong with me. She saw no reason to question her diagnoses. Looking back now, there were probably glaring warning signs that she should have seen, but she had become more of a friend than a therapist toward the end of my time seeing her. My sessions had turned into times when we could gossip about what was going on in my life. She became too caught up in my social life to see the signs that something was desperately wrong. My recollections of that time are very blurry, but I can remember telling her several times that I didn’t think that the Zoloft was helping and that her reaction was to continue to up my dosage over and over again. This was frustrating to me, but she was the doctor so I trusted that she knew what was best for me.

Oh how wrong I was…

To be continued…

Posted in Awards, Blogging, Marriage, Mental Health

Versatile Blogger Award…

I would like to thank Pondering Spawned for awarding me with the Versatile Blogger Award. I had seen this award on other peoples blogs, but never thought that anyone would want to give it to me. I also never thought that anyone would ever actually read my blog, so it means a lot to me that people are not only reading it, but that at least one person liked it enough to want to award me for it. So once again, thank you, Pondering Spawned.


The rules for this award are as follows:

Rules of the Versatile Blogger Award:

1. Display the award logo on your blog.
2. Thank and Link back to the person who nominated you.
3. State 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 bloggers for this award.
5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so that they get notified by ping back.

Now in the rules it says that I have to state 7 things about myself, but Pondering Spawned stated things about her blog. So I think that I will make my answers a bit about me and a bit about my blog.

Seven things about The Illusion Of Controlled Chaos (the blog) and  Controlled Chaos (me)

1. The name of my blog came from what it feels like in my brain most of the time. Living with bi-polar disorder and O.C.D., (never officially diagnosed) and a bunch of other disorders, makes my brain a very chaotic place most of the time. Some of the time I can harness the chaos in my brain and use it to create in some way. That is where the “Controlled Chaos” part of my blog came from. It also describes the fine line that I walk in dealing with my disorders while not being on any sort of medications. I have set up my life so that I can manage my disorders and live a life that I am happy with. It gives me a feeling of being in control, but I know that it is a very fine balance and that my disorders still very much effect my life. Hence “The Illusion Of Controlled Chaos”.

2. This blog was originally created as a way that I could passive-aggressively rant about things that I saw on Facebook or on TV that pissed me off. Instead of actually posting my rants directly on Facebook (either as my status or as a comment on someone else’s status) I thought that I would write up a rant-y blog post and then share it to my wall. Then my friends and family would click on the link and find out what I was really thinking. The one problem with my plan was that I’m pretty sure that no one on Facebook really ever clicked on my blog links. Which I am now actually glad about because I have disconnected this blog from my personal Facebook page in order to write more freely about my life. When I created this blog I thought that only my friends and family from Facebook would read it, and that no one else would ever look at it. The reality is that a bunch of other wonderful bloggers have decided to take time out of their days in order to read what I have to say and support me, while my friends and family from Facebook never look at my blog. So, I thank you all of my blogging friends, without all of you, the only person who would see my blog would be my husband. 🙂

3.  I want my blog to be a place where I write about my life. Whatever it is that is going on in my life, or has happened to me in my life in the past. I want to do so without censoring myself, without leaving things out. But I am afraid that if I am perfectly honest about my life on here that some of my blogging friends might decide that they no longer want to have anything to do with me or my blog. So there are things that are going on in my life right now, big things, that I am afraid to write about on here. I hope to find the courage to really and truly write about my life, all of my life, sometime soon. I will share some of the things that I have been holding back in the rest of this post.

4. Speaking about censoring. I swear. A lot. I have not yet done so on my blog (that I can remember anyway) for fear of offending people. That might change soon.

5. I moved from the east coast all the way to Utah almost 9 years ago. There were many reasons why my husband and I moved, but one of the biggest ones was because of a certain church. We were more active in that church for a while after moving out here… until we left it. We just stopped going at first and then we actually had to resort to having our names removed from the church’s records to stop being harassed. Living where we do, we still get bugged about this church a lot, but we’ve learned how to quickly and clearly make it known that we are not interested. When I moved out here I was Christian, but now, after a lot of things that happened while leaving the church, I either consider myself agnostic or an atheist. I am not a fan of organized religion.

6. I am bisexual. I happened to fall in love with and marry a man. I could just as easily have met and fallen in love with a woman. Whether or not I would have been able to marry her would depend on the state that we happened to live in. I support the right for anyone and everyone to be able to marry the person they fell in love with if they wish to do so, regardless of if they fell in love with a man or a woman.

7. I am a rule breaker. Not a law breaker, but a rule breaker. Especially on things like this. I have been told as part of the rules that I need to nominate 15 bloggers for this award. I may break that rule. You see, I am still fairly new to this blogging thing. While I do follow and read a good amount of blogs, I am fairly certain that most of the blogs that I follow have already been awarded this award by somebody else. I could nominate them again, but I don’t see the point in doing so since they already have it… but I still might nominate some bloggers that I think might have this award already, but I’m not 100% sure. I would nominate Pondering Spawned again. But since she’s the one that gave me my award, that seems kind of silly.  🙂

Okay. Nominate (around) 15 bloggers:

1. Sorta-Ginger

2. MyExpWithSanity

3. Life According to Julie

4. Fat Ballerina

5. A little bit of me

6. RheasOfHope

7. Nomorefreerent

8. The Jiggly Bits

… 8 out of 15… good enough for me. Perhaps if I come across some more blogs in the future that do not yet have this award that I think should, I will nominate them. For now though, I have already stayed up way to late finishing this blog post. Thanks again to Pondering Spawned and everyone else that reads my blog. And thank you to all of the people whose blogs I read, you all inspire me.