purpose

I feel the need to censor because of some comments I have received, but I don't want to feel the need to censor what I write here. This is my own space to be expressive and hyperbolic and hilarious and rough and eloquent and raw. This is not the kind of writing I need correction on. This is not the place to give me lectures or encouragement. This is not the place to point out inconsistencies. This is self-expression, self-discovery, and dysfunction "incarnate". It is what is it, existing to its own self and wants to rest undisturbed, like a bear in its cave. This is not a plea for help, not a call for attention. The very act of putting the words down, putting the bear in the cave so to speak, is helpful and therapeutic to me. That's why I've disabled commenting as "anonymous". This is a personal blog only shared with a select few. You must have the face to put your name by your comments, but I will decide which ones get published. This is me. Uncensored. This place is mine.

Over here is where I appreciate positive comments -> sarahbawden.wordpress.com

Rant over. Apology for hurt feelings.

Moving on...


We woke up to the fire alarm this morning. And then it went back to sleep, but we couldn't. Rude.

Yesterday was a tired day. Today is a more tired day because of the snow.

I'm breaking through walls with my elbows and chin jutted straight out. Move. Crumble.

Too tired for any more long-strung thoughts. It's fine.

When you are married, the only thing you personally own is responsibility for your actions.

Why Thunder is better than Chocolate:
- it doesn't cause me distressing emotional crash
- I don't have to move from the couch to enjoy it
- I don't have to pay for it
- I'm not allergic to it
- it's not addicting
- it thrills me to the core and that feeling lasts
- it is fleeting and therefore more of a special treat
- lightning looks beautiful and thunder feels beautiful

I daydream about fighting bad guys and/or defending myself and others. I think this is why I like writing fight scenes so much. It gets my adrenaline running.

I'm mobile. I can walk. It is a miracle, but still to what end? What purpose? God is preparing me, so I'm doing my best and once He thinks I'm ready, He will reveal to me the next season of my life.

we are equal

I went to the ER last Thursday, back pain radiating down my right leg rendering me incapable of walking.

Two days prior to this, I had turned in my work release form that would allow me to go back to work on Monday.

Needless to say, I didn't go back to work. So here I am again, hurrying up with the paperwork so I can wait on someone else to do their job while they decide whether or not or how soon I’ll be able to go back to mine.

These are some things I have done since the ER visit: knit, make wall tapestries, wash three loads of laundry by myself, and walk every day. Yesterday I stopped taking the lor-tab they prescribed me to see if I'd be able to sleep comfortably yet. Today, not only is my back aching again, but my body is reminding me of all the other aches and pains it usually suffers with silently on a daily basis. Now, that is some powerful pain medication.

Also, the main difference I notice between being functional and being depressed is my ability to bully or trick myself into doing things I know I need to do. And that's okay. When I'm really doing well, I don't even feel bullied!

Medical history aside, here are my blog thoughts:

International Women's Day. Opinion: neutral leaning toward negative. Here's why:

Despite the fact that there supposedly is a legitimate International Men's Day (November 19th) I literally just googled it and that is the first time I have ever heard of it, ever. I couldn’t miss the hype surrounding International Women’s Day if I tried. That’s just the problem: I know that there is hype; I do not know anything else about it except what the name of the “holiday” seems to imply: GO WOMEN! YEAH! WOOHOO!

So, in our politically correct, gender-ambiguous, sorely divided, kale-eating, gossipy, judgemental of the judgemental, surgery changes gender country we have two different days to celebrate two DIFFERENT genders. Wait, what? Oh, yeah, and one day for all the “other” genders. Also, an extra day in August for Women’s Equality. Oh, yeah, and a Mother’s day and Father’s day. So I guess we are trying to celebrate everybody at least a couple times each year.

How about scrap all of that and have every day be happy Human Day and let’s start to acknowledge and serve those around us on a one-on-one basis. Let’s have every day be a Fair Boss Day where we treat our employees with respect because they are humans. Capiche?

Now, for my other opinion: there are only two genders. Male and Female. I’m sorry, but you can’t argue chromosomes out of that one. That’s just fact. We also have gender-stereotypes that are so deeply ingrained that you couldn’t give a baby girl a blue blanket without risking offending the mom. My favorite color right now is light blue. No point proven, just... there.

I have a whole bunch of  arguments that tear down idiotic societal norms. But I’m a little too tired to try and put them all out there right now. Or even some of them. Just know that we live in a place that celebrates differences and then denies differences because they are incompatible with equality somehow.

“Different yet equal” took on some very negative connotations at one point in our history because “equal” was NOT equal. But:

Different yet equal is a perfect way to describe males versus females. My husband has incredible strengths and different ways of seeing things than I do. Which translates to some very wonderful insights for the both of us and new ideas! We take care of each other. We do things for each other and it works out.

Different yet equal is a perfect way to describe race versus race. Me versus the Indian people who live in the next building over. They have feelings, opinions, lives, goals and heartbreaks. Just like me. We nod and smile when we pass on the sidewalk. I may never know anything about them except that one time that lady gave my friend so much delicious Indian curry that my friend had to give some to me and it was literally the day after I prayed that someone please, please bring me dinner because I’m in so much pain but don’t want to ask. It worked out.

Different yet equal is a perfect way to describe friends. Me, who loves soft yarn to be sure, versus my dear friend who loves this nasty, fat, fluffy yarn that is a nightmare to work with. She loves it! I hate it! Yet we both care for one another, we both get together to do the fiber arts and write and talk and walk. And I give her all my nasty, fat, fluffy yarn! It works out.

 “Equality” starts on a one-on-one level. Do you treat your neighbor as equally kind as you do yourself? Do you treat your friends even better than yourself? Do you treat your spouse – your soul mate – even better than that? No? Then stop worrying about how society is treating… society, and go out there and be kind. We are different. Do you think God might know how hard it is for someone as corrupt as a human being to love someone different? Do you think maybe He let us be different on purpose? The more you have to open your heart to love people who are different, the more enriching and joyful this life is going to be and that’s just fact.

tmi

"I think exercise is my brass serpent on the pole."

Excuse me while I rinse my mouth out.

I'm trying to love it, though. Really, I am. I posted a sticky-note on my bathroom mirror that says "I love to exercise" and I read it to myself... when I remember to. This morning I went to my first water Zumba class and actually liked it a lot. Some of the moves stretched my back out and I felt more mobile all morning and well into the afternoon.

For real, though, if exercise is the only thing I've needed to do this whole time just to keep my back happy I'm going to kick myself so hard.

Moving on:

I haven't shaved my legs in weeks, probably months. I haven't shaved my armpits in quite a few days, either. And I went swimming like this. In public. When it is painful to bend over and one's husband is doing all he can to keep up with school and work, one would feel rude asking him to help shave one's legs. So I look like Sasquatch. So what? Here is my list of very legitimate reasons not to shave:

1. it breaks stereotypes and social expectations
2. I'm trying to be more like Katniss
3. it's convenient
4. it's a subtle push back against pornography "ideals"
5. I can't, anyway
6. no more razor burn and waking up with bloody fingernails from scratching in my sleep
7. my husband doesn't really care
8. other people don't really care
9. I don't really care if other ladies don't shave
10. hairy legs don't change my feminine soul

Next topic:

Let's get more serious for a bit. I want to share a mantra that without a doubt was the most helpful realization I had when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder and trying to come to terms with the wacko things demon-Sarah was doing behind my back before I was on proper medication.

"You're not in trouble for being broken."

The Atonement of Christ covers oopsies and uh-ohs and things I regret doing. It can wipe clean the slate as long as I keep fighting to stay on His side.

And, finally:

The "All or Nothing Mentality" that is so destructive. Here are a couple phrases that have become commonplace that reflect this mentality. Warning: believing these may cause severe progression paralysis.

1. "Go big or go home"
2. "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing well"

Props if you are the type of personality that thrives on shooting for that high bar. For the rest of us, let's adopt something more like this:

1. "Go at your best pace and don't give up"
2. "If something is worth doing, it is worth learning all you can about it and practicing every day until you are a pro"

searching for my life

I'm probably manic. That is usually the only time I think it is a good idea to start up a blog again. Besides, I think my "internet voice" is unbearably annoying. Not a lot of motivation to keep going after I've reread old posts. I think this is the... 4th or 5th blog I've ever tried to start. I lack consistency. I'm kind of a flake about things, but in my defense I have not been really functional (mentally) until about 2 or 3 years ago and there is still another dead blog in the internet graveyard from that time period. How many of these thoughts sounds familiar:

"Well, this time will be different because..."
"I'll just pace myself..."
"Take smaller bites so..."
"I can be more consistent..."
"Because it's the new year and that magically means I have at least one or two solid months of goal-meeting before I peter out again. That's enough time to develop a solid habit. ...isn't it?"

I'm 25 years old. To me, that is too old to start new things if I want to be successful in life. These thoughts are strongest when I think of my friends (who are younger than I) who all have been married longer, have degrees or children or both and still manage a Pinterest-perfect life. These thoughts are coming to a head right now because two days ago, after knitting, crocheting, reading, studying scriptures, sewing and writing all day - on the couch because my back bummed out and I've missed work for 3 weeks - I realized, to my horror, that my day still felt empty. I still felt like I was missing something. My husband came home to me moping around and was just as surprised as I was to hear about my realization. The trickiest part is: I'm probably manic, but I have mixed symptoms so it could also be the depression talking, sucking the color and joy out of things I've loved doing my whole life.

The scriptures say "Study it out, humble yourself, then ask and ye shall receive." Paraphrased, forgive me, so I made a list of the things I love to do and rated them 1-10 according to how good I think I am at each activity. Top 5 were: sewing; crocheting; knitting; pencil drawing; and watercolor. And I felt disappointed! Why? I'm still working on answering that, but I have some theories. I haven't spent as much time writing as I have on other activities. Hubby says I should try that out exclusively over the next few days and see what happens.

I think I have to be ready to give up everything I love before I'll get more answers from God. That's what it feels like to me to humble myself. After my first list I started a second, very different-sounding one of things I am good at like "teaching" and "helping people feel better" and I felt like that might be going the right direction. But, you see the problem: if I have "seasons of flakiness" (aka bipolar disorder, I don't care if I'm medicated, there is still flux and flow) I probably shouldn't go into a profession where people have to depend on me all the time. Oh, darn, that's, like, life.


Hey, I wrote a thing.