*Ding* Level Up

I love achievements. I readily admit I’m an achievement whore. Every video game I play, I always play toward getting them. They’re like Pokemon, “gotta catch ’em all”.

It’s a lovely feeling. It’s like when you were in kindergarten and the teacher would put the star stickers OR, if you were lucky, the scratch and sniff stickers on your work. A cheevo popping is like that banana sticker on your spelling test. “GOOD JOB, YOU!”  it proclaims loudly.

I wish real life were that way.

“Ding! You just graduated!”

“Ding! You just had your first baby!”

Even the bad stuff wouldn’t be so awful if you were rewarded with that ole “Hey! You TOTALLY survived your first hangover!” or “Ding! You got dumped!” It would make Facebook messages so much better, you know? We could see past the bullshit comments of “#lovin’life” and “#screwyouRegina” or whatever. I think 4square was a wee bit close. “Ding! You are eating at Steak and Shake!” Or wherever. I don’t go out to eat, since that would require leaving my apartment.

Chris Hardwick, the adorable Nerdist, wrote a book in the early days of his geekpire, which is like an empire, but full of cosplayers and dudes in bowties and fezes (Whovians Represent!). The book was called The Nerdist Way, and it is basically taking the trials and tribulations of life and tricking your brain into turning everything into an RPG, giving yourself XP or leveling when you get past the milestones you set. I was given it as a gift from a friend of mine, and I haven’t finished it yet, but so far I adore it and am at the point where I am recommending it left and right. I might even eventually post my character sheet when I make it.

I actually felt… okay… the past two days. Like, for real okay. No misery. No missing pieces in my heart. Right now the shields are in place. I don’t know how long they’ll stay up, and I couldn’t by any means call myself happy, but I think they have finally found the right mg of depression meds to give me.

I almost lost that okay feeling earlier because my ex-husband was being a total FFDB. Okay, maybe not total, I am probably prejudiced against him by now, but he does this thing where when he feels like crap he is grouchy and hateful and there’s this black cloud of darkness that permeates around him and it makes me super-anxious because I’m hyper-vigilant about other people’s moods, and he often takes a condescending tone with me.

For example it’s “You THINK that’s what you said, but it isn’t.” No, motherfucker, that IS what I said. I hate it. And if he does something particularly douchy and I call him on it, he tells me that I’m overemotional and need to talk to my therapist because I’m crazy. I don’t think it’s crazy to not want to be screamed at in my own apartment by the man I divorced. I don’t think it’s crazy to get frustrated when I asked him three times what food he wanted to get when I made the grocery list and he said he wasn’t going to eat, and then he bought himself hummus and cheesebread, which wasn’t on the list and put me over what I have to pay my mother back when I get money on the first.  Oh and he ate three times since he returned with the groceries, despite shrieking “I’M NOT GOING TO EAT ANY G-D FOOD!”

But yes, I realize I get overly upset. I can’t handle normal differences in opinion some days, much less someone telling me I’m wrong or implying they are superior and I’m lesser because I have no emotional skin. If I perceive the message that someone thinks I am stupid, I really lose it. Like Marty McFly being called “chicken”. And he knows how to work me, twist me around and fluster me and get me to the point that I am weeping and I want to claw his eyes out.

I promise, I am not a violent person. And it’s something severe that could make me feel that way, because this medication has made everything inside me numb.

So anyway. Life needs Achievement pop-ups. It would make everyone so much more productive. There have been multiple psychological tests and papers and studies about achievement motivation. Also, as someone who is suffering from a disorder that forces me to need approval, it’s so satisfying to have some sort of acknowledgement that I am accomplishing things.


Even if it’s as mundane as sorting the laundry.

Oh, and check this out. My youngest daughter is a regular Cool-Hand Luke.

This video is all sorts of satisfying for those of us with even the mildest OCD.

Good… well… morning. I forgot to take my meds, so I am apparently not sleeping tonight. (I also recognize I may be in the beginning stages of a manic episode and am sort of glad I don’t have any money to binge-spend or the desire to make another horribly bad relationship decision.)


Really going now. Um… bye. Or whatever.


blog, pt deux

This started out as a reply to an earlier comment, but it went three paragraphs long, so I figured… might as well make it another post. My blog and I’ll do what I want!!! >_<

It’s so sad, to lose the joy in writing for yourself. I used to ONLY write for myself. Though not because I was self-conscious, amazingly enough, but because it was something that was just mine.

My family wasn’t very intellectual or creative back then(my little brother has become an amazing artist), and part of the reason was there wasn’t that much I wanted to read at our little bitty library, and my allowance couldn’t keep up with the voraciousness of my reading habits. I used to make worlds that I loved, or fanfic when a show caught me in its pull.

It was the only thing I was confident about, I knew I was good and I wrote what made me happy and I didn’t care one whit if anyone else ever read it. I almost hate him for it, blaming him for making me share that when it ended up tainted. Or maybe I hate myself for being foolish, or letting it become tainted. It was my way to self-soothe, which is way better than cutting or promiscuity (though I have made stupid and reckless decisions about relationships) or drugs, though I would get pretty caught up, not eating or sleeping, while I was writing. My cousin Steven told me earlier that it was amazing that I never became an addict, and I wanted to disagree with him even if I couldn’t explain why I felt he was wrong, and now it finally occurs to me:

I am addicted to my fantasy worlds. My characters and stories and playing pretend, knowing it isn’t real, but something in the back of my head would say, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if just by creating these stories, in another reality they become real?”

Which is weird and I know it’s untrue, but I still liked to imagine that. On that note, yes, I have been playing Bioshock Infinite. But no, this is the way I’ve always thought. It’s kind of amazing to play, and knowing that this sort of thing actually comes to others’ minds.

What if there really were infinite other worlds, each one just a choice away from this one? Heads… or tails? Alive or dead? Left or right?

In my worst dissociative moments, I have convinced myself that I’m in the wrong reality. That something traumatic or just BIG has knocked me sideways and I slipped through some crack and I am living the wrong life. Because so much seems so WRONG.

Like, Nathan is not the man I married. John is not the man I thought I knew. My mom is not the woman she was when I was little… no one is, really.

I haven’t figured out yet if they’ve just changed that much or if I have been blind to everyone this whole time. I don’t know which hurts more: they’ve decayed that much, or that I was so stupid, or even that I’m trapped in the wrong life. They’re all horrible thoughts if you look at them. I’d like a fourth choice now please. Or at the very least, a way back to my real world.

I’ve also decided that I am going to link a song at the end of my blogs (and I may go retcon and edit my earlier ones and add a song to them… yep. I’m going to do that) because you can know so much about what someone is feeling by the songs in their head. So, without further ado- a song about the decaying nature of relationships by a woman with a beautiful voice and soul. The Bed Song by Amanda Palmer

Borderline borderline borderline borderline borderline (five times makes it circle, which lessens its power)

I love Cracked.com. I always click on one article… then it’s about five hours later and my head hurts, but I’ve at least smiled at the smarmy but true lists. And every once in a while, they hit the nail on the head in a way that will tell such TRUTH while making you laugh.
Things like this always interest me, as someone who has been labeled clingy crazy-mood-swing-girl, and I’ve heard the phrase “You can’t base your self-worth on what someone else sees in you” in so many ways it haunts my dreams sometimes.

But the thing is, even telling myself I’m not worthless, even with everyone in my life telling me that I’m funny or nice or smart or creative or whatever, in the back of my head, I can see people being annoyed by the babbling fat-ass stupid crazy bitch sitting in front of them. And no amount of therapy, meds, amazing family and friends will ever stop that voice in the back of my head that tells me that no matter how much I pretend, I will always really be worthless. And every time someone abandons me (and yes, the subtext is “They ALWAYS abandon you eventually”) it just puts another hash mark in the “Amy is a worthless pathetic waste of air and should kill herself horribly and videotape it so the world can see and rejoice in not having to serve up any more living to someone who is complete shite.” And yes, that is exactly how my inner monologue sees myself, even when I was actually pretty and young and new.

That ended up a lot heavier than I meant it to be. But yeah… if any of these behaviors sound like anyone you’ve loved in your life, share the article, or maybe let them know that even though you’ll never really get it, you kinda had a glimpse. Also give them a hug. Hugs are important.


And what I consider a BPD Anthem: Stinkfist, though this is the cover by Mer, which I think is amazing.

Date of Birth

It’s my birthday. I honestly do not care. I have lost the ability to be excited about things. But I’ve (mostly) stopped the crying thing. It comes in shorter bursts, and sometimes over the weirdest things like I was reading a Christopher Pike book and it made me miss him so bad I wanted to die.

I was at the disability doctor appointment waiting for the doctor to come in, which he did right after it happened and asked in that kind of hesitant voice “…Are you doin’ alright today, Ms. Mays?” to which I replied “I… just haven’t felt well lately.” Because really… what could I say?

Waiting on the psych appointment, but Families First approved the medical version of that so I’m going to fax the acceptance letter to the Disability people as an official “She is incapacitated.” letter from a government office. Couldn’t hurt, right?

My friend @verilyvexed and I have joked about making a Community comic based on her original idea of drawing the dean dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. When she mentioned this I immediately got ideas for what the study group would wear: Jeff would be a sexy priest, which would piss Shirley off, Ritta would be Ishtar, which would piss Shirley off… Shirley would take the opportunity to do something VERY over the top Christian, which is very her, Pierce would wear some sort of official uniform for the Neo Buddhist Lazer Lotus group looking like an extra from the set of Barbarella, and Troy and Abed would organize a schoolwide easter egg hunt. The dean would appear singing and draping himself on the doorway, one knee up and say “I’m not bad, I’m just DEANED that way!” Then “Get it?” then waving his hand and chuckling while he tells him the ridiculous idea he had for easter to use as an excuse to be Jessica Rabbit because he forgets that she isn’t even a real rabbit. It’s the first thing I’ve really wanted to write in a very long time.

Only a couple of people have wished me a happy birthday so far. Like I said, I’m not really excited about it. There’s really only one person I’d like to contact me today, and I’m more likely to join the set of Doctor Who than for him to even pretend I ever meant anything to him.

Was that bitter? Yeah… that reads as bitter. But the emotion behind it is numb. I feel nothing. But apparently my fingers are still hurt and humiliated at least.

Oh and as an addendum to yesterday’s post: I actually semi-helped with the tree, Kiera broke two red globes but that’s it, they put out the cloth manger scene, my ex DID move around my living room furniture and I actually kinda like it, and I didn’t go nazi-decorator on them. Though I DID have to gripe at them about putting the homemade decorations front and center because SPECIAL!!! and to put the delicate glass decorations closer to the bottom to cut down on the broken ones.

A really funny story about today though:

Cali and Kiera have been picking at each other all day. After yet another argument, I said their names in a warning tone. They were silent for a minute, then Kiera said, “I’m sorry, Cali.” Cali, in a polite tone, responded, “It’s alright, Kiera. Why’d you have to be so rude?” After another short pause, they both started singing, “Why’d you have to be so rude? Don’t you know I’m human tooooo?”  Which is this song if you didn’t already know. And how can I get mad at them when they’re starring in their own personal musical? I can’t. That’s the correct answer.

So, I’ve been trying not to bitch and whine about my cursed romance as much, as you can see. Hopefully I’m at least entertaining.

Anyway, the whole “Community” comic came up because @verilyvexed wished me a happy birthday and that the next year will be great to which I said something along the lines of “it’s gotta be yeesh” and she said it will be because she’s a level 47 Lazer Lotus Buddhist and she said it will be so. Then we went on about The IT Crowd and Joel McHale and Community some more and somehow along that I saw they have a The Big Bang Theory porn parody and I was all “WHY??? thE FUUUUCK?” and I couldn’t send her any links on her work computer because that would be bad and she asked if she had forced me to see her drawing of Dean! Jessica Rabbit and she even had a semi-conceived comic idea and off we went for about an hour. If we don’t procrastinate to death we might actually do it. And if I do I will link it to here.

Yes. I am having the BPD manic episodes without the emotion behind it which is mostly just me not sleeping playing solitaire and listening to The Dresden Files audiobooks  and going off on very long incoherent tangents about the first thing that pops into my head.


Birthday by The Cruxshadows