OZMA & DOROTHY

I dunno, therapy wasn't so good today. I felt very vulnerable about the things we discussed, and his reaction to them. I mean, I'm glad I got a job and things are looking up, but no matter what I do, I always feel disconnected from the world. I feel like an onlooker instead of a participant. I'm afraid to even allow myself the minutest of joys, because I've been trained to reject it because it doesn't belong to me. Dr. Ben said not to be hard on myself, or judge myself, but I don't know how to not do those things. I'm still ever drowned in fear, and there is nowhere to run to. I keep finding myself in endless corridors with endless twists and turns, and they always lead to one thing: DEAD END.

NEW YEAR, NEW ME?

Not so fast. That's not how it works. When the clock strikes midnight on December 31st, you don't magically morph into the person you want to be. After 37 years I am finally facing my demons head on. And you know what's happening? People are bailing. So perhaps, instead of focusing on a new me, I should also focus on a new entourage. I don't really have a substantial one to begin with, but I know there are people out there that love me and respect me and get me. They say when you become really sick (like cancer-sick) you find out who really loves you; you find out who is sticking by you.

Right now the 2 main stressors in my life are my mother and my partner. They are talking behind my back, gaslighting me at every opportunity, and attacking me because I am traumatized (which is only triggering me further). They are guilt-tripping me, judging me, and essentially sick of me and my "problems." I get it. I'm a difficult person to love. It is a result of the ongoing abuse and neglect I suffered at my caretaker's hand. I am literally acting out of a place of fear and rejection. And they are blaming me for it, even though it is a direct reaction to the suffering I endured, and continue to endure, on a regular basis. If I was suffering from any other disease, say diabetes or cancer, I fear I would be telling an entirely different tale. But this is the story of my life: a harsh, unsafe, battered childhood. Growing up feeling worthless, then unable to have meaningful, interpersonal relationships. Enter marriage. Enter more feelings of worthlessness. Enter disappointment, disgust, and anger from spouse. Enter guilt and resentment. Depression doesn't magically go away. Thoughts of suicide don't stop badgering your brain just because you wish it so. Every 3 months, my review always comes back the same: unsatisfactory. Spouse is literally doing the exact thing my mother did to me for decades—telling me to snap out of it. This gives one the idea that "it" is a choice. It's not. When I was not being abused, I was being neglected. When I was not being neglected, I was being abused. I did not choose these things to happen to me. I am working to get better, but apparently the rate I am going at is too slow. Not enough satisfactory improvements are visible. These evaluations, along with the backtalk and judgement, do not help me move forward. If anything, they contribute to my feelings of utter worthlessness, and ultimately propel my suicidal ideations to a fevered pitch. I know for a fact that these individuals are not doing this on purpose. Thanks to Dr. Ben, he has shown me that most people do *not* know how to deal with suicidal people. In fact, they often mistakenly say or do triggering things without even realizing it (sadly, they think they are helping). So I no longer take these punches personal. However, they still hurt me to my core. And that's what I need to continue to work on: my pain. It has such thrall over me, that I don't even know what it feels like to be safe, happy, and light-hearted. Being forced to grow up very quickly (homeschool myself and younger sibling; protect self and sibling from unstable, violent home, etc.), I never had a moment to rest or be a child. I was raped—emotionally, mentally, psychologically. I honestly feel like I have brain damage from the experience.

I'm not writing this for myself. I am writing this for anyone out there who is struggling with severe and debilitating mental illness. You are not alone. I know that doesn't ease the pain, or make the battle any easier, but know that I am here for you in solidarity. I will never turn my back on the broken, discarded, and misunderstood. You are my brethren. We will get together someday, you and I. We will be in heaven, not the one above, but the one in our hearts. The heaven that unfurls when 2 broken pieces find each other in perfect harmony and love.

Until then I keep my animals and books close. Nothing has changed.

2019 YOU PESKY DEVIL

Today was not a very good day. I ended up going to therapy pre-anxious, wanting to talk about certain topics. In the end, I just rambled for the entire hour, going off on a million different tangents. I felt like Trump when he vomits a word salad without really saying anything substantial. Then the topic shifted, and things got really Twin Peaks-esque. The word "transference" came up (he said it; I had it in my head from before), and then I told him I felt like I was Dale Cooper's big faded face saying, "We live inside a dream."

Then after therapy, I recorded a 26 minute video of myself discussing mental health, the New Year, etc. I put a lot into it, getting really emotional and even tearing up at some points. At the 26 minute mark I noted that my phone only had enough room to record 10 more minutes of video. Then my phone battery died. When I turned my phone back on, the video was *gone*gone*gone*.

I have no room on my phone for the UberEats app.

HALLOWEEN, BITCHES!

I had a good nite. Decided to go to Target for some Halloween shopping. It's difficult for me to leave the house (anxiety), but once I was there--surrounded by pumpkins, ghouls, and all manner of Halloween shenanigans--I felt much better. I bought 2 great big pumpkins (they were $5 each!), 2 strings of lights (one purple, one orange), and cobwebs. I already had some decorations out front, but tonite I added the final touch with these spooky goodies, and boy, does it look lovely! October is my month; Halloween is my holiday. I will be cheerful, dammit! Because if I can't be happy during this sweetly, ghastly time of the year, when can I?!

1ST WORLD PROBLEMS

So now that I voluntarily gave up leadership in my alliance (for an rpg app I play on my phone), the new leader is already arguing with players and threatening to kick people out, and it hasn't even been 24 hours. I regret doing this to the alliance and wish I could go back in time to undue it. I was in a bad mood last nite, hence the abrupt (and poor) decision. Oh, well. That's life--no reset button.

THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS

I'm slowly weaning myself off the medical marijuana. I shouldn't have to do this because it is legal in my state of Florida, and it helps me with my PTSD, my night terrors, and my TMJ. But, because of the stigma still associated with marijuana, and the fact that most employers require drug tests for new hires, I have decided I must suffer a little more in my life so that I may get a job. Am I pissed? Hell yeah, you bet I am. This whole ordeal of beating my alcohol addiction (sober for 165 days), and now having to beat my dependence on medical marijuana thanks to a high-level medical company essentially blacklisting me--let's just say I stared into the abyss this week, and it stared back into my soul.

What now? I need to keep moving; like trudging through a snow-capped mountain range in the middle of a blizzard, I have-to-keep-moving-or-I-will-collapse-into-the-soft-powdery-snow-and-never-wake-up-again. The cold can be comforting, but also deceiving. It numbs you--tricks you--into a false sense of safety. But in reality, it's slowly sucking the life-essence out of your exhausted body.

How do I keep moving? Write. It's my one true joy, both therapeutic and cathartic. Also, keep looking for work. This company that rejected me (they don't even have the basic decency to call me on the phone and tell me so) have lost the best coder they could ever hope to find. But that's ok. I will keep looking; I will keep climbing that snowy mountain even if it kills me in the process. That is life: an eternal struggle to fight death.

SHRUG

I'm very close to discontinuing my talk therapy, mainly due to the fact that I can't afford the out-of-pocket fees. Dr. Ben is trying to get on his patients' insurance plans, but it's a process without any guarantee of success. I feel very guilty with the amounts of $$ I am spending, both on therapy and medical marijuana. And in reality, I only feel "relief" for about a few hours after my weekly therapy appointment. While it's helpful, I don't feel it's really doing anything in the long run.

I am barely eating now as my bite is fucked up again after 4+ years of braces. TMJ doc says the arthritis in my joints is causing my jaw to move, so he wants me to get surgery. I've lost 13 lbs in 2018 (yay). Part of it is cutting out the alcohol, my jaw being messed up, and severe anxiety and depression. I still want to lose about 10 more pounds, so I guess I should keep doing what I'm doing. *shrug*

SHE'S SO FAR ROUND THE BEND, SHE'S BACK HOME ALREADY

I feel a terrible binge coming on... I've been really good this year, only drinking 10 days. As proud as I am of my commitment to sobriety, this weekend has nearly left me for dead, both emotionally and spiritually. I won't get into details here, but I don't think I have the strength to keep holding it together. Sure, I'm on medication, I'm seeing a therapist for my issues, I'm doing my light-therapy every day... but my jaw is almost broken from all my screaming (I've screamed every night this week since Thursday). I'm terrified to go to sleep, afraid of how I'll hurt myself. I'm suicidal. I'm not ashamed to admit it; I've had suicidal ideations since I was 11. I know I will be like this until the day I finally slip off this mortal plane. It's not a matter of if, but of when. It's like: how long can I prolong the inevitable?

So the question that needs to be addressed is: why do I keep fighting when I know the conclusion? Am I dense? Stupid? Delusional? People who commit suicide don't just decide to do it one day at the drop of a hat. No, suicide is something someone like myself thinks about all the time, anytime, anywhere. It's a friend that sits upon my shoulder, haunting me wherever I go. And then when I try to interact in this cruel, tortured world, my little ghoul shimmies and shakes with fervent joy. "Keep going," the voice tells me. "You'll be free and the world will be free once you're gone." A fair bargain if you ask little ol' me.

I'M THE ONLY THING STANDING IN THE WAY OF MYSELF

So I've wanted to be a writer since I was a young child. I began keeping a journal at the age of 7, and started writing short stories soon after. I used to fantasize about the titles of my books: I tried to come up with titles that were dreamy, fairy-like, and ethereal. I remember letting my mom read a passage from one of my short stories, and her critiquing me as if I was an adult (I was a little kid!). Although that deflated me a little, I kept going.

I haven't written anything in years. What happened? Life got in the way, and now when I try to write I do things that make the process almost unbearable. I edit as I write, instead of just writing freely and editing later. This slows down the work and makes it more tedious than it needs to be. I'm obsessive when it comes to proper grammar and sentence structure. As a homeschooler who mainly taught myself, I never had a formal education, so I always doubt my writing skills. When I was in college I had to write a lot of papers, and a few of my professors commented favorably on my writing, one going so far as to suggest I had a great imagination and should take a course in creative writing. But I suffer from impostor syndrome and end up convincing myself I'm a shite writer that will never make it. Also, I have dozens of stories in my head, and I have no idea where to start. I have a very short attention span, and writing a book requires a decent amount of commitment. Sometimes I feel like something horrible has to happen in my personal life in order for me to surrender and write uninhibited. I'd rather just start writing without such a depressing push. I'm just wondering if, like  J. K. Rowling, I have to be motivated by pain and desperation. I'm sure that motivates a lot of authors. Unfortunately, it doesn't always guarantee success. And yet, wise men have urged us to work regardless of the fruit of the labor, but for the work itself. Therein lies the true joy.

WE'RE CUTTING OFF THE REINFORCEMENTS, MA'AM

So today's therapy session did not go so great, and not because of the actual therapy, but because my doctor is moving to a different location in 2 months and won't be covered under my insurance. He gave me the heads-up (which I appreciate) so that I could make the necessary adjustments when the time comes: either a) call my insurance to find out if they cover out-of-network (they don't); b) pay $80 per visit (can't afford it); or c) get a new therapist (now when I am finally starting to open up and make a remote semblance of progress). Naturally, this has flung me into my "worry, worry, worry" state, which is completely defeating and depressing. Couple that with the fact that my night terrors have been keeping me in a state of frenzied panic--when instead I should be getting restful sleep--which in turn has caused my TMJ to act up overtime. I'm done, people. I'm done.

SONDERKOMMANDO

Stayed up til about 3am last night reading a book about the Holocaust, as I couldn't get to sleep due to this cold I'm fighting off. I figured I'm already depressed with everything, might as well do some light reading. Then, when I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt of IG Farben and Zyklon B all night. The humidifier we had going really helped my nightmares come to life with all the hissing jets of mist. Kevin told me I screamed early in the AM (I don't remember). Still another day in paradise.

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA!

Update of sorts: I've lost 9.5 lbs in 2018! I've drank 4 days in 2018! I'm feeling ok for the most part. Working on my personal health and happiness. Strangely looking forward to this Thursday...

SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HE IS

We're going to Disney in 2 weeks to take advantage of the Flower and Garden Festival at Epcot. Note: I am planning to get drunk and stay that way for at least 3 weeks. In the interim, medical marijuana is helping me to cope.

My stash, in the form of edibles (sublingual drops). You can hate me now.

At first I hated it because it is certainly different than alcohol. The last time I visited the marijuana store, the lady told me it takes time to figure out what works/find the right combination. She said, "You have to be your own chemist." So I've been easing in with CBD/Hemp oil, then CBD/High THC (small amounts), then toying with my daytime Sativa hybrid, and finally starting to use the Indica I got sick on (taking half the dose now). I've had mixed results, both good and not-so-good, but it *is* keeping me off the booze, which I am eternally grateful for. The less I drink, the better it is. I've been sober all year (64 days)! I've also lost a total of 6 lbs. in the New Year! Despite all these pluses, I am borderline, doom-and-gloom, drowning in fear. But that is my normal state while not partaking. I don't know if I'll ever escape...

Speaking of escaping... listening to this new tune by Smooth McGroove (while the Indica starts to tingle me) is a nice trip...

MEH

Had a good session with Dr. Ben today, although it was a somber one as we discussed the high school shooting in Parkland, and commented on how close it was to home (literally). I really hope something can be done about gun violence in this country; I know there are a lot of crazy gun fanatics here, but even they must be aware of how dangerous and repetitious this is becoming.

I've been taking smaller doses of the medical marijuana, mostly to use it up because I refuse to throw it away. The hybrid I much prefer, but I only bought a half bottle of that one whereas I bought a full bottle of the Indica (just saying that word gives me bad vibes). Too bad I couldn't sell it to someone else, but I know it is illegal to do so. I will eventually buy a prescription of the CBD oil which contains 0.8% of high THC (medical marijuana). For now I am taking my over-the-counter CBD oil with 1-5mg doses of the medical marijuana.

Other than that, not much else to report. I finally got off my butt and sent my resume to a few places online. One already sent out an email to me in the form of a negative. This field is tricky to get into even with certification.

This weekend we're going to the Renaissance festival. I'm trying so hard to lose weight, but what with Superbowl Sunday, Valentine's, and now the festival, I'm finding it very hard to stick to the diet. I've lost 5 lbs so far in the new year, but I have *soooo* much more to go. I also want to drink so badly, but I'm trying to stay sober as much as possible because if I don't I will get even fatter, and I need to fit into my interview suit. Haven't drank in 2018... wanna die.


P.S. There is also a small church carnival down the street from my house I want to go to. I don't want to ride the rides... I want to eat the delicious deep-fried yummies. But I can't because I am on a diet! 😭

P.P.S. What I really want to do is get drunk and watch "Coven" with Onyx. I need a vacation! 😭

MEDICAL UPDATE

Well, update on new therapist and medical marijuana: Loved my first appointment with Dr. Ben, and I overdosed on my first try of medical marijuana! I'll begin with my appointment. I was, of course, very nervous going into it. I brought my light machine to do my light therapy while I spoke with him. I noticed he seemed a bit confused when I put the super futuristic glasses on and explained to him about the lasers and how they change your brain. Upon texting Laura later, I found out that he had never seen a light therapy machine before. It's really funny because I probably looked a little crazy to him, but oh well. We have a lot of work to do, but he seems really cool and his room had some neat decor (lots of African style art, a map of Jurassic Park and a framed score from the soundtrack, space art, a fountain, and a small ceramic wolf, to name a few things). I have another appointment with him next Thursday, and it can't come sooner enough.

Now for the marijuana... shopping for it was an experience in and of itself. We ended up going to 2 dispensaries in Lake Worth. The first one we went to was called Curaleaf. They were extremely busy and disorganized and seemed to know very little about which strain for me to use. Luckily, I had done research online about the different products, so I pretty much knew what I wanted. The doctor had filled me a generous prescription in both vape and oil forms, but not for pills which is what I really wanted. The gentleman at the counter explained to me you can only have 2 types filled at a time, so he advised me to call my doctor and remove the vape prescription (I have no intention of vaping) and change it to a pill prescription. To make a long story short, I purchased 2 types of oils, but I found out the hard way they only take cash, so we had to go on a merry chase to Walgreens and Winn Dixie to look for cashback.We were able to procure $80 of which I bought a 600mg bottle of Indica and a 300mg bottle of a hybrid strain of 10:1 THC (marijuana mixture of Indica/Sativa) and CBD oil. I wasn't too happy with the way I felt rushed, and the fact that the gentleman at the counter seemed to not have any real idea what would be good for PTSD. It was more, "What do you want?" So I went with Indica because I had read it was for nighttime use, and with the hybrid for daytime use (the mixture is supposed to promote relaxation without drowsiness).

Even though I had no more cash, I decided to swing by the other dispensary, Knox Medical, since it was just down the street (they also had rave reviews online--the only reason I hadn't gone to them first was because they don't offer pills, but since I was unable to get pills anyway, I felt a bit defeated). Anyways, their operation was a whole 'nother world: the office was quiet, peaceful, and welcoming. They had soft, hippie music playing in the background (I kid you not!) and white floors with gold sparkles. The girl that took me to the back for the consultation was not rushing me and gave me some good information even though I told her I wasn't buying anything. The thing I found disconcerting was that she seemed about as knowledgeable as the guy from Curaleaf. I was beginning to feel that no one was going to hand me the "magic" bottle, but more that I had to discover it myself through trial and error. Their brochure recommended CBD oil for PTSD, but when I asked the girl she said to try Sativa (Sativa is a day time strain used for energy/to fight depression). Indica (the one I had bought) was a nighttime strain to help with sleeping disorders, so I thought that would help with my night terrors. But she said different strains/combos have different effects on different people. I expressed to her how stressful this was to me, and she assured me that it's very intimidating to most at the beginning. So I went home with the goodies.

Since it was Saturday night, I decided to use the Indica to get feelings of sedation and relaxation. I took my dose, 20mg/2mL, and watched last week's episode of "The X-Files" with Jimmy and Kevin. I didn't feel much of anything during the episode, and was actually slightly disappointed. The dose seemed large enough to me, and it was the amount my doctor had prescribed, which is why I took the whole dropper amount (1mL x 2). The oil stank like marijuana which grossed me out; I had thought they would mask the taste with cherry or mint or anything else pleasing. It didn't taste bad (it was mostly tasteless), but it had a slimy, oily texture. I held it under my tongue for a few minutes as I do my CBD oil. It wasn't until about 2 hours later that it started hitting me: hard. After "The X-Files" Jimmy and I decided to watch an old Italian movie, and halfway into I started feeling fuzzy-like. It was ok at first, just tingly around my mouth, then my nose, then moving up to my forehead. I had a burning sensation in the back of my throat, which was unpleasant, and then the burning started in the pit of my stomach as well. As time moved into the 3rd hour I started to feel worse. I was nauseous with the feeling that I might vomit. The tingling was alternating on different parts of my body. My eyes felt so heavy like bricks were resting on my eyelids. I felt drugged in a bad way. I was able to finish the movie, but just barely.

At this point, I was starting to trip badly. I could barely walk; my legs felt like rubber. The tingling was becoming stronger with waves of nausea. My husband had to help/almost carry me up the stairs. For 2 hours I lay in bed feeling like I was ODing. I've sometimes drank too much, but this was much worse. It was like I had taken 10 shots of whiskey. My body was alternating from floating, tingling, burning, nausea, stomach pain. Kevin talked to me and tried to sooth me, as I started getting really paranoid and began crying. My heart was racing, but my body was so heavy and thick. It was why I remember I never liked marijuana, the few times I had tried it as a teenager. I was out of control, with no idea of where this trip was going or how long it would last. I ended up falling asleep around 2 or 3am, but had a screaming frenzy around 5am. Kevin had to wake me up to snap me out of it. Needless to say, I had a very bad reaction. I was buzzed most of today and still have a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I think I need to go back on the CBD oil, but on a stronger strain (the over the counter stuff I was using is made from hemp).

This whole experience has had the opposite effect for me. Even meeting with Dr. Ben, while it was good, all week I was nervous and sleeping badly, and then the marijuana incident just made me more nervous and ill. Story of my life, it seems. Tomorrow I have a dentist appointment, then an appointment with my orthodontist on Tuesday. These are stressing me out, as our dentist no longer takes my insurance, so this might be my last cleaning with them for the year (until Kevin can change our plan back to a PPO next year). The problem is that I have a (messed up?) gum or (something stuck) in my gum under my permanent retainer (I have a gold strip on the inside of my bottom front teeth). So I want my hygienist to check that out, but I will also have my orthodontist look at it. Doctors' appointments stress me out to begin with, but all this stuff with my gum and then recovering from this ordeal, and *not* having relief... I'm ready to sit down and cry.

Story of my life.

NEXT LEVEL THERAPY...?

So, I started seeing Laura once a week again. However, she and I both discussed my starting to see an actual therapist to work on my deeper issues (Laura is my Biofeedback technician, although I often refer to her as my "therapist" as she has given me guidance and counsel for nearly 5 years). The relaxation techniques I learned from her have helped me tremendously; I am generally more calm, have a slower heart rate, am aware of my breathing, and aware of my teeth clenching. I rarely get chest pains anymore. The light machines I use have helped me as well. But I still have night terrors; I still scream in my sleep. My anxiety and anger sometimes go unchecked, and the side effects are becoming unbearable.

So Laura suggested I see one of the clinical psychologists in her office. I am very leery when it comes to meeting new people. I have trouble making eye contact and being around people in general. But I ran into Dr. Ben on the way out after my appointment with Laura, and he gave me his card and he seems nice enough. He's a kid in his 20s, young, upbeat. Seems a bit hipster-y. He loves animals--he has cats, dogs, birds, snakes, and a turtle. So I might give him a try. I just need to email him to set up an appointment when I'm ready.

The question is: Am I ready? Yes and no. I'm sick of carrying this anger around with me. I know I was emotionally and mentally abused as a child, but I have moved on. It's my subconscious that appears to remain in the past. The relaxation therapy gave me tools, which I greatly needed. My resting heart rate was 130 bpm when I first met Laura. But the underlying issues are still there, and they are keeping me a prisoner. With some good talk therapy, perhaps I can exorcise my demons (or at least try to learn how to control them better). I should be hearing something from the state about my medical marijuana soon, which I believe will also be extremely helpful in my recovery.

Laura says I have graduated from her services and need to move on to the next level. I've grown too comfortable and complacent, and need to be pushed out of my comfort zone. This is the part I don't look forward to. Why? Because it involves *pain.* But sometimes you have to feel bad before you can get better. Sometimes you have to take the medicine regardless of how bitter it might be. So will I put aside my initial discomfort and make an appointment with this guy? I certainly have the time to do so. It's always the first step that is the hardest. We'll see...

BORED

So tonite the alcohol withdrawal symptoms are hitting me really hard. It's like a white raging light blasting in my head and my blood is itching. My PTSD is sky high, and I need to figure out a way to calm down. It's always worse at night (which is usually when I drink).

I'll need to search back, but when I got into Mark Borchardt (back in November?) I would have this nightly ritual where I would get drunk and watch "Coven." I would start with NES gameplay of Drakkhen and then as the night wore on--and I became drunker--I would finish with "Coven." Usually at this point I'd be lying on one of the cats' towels or blankets on the floor upstairs in the den, and Onyx would be cuddling with me, watching too. I would end up falling asleep normally around the middle to end, but the main scene(s) I would remember was when Mark would be saying something like, "A little bit of you, and a few of you," while pouring pills into his hand and downing them with liquor. The subject matter (a struggling writer fighting alcoholism) coupled with my [drowning] problems--both literally and figuratively--would be just the thing to sink me into an easy slumber. I actually managed to spill beer on my tablet on two of these nightly occasions (it still works thankfully).

I am very lonely tonite. Jimmy's ignoring me and Kevin fell asleep a few hours ago. Ironically, I am used to being alone. I can usually deal with the loneliness by reading or going online, but nothing is doing it for me tonite. The weekend is approaching too, and that always amplifies my cravings... mainly because I know everyone is partying and I'm not.

I really hope I don't cave and regret it. I'd hate to call Morocco at 2am in the morning while drinking beer.                                                                                                                                And I don't know what I'm talking about; I'm crazy.


edited to add: It was Christmas Eve when I first saw his movie. I went back and added the tag, so it will be easier for me to find in the future.

edited to add again: I'm the girl tied to the bed, thrashing, in the elevator scene.

KEEP GOING

Well, I met with my doctor today to sign up for medical marijuana. I am now in the system and will be mailing a check for $75 to the state. It could take about a month to hear anything back from them, but once I do I can order my medication (I will even get my own ID card!). This makes me very happy. Sure I could use the drugs RIGHT NOW, but I've been like this for about 36 years, so I think I can go one more month.

I need to hold it together no matter how shit awful I feel. I saw Laura today and she reminded me I get particularly out of whack whenever there is big change in my life. My beloved cat, Buster, recently passed away. I finished my medical coding internship last month and now am a fully certified professional coder. I need to update my resume and jump into this new and intimating field with no on-the-job experience. A lot of other stuff happening too, both with my health and my family's health. I love everyone in my life, and I want everyone to feel good, especially because we all felt so bad in 2017. But any minute I feel like everything could fall apart. So we'll see...

PROBABLY WILL COME TO NOTHING

I've just hatched a whole novel--beginning, middle, and end---which I've had bits and pieces of floating in my mind for years. It's rough and shaky (and maybe not so great), but it's there in its infant form waiting to grow/hatch into something beautiful, perhaps. I plan to discuss it both with Kevin and Jimmy to see what they think. I have a lot of self doubt with *anything* that I do or create, which keeps me from taking chances. However, lately I've felt more open to new things both scary and creative. I've dreamed of being a writer since I was a small child; I used to write short stories since the age of 7, but stopped when I was about 11.

I've had a bunch of scenes of a magical place in my head, but tonight I put them all together: all the different areas and parts of this place in my mind. I even made a (weak) plot to go with it, but with good storytelling and descriptive writing, I can flesh it out into something decent. After all, I like to show experiences and the feelings attached to them, and let the story come out of that instead of the other way around. It's a dreamlike feel that I have for the style of this novel. There will be a heroin, if you want to call her that. A knight, although he will be enchanted as something else through the whole story. There will be a witch and a toy maker and a cat grove and a main street with lots of tinkling lights. There will be a city and woods on the outskirt, but most importantly, a dock at the end of the land (there will be 2 docks: the one you arrive by boat on and the one at the opposite end of the land, which leads for miles into a dark ocean surrounded by small islands littered with multi-colored shipping crates). There will be ingredients to collect to undo the spell on the knight. There will be much exploring and obstacles along the way.

I already started drawing the map.

BUCKLE UP, BRUJA

So sobriety is starting to hit me pretty hard. It always does after a long binge (goodbye, sweet December). I need to stay focused; I already made my 2018 drink journal, and I plan to stick to it. But the nerves, the anxiousness, sets in and it ain't pretty being alone with yourself and your thoughts. This Thursday I have an appt. with my primary doctor to see about getting my medical marijuana prescription. I also have a prescription from my TMJ doc for muscle relaxers. Hopefully once I get on these 2 drugs, I will be more relaxed. I'm also seeing Laura, my biofeedback buddy this Friday. I need all the help I can get as this is looking to be a challenging and intimidating year, lord help me.