First Night in LBI

I'm due to write again but I don't know what to write about. We just got to our house on LBI and I'm already having a rough time. Way to go, me... Last year was probably the last time that I was completely happy and content with myself and my situation. 

Coming back to this house bombarded me with overwhelming amounts of memories and emotions that I wasn't ready to revisit. I walked up the stairs and it took all of what I had to hold myself together as I passed the bedroom that I slept in last year. 

When everyone settled down and got ready to take the babies into town I found  the time to completely poop on my own party and shut the world out. I want to thank my family for dealing with my crazy and accepting that I am the epitome of anxiety and depression. Thanks for letting me recoup and walk around silently until i can function again.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!

Happy Things

So today has been a good day so far… everything that rolled over from yesterday is pretty kosher. I started my own phone plan at AT&T after a shitty time at Verizon . Side story- Mr. Sales Associate either had bad allergies or MERS and was sneezing all up in my space, and then he was putting his hands in his mouth, chewing on his fingernails and spitting them out at the computer. He proceeded to announce that ‘shit, we have a problem’ and after making me wait andt talking for an hour at 8:30 pm, told me he couldn’t help me until the 30^th.  Nope. BYEEEE.-  So I left and went to AT&T and they gave me a really affordable deal, and I got my new phone for a very nice discount. Win. I bought some fun cases and chargers for said new phone, and also a clavicle brace for my horrific posture. Hopefully it helps.

It’s warm, but not hot and muggy out today, so that’s a plus. Since it is one of my better days, I’m going to share some things that make my happy. (note: I’ve adopted a coworkers phrase ‘squeee’ instead of ‘woop’ or ‘woot woot’ as my excited sound. Pronounced skwee.) All of my happy things that I am about to list deserve a nice ‘squeeeee’ in my book.  

Succulent plants

They are pretty and don’t take much effort to be kept alive. I have a fairly large black thumb and there has yet to be an instance that I haven’t killed a plant. I had little air plants that I over watered and gave them root rot- poor things. I vowed to keep this latest succulent bunch alive. Knock on wood...

Flowers

I absolutely love flowers. All flowers, but especially hydrangeas and carnations. I love the way they look, I love the way they smell. I can keep bouquets alive longer than potted plants … go figure. But cut flowers are such a waste of money. The inner turmoil is tough to deal with.

Nail polish

The amount of nail polish I currently own is absurd. I don’t know the number, but the boxes I’ve kept them in over the years have increased significantly in size... to the point where I'm getting a rack for them all. When I ‘wiped out’ and shattered my foot last summer my depression had taken over and the only thing that I could do statically was paint my nails. I would paint them a new color every day, and then spend the night picking it off to start fresh the next morning. It was ridiculous. I’ve since curbed my addiction to once a week, usually on Sunday nights, but there’s still that urge to purchase a new color (even though I’m certain that I have ever color ever made) when I’m at the store. (this photo isn't mine, but mine is just as full)

Pretty bedroom sets

I absolutely adore bedrooms. When you share a house with other people, you can always escape to the one place that is specifically designated to you and your crap. I find looking at bedding and furniture completely enthralling because I love the idea of being in a personal oasis  amongst my daily chaos. I will get a fancy french set one day. It will happen.

Doctor Cocks

To preface this post, I must advise you all that I will refer to my doctor as Dr. Cocks, because both his first and last name resemble the names of male anatomy.
So lately I've been on new medication trials and it hasn't been the bumpiest of roads, no tire blowouts this time, but it hasn't been smooth sailing. There was a chunk of time when I was so unbelievably livid at almost everthing that I scared myself. I could feel my body holding itself back from throwing things, from knocking things off desks, from shoving people out of my space. It was incredibly frustrating to be aware that I could snap at anyone at any second and lose control completely. That being said, I told Dr Cocks and we started working on different 'cocktails', if you will, of medications.
As I'm writing this I have to digress and share that I'm currently in the waiting room. Its usually silent except for the classical music dancing from the speakers, but today there's a young boy, maybe 8, talking to the ancient receptionist about the King Kong movies. There are lots of shifting eyes over magazines,  burning holes into the back of this kids head. Its always a little bit entertaining watching other peoples distaste for children. I'm learning a lot about these movies that I have zero interest in. Thanks, kid.
And we redirect to my insanity... the reason I travel an hour every other week to see Dr Cocks is because the latest drug has made me gain a butt ton of weight..literally.. and I am NOT a fan. It took away all of my aggression, as it was supposed to, but this whole chubby side effect thing isn't cute.
This leads me back to today. I'm sitting here, listening to this boy waddle around the waiting room whispering to himself about different ideas of things to draw. Dinosaurs will not suffice.  I'm back at the doctor again because I'm being weaned off of the fat medicine, being introduced to a less side-effective drug, and I'm back to being my old anxious, angry, depressed self. Yay me! Side story: I tried to be supportive and attend my friends' graduation this past weekend but I failed miserably when I flipped out at the table, left in tears and drove home. Luckily, I have the greatest and most supportive friends anyone could ever with for.  Hopefully I'll leave today with a purse full of samples that will actually work this week. Here's to my appointment (never) being on time!!
Cheers, mofos!

My conflict of the day..

Something I’ve been struggling with for the last few months is how to separate making others happy and making myself happy. This inner conflict has caused me such turmoil and despair because I’ve always been such a people pleaser since I’ve been young. I figured if I didn’t object, no one would have a reason to notice me.

I’ve mentioned before that since starting to work with different doctors and different medications I really don’t feel much fear or anxiety anymore.  I’ve been able to confront others and I finally have the confidence to voice my opinions. There was a time my sister and I were being followed around a store so I turned around and asked if the man had a problem and why he was following us. He had no reply so he walked away and didn’t bother us anymore. That’s something I never would have done before; I would have left the store as fast as I could. There are other times people will be pushy in stores and expect me to move out of their way in an aisle, and I no longer do. I was here first, you can wait you turn.  Of course I’m not rude about it, but I’m not going to stop what I’m doing so you can cut in front of me.

Sometimes I say that I now have zero tolerance for BS, and I stand behind that statement. I don’t let people walk all over me anymore. If I feel like I can’t handle a situation I’ll say it. Sometimes it’s understood by others and other times they feel shorted by my lack of support. Hey, if I feel like I might have a break down and embarrass myself (which has happened on plenty occasions), I’m going to do whatever it takes to ensure that I don’t. I know it sounds like a blasty blast being bat-shit crazy, but I can assure you, it’s not.

With all this in mind, I’m having trouble with going to my friends’ graduation tomorrow. There are quite a few personal feelings and situations that have occurred over the past year and a half with people who will be there that I don’t want to resurface. I’ve spent too many seconds, minutes, hours, days, worrying about different scenarios and confrontations that have happened and may happen again. I don’t know if I can deal with picking those scabs that have crusted over the still opened wounds.

this is how I feel today

It’s just a shitty situation. I can go tonight and tomorrow to support my friends but face the fact that just being there will set back some of the progress I’ve made, or I can refuse to show up and let them down because I’m being 'selfish'. I’m not asking for advice, just sharing different parts of my brain with whoever reads this. It’s still early in the day, who knows what will happen.

Damn BOGO.. Every Time!

I was lying in bed last night talking with friends about tattoos and I realized how much of an impulsive person I’ve become. Infomercials? Heck yeah I need that!  Candies by the register? How did you know I needed orange TicTacs?! Dunkin Donuts? I’d like a smmmedium, uh, large iced coffee please. Ninety percent of the time I enter a store for one specific item and I end up leaving with seventeen different things that I didn’t intend to buy. Like when there’s a BOGO sale – I only need one, but it’s a sale… might as well get both!

This frivolous spending is how I have been fueling my nail polish addiction over the past few months; they are such tiny bottles, they’re so easy to lose track of amongst other things. And don’t even get me started on online shopping…

Knowing this, I’ve come up with a way to help reduce my spontaneous spending over the years: I physically carry things in my hands (not in a cart or basket) and when my excursion has come to an end, it’s much easier to decide whether I need the item in question or not (usually not). But with impulsive purchasing comes buyer’s remorse. There’s always, sometimes instant, regret after buying something I don't need. But that's what is fantastic about return policies!

I think some of the medication I take stops me from feeling rationality or fear, which is probably why I don’t overthink doing things - especially shopping -  anymore. One day during the summer I woke up one morning wanting to donate my hair to Locks of Love, so I went to my salon and chopped off 16 inches of hair that day. I decided that I wanted to change my public speaking abilities so I was put in charge of keeping 65 strangers safe and civil for 2 years when I became a CA during college. I wanted to get away from life for a while, so I packed my bags and drove down to AC by myself to spend a few nights in a big comfy bed with room service. Another time, my childhood friends and I got up one day and decided to go skydiving, so we did.

What's the totality of all this? I've learned three things: that I am a very extemporaneous person, that I'll try almost anything these days (except for food), and that I was encapsulated by social anxiety and internal turmoil. I must have seemed like a complete snob and a total bitch in high school because I never spoke to anyone, I never went out to parties, and I tried my hardest to be as inconspicuous as possible so no one would notice me. I couldn’t pick up the phone, I couldn’t drive, and I couldn’t speak in class or to my teachers. Looking back at what I’ve missed out on is disheartening because I lost so much of my life. That being said, there is a quote by George Eliot that I’ve adopted, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

This quote brings my post full circle: if I were to get a tattoo, it would be of that quote because I feel it describes my growth flawlessly. I’ve wanted this tattoo for years now, and this is the one thing that I have never and will never be impulsive about. You can’t return or exchange permanent.

About Mom

In accordance with mother’s day, I will write about my mother. My mom is one crazy B. she’s my other best friend and I can’t ever begin to repay her for all the things she has done for me over the years. She’s held my sister and I together for the past decade and I know I wouldn't be as sane as I am now if it wasn't for her.

One of the most cherished memories I have of her was from just last year. My medication wasn't working anymore and I was in the midst of the countless drug trials that I've trudged though over the years. I remember only small bits of this day, but I do remember calling her while she was at work one day asking her to come pick me up because I couldn't function. That’s what depression does to you; its paralyzing and deafening and you have nothing but waves of guilt washing over your body and spilling out of your eyes. I found the strength to call her and asked for her to leave work to come get me from my internal hell. With all that said, mommy came and saved the day. She called my professors and the school councilor who planned out the remainder of my fall semester. Without her I wouldn't have graduated and I might not be functioning today.

After graduation she comforted me when I was digging deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of my own insanity while I was immobile without my foot. She took me out of the house to a butterfly garden at the zoo one day to let me sit in a wheelchair among the flowers. The day after I got my cast taken off she pushed me to go to my job interview, throwing all of my shit at me at once, knowing id get it all together one day... and I have.

Beyond the long hours for dance practices and the extended competition weekends, the endless loads of laundry and the sacrifices of salary to let us stay at school with our friends, my mother has shown my sister and I a strength I have never seen in anyone else. I hope to become at least half the woman she has come to be. I know I’m an adult now, but I still need help sometimes and I know you’re not far behind me. 

I love you mommy, to the moon and back.

A cliché's a'brewin..

I’m going to write a cliché “about me” post because I’ve changed significantly over the recent years and I’d like to share my story. Some of you know who I was decades ago, some of you know who I was years ago, and some of you don’t even know my name.

I’m Cassie, I am 23 years old, and I have a Mom, Dad, Step-Mom, Sister, and, between the two houses, eight cats. Judge away, judgies!!! I have diagnosed mental illnesses and I take lots of medicine to make me a functioning human. ( I'm well aware that I qualify as a crazy cat lady) I identify as a gay female. I graduated college with a BSA in Business Admin. and Marketing, and I started my career in the Flavor and Fragrance Industry last fall. My favorite color is purple, and my favorite animals are elephants and butterflies. I have the mouth of a sailor (thanks mom J) but I’ll keep it clean to the best of my ability.  I think smoking is gross, and I don’t do drugs. I make dumb faces millions of times a day and I AM THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL.. in my car J

I’m positive you’ll get to know more about me as I continue to indulge in this soon to be obsession. (I can feel it coming)

Cheers!

I feel like I have to add that some of the photos I might add are not mine. I don’t know how copyright infringement works but I don’t want to play that game.

 

OOOOOOOOOklahoma!!!!

My best friend left to start adulting in Oklahoma today. It’s upsetting to see her go, but until you are apart from someone you don’t fully grasp how much they truly impact your life.

It all began 15 years ago when our teacher brought in a ‘grow your own butterfly’ kit. Our class waited and waited for these little bugs to hatch and once they did my life changed forever. One recess I went to the back field to pick flowers for our classroom butterflies to eat (because butterflies eat dead flowers, didn’t you know?) when all of the sudden this crazy-ass B rips the delicious nectar from my hands and stomps all over them, telling me, “that’s stupid”.

You see, at first, I was incredibly angry at this insane little person with such angst toward my love for butterflies, and then I did what all small children do; I ran to that lunch-aid faster than I ever ran in my life and tattled like it was my job.

I have no recollection of what happened after recess that day, but something magical happened. The two of us became inseparable for no apparent reason at all. We even pretended we were sisters on many occasions; buying matching clothes and wearing them when we were out with each other’s parents. She practically lived at my house for the months her family was fighting cancer, and I spent every summer with her family at the beach.

We started high school as best friends but we found different niches through the years. We graduated and I know we didn’t take any photos together. We both left for college and we talked now and again, but newer friends and prior plans had become the norm.

I think the first fall after college graduation was the catalyst that made us find our way back together. We both found work and our free time coincided once again. We started talking more and that’s when she received a fantastic offer to move out west.

The past two weeks with this girl have been some of our best. Spending time with her is almost like we never walked away from each other. Sharing stories and packing unreasonable amounts of clothing have consumed our recent days, and it sounds dumb but I’d like to remember these days more than any others because we are finally Blaire and Cassie again.

I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures and successes. We will take that road trip one day. You can come visit me in Jersey (or Florida J) and I’ll mosey my way out to OKU for a football game or two. I’m so proud of you and I know you can, and will, do marvelous things. I love you Blaire!

If I were to start a blog...

I started this morning asking myself, “If I were to start a blog, what would I write about? Would anyone actually read it? Will they judge me? Do I even care if they do”? So I guess I’ll start my blogging experience by answering my own questions.

1.       If I were to start a blog, what would I write about?

Blogging is the 21^st century’s social media replacement for writing in a journal. It’s funny, people used to be so private when writing in a journal.. or dare I say it – diary! It used to be shameful to record your innermost thoughts and to reminisce over your own history. But Oh! how the times have changed. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry knows that everyone posts every minute detail of their lives to the world, expecting them to care - checking into places and posting photos to multiple sites with a single touch.

So should I jump on the bandwagon? I usually don’t do things that I feel are important enough to society to post them. Now I am stuck with the decision to actually do things worth sharing, or keep doing me and share my life anyway.. I’m sure you all would be enthralled by my stories regarding my family, illnesses, lifestyle, and my cats.

2.       Would anyone actually read my blog?

I actually just laughed at myself after thinking about this. I am illustrating the epitome of narcissism by considering to spend the time and effort to make this public, and then expecting you to actually take time out of your day to read my words. I suppose that if I give enough craps to unload my brain every once in a while, at least someone might read the regurgitation and appreciate a piece of it here or there.

3.       Will they judge me?

Definitely. I can name at least 10 people off the top of my head that will follow this link just to see what kind of judgments they can make about what I’m doing with my adult life. Hey, guys! Suck it, I’m fabulous.

4.       Do I even care?

Absolutely not! I welcome you all (specifically those of you who know, immediately, that I am referring to you) to inquire about the trivial things I might say, to close the tab that this blog opened up, to call your friends over to see just how insignificant you think what I am doing is. After all I have been through, I can guarantee that the amount of cares that I do not have for your negative opinions greatly exceeds your numeric imagination.

But to those of you that are genuinely interested, don’t know me and would like to, or want a sneak peek into life according to Cassie, my brain is yours to pick.