The Reason it All Started...

I’d like to share with all of you my obsession with painting my nails. I’m ready to anecdote this biznitch!

It all started when I graduated college. Without my friends as neighbors any longer, I actually had to make an effort to see people, so I did. I headed back up to my alma mater where a few friends were staying and I was pressured into doing ‘fun things’ because I was ‘boring’…. yes, they coined the name ’No Fun Cassie’. Instead of watching them longboard, I was urged to actually participate and who would have thunkit, I was actually pretty fantastic; that is, until magic happened and in some weird yet graceful turns in opposition of each other resulted in a shattered right foot. I was told that the way it happened looked like I intentionally laid on my back in the fetal position gasping air into my clenched muscles. I guess years of dance really do produce muscle memory…

After spending two nights feeling bruised and swollen but ultimately fine, I landed in the ER after being verbally assaulted by a neighbor of 6 years that I had never before spoken to about foot injuries. After crawling up the stairs back to my mother and sister, I regurgitated my experiences, including the infuriated neighbor. She looks at me, puts her head in her hands, and sighs, ‘well, we’re going now then. I’m not spending my entire night in the ER.”

And to the hospital we went!! I shoved my 300% enlarged foot into the check-in lady’s face and she put me right into a room. (I guess if you really want a room in the ER, just bring in an enlarged body part and you’re golden!) They wheeled me into the radiation room and the technician allowed me to view my foot before the film was printed. Turns out I had shattered my three middle metatarsals in my right foot. The tiny Russian nurse came in and told me I was too puffy for a cast so she proceeded to splint me up, and when I say ‘she’ I mean my mom. The nurse handed my mother the splint and told her to mold it to my foot and she walked away. What? Just because she was in scrubs doesn’t mean she should be setting splints. Regardless, we ventured home on crutches and I was told to R.I.C.E.

 After a week stuck on my back, literally, I went to the Dr. to get casted and it was really really fun. I get home and sleep and out of nowhere come the stabbiest pains now that my bones are in place again. After the cast was put on all fun was over. I was Rapunzel, locked up high, without anyone to keep me company. My mom and sister both work so I was alone for 8 weeks. I got really low to the point where the only thing that I could do that would take my mind of the mind-numbing boredom was to paint my nails. I painted them every morning just to pick it all off over night, just to paint them again the following morning, and from that monotony came my sick obsession to always have my nails done.

Anecdote finished…

Since then, I’ve gotten my daily painting down to once a week. I spend most Sunday nights paining my nails a new color for the days ahead.  I seem to always find a color I don’t have and absolutely need (because everyone needs obscene amounts of nail color, duh.) while I’m out anywhere.  My collection is gargantuan and it continues to grow. I’m considering getting a rack soon to see them all. Marshalls is always great to get discounted off season colors, FYI.

I guess this post wasn’t really about nail polish, but my fragmented appendage. Oh well. Thanks for reading!

Way Back Wednesday... Right Now Wednesday...

I was trolling the interwebs the other night and I tumbled across this journal entry (if that’s what we want to call it?) and I thought I’d share. Depression is a very private illness. I’ve heard some people equate the struggle with the personal struggle with cancer; other people know it’s there, but they can’t really understand the fight like you do.

“Depression does not always mean

Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists

A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity

Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

 
Sometimes depression means

Not getting out of bed for three days

Because your feet refuse to believe

That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

 
Sometimes depression means

That summoning the willpower

To go downstairs and do the laundry

Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

 
Sometimes depression means

Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours

Because you cannot convince your body

That it is capable of movement

 
Sometimes depression means

Not being able to write for weeks

Because the only words you have to offer the world

Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

 
Sometimes depression means

That every single bone in your body aches

But you have to keep going through the motions

Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

 
Sometimes depression means

Ignoring every phone call for an entire month

Because yes, they have the right number

But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore”

 
by “Alexandra” Tilton, NH (Teen Ink: November 2013 Issue)

I’ve had a handful of really bad lows over the years and I find it hard for people to understand me when I don’t even understand myself. I’ve been called lazy and a liar, people have told me that I used depression as an excuse not to do things. I was dubbed ‘No Fun Cassie’ in college because there were a lot of things that I really couldn’t do, but everyone thought I was just being boring. It’s rough, but it’s nice to know that those are the people I broke ties with in order to better myself.

To end on a high, it’s really nice out and I can’t wait to eat at our new picnic table at work for lunch. WOOP!

Cheers!

Foot in Mouth

Do you ever find yourself looking back at past actions and think, “Wow, why did I think that was a good idea? What was going through my brain to think, ‘yeah, let’s do that’?”

I’ve had plenty of those moments lately now that I’m thinking clearer than I have been. Let me share my awkwardness with you all:

• I’m not wearing a sweater to work today because I don’t want to—Freezing.
• Get to the car to go to the gym, realize I forgot to put on deodorant, leave without it—Bad idea.
• One contact feels funny, drive with it anyway—End up ripping it out in a fit of rage, half blind driving.
• Feeling super sad, decide that lying face down on the dock will make it better—WTF?! (It didn’t)
• Texting something important to someone, end up fighting—total face-palm. Keep your fingers shut.

To add to my list of strange behaviors, my sister lovingly pointed out that when I’m asked a question, instead of answering, I blankly stare at questioner while I process my answer. “Would you like another glass of water?” O__________O ‘Sure, thank you.’ (I’ve never typed out one of those faces before, nor do I plan to again)

Thinking about my actions makes my eyes flutter and roll back into my head at my brain like I’ll find the answer to why I do such stupid things. Hindsight is always 20/20. And my idiotic actions and blank stares at inquiring individuals aren’t really a big deal. The big mistakes are the ones that make you crazy with regret and wish that you had stayed home that day.

That being said, I’d like to make a public (private) apology by saying that I wish I had lain face down on a dock that day instead of doing stupid things and I wish that I had stared blankly at you before that venom was spewed from my tongue. There are a solid amount of face-palms that I have every day regarding a slew of different instances and individuals, but the most painful are the ones regarding you. So, I sit here with my fluttering eye roll and humbly apologize for my foolish actions and words. I really think things would be different right now had I been thinking clearly and appreciated what was in front of me.

I don’t even know if said individual knows my words on here even exist, but I’d hope that person will somehow acknowledge that this was seen.

What did we learn today? Think about what you’re doing and how it will affect others before doing it, and stare blankly at people until you’re ready to speak with nice words.

You. Are. Welcome.

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.