On the Road to Health

Things have been changing for me as time progresses. I’ve been calm and generally happy, lately, which I would gladly attribute to my smoking marijuana. More than that, however, I’m happy because smoking usually gives me the munchies, but lately that hasn’t been the case. I’ve overeaten a lot lately regardless, but my realization that I’m no longer feeling the munchies feels significantly important to me, like the realization itself was the first step to making the health changes I need to.

            This morning, I woke up shortly after my alarm, rather than simply shutting it off and going back to sleep to await when I need to react and get up. I’m tired of living my life in a reactionary way; my goal is to live my life in a proactive and productive way, so it gave me a measure of pride to rise before 07:30. I cooked breakfast this morning; last night, I changed the bed sheets and folded a load of laundry. These are some recent things I consider successes in my life.

            My health is not at its peak. I’m sure I’ve gained weight again; I can feel it and I can see it in the mirror. The fat is in my face and I can’t un-see it when I take a selfie or look closely at myself in the mirror. Keeping the munchies at bay while smoking weed has been my dream since I started smoking weed; the fucking munchies ruin me. I binge-eat and hold it down rather than puking like I really feel like doing. It’s unhealthy and it needs to change and that’s a fact that has been solidified in my mind since taking my health and wellness class.

            It might help me to publicize my physical health journey. I feel as though I now have the ability to control what and how much I eat, more than ever before; part of that is my starting to cook. I cooked breakfast this morning; I can start cooking breakfast every day and gradually include lunch and/or dinner. This would give Randy a break from cooking and we wouldn’t go out as often, since the cooking burden would be shared.

            This blog would serve as a decent way to log my journey and I can begin now by reporting that I ate a handful of scrambled eggs with broccoli for breakfast and Wendy’s for lunch. I’m full now but I didn’t feel too stuffed after my fast food meal; moreover, we walked over to the thrift shop and wandered around it for a while to burn off some of the calories right away. I’m exhausted now because meandering around stores takes more energy than I understand; I did eat some dumplings with my friend Katherine, as well, as we smoked a blunt together after I took her to City Hall.

            I finished last week’s homework all on time, as well. One of my assignments was to create a blog entry about an infectious disease. I chose bacterial vaginosis and I’ve been considering posting it to my actual blog, as it is good information to spread but I’m not sure it’s the most relevant thing in the world. Not as relevant as, say, climate change, that’s for sure. My first assignment was a PowerPoint presentation on Alzheimer’s Disease. That’s another topic I considered blogging about, as I am at an elevated risk for the disease due to my great-grandma having dementia.

            My healing journey is progressing steadily, I think. I’m still taking Ziprasidone at night, which may also be helping my mood. I’m excited about the new development with my marijuana habit; not having the munchies makes it really easy to just drink water or some other beverage, instead of stuffing my face continuously.

Keeping On

Maintenance is the hardest thing in the world and its very idea often scares away any motivation that might come my way to get something significant accomplished. Every day is a struggle against myself.

            Yesterday and today, I did some laundry. Within the past few days, I cleaned the bathroom and the living room and hallway floor. Is there still more to do around the house? Yes. Is it still pretty intimidating? Yes. Do I still feel proud of what I have done? Yes.

            I managed to get through a load of laundry today. I folded and put away a whole load and while I can do more in a day, it is enough for me that today, I got that one load done. I also saw my psychiatrist and spoke with her about my medication, today.

            Many small goals exist in my mind, waiting to be made and achieved. Perhaps tomorrow, I will do two loads of laundry. Maybe I’ll sweep and scoop out the kitty litter. Maybe I’ll do all of those things. My next goal to meet, however, is walking the two miles to and from the 7-Eleven down the road from me.

            I can make all the progress I want. I can feel as proud as I want to about the small things I accomplish, but it remains true that I can’t stand going out by myself. As I pull myself together within my home and accomplish household chores as well as online schoolwork, I realize it may be a while before I am at a point in my health where I can go for a walk every single day with my dog and daughter.

            Maybe I’ll notice a great increase in my health during the summer, only for the opposite to be true in the winter. I’m observing these things because I want to be sure that I’m following the best path for my health. That begins with knowing what I’m battling.

#Winning

My time this week has been spent primarily working on my illustrations. I also did a photoshoot with a friend of mine, so in addition to completing three drawings very recently and inking a new one on top of it, I have photographs to go over, edit, and upload for all to see. I look forward to the process, though it will be time-consuming and I’m not sure how I’ll get ahold of Photoshop in order to do it. I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished thus far.

            In addition to pressing forward with my artistic endeavors, I feel pride in my ability to research things online and find information on various topics. On Facebook, I provided four reputable sources to back up my claims that families on public assistance are not what have destroyed our economy, but that instead it was the bailing out of the big banks in America that has tanked the economy and caused massive problems. I had a friend who was convinced that the people who abuse drugs while receiving “welfare” are proof that “most people” are lazy, unmotivated, static burdens on society.

            I allowed the topic to be dropped when my friend linked me to a source that provided an argument for drug testing welfare recipients. The same site had the opposing argument as well and I saw it as a moot point; yes, I think people should be tested for drugs for public assistance the same way they are tested if they join the military or get a real job. However, there is existing evidence that proves that drug testing those on public assistance costs much more money than it would save—despite the claims by those who are like my friend that it would somehow save money for state governments. My friend is convinced that the only reason it cost more than it saved was because the Supreme Court ruled it unconstitutional to administer drug tests without reasonable suspicion.

            As far as I’m concerned, I won the debate due to my abundance of source material. I had the stronger argument, better referenced. But my thirst for knowledge was not quenched simply by proving that the big banks are the problem in America. After all, with Bernie Sanders’ campaign for President of the United States, the big-bank bailout is pretty well common knowledge and the only thing I learned was that the bailouts are still ongoing and costing trillions, rather than billions, of dollars. (http://www.forbes.com/sites/mikecollins/2015/07/14/the-big-bank-bailout/#26e9b2a83723)

            Thirsty still for more chances to assert my intellectual superiority over those around me, I went into my online classroom with University of Phoenix and took a look at the week’s discussion questions. Then, like the pretentious asshole I am, I found five different sources and wrote over 400 words, almost in essay format, on the topic at hand. Of course, looking back on it now, it’s difficult to remember, because that was on Monday and each week starts new on Tuesday.

            Overall, I would say that I feel like it’s a good time now for me to use these abilities for the greater good. I can do so by using my blog to my advantage and simply creating a blog entry for an issue I find in America or the world. My blog can be my personal collection of essays.

            Look out, world, here I come.

Successes Week 1

This week has had many small successes. Looking back, I find it is better to look at the things I have done, rather than the things I have not done.

            Too often, I have found myself reminiscing on my day or my week, thinking, I should have done more. Monday was a turning point for me, this week, and I am proud to be able to say, today, on Saturday, that things have gone well, overall.

            This week, I saw my psychiatrist and my therapist, both. I have follow-up appointments with both of them. I returned everything I needed to, to Securitas. These things stand alone as successes for me, because I accomplished them.

            I colored one of my drawings and scanned it, but it came out as a .PDF. Still, the picture is complete and I can now use a library scanner to get a .JPG image to upload to Patreon. It will be my first new drawing posted to Patreon and it stands as the start of my work life as an artist.

            Furthermore, I fed my daughter this week—perhaps not for every meal, but I did contribute—and I contributed to cleaning the house. I also went grocery shopping and organized the refrigerator.

            So, what are my next steps, you might ask? I’ll tell you…

            My first priority is to make sure my phone stops dying in the night, so I can get up before everyone else does in the morning. My next step is to begin an exercise regimen that I complete on a daily basis. I need to do this in the morning before people wake up because when Randy gets a job, it’ll be on me to take care of our daughter without help. Having a morning exercise regimen will begin my day with purpose and success, which lends motivation and leads to movement, rather than sitting around, for me.

            My next priority is to create and foster an environment within my home that will best suit my daughter, who is a young child and deserves to feel respected, independent, and confident in herself. This will be a much more difficult task and that is why it is not my absolute first priority. After all, I must begin my day with purpose and momentum in order to achieve the movement needed to work with my child in my home.

            Already, Persephone shows interest in cleaning. She uses baby wipes to wipe down surfaces; she grabs the broom and tries to sweep with it. She wants a clean and tidy environment that she can manipulate to learn and develop. My resolve is to provide that for her, no matter how difficult it is or how long it takes to achieve the ideal environment.

            I have the whole summer to work with my child and my home while Randy finds a job. I have the whole summer to get everything together, including my transcripts for The Evergreen State College. Until September, I have the opportunity to greatly improve my health and wellness and develop a system within my home wherein my daughter can freely grow, learn, and develop.

            There is no way I can know at this time whether we will be able to purchase a home or need to rent a house. Either way, I know where we are going and I know what we seek in a living place. There is no way I can know at this time when Persephone will go back to a childcare facility, but knowing that Evergreen has a daycare on-campus sets me at ease because I know I don’t need to spend time during the day searching for just the right place for her to go.

            I’m going back to school. I thought about looking for a job, today, because although I’ve done well this week to remain positive, the voices of mania and anxiety speak to me and tell me that I need to do something that is immediately reasonable and of a regular income. They tell me that Randy will never find a job and I’m the only one who can do what it takes to provide us with the income required to purchase a home in August. This has happened to me so many times I cannot count them, but the difference this time is that I’m aware they’re false thoughts.

            Randy is perfectly capable of finding a job between now and August. However, if he doesn’t, I now recognize that it isn’t the end of the world. If he stays at home, it frees me up this summer to spend a good amount of time at the library, to and from which I can walk. At the library, I can work on my art and my writing to post to Patreon. I can scan my pictures the moment I finish working on them and I can sit in a quiet place and write my heart out until a story emerges.

            Owning a home has been the “end goal” for a while, but it’s time to change that because owning a home is not the end-all, be-all of life and it will not inherently change the way we live. It is much more reasonable for me to set smaller, shorter-term goals and work towards owning a home when it is absolutely possible, even if that means next year or the year after.

            I’ve felt like shit because my peers are buying homes and I feel like I’m behind them. I fail to see, in those moments, my peers who are just like me or worse off. I fail to truly look around myself and notice that I am in a stable place, if not the most ideal, and I have time to get to where I want to be. My greatest revelation on Monday was realizing that I have time.

            So, I’m going to use it.

Revelations and Foundation

I got up on time today.

            I’ve set my alarm so many times and simply turned it off and continued sleeping. Not today. Today is the beginning of a new way of life, a new schedule that I can stick to because my foundation lies on a solid schedule. Having a schedule and keeping certain things like breakfast, lunch, and dinner regular is where my life can truly begin.

            My life has just begun. Ever since I had my daughter, I’ve been living as if my life is over, but it isn’t. I’ve just separated from the military, though it now goes on two years since the separation, and I’ve just had a beautiful little girl who is growing into a wonderful child. I’ve struggled intensely with depression, but the truth is that my life has just begun. Now, I get to determine what happens.

            I get to be Mommy. This was a revelation for me because I thought about my daughter as if she were me; what would I want if I were two years old? And I realized—I can provide my daughter with everything I wanted and needed when I was her age. I can give her the life I never had—hell, she already has it. She already has both parents raising her with love and kindness as much as possible. That’s something I never had.

            I have a foundation. I’ve been feeling like I’m floundering endlessly in an abyss, trying to find footing and build a life for myself without a foundation. I realized, yesterday, that my foundation exists. It’s time for me to build upon it. My foundation is a regular schedule and a clean house and as long as I have a schedule, I can build upon it. My schedule now includes a morning workout, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every single day. Twice a week, it includes laundry, and that is non-negotiable unless something comes up—but the great thing is that laundry is something I can put into any other day of the week. Just because I have it for Saturdays and Sundays doesn’t mean I can’t do it on a Wednesday.

            Now that I’ve created a schedule, I can work around and with it. I’ve scheduled breakfast to be at 07:30 every morning, but it is almost that time right now and I haven’t started because my daughter is still sleeping. My plan is to finish this blog entry and make breakfast; I expect she’ll wake while I’m cooking and I can get her up then. But having a schedule is my foundation and it is what helps me get out of bed in the morning and start my day with purpose, as I did this morning by getting out of bed and doing schoolwork.

            Life is measured by small achievements and big achievements. Both are equally important. I’ve had a few big achievements in my life and one of them was giving birth to my daughter. In fact, giving birth to my daughter was such a large achievement that now I need to focus on the little ones—like getting out of bed with purpose every morning and feeding my child when she’s hungry.

            I need to focus on myself, but in so doing, I can also focus on my daughter, for she is an extension of myself.

Asshole

You’re an asshole.

            You try to save face and say that you’re just an “ass,” and that it isn’t a bad thing because you’re not a bad guy, but you’re a liar. You are a fucking liar and you don’t even know it. You think you’re doing all right because you defeated addiction and continue to defeat it every day. Good for you! You got clean! That’s not the end of the journey and I know you know it, but here you are, acting like a fucking child, avoiding your daughter.

            You post things to social media that are transphobic, homophobic, and otherwise rude and insensitive. You don’t think that your daughter actually cares about these issues and if it ever did cross your mind that she might, you don’t care. You think, “She can get over it,” or, “It’s not a big deal, it’s not serious.” But it is serious. It is fucking serious because I have a friend to this day who is shamed, hated, and abused just for being who she is, because she has a man’s body.

            It’s a big fucking deal because hate crimes still happen. You think that whatever you post is your business. It’s your Facebook, right? Sure. It’s yours. You can post whatever you want and you can think it’s funny, but maybe it should cross your mind that what you put into the world actually affects other people. Those who see your Facebook posts react to it in one way or another.

            Your “mind your own business” attitude is loveless. I don’t know who you are anymore. I thought you were my dad. I thought you were someone who had turned over a new page in his life and would actually be there for his family, but you’re proving once again that you’re not there for me.

            You never really were.

It Is Time...

The Evergreen State College is the only school I’ve read about and attended that can help me achieve my dreams. It is true that I have true aspirations and I have given them up for other endeavors, including my attempt at becoming a security officer through Securitas.

            Had I been able to stay awake without trouble, I could easily have done the job as transit security. I am a capable woman. I am strong and powerful.

            I choose to take this experience as a lesson. It is one that has taught me that it is time for me to make myself a priority. I am an artist. I enjoy drawing, painting, and writing. I want to make my life about drawing, painting, and writing, and there are things I can do to make money that will not cause me suffocating anxiety.

            The American Heart Association can certify me as a First Aid/CPR/AED trainer and I can make good money training people. I can pay to get a teaching certificate and work as a substitute teacher, though it will behoove me to complete my Bachelor’s Degree. A degree, I can get from The Evergreen State College and I can teach classes related to those that I am taking in school. I am a good teacher; many people have recognized this about me.

            I have a world of potential being wasted by my mental illness, but I cannot lie down and simply stop living—no matter how much my depression holds me down and I want to give up.

            This blog entry may sound determined. It may sound uplifting for me. But, the reality is that just before writing this, I wanted to die. I simply wanted to stop living and give up, fade away into the dust. What saved me was a drink Randy bought for me.

            The drink is designed to reduce stress and I’m surprised—happily so—to say that it works. I will definitely be needing more of them. Or, perhaps I need to get back into taking my St John’s Wort. In reality, if I hadn’t had this drink, I would probably still be in bed, where I spent most of my day today sleeping out of depression.

            This drink has managed to assuage the monster that is depression just enough for me to realize that it is up to me to get up in the morning and fight. Fight for a clean home despite the depression’s crushing weight that usually keeps me from lifting a finger to better my situation. Fight for a healthier, toner body, despite depression’s suffocating ability to keep me in a chair for hours upon hours at a time. Fight for my dreams, which I can follow best at the Evergreen State College. Fight to create—create and post to Patreon works of illustration, writing, and even photography.

            I’ve said it many times: It’s time for me to get up and take my life into my own hands. It’s time for me to stop seeking structure from an outside source. It’s as Lucifer himself said to me: I create my own path in this world and there is no one who can hold my hand for it, for it is my own. Healing is not linear, but I am on a healing path and that is what is most important.

I'm Not a Security Officer

I couldn’t breathe. No matter how much air I sucked in, my lungs wouldn’t expand far enough to feel satisfied.

            This was the third time this had happened and this time, I hadn’t even taken a NoDoz yet, nor a single sip of an energy drink. Why couldn’t I get enough air? Why couldn’t I breathe?

            It turns out, it was anxiety. Anxiety like I’ve never had before in my life suddenly hit me—first during the active shooter training, then during my first 12-hour shift, and now again on my second day in the field, the moment I arrived.

            To top it off, I felt as if I would pass out if I closed my eyes, even if I was standing up. The idea terrified me beyond belief; getting fired was the last thing I wanted to do! If I fell asleep, I would be fired. And I couldn’t breathe.

            I remembered the day in training when this had first happened and my mind replayed Ryan and Nate telling me to let them know if this problem persisted. The problem was persisting.

            I couldn’t work like this. I told my field training officer what was going on and let him know that I believed I needed to go to the VA. Tonight. He talked to the supervisor and had me do so as well; I was given leave to go to the VA and get evaluated to figure out what was wrong.

            That’s exactly what I did.

            They surprised me by knowing I would be there before I even arrived. I don’t know who called it in, but the VA was expecting me in the emergency department. I was called back soon enough and went directly from the vitals check to an exam room, rather than waiting again in the lobby as I had done the only other time I’d been there.

            I spoke with a social worker. While speaking to her, I realized that transit security really isn’t what I’m meant to do. I can’t work with this anxiety and it doesn’t help that I’m supposed to work nights for 12 hours at a time more often than not. She explained how unhealthy such a shift is and it made me think of the suffocating anxiety I had felt, the way my lungs couldn’t take in enough air.

            What I really want to do is art. Even if all I do for a career is teach art after college, I want to do art. I want to write my stories and illustrate them, too, and possibly make money on Patreon or through physical book sales. I want to paint. I want to dabble in photography. And I can do it all if I go back to the Evergreen State College.

            So, that’s what I’m going to do.

My First 12-Hour Shift

I survived my first ever 12-hour shift, today. It started at 17:00 Sunday evening and ended at 05:00 Monday morning; this will be my permanent shift, regardless of which nights I work.

            Having never worked a 12-hour shift before, I could not have known how difficult the first 6 hours could or would be. I couldn’t have known that, until 23:00, I would be desperately fighting sleep and popping NoDoz—given quite generously to me by my field training officer—like they’re going out of style. NoDoz, by the way, does not increase one’s feeling of wakefulness, but instead keeps one from actually dozing off. It’s quite effective and, when coupled with an energy drink, can cause difficulty breathing, as I discovered by sipping some Nos energy drink (also provided to me by my field training officer) after having taken four NoDoz pills.

            Something about watching the day end is exhausting. Even walking around on a patrol of the parking garage seemed tedious and tiresome, as if I could somehow fall asleep while walking. Prior to 23:00, the halfway point of my shift, I felt worries pop into my head and create little nests in my brain.

            What if I can’t stay awake and I’m caught sleeping on the job and I get fired? This was my principal worry. My response was to tell myself that I would work my way through training and see how I felt about the job; if I felt that staying awake would be a very serious problem, I would work my way up whatever chain of command I have and communicate my difficulties so as to avoid being fired and, in the worst case scenario, resign. This was, of course, a premature thought process, though not irrational or unreasonable, as I have had difficulty staying awake before and even have dozed off during class.

            What if I can’t do walking patrols for 10 of the 12 hours I’m on shift and I get in trouble for sitting down too much? It occurred to me while in the first half of my shift that plantar fasciitis is on my VA disability claim and constant patrolling could cause back and foot pain for me. I worried about what I would do if it became a serious problem and the solution was simpler than my mind wanted me to believe. Simply put, there are two ways I could approach my possible physical limitations: I could simply explain my position and provide my disability compensation letter if required; or, I could communicate up my chain of command and, in the worst case scenario, either transfer to another account within my company or resign due to inability to properly perform my job duties.

            Indeed, I worried quite a bit in those first 6 hours over whether or not I would need to resign from my job, though I’ve so recently acquired it and am still only in training. It doesn’t help that I only have two nights in my two weeks of field training; the rest are day shifts, though my permanent schedule will be nights after I’ve finished.

            I wondered, too, what I could or would do for work if I were to resign from my current position as a security officer. Chief among my options was to speak to Victor at WorkSource again and go from there to find a better fit for my skills. Other options were to simply quit trying to have a regular job and get really into painting and drawing, or attempt to resume my tattoo apprenticeship (internship) with Lu.

            After 23:00, it began to dawn on me that I could make it through 12 hours of work without as much trouble as I worried about in the first half. I felt more alert and capable of the work I was doing. It occurred to me that the trick is to get through the first half; the second half might as well take care of itself.

            By 23:00, I had taken my first 15-minute break and was on my way to my first 30-minute “lunch” break. Randy had packed me homemade pizza and tacos for my two lunch breaks and while I ate the pizza prior to my first lunch break, the tacos were waiting to be devoured during that first 30 minutes of “lunch” time.

            Time goes by much more easily for me when I don’t feel like I’m fighting sleep. The transit center was lit well enough that I could read my book without turning on the office lights; the CCTV cameras provided minor entertainment; patrolling the parking garage proved to be a perfectly useful activity for staying awake and also for getting more oxygen.

            There were times when I felt that I had trouble breathing, but I realized that this trouble came from the high amount of caffeine I’d ingested, more than a respiratory issue within my body. What I learned from this revelation was that it is perfectly acceptable to take four NoDoz pills to maintain alertness while on shift, as well as perfectly acceptable to drink energy drinks in order to feel more awake; what was not acceptable was mixing the two as I had done. That was a mistake and unless I wanted to risk giving myself a heart attack, I would be better off choosing one or the other, rather than both, in the future.

            Now that my shift is over and I’m home, relaxing and winding down to go to bed, I realize that this is something I can do. I am capable of making it through 12 hours of work without falling asleep. I am capable of patrolling as necessary and if I have trouble as I start out, I can communicate my difficulty clearly and with evidence to support me.

            There are things I enjoy about my job and it is important for me to remember them. I enjoy wearing a uniform. It relieves me of the responsibility of choosing what to wear to work. I enjoy doing a job that requires vigilance; it is a test of my skills and abilities and this night, I proved that I am capable of maintaining it as needed. I imagine that I can only improve from this point on, as I am able to recognize my potential weaknesses and act accordingly.

            12 hours is a long time no matter how you look at it, but it’s only the first 6 hours that are truly challenging to me. As long as I can continue to power through them as I managed to do this night, I will be fine. It may be difficult, especially when I no longer have a second person to keep me company and converse, but it will not be impossible. There are plenty of things to do, including patrolling.

            I am a strong, powerful woman and I am capable of performing the duties of this job.