“Who am I?” asked the mirror

 

Down The Rabbit Hole

My depression has been running deeper lately and I can’t seem to put a stopper on it. I feel like it’s because we live in Bloomsburg, surrounded by people who hate us, with Emily’s family.

Darren (Emily’s dad) is never supportive of Emily to the degree she deserves. He hates us being together, is never proud of her, and acts more like a semi-friend to her than anything.  Then there’s Jenn (Emily’s Evil step-mother). Jenn treats Darren, Aubrey (Emily’s Sister), (and especially) Emily and I like we’re shit. She’s an alcoholic, ignorant, and angry all of the time. Sometimes I think of Jenn and begin to clench my fists and grind my teeth. Emily has even told me she wants Darren to leave Jenn. If I were to express who the biggest problem in this whole thing is, I’d have to point to Jenn. Last time I talked to Darren, even he said, ‘Jenn is the type of person to hold a grudge for 30-years.’

Living in the same town as these people is enough to drive my depression deeper, but it doesn’t end there. Jenn and Darren have a lot of friends (mainly because Jenn has a huge white-trash family and Darren is a somewhat-musician) and all of their friends, when they see Emily and I, look at us with disgust of outright ignore us. One recent instance of this was when Kara (Darren’s 1st cousin he cheated on Sandra (Emily’s mom) with) saw me in a grocery store and gave me a look that made me feel like I killed her family, then curtly turned into a lane and hid there for a bit. I went and got Emily and told her this and she went with me to the lane. When Kara saw us together she said ‘Hi.’ with no emotion and walked off and out of our lives.

Emily takes this stuff better than me; I’m guessing because she’s been surrounded by these people her whole life and never felt like her father was close to her and truly never liked Jenn. Emily’s told me before that I came into the picture and seemed like her only chance at happiness. That felt sad for some reason, but now I get it.

~Tim

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Trying to hold it together; Keep my love as light as a feather

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So lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time alone in our apartment. My puppies and I chill out in the bedroom while I watch a copious amount of youtube and drink way too much jasmine green tea. It’s been making me think about when I used to live with my mom and do this same thing, but with her in the other room. I used to spend most of my time doing this, and then I would ride my bike, walk or run outside a lot. Sometimes I would hang out with my sister as well.

Tim recently got a job, and he has to go an hour away for a short amount of time to train for it. So that means he leaves at 7/8 am, and comes back at 7pm. Since I’m a Fibromalgic person, I generally don’t sleep until 1 or 2 am, and I don’t wake up until 9 or 10 am. Tim goes to sleep around 10/11 pm. This means in an average day, I see him for 3 hours. I guess I’m not used to it because for a while there he wasn’t working and he was around a lot..but it’s all been very difficult. I want him to work, no doubt about that, and I’m so proud that he is working. I just kind of feel like a fish that’s been put into a new environment, with cold water very suddenly. It doesn’t help that I’ve been in a lot of pain, and that makes it hard for me to do much of anything. Plus, the meds I take make me drowsy, so most of the time I’m stuck on the computer or my phone.

I guess I’ve been put in a frustrating position, and that is a waiting one.  I would be doing so much better if his hours were even 8, but this whole 10 hour thing is too much. I find myself dealing with Flare ups completely alone, and knowing that makes it even worse. I will just miss him and want him to hold me. I must keep reminding myself that this is temporary, but it’s just hard to deal with it right now. For now I will will take my meds, sip my tea, and watch something lighthearted.

Crying Times

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Lately I haven’t been wearing makeup very often, and the reason for that is odd. I’ve actually been crying so much because of Pain or Panic attacks, or random disassociation, that I find a winged liner just doesn’t want to stay on throughout the day. This illness can be extremely isolating. It can make other’s frustrated because they can’t help you, or they can’t understand what you have. Even though Tim doesn’t understand exactly what it’s like to me be, he’s the only person that sees me at my best and my worst these days. He sees me smile at people and politely tell them I have to go home early for whatever reason, and then crawl into bed sobbing because I pushed myself too hard. He sees me count the hours on my hands carefully, figuring out when I can safely take my next pain pill. (1 every 4-6 hours, is emphasized by your doctor, not to break this rule). Being with someone who understands living in misery, whether that be in your head or your body, is helpful. If I’m crying at 2 am because of neck pain and I tap Tim sleeping next to me, he will open his arms, eyes closed. Even in his sleep he will offer to hold me, and that is a comfort I wish for everyone. I’ve been having strange panic attacks, one of them was so bad that I was crying hysterically. I felt like a 5 year old. Somehow, Tim calmed me down. I’ve also been having a lot of tummy pains lately. My doctor had to call in a nausea medicine (Oh Joy, another med to add to the slurry..) that I take whenever it gets too painful, or when I throw up. It may be from the long list of meds I’m taking, or maybe its another Fibro thing, or maybe stress. If anyone has some insight, let me know. Sorry for the sloppy sad, uncolored drawing above. I drew it in the dark last night when I wasn’t feeling too well. I still thought it fit this post though. A new video should be up in the next day or two. It’ll be my first video talking about my Chronic Pain. I talked all about my first (And last..) appointment with pain management. Long story, I explain it all in the video. For now, I’m trying to stay positive when I can. I’m trying to keep up with my meds, eat regularly, draw, color, make things, watch content that makes me smile, and breathe deeply; Just breathe.

 

Soft Hugs,

♡Emily♡

Taking you through a loved one’s depressive episode

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Tim has Bipolar Disorder, which leads him to go into bouts of depression. Even though he is medicated, there are still manic and depressive episodes that happen. Today was Halloween. I dressed up as a Unicorn and he dressed up as a cool dark Skeleton/death/ unique all black costume. We trick or treated a bit before my Fibro kicked in and told me to go back home. It wasn’t a big deal, we still had fun, and spend the rest of the night relaxing and watching one of Tim’s Favorite shows. Mug brownies, candy, chips, Vegan Mac and Cheese; I enjoyed myself! In my eyes, it was a very good day.

However when we went to lay down, something was off about my Puffin. He seemed a little distant and standoffish. I would start talking about positive dreams I had for our future home, and he kept shutting them down, not even jokingly. I would ask him to come up with other fun ideas and he just wasn’t up for joining in. I figured maybe he wasn’t in the mood for chatting right away so I checked my phone for a bit, and then scrolled over to vine for a bit. Usually vine breaks the ice and can loosen Tim up a bit. I heard him laughing at some of the clips, so soon I lightly pounced wanting to cuddle with my Puffin. He was still acting odd, and I was starting to think i had done something wrong. He wasn’t smiling and when i asked him what was wrong me moodily shrugged. This is where I started biting my lip with anxiety. I had to have done something wrong right?

We just were lying there for what felt like forever, looking at each other occasionally. I asked him if there was something I could do, and he seemed slightly annoyed at this concept. “What do you mean?” he would say, “I..um..well I wanted to just talk to you about ya know, light stuff. ” I responded. He shot me a look as if I should have already known what he was about to say, “I have nothing to say.” The monotone in his voice worried me, because didn’t know where he was mentally right then. Again, lay still for a while, he closed his eyes, while mine where wide open searching for something to say. Finally, with teary eyes I kissed his lips and my love opened his eyes “I’m sorry you are sad, and I’m sorry If I did anything to cause i-” before I could even finish, Tim stopped me, “No, No, Honey, you did nothing wrong..” He grabbed my shaking jaw lightly in his hands ,”..Don’t ever think that, you are perfect my darling. I love you so much.” I burst out in the tears I had been holding and tried to mumble things through tears like “..B-but I wish I could help you..I wish there was something I can do.” He shushed and hushed me like a caring lover should and quickly calmed me. “Sweety, I just get like this somethings you know? There’s nothing you did, don’t ever think that.” I nodded and kissed him multiple times. I asked him if he needed sleep (Which he said yes) and I said I would hang out on my phone with him until he feel asleep  I love my Puffin with all of my heart, and I make it my mission to be as helpful as possible with his own issues. Sometimes Tim feels sad and he has no idea why. That’s okay, it’s going to happen. As time go on I will learn how to deal with it even better, but soon will make a full list of tips when your Lover is Bipolar..If anyone’s interested 😉

Soft Hugs!

XOXO

♡Emily♡

A Midnight Secret ☾

 

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☽ A Midnight Secret☽

By Emily R. Inman  

                                                  

I am awake

I can easily break

when I’m awake alone.

I stir and I sigh, not a gleam in my eye,

I can’t smile, or laugh this time

An hour passes by, I silently cry, take another half pill, and I wait

My lover is asleep, and even when I squeak, he sleeps heavily and does not feel the weight

I sneak out of the room, puppy paws follow, and I sit on the couch and write.

Hoping that getting it off my chest will help me sleep tonight.

But I’ll tell you a secret that my body knows, the reason brain and bones do not want to slow..

When I wake up from a beautiful dream, the nightmare of pain envelopes me.

XOXO

♡Emily♡

The Cosmic Joke

I’ve tried to kill myself many times over. I cut, burned, and mutilated my body for many years. One of my earliest memories involves me lying in a bedroom alone and crying, thinking about death. The memory is so strong not because of the content, but the feeling; It wasn’t fear, but more of an envy. Death, for a younger me, was a goal. I didn’t want to overcome death, I just wanted to achieve it on my own terms.

I’ve always felt somewhat outcast in my family. My dad is a psychologist of sorts, my mom held multiple positions in colleges and has spoken all over the country, my brother played trumpet, even in the Lincoln Center and in a few places in this country (though he stopped cold and now holds a government job that leaves him well off), and me? I had a brain, but maybe was born in the wrong time or place. At a young age I thought a lot about science.

I used to come up with theories pertaining to time, gravity, and the history of the universe and beyond. My parents saw me as intelligent, but riddled with depression and my ideas were manic obsessions, rants of the insane. Years later (and I mean over this past year) I came to learn a lot of my theories were now being studied, and were known as quantum theory involving superstrings. Science lulled my depression into a minor buzzing, but my parents quickly quashed those dreams. At night they used to talk about me, worriedly, and I would listen.

My ideas, to them, were a sign of me becoming a schizoid. Through multiple hospital trips, in which I spent months of my life being watched by doctors, I lost the fascination I once held and simply became just another over-medicated person. The fact of the matter is I do need medicine, because if I don’t take it I will kill myself (I still have suicidal thoughts, but more like bad dreams than like the serious ideas they once were).

Through all of this, a small part of my broken mind still considers grander things than my life, but I no longer hold that curiosity I once held. I hate this fact, and I hate that I lost something that comforted me so strongly. People say that ‘youth needs to be cherished’ or something along those lines, but not my youth. I chose a razor over a pen far to quickly, and for that I lost a part of me I loved.

theory

~Tim

Money is the Chemo for the Cancer of Life

The title says it all, doesn’t it? Money really isn’t something that buys happiness, but it certainly helps to avert disaster. Over the past few years I’ve dug a hole for myself where I buy happiness with the little money I have (and sometimes don’t have). I graduated from college 1 year ago with 3 degrees (1 Bachelors in Business Management, 1 Associate’s in Business Management, and 1 Associate’s in Computer Programming) and worked since it was legal for me to work. Money has always been something I wanted, but as of late it’s been needed and very absent.

My biggest debt is, of course, from college. I’ve had older people confront me in the past about this, asking, ‘how do you have so much debt?’ So, here’s something to know:

Facts for Adults:
“Back when I was a kid, I had no help paying for college. I worked and paid it off all myself.” I actually was told this

Annual tuition cost for Yale, 1970: $2,550
Annual tuition cost for Yale, 2015: $45,800
Minimum wage, 1970: $1.45
Minimum wage, 2015: $7.25
Daily hours needed to work at minimum wage in 1970 to pay for college tuition: 4.8
Daily hours needed to work at minimum wage in 2015 to pay for college tuition: 17.3

So basically, we learn nothing and spend our lives paying for it (in more ways than one) while still getting shafted by a system that can’t support people in getting an education without putting them into a life of debt… Oh… okay. I’m grateful for so much in my life and have so much to show for what I’ve done.
The term “First World Problems” will be where this is categorized, but in a more logical sense the American Dream is one riddle with debt, pills, and fake smiles. I’ve had the pills for years, I learned to fake a smile quickly, but the debt came as if on cue.
~Tim

The Pain of Losing Love

I count myself fortunate for all the good that I’ve got. I have a family that loves me here; They see me though all the trials I face. Sometimes I become overwhelmed by how lucky I am, my heart feels weak and I become sad because I don’t know how to express knowing how lucky I am. When I breathe it’s tense and all I want is to die, because I know, in those moments, that that is the happiest I’ve even been in my life.

It’s funny, those moment carried me through my childhood with no notion of wanting something so bleak as death. My grandpa, my mom’s dad, inspired me to live in a way I could never express. He was innocence to me, and he loved me without relent.  When he died I spun into the depression that defines me today. The loss of him felt like nothing could refill my heart.

Then, I realized I still had that type of love in my pet Goldie. She was loving and took care of me since I was a little kid. Some nights I would come downstairs at night from my parents’ house, draped in my favorite blanked, and run into the kitchen and wrap Goldie and I in the blanket, and she would sleep beside me and keep me warm.

As I grew up, so did she, but she wasn’t growing older like me, into adolescence and adulthood, she was slowly starting to prepare, so to speak. One day I woke up and she was walking crooked. Apparently she’d had a stroke in the night, and couldn’t walk right anymore.

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I took this photo only days before her first stroke. I was growing up, and preparing to move out. She was falling apart, and tried to act like the puppy she was at heart, but her body couldn’t match the love she wanted to share.

As time progressed, in only a few months, she became so ill that we knew either we’d let her stay alive in pain, for our own selfish reasons, or we’d help her by letting her finally go. She refused to die, and today I know she would have lived another year, maybe 2, because she had so much love to give.

On the final day we brought her to the vet, I gave her a big meal, anything she wanted I’d give it to her. I drove her to the vet with my parents following in their car. When we got there they told us which room to go into, and they were ready, but wanted to give us time to say goodbye. She shivered, so much, and kept pressing against my legs, hoping to be pet, showing her love.

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Before the vet walked in I took a final photo of her. “I love you Goldie,” I said, “Do you know how much I love you? I love you so much.”

The vet put in the needle and injected the fluid into her. “She’ll finally sleep now” he said. She kept shivering. Her head feel from my knee and slowly moved to the floor, her eyes still open. I wished her eyes would close, so I wouldn’t have to look into her beautiful eyes and feel only memories, and no longer a warmth from her. My Goldie died on the floor of the vet’s office.

We cremated her and spread he ashes throughout the back yard, the places she mainly slept. I was the last to spread the remaining ashes, and I spread them in the last place me played: near the deck. And again, in life I felt that loss of something I couldn’t find ever again.

It wasn’t until nearly 2 years had passed that Emily became the piece in my heart that I had lost twice before. I still miss my Goldie, I still miss my Grandpa, but I know losing them made me appreciate having ever had them. In some odd way I feel that if I hadn’t had that loss, I never would have understood how important they were to me.

I’m sorry if this was bleak. I just want people to know how grateful I am for the love I have, and to know how fragile it is. I want you to just know that love, though it seems grand when you find it, is fragile and can be lost as quickly as it came. Know who you love, let them know. I love you Emily.

~Tim

Chasing Pluto

I guess I’ll tell you a little about Pluto: The dog that I almost got rid of.

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Pluto, as a puppy, had a tongue too big for his head. He would often wander around the house with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. When we first came across Pluto, I insisted to Emily that we don’t get him. And I mean I REALLY insisted… But she knew that he was the perfect partner for Tinkerbell. She was so insistent on it that she used her own money to buy him. So, Pluto became something of an adorable problem to me.

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Upon bringing him home, we kind of were under the impression that his bathroom habits would come naturally (and by that I mean he would learn from Tinkerbell about using pads and such). Nope. He had, from day one till about 1 month ago, pooped, peed, and threw up in any place he could land his feet. His biggest habit was staring me in the eyes while he peed on the floors of my apartment. When we first got him, we also brought Pluto and Tinkerbell to Virginia to visit my parents, where he was free to do his business outside, which suited him.

Naturally, I began to regret getting Pluto. As Edgar was to Pewdiepie, so was Pluto to me. I couldn’t stand the little thing, but, as it goes, Emily insisted that we keep him and that he was just a puppy (and at this point he was about 5 months old) and still needed to learn. I just wasn’t having it though.

After one particularly bad manic episode in August, in which I became furious with Pluto for again peeing and pooping wherever he felt like, I told Emily enough was enough, and we needed to give him to a home with a yard and a family with a higher tolerance than I had.

The next day we began looking for a family that would have him, and there were A LOT of people who wanted him. One family even came over and saw him. The children of the family had previously had an allergy to dogs, and hoping that a hypoallergenic dog would be the solution. But when the children were licked by him, they quickly broke out in a rash. All the while, Emily couldn’t look at me, and would cry when she was with him. I took this photo on the day we were sure the family was going to take him:

Goodbye

Seeing Emily’s sadness made me realize how ridiculous I was being. He loves me, and he loved me so much since he was a puppy, but I just am such a manic person that sometimes I lose focus of reality. Once the family left, I told Emily that we would keep Pluto and how sorry I was. That night he peed on the pad (one of the few times he ever did).

Since then, he’s still a little bit of a mess, but he’s adjusting to pads and loves walks. He’ll never fully commit to using pads, I know this, but I’ve seen him become close to me like Tinkerbell is to Emily. I have never felt more shame for my behavior than then. I soon adjusted my medications, taking anxiety pills more often and increasing my bipolar medicine.

Recently his become my companion. I love him, and I often have him asleep on my legs or beside me at night. He loves giving kisses and does something my old dog Goldie used to do: he leans against me when he wants me to pet him. The day I noticed this I kind of teared up, because Goldie was kind of like my Spirit Animal and losing her over 3 years ago still makes me cry sometimes. Pluto, though imperfect, is my friend, and though sometimes I say I ‘tolerate’ him, I love him beyond words. When Emily cries at night from fibromyalgia, he often licks her tears away. When I’m feeling upset, or just depressed, he’s always beside me, pushing against me, reminding me what unconditional love feels like when I’m too blind to see I’m surrounded by it.

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~Tim