On Whether Manic Depression Is A Blessing Or A Curse Or Both

So, this is a question I struggle with periodically. Is Manic Depression a blessing, curse or both? There is no denying that my life has changed immensely both for the good and the bad since being diagnosed in the early 2000’s. But, is my life really worse than it was before? Was I truly happy, or was it a semblance of happiness? Would my life have taken the same path regardless?

Now that I have been practicing Nichiren Buddhism for about 5.5 years, I can honestly say I really do not know. One goal of Nichiren Buddhism is to become indestructibly happy to the core of your being so that you can face the obstacles and struggles that are inherent in life with the knowledge that whatever life is throwing at you you can handle it with maybe not, joy, but not anger or blame either. Which brings me to the question of whether I was happy before the diagnosis, or was I operating under an illusion that I was happy?

Having thought about this quite a bit, I really do not think that I was a happy person before the diagnosis. I had moments of extreme happiness and joy which I do miss primarily because those moments involve someone I miss a great deal. However, in general, I do not think I was what I would call a happy person, and never really had been. I was not a popular student, although I was certainly a very dedicated student throughout Middle School and High School, but I had no close friends or a person that I could take my problems to. I buried them, and not very successfully either. I got better at that, though. Probably not a good thing, but a necessary defense mechanism. I was “odd” in some way, shape or form that kept the other students from wanting to be my friend.

This was my reality until I went to college, and discovered an entirely new world of people my age, older than myself, and all with different life experiences. I was truly happy in college. My therapist thinks I first presented with Bipolar in college (I had already been diagnosed with PTSD), and looking at my transcript, I can see some signs that there may have been a problem with my moods. I dropped in and out a lot, couldn’t decide on a major, and drifted a lot. I dropped out for two years when I was 19 to “sow” my wild oats because I had not had that experience in High School. I got myself in trouble; some of it serious. But, with the help of rehab, and outpatient therapy, I pulled myself back together and went back with a strong determination to find my major and to earn my degree. I met my ex-fiance, and he rekindled my love of bicycling as he was an avid cyclist, and I had always enjoyed cycling. So, yes, I think I was happy in college. I “fit”.

After graduating, I set out to my find my first real job (the kind that pays more than minimum wage, or relies on tips). I landed the second job I applied for with a salary of about $28,000 per year. Although I thoroughly enjoyed what I did for a living, I was not happy with my environment, my boss, and the way I was treated by some of the other employees. To clarify, I was the Payroll Benefits Coordinator for a 200+ employee hospital, and was frequently blamed for people’s paycheck errors. That’s what the time clock is for. To keep track of your hours; if I don’t know if you worked, I cannot pay you. Pretty simple stuff, and most people did it once because I did not go out of my way to get them special checks to cover their mistakes. However, my boss was a micro-manager and I do not function well under constant scrutiny. So, I was very unhappy with that aspect. Then, I was asked to resign after I made a mistake that in retrospect was a pretty big one. They kept me on to train my replacement. That was my first go around with almost unbearable anxiety, and prescriptions for Xanax. Fortunately, I found a position at the University doing the same type of job for about the same salary. I was over the moon! I was back at my beloved University. It was during my tenure at the University that I had the breakdown that led me to seek out a therapist.

Our whole office was under extreme stress for reasons that are too complicated to explain. I found myself doing the job of two people, and working 12 to 14 hours per day. It was here that I met the individual that was probably as close to a soul mate as I have ever found. He made me happy, and therefore the environment was bearable. Then I melted down, and after about 6 months of weekly therapy, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type II disorder, and then bipolar Type I with Psychotic tendencies. My world came to a screeching halt. I was once again fired, and this time was very different because now I was clinically mentally ill. I became very unhappy, and became a “frequent flyer” at the mental health unit of a local hospital. I was up, i was down, I was drinking…..heavily. My whole world turned on its head again.

At this time, I would say that Manic Depression was most definitely a curse. The doctors were trying to stabilize me, and onto the med-go-round I hopped. Most of what I can remember about that time is very fuzzy as the doctors tried one medication after another attempting to return my moods to something resembling normal. I was very depressed, frequently drunk, and just as frequently, suicidal. I just could not see any way out of the hole I had fallen into. My whole life revolved around doctor’s appointments, medications that didn’t work or caused unacceptable side effects. I was miserable. I was most definitely caught in the “Why me?” trap. So, yes, I would say the first 4 to 5 years were a curse. And, then I reached the point I call stable madness. I was still a danger to myself, and now I had the means, and I used them. Then one evening, I took a full prescription for Geodon (an anti-psychotic) and one of Welbutrin (an anti-depressant), and I waited. Then the drugs started to kick in, and I got very frightened because I could feel in my gut that I had gotten it right (or wrong) this time. I called 911, and told the dispatcher what I had taken and how much, and the paramedics were there in about 5 minutes. I was taken to the nearest emergency room where they put about 8 IV’s in me trying to flush the now digested medications. I almost died that night. I made a pact that evening that if the Universe and everything in it that was divine that if it allowed me to live through this with no ill effects, I would never do it again. The 6 year anniversary of that pact is approaching in July. I have been suicidal since, but you do not break pacts made with the Universe so I have never tried again regardless of how much I wanted to. My whole view on life changed during the time I was hospitalized following the successful revival of my life.

Not long after I made this pact, I was introduced to Nichiren Buddhism. At first, I thought the practice was weird, and the tenets difficult to understand. But, I kept at it sensing that something greater than myself was at work. I have never been religious, but I have always been spiritual. As I gradually learned more and more, and began to be able to say the prayers more easily, I started to feel better. This was entirely foreign to me. Something was working. I was becoming grounded, I was becoming more stable. I began to ride again. I wanted to see and meet people. I was beginning to think that perhaps life was worth living if only to practice and study Buddhism. I began to see that my previous trials and difficulties had left me with a gift; I was becoming appreciative and grateful for things and people I had taken for granted. I was having more good days than bad. And, the most peculiar of all, my ability to sense when another person was hurting or struggling in their life was becoming heightened. I began to think of others ahead of myself. I still had to vigilantly monitor my moods, but I was becoming less restless and dissatisfied. I became the Vice Women’s Division leader for a group of fellow Buddhists, and then the Women’s Division leader. Things were becoming okay. I was beginning to accept my illness, and think of it less as an illness but as something medically treatable.

It was about 2 years into my practice that I began to understand the practice as being essential to my life, and to my satisfaction with the cards I had been dealt. This is about the time I began to wonder if Manic Depression was a blessing, a curse, or both. Today, and the reason I wrote this, is that I realized that it is both. It is a blessing in that I have learned to appreciate and be grateful for the things and people in my life who make my life worth living. It is a blessing in that I have learned that I am not nearly as bad off as others I have met. And, it is a blessing that I have realized that I truly enjoy helping relieve others of their pain even if it is just a little bit and for a short time. It is a curse in that my moods still fluctuate though not nearly as badly as they once did, that I will be on medication for the rest of my life, and that I will still experience bone crushing depressions from time to time and that I will still have a desire to end my life at those times. So, I have finally answered my question: yes, I am a happy person today. I am alive. No, I am not always surfing the perfect sine wave, but that is okay because the sine wave always comes back. Sometimes, it just hangs out off shore for a while.

Bouncing Brain ~ The World Looks Different Through The Lens Of Insomnia

A Love Hate Masquerade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am tired of so many things……something has got to give and it better not be me. I just wish the world would wake up one morning and realize that while we all may hold different beliefs, lead different lifestyles, eat different food, pray to different divine beings/powers, we are all the same at the core. We all desire to be loved and happy and have friends and a sense of belonging somewhere. We all love our families and our children, and would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way. But, no, people have to be petty and put a stop to any disagreement within their ranks, sometimes with deadly, militaristic force. That’s not going to solve anything in the long run except to determine who had the better weapons and who had the better allies. I find it all frighteningly petty.

There is so much more that people could be doing than having to fight their own governments while their governments hang onto their power by using chemical agents on their own people. Even we have done it. Look at the guys who came back from Desert Storm and started showing up at clinics with mysterious ailments. There are times when I get so discouraged that anything will change because that’s just the “way it has been.” Well, why can it not be “that’s the way it was?” I think I need sleep tonight. My brain is starting to bounce, and I am starting to think aloud and on “paper,” so to speak.

I would love to set up a world-wide contest of sorts to see who could create a country with a government that not only worked, but worked for its citizens, and where diversity was completely embraced as being part of life because no matter how much you stomp your feet and scream and cry, people are going to be different than one another. Accept it, embrace it, get over it.

I am just so extraordinarily pissed off today. About everything. I just do not understand why people hurt the people they purport to love like the air they breathe. I do not understand why people form exclusive little groups and if you don’t belong, then you might as well cease to live. That is what bullying is all about. And, on the subject of bullying, does it seem more prevalent today than when you were in school (provided you have graduated college by now)? I mean, the kids can’t even escape it at home. In my day, you were bullied at school and maybe a little bit by crank phone calls. Now, these kids have iPads, smartphones, they are on the Internet for as many hours as we used to watch cartoons. They can’t escape it. It is insidious and everywhere. Why are 12 year olds committing suicide? What can be so bad in a 12 year long life that rather than struggle through it, they choose to take their lives? I wonder, because I was that kid. You know, the one that was slightly off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. I was harassed from grade school until I left high school, and yes, I did try several times to take my life. But, I couldn’t do it. Something has kept me alive for many years for some reason that I have not figured out yet. I should be dead. I should not be sitting here letting my mind dance over the million thoughts I have in one minute of an average person’s life. I hate having Bipolar and I hate having ADD, and I hate being anxious so much of the time and I really hate the paranoia that comes with all of them, especially the bipolar and the PTSD which I hate also primarily because of the way I came to develop it. I just really do not like much of anything today. I fell off the sine wave.

Today I Got Two New Awards (Not Bragging Today)

English: Bob Marley live in concert, just a couple of years before his death (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hobby (Photo credit: Sergey Yeliseev)

Today, another blogger, ajaytao2010, volunteered me to pick out two awards from a total of thirteen. As, I am approaching the “big” move out of the house I used to share with a man I thought was something he turned out not to be, I am feeling a little like I am on a hammock that is rocking violently in a late summer wind. I am alternating from irritable (big defensive wall) to profoundly sad (no defenses there). I got married with the idea that this would be the only marriage i would ever have. I was in my late 30’s when I got married. I waited until I thought I had found the right man. I was very wrong as I often am. One of these days I am going to get this “life thing” right, I swear. i just do not know what a happy life looks like. I have never really had one. Not even as a child. I thought too much and analyzed the life out of things; probably why I am a great researcher. but, happy, no. Weird to other people and kids at school, yes. I wasn’t normal until I hit college, and realized that all the weirdos from high school had congregated there. Now, I wasn’t weird or strange or any one of a number of descriptors used over the years. I was accepted, I was allowed to explore ideas and philosophies. I was encouraged to explore, to inquire, to question, and to be myself (which was still a bit odd).

At any rate, I have been moving out of the house that was supposed to be a “fresh start” for my husband and myself, but nothing changed except me. I became less emotional which may or may not be a good thing. He continued with his way of life (of which I highly disapproved). It is almost like the status quo was fine for him, but I needed to work on myself. I was always in the wrong, always on the receiving end of small but biting barbs; I was being abused, and I recognized it. I had been trying to work up the courage to leave, but he always sweet talked me back, and then it would all start over again. We finally had the deal breaker fight a couple of months ago, and I went to bed that night determined to instigate divorce proceedings. I had told him that I would divorce him if he didn’t at least try to curb certain activities. He didn’t and told me to stop threatening. I said that it was a certainty. And, so it came to be. 

So, today, a blogger who has just started reading the convolution that is my life gave me two awards for my blog. Like I said, i do not really need awards to validate myself (that was me in college; I was defined by being the best student in the class), however, it is very nice and humbling that someone would actually not only read my esoteric writings about everything, but would find it interesting enough to follow it, and to deem it worthy of a couple of awards. Like I said, it couldn’t have come at a more opportune time in my life; recognition and validation of any kind is very appreciated when one has not heard much of it. So, one again, Ajaytao2010, thank you very much. I receive them with appreciation and gratitude.  🙂

Death By Suicide: An Interpersonal-Psychological Theory Part One (warning: potentially triggering)

English: Image for mental health stubs, uses two psych images – psychiatry (medicine) and psychology (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Way Out, or Suicidal Ideation: George Grie, 2007. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For a long time, I have wondered why I and some friends (including my ex fiance’s sister’s completed suicide) of mine have attempted suicide either once or several times. When a good friend of mine attempted suicide about 20 years ago, when she was finally able to talk again (she swallowed a cocktail of pills), she said she had been drinking and it had finally hit her that this guy she was head over heels for was never going to let go of his feelings for his ex-girlfriend. So, she almost lost her life over some guy. I, myself, have a few attempts under my belt, but mine usually seem to be without reason. At least no good reason I have been able to come up with. My ex-fiance’s sister successfully committed suicide at the age of about 36, and about one month after her birthday. She, too, had a history of mental illness and suicide attempts. Please note that this post does NOT mean that I am suicidal. 

I am simply interested in the “whys” of attempted and completed suicides. What are the specific set of circumstances that have to be present for someone to consider taking their own life? Why are we the only creature in the animal kingdom that does commit suicide? I have been interested in this for most of my life. For example, using myself, I have probably attempted suicide about 5 times, maybe 4. I was always a pill popper as I cannot abide the idea of cutting my wrists or using a gun. Too painful and too messy. However, each time I tried and was really set to die, I would call 911. Why would I do that? Maybe it was an effort to garner attention, or maybe I really did mean to die but failed because my desire to live was stronger, or maybe it was my way of saying I need help (I never have had an easy time asking for help even when I clearly need it). 

So, after much research recently and over the years, I have finally found a complex but simple theory that I feel is a valid theoretical explanation as to how a person could overcome the self-preservation instinct and also what conditions need to be present to induce someone to think of killing themselves. It is called the “Interpersonal-Psychological Theory of Suicidal Behavior” by Thomas Joiner, PhD. He specializes in the research of the psychology, neurobiology and treatment of suicidal behaviors and other conditions. He was recently awarded the Shieldman Award by the American Association of Suicidology for excellence in the field of suicide as well as the Guggenheim fellowship. 

This is going to be part one which will introduce the theorist, and the premise of the theory. Part two will discuss the theory itself, it’s parts and conclusions.

The Interpersonal-Psychological Theory of Suicidal Behavior

The basic questions that this theory asks are: 1) What is the desire for suicide, and what types of thinking lead to suicidal ideation? And, 2) What is the ability to die by suicide, and in whom and how does it develop? 

Question one: “The Interpersonal-Psychological Theory” asserts that when people hold two very specific mind states for an extended period of time, they will develop a desire to die. These two states, which I will go into in part two of the post, are “perceived burdensomeness” and “low sense of belongingness/social isolation.” Both of these must be present to come to the desire to die by suicide or suicidal ideation.

Question two: “The Interpersonal-Psychological Theory” states that, in general, the self preservation instinct is so powerful that very few people can overcome it by force of will. The few that have been able to cross that barrier have developed a lack of fear of pain, injury, and death through repeated exposure to painful and/or provocative events. These experiences often include previous self-injury, but can also include repeated accidental injuries, numerous physical fights; and occupations such as a physician or a front-line soldier in which repeated exposure to pain and injury is common either vicariously or directly.

What are the current empirical data for this conceptualization? Some of it is indirect although a growing body of empirical support is accruing. 

So, those are the basic questions this theory seeks to answer, and having been suicidal in the past, it has a strong resonance because this theory explains exactly where my head was at at the time of the attempt. I will go further into the parts and empirical support and conclusions in part Two.

 

What Does It Mean To Me To Be A High Functioning Bipolar?

 

 

This is an idea I got from another blogger who wrote a post about what it means to her to be a high-functioning depressive.  You can read it here: http://maycauseirritation.wordpress.com/2013/07/29/high-functioning-depressive/

 

So, I have set out to figure out what it means to me to be a high-functioning bipolar who does not have a job, is going through a divorce, is not in school or some other worthy activity, and basically reads all day once the blogging is finished and comments answered and blog posts read. So, how does one feel high-functioning when one is lacking all the trappings of someone who is? That seems to be the rub. Hmmm….this is going to take thought, and I think that I am done thinking for the day.

 

I have thought about this a bit more. A high-functioning bipolar doesn’t go off the deep end because her relationship ended very badly. I doubt that I will maintain a friendship with this particular ex-whatever the hell he thought he was-and whatever the hell I was led to believe he was. He falls into the category of “if I never see you again, it will be too soon.” Currently, only one person has held that honor for about 20 years. And, no you don’t get a cookie or a medal for belonging to this élite group. I think we were a married couple for all of one year before the happy little “diversion” became key to his existence and rendered me null and void. Anyone who can spend 8 hours looking at Internet porn is someone who has a huge problem especially if his wife is a perfectly attractive woman. That just pissed me off. So, I would guess a high-functioning bipolar has some respect for themselves. 

 

I am also very involved with my Buddhist community. I am the women’s leader of a small district which is basically a group of other Buddhists that belong to the same sect, and they all have many years of knowledge that I do not have. Normally, this would absolutely whig someone who wasn’t functioning well out. When not functioning (ie: depressive episode/manic episode/mixed episode), there’s no way that a bipolar with anxiety issues could do this. You cannot deal with people very effectively when in one of those states. 

 

I know that I can now “hide” my bipolar from an employer. I am good at that which is a good thing when it comes to the workplace. I have always been highly competitive with myself, and anything other than superior work product is unacceptable. I was the same way all the way through college. Someone could set a bar for me, and I would (and still do) set it higher. Now, granted, that may not be healthy, and can lead to heart attack, stroke or even death doesn’t bother me. I have always been a type A personality. I get anxious when everything is not going just the way I want it to. Or, the way it is supposed to. Even at the beginning of the manifestation of this illness, I was still producing at a very high level under some extreme stress (which is what I think may have finally brought on the manifestation of symptoms). It is vital to my existence that everything I produce be it a research paper for school or an analysis of misuse of the time-clock to produce unworked overtime, I want it as perfect as possible. Low-functioning people have a tendency towards mediocrity. They do just enough to get by. 

 

Hmm……I am again at a loss. I do not participate in any of the activities that our society values with the exception of my involvement with my religious activities. I guess someone who is a high-functioning bipolar can face difficulties with-out succumbing to the “I am going to kill myself” feelings that seem to always lurk just below the surface. It would be easier on you, but I have seen firsthand the devastation that a suicide causes, so that’s not an option. I guess my vision of a high-functioning bipolar is someone who can deal with difficult situations either personal or work related, is someone who can maintain relationships with people in a give and take type of way rather than always taking or always giving (and not being recognized for it, man that just chaps my hide). Show some appreciation for what you have and what you get. That to me is very important. I will and have been known to stop giving anything of myself if I do not feel appreciated. If you are hungry, there’s the pantry.

 

I guess a bipolar that is high-functioning be it a person who works or stays home and keeps the house is someone with a strong sense of who they are, what they want out of life, won’t settle (especially if they have before and been taken advantage of~maybe that‘s my own personal problem), is comfortable alone or with people, has friends, can give and take equally, and isn’t stuck in the “woe is me” cycle. They live with it, they don’t “own” it in the more common sense of that expression because to do so would be to identify with the disease, but rather is some one who recognizes it as a part but not the whole of who they are. I am sure there are things I left out, and shall probably remember at a later time. I think I have come to the conclusion that a high-functioning (insert illness here) is someone who knows themselves, and can take care of that self while nurturing the part that needs help.

 

Okay, Now I Am Going To Get Buddhist ~ Life Is Too Short To Be Miserable

Blackbird ~ The Beatles

I think anyone who has felt despair can relate to this one. Eventually, you have to learn to fly.

Okay So I Am On An Old Childhood Song Kick Today

Cover of The Beatles (The White Album)

 

I tend to have better memories of my “formative” years before things got all weird in my family, and between me and my Dad through music and the lyrics. I am in a reminiscing mode. Sorry  🙂 My Dad loved the Beatles, and I happen to really like The White Album, so here we have “Dear Prudence”

 

Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play

Dear Prudence open up your eyes
Dear Prudence see the sunny skies
The wind is low the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence won’t you open up your eyes?

Look around round
Look around round round
Look around

Dear Prudence let me see you smile
Dear Prudence like a little child
The clouds will be a daisy chain
So let me see you smile again
Dear Prudence won’t you let me see you smile?

Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play

 

I Am Not Sure How I am Feeling Today…….Somewhere Between Completely Pissed off and Sad (Warning: contains profanity)

i have had it. I have reached the end of my rope. I cannot stand people today. I tried to

Ever have a day/week/life like this?

do something that I thought would be appreciated by an certain individual yesterday. Turns out the road to hell really is paved with good intentions, but I had no idea it came with undeserved criticism, and a 15 minute long chastising discussion (one sided) about how what I had done was completely wrong. WTF!!?!?!??!

Then, to add insult to injury, said person said they recognize that our thought processes were different: first and foremost because of my “illness,” it is always my fucking illness first, then other reasons such as different backgrounds, different life experiences, etc. But, always the “illness” first and always foremost. Yeah, I have had a much harder life than said individual. But, I, in many ways “chose” that lifestyle based on things that happened to me when I was much younger. Much, much younger. Like barely 16.

I did not ask for the event that occurred and I was in no way old enough to process it. So, I buried it with drugs and alcohol. I did not know what else to do. (There goes the fucking phone again. I am going to rip them out of the wall). When I brought up that snorting speed and cocaine for about 6 years isn’t real healthy for the lungs either (not to mention you tend to chain smoke while high on stimulants), said individual says to me: “You know you always try to compare your experiences like they are similar to others’.” Snorting coke and speed is not good for any part of the body involved. You snort the stuff up your nose…..not good for septum and sinuses. Since you are snorting it, it goes straight into your lungs. That’s fucking healthy, and then you chain smoke. How is that different than smoking for 40 years? Fuck this person. Who the hell do they think they are? Who the fuck died and made them capable of walking on water while the rest of us drown?

So, said conversation (again one sided) basically went something like this. No thank you for trying to do something nice, just you know I cannot smoke commercial brand cigarettes because of the additives. I have to smoke pure tobacco. Said individual has been smoking since I was born, maybe they should quit if brand name cigarettes are going to have such a negative effect. Smoking any cigarette is going to be bad for your throat, lungs, mouth, etc. Then said individual pointed out that when they bought cigarettes for us (yes, I took up smoking after then “incident when I was 16”), that they always got the ones with no additives even if it meant driving further. Well, as people who read my blog know, I totaled my car for the New Year (January 5th). So,I have to drive another car that I am not entirely comfortable with (it is huge compared to my old car.) So, I went as far as I could before the anxiety set in.

I am so fucking sorry I tried to do something that I thought would be appreciated. Won’t happen again. Trust me. I may make mistakes all the time (due to my “illness”), but I do learn from some of them. This one I learned from. Good intentions are not appreciated. I feel taken for granted, I feel like I do not ever want to try to do anything nice for this person ever again.

Oh, and then there is what I found in my email yesterday from my Internet company. Apparently, I downloaded a “film” back in December from some company DBA as “Devil‘s Films”. First of all, I would not be looking at “films” produced by such a company: I find that I lose interest in about a nanosecond, and they are not my preferred viewing material. Apparently, this was a niche film involving two “grannies” getting down with each other. WTF would I be doing watching that kind of crap? I am 41 years old. Not 65. Were I not to be completely bored by the genre in general, I would prefer younger people, with a plot that actually tells a story….. not just two or more people doing their thing with each other. Now that I have finished raving and ranting about that, here comes the real problem. The account is in my name, with my email, my address. I “own” the account. It doesn’t matter what someone else does with it, I am the responsible party. I am the one who could get fined, I am the one who could be criminally prosecuted. Not the dipshit that downloaded the “film” in the first place. And, then said jackass says, “I don’t even have the video anymore. It was boring so I deleted it”.

Does not matter if the “film is still on the computer or not. The point is that it was downloaded in the first place. And the Internet company knows it. It came from my router’s IP address, it has my router’s MAC address, it has everything associated with the router’s configuration. My router and my IP and MAC addresses. That’s how it was traced in the first place. I am not a techno-idiot. I know how to trace people from their IP addresses and the MAC address of the computer. I can pin it down to a physical address, in whatever town, city, state. I can pull up satellite maps of the area. This is how the company discovered the copyright infringement.

For crying out loud, if you are going to risk the fine and/or jail time, why download two grannies getting it on. If that’s what you are into, you are married to a person in the wrong age group. Even at 41, I am considered in this realm as “mature,” meaning I am not 20 something. Find a new fucking hobby (pardon the bad pun). Like, oh I do not know, paying attention to your wife who is very close to leaving you, or at least, getting what she doesn’t get at home somewhere else.

I have never cheated on a lover before, but I am getting damn close. I get no attention, no affection, it is a given that I will clean the kitchen and cook dinner. No thank you’s. Those are implied. It may be implied, but it is nice to hear once in a while. I am so close to ending this relationship so I don’t end up cheating because I have very strong feelings about that. My father cheated on my mom with a family “friend” for about 6 years until they both divorced and then married each other. So, I have a thing about cheating. It is wrong. Break up first if you think you are going to the dark side. That way  no one gets seriously hurt, and there is no having to forgive and forget. I am that close. But, considering what my mom went through, I just cannot do it. I will divorce first. It’s not like this is a marriage anyway. He sleeps on the couch and has for about 3 months. I sleep in the bed, and I won’t let him sleep there anymore. It has been about the same amount of time since we had sex (I know, overshare), but it is relevant to my wanting to cheat. I don’t understand.

My “illness” has not popped up recently which said person claims is why they are sleeping on the couch and we are not engaged in “normal” marital relations. I am 41 freaking years old. I still have a very healthy sex drive, and I do not even get kisses or hugs. I am talking zero physical affection. And, he wonders why I don’t put on my lingerie anymore. It such an obvious answer. The last few times I have tried that, I got  shot down in flames, and felt like such an idiot. Since I do not feeling like an idiot for trying to initiate sexual relations with my husband, I stopped. No reaction, no sexy lingerie. That’s the way it works. What is the point if you get no reaction? You just sit there all dolled up while he watches PBS Newshour or some shit like that. It is humiliating. I am just going to let him have his “fantasy” amateur porn stars. They seem to do more for him than I can.

Besides, It is not like I am ugly. Quite the opposite. I am not beautiful, but I am very pretty. Coke bottle figure, a little more voluptuous than I would like to be, but not bad. I am well proportioned, I have eyes that change from grey to green, I have a large chest (which he claims he has always liked in women; not me apparently). Basically, I have no problem finding men. Most women don’t because men are, in general (not always), interested in one thing from women, and it isn’t philosophical conversation. Robin Williams once said that men only have enough blood to run one head at a time. True.

So, I am completely pissed off while at the same time really sad. Mixed-episode? I do not think so. I think everything in my little world has collapsed, and I am not handling it as well as I could be. I am getting angry, I am getting depressed, I am feeling unloved, unwanted, undesirable, not sexy (even though I know some guys who would disagree, just not the main one), I do not even know why I spend so much time doing my make-up (unless it is to out-do other women; this is likely. Women are catty like that).

Ran Across This In My iTunes ~ Thought I Would Post The Lyrics & Video

 

A new day (Photo credit: aftab.)

 

Meanwhile back in the year One — when you belonged to no-one —
You didn’t stand a chance son, if your pants were undone.
`Cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society —
One day you’ll wake up in the Present Day —
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be.

 

Skating away —
Skating away —
Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.

 

So as you push off from the shore,
Won’t you turn your head once more — and make your peace with everyone?
For those who choose to stay,
Will live just one more day —
To do the things they should have done.
And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness:
You feel you have to pray.
Looking for a sign
That the Universal Mind (!) has written you into the Passion Play.

 

Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.

 

And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind —
You’re a rabbit on the run.
And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye —
Shining in the setting sun.
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story’s
Too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybody’s on the stage, and it seems like
You’re the only person sitting in the audience?

 

Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day