Please Leave Your Negativity At The Door

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Because if you don't, I might invite you to go trough it again, and not return.

I have HAD IT with negative people.  You'll have to excuse the caps, but they are necessary so that you understand how MAD I am right now, and how badly I have HAD IT with the dang peanut gallery!

Ok, I'll stop now, but imagine that I'm biting in to every single word, and I am visibly angry.

Every single project I have, there are a million others out there trying to do the same thing, and it seems like no one, especially complete strangers, can resist telling me that.

"You want to write a variety blog? It's going to be impossible to build and audience, you'll never succeed."

You know what?  It's not easy.  I've been at this for a while, and it's still not what I'd like it to be.  Though if I'm honest, I haven't put in all the necessary efforts, and when I did work hard on it, I got more results.  So arguably, if I'd put in the work, this blog could have been a huge success.  Nothing is impossible, and screw you (negative person) for implying that I can't  be successful in something if I put my mind to it.  I'm sorry you'd never have the courage to follow your dreams, but please abstain from polluting my mind with negative thoughts I don't need to hear.

"You want to open a restaurant? You do know that most of them go out of business in the first five years don't you?  You're making a big mistake.  Remember you have a family to feed!"

Awesome.  Thank you so much for reminding me that I had a family.  For a minute there, I had completely forgotten that I gave birth to two beautiful boys around which my entire universe revolves.  Good thing you were there to point that out for me, I may have never remembered.  As for the restaurant business, while that may be true, it's true of restaurants that don't know what they're doing.  My husband and I have ample experience and are exceptionally astute, so don't you worry about us making a go of it, because I'm not.  Again, I'm sorry that you will never have enough confidence in your own self to make this kind of a leap, but please keep your fears to yourself, as I don't want them to become my own.

"Oh, you're making jewelry?  Are you selling a lot of it?" (in a snarky type of "what a joke" type of tone)

No actually, I haven't sold a lot of it yet, though I have sold some, and have gotten tons of positive feedback.  Also, I just started, so you know, building a clientele takes time.  You know what though?  I love it.  My jewelry is unique, and each piece is one of a kind.  Will I become a millionaire from selling jewelry? Probably not, but hey who knows?  If you never try something, you can never succeed at it.

"Oh you started your own face painting business?  Can you live from that full time?"

If you must know, I know a clown that makes a pretty decent living doing kids parties and corporate events full time, and he makes a very decent living.  I don't personally plan on doing this full time, but if the business takes off, I sure wouldn't mind.  I love face painting, it doesn't feel like work.  I make good money, spend about five minutes with each child, make them super happy and send them on their merry way.  It rocks.

I'm sure I could come up with a million more examples, but I think you get the picture.

Point is: I don't want to hear it!!!  Stop filling my head with all of your fears and insecurities!

I think I can, therefore I will.  Got it?  I will.

OK, that's enough ranting for one day.  What about you?  Do you have to deal with Nay-Sayers often? How do you respond to unwelcomed negative opinions?

Much love and POSITIVE thoughts!
Felicia
xx

Naive, Dumb, or Both?

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She was thirteen years old and had never been touched.

They had met at school that day, and she'd been surprised when he'd called her the same night. He was a friend's boyfriend, why would he call her? Still, she was just naive enough to think nothing of it. This guy just wanted to be friends. Maybe part of her knew. She didn't get that much attention from boys, so she didn't give it much thought.

They spoke for hours. He laughed at all her jokes. He seemed so nice. She just didn't know enough about life and love to know that he was flirting, not being friendly. She was flirting too, whether or not she could admit to it or was even conscious of it.

They had a day off school coming up. He said she should come over to his place, they could play video games with his brother. He said his dad would be around because he wasn't working that day.

Again, too naive, too dumb to realize that this was a bad idea, she agreed readily, and when the day came, she was there as planned. When she'd arrived, he'd said his father had gone out. The brother was there, but left within five minutes of her arrival.

They were alone.

He brought her to his bedroom, which wasn't that unusual, given that most teenager's only personal space is their bedroom. At least that's what she though at the time.

He showed her all the various holes in his walls, telling her stories of who or what had enraged him, causing his violent outbursts. Kind of emphasizing on how he couldn't really control himself when he was angry.

She had begun to grow uneasy.

He'd stopped one of his stories short, his attention suddenly directed at her. He'd whispered: you're beautiful.

Her heart sank. The reality of the situation dawned on her. He had been flirting and he expected something to happen today.

She wasn't ready for this. Not here, not now, not with him.

He licked his lips and moved towards her. She tensed. She wanted to say no, but didn't feel like she could. He leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was okay, so she thought maybe she could do this, it wouldn't be so bad. Within seconds though, he was reaching for her belt. She froze, still unable to utter the word "no".

He popped the button on her jeans, pulled down the zipper, and put his hand down her panties, roughly. She jerked, startled. She was terrified. She wanted desperately wanted him to stop, but her eyes were fixed on a hole in the wall that was close to her face and the stories about his anger issues. She couldn't move, or speak: she was paralyzed.

He pulled down her torn jeans, tights and panties in one sweep. Stuck around her ankles, she was bound by her own clothing.

She was exposed and embarrassed. She wondered why she'd worn the ugly beige granny panties her mom had bought her. Then again, she had not been expecting to show them to anyone.

He spread her legs with his hands, slamming his fingers into her, pounding her hard, his fist punching her with every thrust. The pain was unbearable, and she wanted to scream, but she couldn't even do that.

What would happen if she angered him?

She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on that hole in the wall, enduring the pain, unable to tell him to stop. After several minutes, he lay himself down on top of her. She could feel "it"', hard against her thigh.

Her mind raced. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be the way she would lose her virginity. Her legs clamped shut, and he tried to pry them apart with his. She didn't budge though, her knees seemed to be cemented together.

After what seemed like an eternity of him trying to pry her legs open, she finally mustered the courage to speak:

-Cedric?
-What?
-No.

And that was it. He pulled off her, slowly. She lay there, still frozen. He got up, pulled up his pants, and lit a cigarette. When he turned around and saw her still lying there, he barked "well get dressed already!"

She quickly got her pants up, her tights bunching in all the wrong places. It didn't matter though, she was still a million times more comfortable than she had been a minute ago. He was distant now.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but the joy had left the conversation, and she could feel that he was tense, and despite what had just transpired, she still wanted his approval.

She left, relieved that she'd been able to say no, and that he had stopped. She walked home feeling shamed. She'd just been with another girl's boyfriend, even if it had been horrible. She could still feel him, "down there", she could still feel the pain of his punches. She knew she'd been stupid. She knew she shouldn't have gone. She knew she should have spoken up.

Still, she felt like she'd just been violated.

She didn't call anyone that weekend. She curled up in bed and watched TV. She was sad, and felt dirty, used, dumb. Then the phone rang on Sunday night. It was his girlfriend.

He'd told her about their "date". Told her she'd come on to him, that he'd said no.

Her heart sank. She couldn't even tell the truth, he hadn't really done anything wrong, she had let him do all those things. She had kissed him back. She had gone to his house.

How could she explain how stupid she'd been? How could she explain the irrational fear that had paralyzed her?

She was shunned by her friends that Monday, and had never felt so alone in her life. Her innocence had died, and she would never view boys the same way again. While it was clear to her that she was at blame for not speaking up, she also wondered how he hadn't sensed that there'd been a problem. When he'd laid on top of her, her legs clamped shut, why had he tried to pry them apart with this own? Shouldn't he have know she didn't want him to? Shouldn't that have sent a clear message?

Deep down, she knew the answer was yes. He was older, and experienced, and took advantage of her.

That never changed the fact that she hated herself for going there that day, hated herself for not speaking up, and hated that this had been her first sexual encounter.

Planning For The Future

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It's past one AM and I should be sleeping, but I'm wide awake, and I suddenly have an urge a need to write.

I'm excited and nervous about up-coming changes in my life.

I'm bidding my time at work, because my days are numbered, and it's giving me time to set myself up for a better life; one more suited to my particular - hmm  what should I call them?  For lack of a better word, let's just go with "quirks".

Really, I don't know why I'm bothering to mince words, lets call a spade a spade: a life more suited to my very own brand of crazy.

I will be getting some money from being "surplussed", so I've decided to start that empire I've been dreaming of.

First off, I want to start a small restaurant.  Something that caters to professionals, open Monday to Friday, early morning until mid-afternoon.  My hubby is an amazing chef, and I'm confident that our combined knowledge of the restaurant business, customer service and amazing food will be a recipe for success.

Starting this kind of business is no easy task.  I'd been hoping for some guidance from my old boss and mentor, but sadly, he passed away recently.  He was a great man, and I will remember him fondly forever.

I contacted a local organization that helps women find employment, as they have a mentoring program that teaches you how to launch your business.  I'm going to an information session next week, and then I can register for their program, which seems to be a course offered in three stages, each lasting 7-10 days.
I'll know more after the session, but I'm optimistic that this will be exactly the guidance I need to navigate this unchartered territory.

I just flashed back to a session with the psychologist I saw last year, one where he told me he thought it would be a terrible idea for me to own a business, that the anxiety would eat me alive.

Ha!  I laugh in the face of danger!

No, but seriously, my current meds are doing wonders for me, and while I still have bouts of anxiety and moments of utter despair, it is nothing like the all-consuming fire that used to engulf me.

There's also the fact that I don't think I'm ever going to be happy in a work environment where I'm not the boss.  Also, I feel like we will always be stuck in dead-end jobs due to our lack of education, and this is an opportunity for us to make a better future for ourselves, and our boys.

I've also decided to revive La Fée Licia Face Painting, though I'm still deciding on the best route to take for advertising.  Even if I only got a couple of contracts a month, it pays very well, and I love doing it.  I also like the idea of putting my eggs in more than one basket.

Another venture will be to open an Etsy shop.  If you're not familiar with it, this is a website where you can open your own "shop" within the site to sell your artwork.  It costs pennies to place adds that last for (I think) four months, and they take a (again, I think) three percent commission off your sales.  I think this is a great platform, and the site is well established, so it's sort of like opening a store in a well known shopping mall.  For a beginner, I would say this is a win-win situation.  I don't know if anyone will want to buy my art, but for pennies an ad, it's certainly worth a shot!  Again, even just a few sales a month could help.

Then there's Freelancer.ca, where you can sign up for free.  Employers post various "creative" jobs, and you bid on them.  If you are selected, you start to build a reputation, which in turn helps you win more bids.  It's probably a slow start, but surely worth a try.  I'm always looking for inspiration, and I sometimes do my best work when I'm given a general direction to follow.  Who knows where this path could lead?

Of course, there's always my own writing.  I'm working on writing my first book, an account of my life dealing with bipolar disorder.  I'm still in my first draft, and it's terrible, and choppy, but for now I'm just concentrating on getting stories down on "paper", I'll worry about structure and editing later.

The way I see it, if one of these other ventures takes off, we can hire someone take my place at the restaurant while I'm off on a contract.

My boss used to have this sign by her office that read "A failure to plan is a plan to fail".

It always bothered me when I saw it, because it was a constant reminder that I had failed to plan and was now stuck in a job I absolutely hated.

While the future is uncertain, at least I have a plan, and that's more than I've ever had before.  This is my time.  I will stop taking whatever opportunities I'm offered, and start pursuing (or creating) the opportunities that I desire.

Wish me luck!

Yeah, That Happened To Me Today

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It's been a bad day all around. 

I forgot to take my meds last night, and I only thought about it at like three AM, as I was laying in bed asking myself why the heck I couldn't get to sleep.

My mind was racing, but my body was crashed, as I lay there in a state of semi-consciousness, unable to muster the energy to go downstairs and take the pills, yet still unable to get the old brain to shut down.  I eventually convinced myself that it was best if I just skipped them, as I would have had a very hard time waking up with the kids a mere four hours later.

So instead, I lay there all night, coming in and out of sleep in bouts of fifteen to twenty minutes, until I awoke definitively at seven, a full half hour before the alarm was set to go off.

I tried to nap this afternoon, but the same pattern ensued, and I got up out of annoyance.  I had nausea and felt light headed this afternoon, and ended up ordering pizza, because I just couldn't bring myself to cook for the kids.

I've been weepy and anxious these past few days, as the date of my return to work looms in the near future.  A future which is uncertain at the moment... and that threatens the delicate balance I have achieved.

But do you want to know what really prompted this post, which is being written at well past midnight, after I have taken my meds and should be heading for bed?

I was walking by the computer and this happened:

Like I said, it's been a bad day.  Damn you Seroquel and your double edged sword.  You make me feel better but make me gain weight, which makes me very unhappy.  Do you see how this circle is doomed?

One good thing worth noting: I got a crazy kiss attack from the kids right before I put them to bed.  That brightens any gloomy day.

Well that's it folks.  Time for this felicianating girl to hit the sack.  

Felicianating... I think I'm tired... tee hee.

Slow Progress is Progress

Pin It Ah what a journey this thing called life is.

Sometimes I get discouraged because although I see my pageviews rising, I still get very little comments on my posts.  Few people tweet or share my posts.  The comments I do get are very encouraging, but sometimes they are so few and far between that I get discouraged.

Recently I saw a tweet or a pin or something that read something along the lines of "it's easy to forget that slow progress is still progress."

The words hit home with me, and I have been trying to keep my chin up by reminding myself of all of the (small) progress I have made since I suffered a total burnout almost 2 years ago now.

1.  We recently painted my office, and as an exercise in visualization, I have decided to create a sign with Felicianation on it.  I hope it serves to remind me of what I'm trying to achieve, and to help me keep focus.  Pics of the completed office to come, it's still a work in progress!

2.  I finally took the kids to the dentist, and it went great.  I had a lot of anxiety about the visit because I was afraid the dentist would give me crap for waiting so long, and not being able to afford the co-pay for my insurance right now. I know it's dumb, but it's the honest truth.  The thought of it gave me heart palpitations, but the seroquel seems to be helping with the anxiety and I was able to get over myself.  I'm very happy to have this done, it was a source of great anguish for me, torn between doing the right thing for my kids and crippled by unrational fears.

3.  I am also finally seeing a speech therapist with my youngest, but that isn't totally my fault as I requested the service at least one year ago.  Way to go Quebec health care.  He is also making slow progress, but his difficulties have been rated as moderate to severe, so this may take a while... but slow progress is progress and someday this will all just be a memory.

4. The blog is progressing slowly, partly my fault as I fail to be regular... but that's the story of my life I guess, I'm just not a regular person.  I have been trying hard to be more focused lately, and it has been slowly paying off as I have had at least 5 new followers in recent weeks.  Now to make that 5000.

5. I recently purchased a new car, so I no longer have to feel anxious about driving my old beat-up Sunfire anymore (though I loved her so.)

6. I'm being very good about taking my meds, and the Seroquel actually seems to be helping a little bit.  My anxiety attacks have diminished.

7. I have cut back on Pepsi dramatically, going from 6-7 glasses a day to now just one and maybe even none.  This has the added bonus of greatly reducing my caloric intake, not to mention all the sugar and carbs.  The juice I've been drinking instead contains about half of all the bad stuff Pepsi does, and my psychiatrist would be overjoyed to know that I don't have a river of caffeine running through my veins anymore.

Sometimes it helps me to remind myself of the good stuff that's happening, as I tend to focus on the negative too much.

Depression, Anxiety and Other Fun Stuff

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It's been a rough week.  

I'm still looking for a house to rent for April 1.  With the date fast approaching, I'm feeling more anxious and stressed by the minute.  The market is small, and getting ourselves approved has not been the easiest thing.  We are waiting on some news for one very nice house, but it's been such a long process from start to finish that I find myself losing hope that we`ll get it.  I'm trying to remain positive, but combined with the following, it's got me feeling pretty down.

The Bipolar Circuit has been tough on my emotions as well...  

Since  becoming  a blogger, I've met several wonderful like minded beings, and have been in "close" contact with them either through our blogs or twitter (as close as one can be through the internet).

This week, three of these wonderful people talked about killing themselves.

• One has been admitted to hospital and is undergoing ECT (Electro Convulsive Disorder).  I'm terrified for her.  I don't know much about it and can't stop thinking about her and how she must be doing.  There have  been no communications since she was admitted.
• One disappeared off of Twitter 7 days ago after hinting that she was going to end it, and posted 2 days ago that she was going to kill herself.  The post was soon removed and all that remains is an empty post and silence.  A common twitter friend who knows her called the police, but he doesn't know enough to be kept in the loop.  So I don't know if she's alive, if the police went to her house, if she's in the hospital or if she's just dead.  The worry and not knowing is killing me.  If you're reading sweetie, please don't hurt yourself, and please let me know you're breathing.
• And now one is waiting to find out if she has a fatal disease and is hoping she does, so that she can die without having to commit the act.

I've been there ladies.  I know what you're going through.  I'm worried about you.  I think about you.

I care about you.

Read my first post on suicide, I hope it helps to ease your pain, or take your mind off your troubles.

Or at least see that you are not alone.

I'm praying for you,

Much Love, 

Felicia

Writer's Block

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GRRRR this is so frustrating!  

There's so much I want to say, but after a half hour of starting sentences and deleting them, I'm not getting anywhere.

Here's a picture instead, they're suppose to be worth a million words anyway... which means that if you think about it, this is a really long Blog post!!! 

Much Love, 

Felicia

Battling Depression - The Waiting Game

Pin It I'm here, somewhere.

I don't know what's wrong with me.  I want to blog.  I need to blog.  Yet I can't seem to drag my derrière to my pc.

I know you deserve better, as my readers.  I know I need to be more disciplined if this is to amount to anything.


I've been tired.  Riddled with anxiety, about everything, and nothing.  I've been irritable.

I'm usually so happy at this time of year.


I picked up my new meds today.  On top of my 200mg of Lamictal, I'm now on 150mg of Wellbutrin.  I got upset with the pharmacist because she insisted on knowing why the med was prescribed.  In all my years taking meds, I've never had a pharmacist ask such a question.  When I wouldn't tell her at first, she threatened not to fill my prescription, stating that she had to make sure the doctor wasn't mistaken.  She went on to arrogantly tell me that she catches doctor errors on a regular basis.  Hey, maybe it's true, but to act like she's better than doctors, and to insist on knowing my diagnosis?  It's an anti-depressant, what else do you need to know?!

I hate the waiting game, when you first start a new medication. Waiting to see if you will develop any weird side effects.  Waiting to see if it's efficacy, if any.


I hate being trapped in my own head, it's a bad place to be sometimes.

I'll kick myself into gear.  I'll start blogging regularly again.  It's good for me.

Felicia

Bipolar Disorder and Employment

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There have been a few instances in the past 10 years where I have been discriminated against or mistreated in the workplace.  There are at least a couple of times I could have sued them.  There's even an organisation in my city that offers legal help to people with mental illness for this very purpose.  I never did it because I feared bringing so much attention to myself, and to the disorder that caused me so much pain, humiliation and heartache.

The worse place was a very popular restaurant I had always loved, and always wanted to work at.  The managers were insane and would start yelling at you randomly for no good reason.  I was a great waitress, my customers loved me.  I barely ever made mistakes ordering, and I was responsible, so it would always come as a complete shock to me when they would start yelling at me out of the blue, and I would almost invariably burst into tears.  They would then remove me from my shift, not wanting the customers to see me crying because, at they put it: "the clients look at you with a tear streaked face, and right away they assume the manager did something to you".  Hmm... I wonder why they would assume that?

I sat down with one of them one day and tried to explain my situation, asking him to please wait until the end of my shift if he was going to reprimand me like that, because it would probably always make me cry.  Well, the jerk was offended by this, and made it his personal mission in life to make my life miserable from then on.

One day, after having been sent home the night before for crying, the GM (general manager) tried to make me sign a paper stating that I understood that if I ever cried again while at work I would be fired.  I was OUTRAGED.  I yelled at him that this was completely illegal, and discriminatory, and asked if they were looking to get sued.  They continued to make my life hell until I finally had to quit.

There's a law in Quebec that allows you to still claim employment insurance if you quit for valid reasons, and newly added at the time was psychological harassment, which is what I stated and clearly described in my application.  Not surprisingly, when the case worker visited the restaurant, they had other employees lie for them and probably bribed her with a free lunch.  She ended up ruling in their favour, denying my benefits, and to add insult to injury told me I could probably be approved if I submitted a sick claim instead.

I was infuriated, and defeated.  They had been allowed to treat me like dirt, and I was being told I was the problem.  Even as I type these words, seven years after I left that hell, my eyes are tearing up as I dredge up the feelings of hurt and anger these events caused.

I have been denied promotions because of my disorder "Oh no Felicia, you can't be assistant manager, it's going to be too much for you to handle with your disorder".

Who the F are you to tell me what I can and cannot handle?

I have been the star employee in several places... until I started to get depressed.  Then the people who professed to love me turned on me quicker than milk on a counter.

I have been on disability now for close to a year, trying to get over my last work fiasco.

I have lost all sense of my own self worth, and the thought of going back sends me into fits of tears and panic attacks.

I have never wanted to be a poster child for my disorder.  But that is starting to change.  I think it's exactly what I should be.  I have a voice, and I can use it to draw attention to these injustices.  I can use it to help others who struggle as I do, and I can use it to help the rest of the world to understand our differences.

In the past couple of months since starting this blog, I have found a multitude of online friends suffering from the same afflictions and always willing to listen, or to offer encouragement.

A new visitor left a comment on my "So the truth about me is I have Bipolar Disorder" post today.  He told me that he's a teenager, and that he fears he may be in the same boat.  How he felt very alone, but that my post really touched on his own feelings, and that I had helped to show him that he isn't.

I want to do more of that.  I want to become successful so that I can show others struggling from the same afflictions that they just need to adjust their lives to suit their own needs, not the needs of others.

Felicia

PS: I've reached 40 Google connect followers this week... very exciting!  Thank you to all my readers, I appreciate your support more than words can say.  Yes, even for an awesome author such as myself ;)

Scary Story: Getting to Sleep in My First Apartment

Pin It I was always a scaredy cat as a child, and when I moved in to my first apartment on my own, I would find it very difficult to fall asleep at night, hearing every crick and crack the house made, constantly worried someone would come up my back steps, holding my breath every time someone would enter the building.

Thankfully I had Simba, the sweetest orange tabby that ever lived.  I would fall asleep at night by holding him close to me and getting him to purr.  He had a loud motor, and it would drown everything else out.  If he would stop, I'd just start petting him a little, and he'd start up again.

I'm much better now that I'm older, and I've been living in the same place for 6 years, so I'm familiar with all of this building's noises.

Here's a funny story about my biggest scare ever... (well, it's funny now, I wasn't very amused at the time).

So I was about to drift off to sleep...

When suddenly there was a very loud noise:

It was the loudest noise I ever heard

and the whole building shook.

I managed to climb out of bed to turn on the light and grab my phone.  I called my best friend, despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM.

She tried to talk me down, but I was way too freaked out.  She told me to call a Taxi, but I didn't even want to go downstairs.

So she did a three-way to call the Taxi, and I waited for it holding my cordless telephone.

Once I was safely in the cab on my way to her place, we hung up. 

One week later, as I was chatting with my neighbor, I casually mentioned the incident, and that's when he told me he had been sliding on his wood floor and slammed right in to a table.

HAHA!

Felicia

Down Cycling: Standing on the Edge of Depression

Pin It I'm not feeling like myself today. 

Actually, it's been a few days.  

My motivation and enthusiasm are weaning.

I'm afraid I'm falling into a down cycle.  The medication I'm on is suppose to be a mood stabilizer, but I don't feel it's been doing it's job.

I don't want to go down the black hole that is depression

But I'm standing on the precipice

My head is spinning

I'm anxious, and riddled with self-doubt.  

I wonder if I'm afraid of my own potential for greatness.  

All I want to do is sleep.

Felicia

Parenting: Sending Clear Messages to Get Results

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I went to visit an old friend the other day, she has a three year old boy.  He's a cute little kid, but he doesn't listen, ever.  I wondered why, and then I witnessed this little exchange: five minutes to bedtime, he grabs an apple on the  table.  She tells him in a sweet tone "Noooo, it's too close to bedtime, you can't have an apple right now." He smiles and doesn't move.  She says: "I said no, bring it to me please"  So he smiles again and brings the apple to his mouth.  She says, a little more sternly: "Don't you take a bite of that apple!"  He giggles, takes a bite, and runs away.  She's obviously angry, but she turns to us and says: "Oh whatever, I don't feel like it."

I actually witnessed a few incidents along these lines during the day, but none so blatant as this one. I could not believe she would let him get away with this kind of behaviour.  If one of my children had tried to pull that, the apple would have been swiftly taken away and the child put directly to bed.  Do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars.  I was incensed, and wanted to tell her that her inactions now would result in much bigger problems later.  That she was teaching him not only that he didn't have to listen to her, but on a much deeper level, that he doesn't have to listen to authority.

It's not that I'm an expert on parenting, far from it.  I can only tell you what has worked for me.  When the boys were about three and four, I did way too much yelling in a day.  There came a point where I couldn't even stand the sound of my own voice when I was screaming, and all it would ever get me was a headache.  I was not getting any results.

At my wit's end, I watched an episode of Super Nanny.  While I had been doing time outs, I discovered that I was doing them all wrong, had been giving my kids way too many warnings and following through way too little.

I implemented her suggestions, and started seeing real results within a week.  It required A LOT of effort, not letting them get away with anything meant I had to intervene often, and heard many tantrums in a short while, and believe me when I tell you that I didn't always "feel like it".

• First off, the kids were allowed only one warning.  (not the seven I had previously been giving them)  Not listening meant they would be sent directly to time-out.  
• Second,  while before I would argue and struggle to physically put the child on a chair, they now had to take their chair and go sit in the designated area.  Refusal to go to time out would result in more unpleasant consequences.  For both, being sent to their bedroom seemed to be the worse punishment possible at the time.
• Third, and I think this had been my biggest mistake, a timer was to be set, one minute for every year of age, and the child was to remain silent and seated for that period, or face longer time.  Before this, I would argue with him back and  forth the entire time, how dumb was I to be arguing with a four year old?  I restarted the timer on my oldest's several times before he started to understand that misbehaving was going to get him absolutely nowhere.   
• Finally, when the time was up, I'd go to the child, get down to their level, ask them if they were ready to apologize, and if they did, I'd ask them for a kiss and give them a big hug, sending them on their way with a "don't do it again".  If they refused to apologize, I'd ask if they needed more time, and walk away if they still didn't answer.  This would totally freak out my youngest... I'd come back one to two minutes later and start the process over again.  Super Nanny's tips were dead on, and pretty soon, the question: "Do you need a time-out?"  was often enough to calm them down.

Listen To Your Inner Voice - It Knows What It's Talking About

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Shari G, another author on Broowaha, shares a powerful piece with us entitled "The Voice".  

Her intro caught my attention right away: 

"Have you noticed that no matter what you do in life, there has been one constant nagging voice in your head that always shows up at certain times in your life?"

I think this article appeals to me because it really addresses what I've been going through.  Her sentence: "That voice keeps coming back because that voice wants to stop being ignored" sums up everything I have been feeling. I've been unhappy in my life because I fought my intuition and my instincts and tried to contort myself into someone I could never be. 


She goes on to say: "Don’t get me wrong, the love of your life will show up or has shown up and that makes you content; for awhile. That job you love, makes you happy too; for awhile. You will find things throughout your life that will distract you and even make you happy, but there will always be a sense of incompleteness."  

Again, this really hits home with me as it's been so true.  I've held many different jobs, and they all captivated me for a while, but once I'd learned all that I could learn, I'd lose interest.  And I have never felt truly complete.

In her conclusion, she states the following: "Those desires weren't placed in your heart randomly. It is your spirit itching at you to let it be! To live up to your infinite potential! To live a life so fulfilling that no-thing and nobody can take away that joy that is YOURS! This is what that voice is about. This is what you need to start paying attention to. This is the voice that will change your life if you love yourself enough to believe in yourself!"

I do believe in myself.  I do have a message to deliver.  I do have the power to affect change.  And I will follow my dreams.

Thank you Shari, this path I've chosen isn't an easy one, but you've helped reinforce that this is the correct path for me, and the one that will lead me to MY joy.

What about you?  Have you found your joy?  

Much Love, 

Felicia

  

Suicide: Old Friend or Foe?

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I spent most of my twenties wondering why I was here, what it meant, and what my purpose was in life.  I didn't fear my own death as I would be gone and it wouldn't matter to me.  I feared the deaths of my loved ones instead, as the thought of having to go on without them would tear me to shreds.

Then I became a mother to two beautiful, amazing boys, and I stopped asking myself those questions.  I am here to be their mother and my purpose is to raise them to become good men. 

I started thinking about committing suicide when I had my first major depressive episode at the age of 17.

I was disgusted with the world I saw around me, and I didn't want to be a part of it.  I put my parents through Hell, telling them often that I wanted to die.  My poor mother didn't know what to do with herself, and my father, well, I saw him cry for the first time in my life. (and maybe even the last)

There was a point where I finally became conscious of what I was doing to them, and vowed to myself to never burden them with my pain again.  I stopped talking about suicide, and I stopped thinking I'd do it.  Instead, I spent the next couple of years praying to God that he come get me.  Weeping alone in the dark, begging Him to let me come home, as I just couldn't believe that I was actually suppose to be part of this world.

More on Bipolar Disorder - My Wandering Mind

Pin It Sometimes when I'm watching television, my mind wanders.  I get lost so deep in thought that when the show ends, I'm jolted back to reality as the white noise ends when the TV switches back to the PVR menu (I very rarely watch live TV... I'm spoiled like that).

What's more, I couldn't tell you in the least what happened during the program.  Or maybe I was paying attention for the first part, but I completely missed the conclusion, so I have to rewind and watch again.  Sometimes I do this more then once.  It's not even because I'm not interested, I just can't seem to stop my mind from wandering.

Sometimes I'll be talking to someone and the same thing happens.  I used to be such a good listener, but nowadays, it's like I've developed Attention Deficit Disorder, if that's even possible at my age.  There are times where it is a great physical exertion to try and concentrate on what the other person is saying and actually absorb the information.  Again, a lack of interest is not the issue, I don't know what is.

I used to be an avid reader, but sometimes I find myself re-reading the same page over and over again, because though my eyes are skimming the text, nothing is actually sinking in.

The other day, as I was reading through a wonderful blog I recently started to follow, I came upon this entry, and I thought I'd share an exert with you as it really struck a cord with me.

Bipolar II: Newly Diagnosed: Looking but not seeing; Listening but not hearing:

"We're having a conversation. I just finished speaking and now it's your turn. I'm staring right into your eyes. I'm nodding my head. It would appear that I'm in perfect control of the situation. On the surface"..."While I'm holding your gaze and nodding my head, my mind wanders. Sometimes it's thinking about what I'll be doing later, what I'd rather be doing that moment, making a mental grocery list...Mostly I'm blocking out all background noise and creating an area where nothing exists. No decisions have to be made...and I won't be able to recall any of this in mere moments. Life takes place all around me. Time passes without meaning. without feeling"..."Instances are ignored. Feelings get hurt. Tears fall. Very little control." (read the whole post by clicking above)

Bipolar Disorder: Rapid Cycling Through Life

Pin It While I'm not really ready to get into all of the gory details of the stupid things I've done in the 10 years since my diagnosis, I thought I'd revisit this subject at least long enough to give you a little more contextual information about my disorder.

If you know anything at all about this illness, you know that there are two types of Bipolar Disorder: 

• Type I bipolars experience major depressive and manic episodes, intermixed with possible hallucinations, delusions and psychotic episodes.  
• Type II bipolars are mostly plagued by depression, along with periods of what they call "hypomania".  

In both types, episodes usually last at least a couple weeks or more, except with "Rapid Cyclers", which is more common in Type II Bipolar Disorder.  Rapid Cycling is exactly what it seems to suggest:  it means rapidly cycling through depression and mania, or hypomania.

I've seen quite a few psychiatrists in my time, and I recently found out my bipolar diagnosis was first suggested at 17.  This last one told me I simply wasn't crazy "enough" to be Type I, so he thinks I'm crazy, but not completely.  That makes me feel awesome. 

So anyway, while about 5 shrinks have agreed that I have Bipolar Type II, the last two added Rapid Cycling to my label.

My official diagnosis: Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, Type II.  

Web MD describes it very well:
A few people with rapid cycling bipolar disorder alternate between periods of hypomania and major depressive disorder. Far more commonly, though, depression dominates the picture. Repeated periods of depression are punctuated by infrequent, shorter periods of elevated mood.


I have been known to go from Happy-to-Angry-to-Hysterical-to-Crying-to-Laughing in less than 15 minutes.  

What a trip it must be to live with me, right?  Now imagine how I feel!  I absolutely hate this side of myself.  I'm a control freak, and as previously mentioned, I don't like having egg on my face.  So you can imagine what having a melt down and losing my mind in public does to me.  

Not only am I not in control, but everyone can tell.

Lady Gaga: Artist or Gimmick?

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The very first time I saw Lady Gaga, I was just tuning in to something that was already in progress.  The camera was very far from the stage, and all I could see was blond hair. I thought at first that it might be Christina Aguilera.

So obviously, the girl's got chops, 
but being a singer alone does not a true artist make.

The next time I saw her, she was wearing a hugely outlandish costume, and it was completely unflattering; she started to remind me of a cross between Marilyn Manson and Madonna, and I was less than impressed.  It felt like a gimmick to me, not true creative expression.  She didn't have her own identity, she'd taken over two others.  Apparently, I wasn't the only one who saw the resemblance, I found this photo and many others by putting their two names together in Google.

Her first hit that I really knew about was Poker Face, and while the tune was catchy and the lyrics OK, it felt like another "flash in the pan" dance remix that makes a lot of money but makes no difference in the long run of the history of music.

Anyway,

My point is I didn't really feel like Poker Face was exactly going to become a classic, to be played on golden 00's in 30 years, you know?  Not exactly Hotel California material.  Just sayin'.  Although we are still occasionally reminded of NKOTB, so what do I know about staying power? 

As time goes by though, I gain more and more respect for her.  Her music is mostly very good, especially when you strip away that "boom boom" dance club remix it seems songs need nowadays to be a hit.

*What ever happened to the value of great lyrics?  Case in point:  Chris de Burgh, a true lyricist wrote such beautiful words as "For it's a different world when I look into your eyes, it's the closest thing I have seen to paradise, and I know that with you I will be in love forever".  Now those kinds of lyrics can stand on their own. 

The lyrics to "Born this way" are very good, and I'm stuck on "You" right now, which I actually feel has staying power to be played as a classic, and have been hearing on a continuous loop in my head for the past 5 days (it's starting to get to me)

So maybe she's not just a "flash in the pan" after all.  

In conclusion,

I think she truly is an artist.  Tortured and insecure, and the gimmick was just her way of being known.  Now I think it's just fun and too late to turn back.  One thing I'll never understand though, why do the costumes always have to make her so dang ugly??? 

I mean I could see the girly girl in me getting really excited about playing dress up all the time, but it seems to me like I would choose things that would be crazy/beautiful not crazy/ugly:

See what I mean?!

Sometimes I wonder if it's insecurity that leads her to want to hide herself, as we saw in her Monster Ball movie.  

I'll leave you with a link to the video of "You and I", so that you can have it stuck in your head too, isn't that nice of me? ;)  Plus, more crazy costumes.  I do find she looks beautiful when they show her au naturel though.

Thoughts?