So, it’s not entirely my fault that I’ve not updated lately. Did you know they don’t give you computer access in the loony bin?

Okay, so maybe my jokes really aren’t that funny.

Normally I would feel weird even talking about all of this and would never even think about making something as public as a blog post about it, but I’ve decided that I’m going to stop trying to hide that part of me, and so far it’s making this thing called ‘recovery’ a little easier.

On Saturday January 25th, I overdosed on my antidepressants and anxiety meds. I don’t remember the majority of that weekend, but I remember taking the pills. I remember wanting to fall asleep and not wake up.

I don’t remember what  finally pushed me over the edge; after all, I’d been depressed for years and suicidal for months at that point. I don’t remember what turned all the thoughts, the plans, into reality, I just wanted it to work. It didn’t though, and for that I’m grateful.

My soon-to-be ex-husband found me at noon, Sunday the 26th. When he had trouble waking me up, I couldn’t remember what was said two minutes previously and he found the empty pill bottles, phone calls to my mother and an ambulance were made.

Long story short, I spent three weeks in the hospital. I had daily conversations with a psychiatrist, slept a lot, got my meds straightened out, and developed an almost unhealthy obsession with graham crackers.  I felt almost as if time had paused. After all, I couldn’t be in the looney bin, right? I wasn’t really crazy.

I watched two roommates get ‘better’ and get released, but they still wouldn’t let me go.

I was in the hospital for three weeks. I was finally released on February 10th.

I have been living with my best friend since my hospital release. Sometimes I think a lot about my stay in the hospital, how it was similar and different to all the different books I had read. How even though I try to pretend that I’m okay, this was something I needed more than I had realized.

Now that I’m back in the real world, I go about my daily routine. I go to work, I come home, I read and watch insane movies with my friends. I’m a normal 20 year old.

But all of my friends know what happened. They see me as fragile, and even though I hate to think of myself as such, I can’t help but be thankful that they’re looking out for me like that. We’ll be watching a movie that someone has already seen and they’ll say “You probably shouldn’t watch this part,” or “Are you sure you’re up for straight up horror?” They’re taking care of me in the best way they know how, even with causal inquiries about whether or not I’ve taken my medicine. While sometimes it seems a little overly mothery, I know they’re doing the best they can and I appreciate every one of them for it.Hospital bracelet removal

That first night that I came home, my best friend and I had a ceremonious removal of the hospital bracelet and that night I made a silent vow to not hide my problems and instead be honest about who I am and what is going on with me. That is the only way I’m going to get any better.

My job also keeps me sane. My coworkers are the best I could possibly ask for. They’re a little crazy, but it’s the perfect kind of chaos and friendly teasing. Going to work has definitely added a sense of normality back into my life that has probably done wonders to my recovery.

I still have my days where I’m overly sad. I still have those times where all I want to do is lay in bed, but I know that while I can let myself give into those urges for a little while, I can’t let them control my life anymore.

So I sit here, 18 days later, as my follow up appointment approaches and I can’t help but reflect a little.

So I’m sorry if this post is a little rambly. I didn’t really plan it out before I started so thank you for bearing with me through all of this. I promise, my next post will be a little more put together.

On that note, I hope you all have a wonderful kick off to your weekend. I have what looks like a terribly awful horror movie and some coffee waiting for me. Cheers!

I found out yesterday that the little old man that lived in the apartment across from us died. He was always really sweet to us, and had an adorable little dog, I think she was a corgi. A couple times a year he would insist on shaving her, which looked ridiculous because except for her fuzzy little head and her tail, she would be completely bald.

Anyway, I knew he was old, and sick, he had spent a stint in the hospital at the beginning of the year, but I had never thought about anything happening to him, but I still did everything I could think of. For Christmas he got homemade fudge and every couple of days we would take his trash out for him so he wouldn’t have to be out in the cold.

I knew that in the middle of last week he went back to the hospital. I had been reading in bed when I saw the flashing lights outside. I didn’t see him again, but every couple of days on my way home I would look to see if there were paw prints in the snow from Roxi, or if his lights were on. Then yesterday morning I woke up to a loud knocking on the apartment door.

It was his sister. She wanted to let us know that he had passed. They were starting to clean out his apartment and she remembered how he had mentioned us several times, that he always had something nice to say. She thought we deserved to know.

After I talked to her I went back to bed, and curled up in a ball, trying to ignore the pressure in my chest. I spend hours trying not to think about the fact that I talked to this man four or five times a week, I took his trash to the dumpster, helped him get Roxi inside when she was being difficult, but I didn’t know his name. I tried not to think about how this ache reminded me of the same one I’ve been fighting for almost a year. I tried not to think, but all I could think about was Papa.

It’s been almost a year since I lost my grandfather. In fact, in two months and two days it will be a year. I don’t think about it all the time or anything…

People keep saying this is going to get easier, but instead of waiting for it to not hurt, I think I’m going to go drink an insane amount of coffee and write something.

Have a good day, everyone!

So I’m not very good and this blogging every day thing, I’ll get better though. Promise!

So, where did I leave off? Right, lots of books. And hey, since last weekend I’ve got another handful of books to add to the list, so let’s get started shall we?

Anthem by Ayn RandAnthem

Anthem was required reading for one of my advanced English classes either my freshman or senior year of high school. For someone  who enjoyed 1984 as much as I did, I just couldn’t get excited about reading Anthem. Once I got into it though, I couldn’t put it down. Now that I’m older, I wanted to go back and take another look at the world of the street sweepers and the secret tunnel and I loved it just as much as I did before. This time through though, I picked up several of the more deeply buried themes that weren’t quite as clear as they were when I was in high school. All in all, I highly recommend this short novel to anyone who enjoyed Orwell’s 1984, or you know, anyone with a pulse. It’s a quick read, at just 100 pages I knocked it off my reading list in one sitting at my local Starbucks.

The HoThe Hobbitbbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone back and lost myself in Middle Earth. Even over ten years after I first encountered hobbits, this is still one of my favorite fantasy worlds. As a writer, and an avid reader, I often wish I could have had the opportunity to meet Tolkien, to pick his brain and try and learn all this tricks. Even as much of a Tolkien fan as I am, I have to admit, the man was overly wordy. I’ve heard several people say that this took away from the story for them, but to be honest, Tolkien is one of the only authors that had been described as overly wordy that I don’t have a problem sitting and reading for hours (Hawthorn however makes me want to beat my head into a wall, so take this as you will), whether this be because of me deep love for the character’s brought to life in these pages of simply because of a growing admiration for their creator I do  not know. However, if you, like most of the rest of the world, are enjoying the Hobbit movies, you really need to sit down with the book.

***My Hobbit movie rant***An Unexpected Journey

Now don’t get me wrong, I am loving the new movies and have seen the two that are currently out several times. However, there are several things that I have a serious problem with, from minor details, to completely pointless additions.

For one, Fili and Kili, they’re both blond. This is a very small easy to fix detail, and I love the actor portraying Kili, but would it have really been all that hard for him to have the correct hair color? I don’t know why that’s been bothering me as much as it has, but I had to get that out.

Now, can we talk about some elves? I loved Legolas as much as the next person in the Lord of the Rings movies, but apparently Peter Jackson is harboring some deep, unrequited, elf love. Enough to dedicate several scenes and some impressive barrel jumping skills to a character who was never so much as mentioned in the original book. And as for the bad ass spider killing she-elf, yet another completely made up character. Now, I understand having to tweak things and add things (and people) when adapting a book into a movie, but to add someone to just be multiple characters love interest (one of which who shouldn’t be in the movie to begin with!) just no, it’s bothers me like no other.

 

Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen ChoboskyThe Perks of Being a Wallflower

Amazing movie, decent book.

This is one book where I had seen the movie and that’s why I originally picked up the book. And I’m glad I did, although I do think that ultimately, I like the movie better (which is very rare for me).

I am glad I read the book though, and there are several things that I like how the book handled better, such as Charlie’s relationship with his sister, which is completely different than it is in the movie. I also really enjoyed how the entire book with written in Charlie’s ‘Dear Friend’ letters. I wouldn’t quite put this book in the same category as It’s Kind of a Funny Story, but it definitely deserves some recognition.

The Claiming of Sleeping BeautyThe Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice

Very, very rarely do I not know if I’m going to be able to finish a book but I had a hard time getting through this one. I love Anne Rice so I was excited to see what she could do with the genre, as well as the idea of remaking a classic fairy tale. Instead I was both appalled and disappointed. My problem wasn’t as much with the content, which well get to in a minute, but the quality. I’ve read a lot of Anne Rice’s books and it’s hard to believe that they were written by the same person. Content wise I was even more upset. There were so many places the story could have gone but the continual rape and torment of a 15 year old? I’m not afraid to say that this isn’t the first book of this genre I’ve read, but it is the first one that’s made me feel so skDivergenteevy I wanted to take a shower. All in all, I was very disappointed.

Divergent, Insurgent, and Allegiant by Veronica Roth

All I can possibly say here is I don’t know why you’re still reading this. You need to go read these books. Right now. Go!

 

So, over the past week my entire world has pretty much been tossed upside down (you know, I normally really hate cliches, but it’s accurate at this point).

For those of you who don’t know, when your parents or other people older (and okay, wiser) than you say “Hey, I know you’re happy now, but you really don’t want to run off and get married at eighteen,” they actually know what the hell they’re talking about. Now of course, like every other 18 almost 19 year old in the world, I thought I knew everything and I was the exception, well, you can see where this is going, right?

So, at 20 years old, in the middle of a divorce, and at the tail end of my winter break from school, I get a very cryptic email from the financial aid department at my school. After several hours on the phone, and almost 14 transfers later I was told that there had been a mix up (mainly because my so called adviser is a moron) and some of the information I had been given was incorrect so my financial aid for the fall semester had never been applied so my spring semester classes had been drop.

Um, wanna try that again?

Like most 20 year old college students, I don’t happen to just have $10,000 laying around, and the ever apologizing guy on the phone keeps telling me that it’s going to take at least 2 weeks to process the correct paper work (but could potentially take upwards of 6!) there was no way for their department to fix the error before the semester started, but of course, they’d love to see me in the fall.

*Insert several hour long freak out and obsessive coffee drinking here*

But now, of course I have regained my ever calm and lady like stature… haha okay, or maybe not.  But I do know how to breath again, though.

And with the breathing, and some coffee, I have decided that I’m only going to look at this in the most positive light. A semester off isn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact, this gives me the opportunity to work full time until the fall semester instead of just picking up shifts here and there.  And I’ve also decided to do the 50 Book Pledge this year (and at the rate I’m going, I’m going to get in more than just the 50 books.

And because you are my ever attentive audience who has no other choice but to listen to me babble (or so I choose to believe), you get to hear all about the books I’ve read and plan on reading. Muahaha.

You can check out my ‘to be read’ bookshelf here.

So far this year I’ve finished:it's kind of a funny story

It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini

I have seen the movie based on this book at least a dozen times but until recently I had never sat down with the actual book. In fact, this was one of the several books that I got with my Christmas money. This is definitely a book that I think everyone should read at least once in their life. It’s something that I wish would replace one of the drier novels on the required reading lists in high schools, in fact I have a feeling that it would do a lot of people a lot more good that The House on Mango Street or one of the other books that took months to get through that I only skimmed. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever read another book that I was able to relate to in terms of my depression and anxiety, both school related and not. This is definitely a book everyone needs to get their hands on.

 

Under the Covers and Between the Sheets by C. Alan Joyce and Sarah Janssenunder the covers and between the sheets

This is a book that I wish had come into my life a lot sooner than it did. My mom got it for me for Christmas and I laughed until I cried… A couple of times. I’m pretty sure any writer or book lover would enjoy this one. When they say “the inside story behind classic characters, authors, unforgettable phrases and unexpected endings,” they mean that that is only the beginning. This whole volume is full of the most out of the way facts that your English teacher never told you. Did you know that Mark Twain once wrote that “Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her [Jane Austin] up and beat her over the skull with her own shin bone.”? Or that Dorothy Parker left her entire estate to Martin Luther King Jr.? Or what about the fact that Maya Angelou once worked as a nightclub “shake dancer”? And all of that is just one the back cover! Seriously, why are you still reading this, go buy the book!

I’ve also already read:

Anthem by Ayn Rand

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chobosky

and you’ll hear all about them tomorrow because I’m tired and there are people in my living room. Night guys!

 

Wow, I suck

Note: I really do suck cause I could have sworn this posted two days ago…

You’d think that with as much as I talk, I could keep up with a blog. Instead I have two that are sadly under utilized.

Well, I stuck to my declaration to be less lame this past semester. I didn’t go to frat parties, and okay, when I did ‘socialize,’ it was in my building, but I did go to parties and make actual friends! Granted, it’s now winter break, and will be for another week, and I’m wall flowering it (is that an actual phrase? If not it should be) at my local Starbucks, a wall of notebooks and empty cups between me and the rest of the world. I don’t mind though, I’ve been in one hell of a writing funk lately. The only thing I seem to be able to write in even semi consistently over the past few months in my journal and I’m pretty sure it’s getting sick of hearing from me.

So, new year, new me? Well, in a way that’s going to be true. Within the next few months I’ll be officially divorced (wow, that’s not fun to say at only twenty). 2013 sucked, and it’s dragging it’s last little bit of suckyess (again, if it’s not a word it should be, maybe it should be an i though instead of a y…) into 2014 but I’m determined to have this year be a million times better than the last. And that shouldn’t be too difficult as long as people promise to stop dying. But anyway, I’m determined to grow as a person.

And I’m going to start by biting my tongue. As I said a second ago, I’m writing at Starbucks and yes, I’m sitting at a bigger table cause it’s in the back and by an outlet and hell, I sit here every time I’m here. There are half a dozen other open chairs and this table and these people decide to sit right across from me, moving my shit and being loud and annoy. Um, hello, there’s a whole other side of the table. But, growing up means being able to bite my tongue and smile, so smile I am.

Okay, I’m going to go be productive now, but you’ll hear from me again soon (hopefully)!

Next stop, adventure!

It’s 10pm on a Friday night and I’m curled up in bed with my iTunes and a notebook. I’m almost twenty years old, for Pete’s sake how much more pathetic can I be?!

Yeah, I can make my excuses: I’m sun burnt, I’m tired, I have writing to do, I don’t like people. But do you ever feel like life is just kinda passing you by? I have lately. Therefore, this is my public declaration to be less lame.

I go back to school (University of Central Missouri) in two weeks and I’m determined to make this year different. Last year I did absolutely nothing noteworthy. Yeah, I made awesome grades, wrote a book and contributed  short stories to a blog (Storytime Trysts). However, I go to one of the biggest party school in the country and I haven’t been to a SINGLE college party. To be honest, I didn’t go to any in high school either.

I have always been the quiet, shy girl who hides behind her books. That girl you see sitting in the coffee shop by herself scribbling in a notebook? Yeah, that’s me. The wallflower. But that has to change. This year, I vow to leave my room for something other than class or a bookstore/coffee run at least once a week. I’m going to make a friend. I’m going to get involved; be a part of something big, something important. I’m going to go on an adventure.

After all, how can I expect to write about great things, if I never do great things?

Rainbows from Tears

So I survived the reunion. It turns out it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it would be. There was a lot of talk about Papa. Wanda, my Papa’s cousin who runs these things, read quite a bit that people wrote about him and a poem. She talked about how she knew he was here with us and loved that we ended up bringing 26 people with us in honor of him. Basically she talked until we were all in tears. And of course that was when she wanted us to all get up there and take a family picture. I’m sure there will be lots of red eyes in those.
I have to admit, I’m glad I went. I’m glad that I know for a fact now that Papa really is living on it all of us.
When we got home it had been sprinkling, spitting rain drops every few minutes. Then my little cousin Joel pointed up, yelling about a rainbow. The whole family ended up in the driveway and he was right. There was a beautiful double rainbow just above the house. From the front porch you could see a very distinct rainbow going from the cow pasture next door over the trees and into the mountains. Like Dani told Nana, it looked like Papa really was here for the reunion, he was here with all of us, showing us how much he appreciated and loved today.
And with that knowledge, I think I can go to bed tonight, maybe not happy, but much more at peace than I was this morning. Papa was the one man who never let me down and was always there for me, rain or shine. Today, even after being gone for three months, he is still here for me.

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