30 Days of the Truth: Day 4

I stole this from here. I’m not going to be able to strictly follow their schedule. I already missed the first few days and they are off schedule themselves, for that matter. But I like the idea so I’m going to give it a go.

The idea is that every Monday and Wednesday, though I already have a regular post Wednesdays so we’ll say Friday, you go through the topics and post the truth about yourself. So here we go.

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Something I have to forgive someone for. That’s easy.

Years ago before Thomas was born, before I was married and then after I got married and up until Thomas was like 4 months old, I worked for Circuit City. It wasn’t the best job. But it was a good job. I worked hard. I was in a position of leadership. And I was a valued employee. There was a manager wide countdown until I’d get off maturity leave. They missed me.

But I was stressed. Highly stressed. I had the bitch job in the store. I was the music lead. Hardest job in the store. Period. It was a two person job and I had me, myself and I, and that was about it. I had helped the previous two music leads so I knew what I was doing. But I helped because I wanted the job. No one was willing to help me because they didn’t want the job.

Music lead was a stepping stone to better management. Good management. You suffer that job then you are at greener pastures. I wanted the greener pastures.

But in the meantime, I was coming home from work tired and stressed and depressed. The day I got written up for not getting something done on time I was a real mess. I still to this day know it’s not my fault it didn’t get done and I was near hysterics in my crying. Though I saved it all for when I got home. And Pat had a hot mess on his hands.

I had given my all to that job. They saw the best of my work ethics. They saw me working 50 hour weeks while pregnant. They saw me busting ass while pregnant. I nested in that store. That store had never been cleaner or better organized. After Thomas was born I continued to give them my all.

The relationship with Circuit City was an abusive one. My boss, Shannon, was particularly abusive. She had great pleasure in telling me my maternity leave wasn’t covered but the Family Medical Leave Act and that she didn’t have to hold my job, all while the rest of the managers were calling her a moron to her face, for that. She tried to play a prank and tell me she couldn’t give me the 4 day weekend I requested off to get married. Lucky for her, someone else couldn’t keep a straight face so she threw in the just kidding real quickly.

In short, there were times and people who made it clear the store couldn’t run without me. There were also times when they acted like I was a waste of a paycheck. The day I got written up was one of those days.

Pat was in a bad position. He wasn’t seeing the manic me at work, but he was seeing the depressed, post manic me at home. He was hearing the stories of mistreatment, though he was also seeing the “Karen’s coming back to work” count down and happy dance. He didn’t know what to think. But being mentally unhealthy himself, he wasn’t equipped for the Karen that came home to him after that write-up.

So he did something that has taken me all these years to forgive him for. He ordered me to quit my job. I was to quit or never complain or cry about work in front of him again. That was a sleepless night. But the next morning I called into work and told them I wouldn’t be coming back. It was exactly what Pat told me to do and I did it.

I then spent the next year a total mess. I couldn’t find a job right way which worsened my depression. Eventually, the goal became to get my mental health under control and then find a job.

This was back before I was in with Concord where my current therapist and meds doctor are at. I finally tracked down a therapist, not at Concord, I didn’t know about Concord, who took my insurance. I was placed on a waiting list and finally got in. Another waiting list and I got into a meds doctor. It took a year and a misdiagnosis that stuck with me, but I finally got stable enough to work again. That is quite possibly about the worst year of my life though. And I’ve always blamed Pat for it.

Looking back and knowing what he knows now about my mental health, Pat does see why what he did in ordering me to quit my job like that was a mistake. He has asked for my forgiveness and I’ve been working hard on it. That is one I forgive you, even though I may have already said it, that just doesn’t happen overnight.

Oh and for the record. I’ve always been really good about not posting the name of the company I work for and never trash talking someplace I work like I just did with Circuit City. The only reason I spoke so freely today is because they are out of business so what I say can in no way harm them.

Finding the Right Therapist: Why It’s Impossible For My Husband and Possible for You

Ok so a little background here. My husband is autistic, only he’s not. See the thing is, they think they have found a new form of autism in my husband. He is too social and trusting to be autistic (because he has a wife and two best friends), but in every other way he meets the criteria. Add in a dash of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and a few other “issues”, not all of which have been diagnosed, and you have psychological mess.

So we’ve tried therapy.

The problem with your average therapist is that they are a councilor and not a psychologist. The education is different. So while they are great to talk to, they aren’t really equipped to diagnose someone like my husband. Trust me, he’s been to a quite a few. His favorite spent more time talking than actually listening. And by favorite I mean not so much favorite, more despised.

Our local facility that takes our insurance has you start with the therapist before you can get to a psychiatrist. So there is little to no chance of a diagnosis if you can’t sit through the therapy.

So in an effort to save our marriage, one night, I asked him what it would take to get him professional help. His answer: A PhD that wanted to get published. Great. Did I mention we are on the state’s insurance? Yep. No easy task. Now I couldn’t guarantee the wanting to get published part, but I found him the psychologist that took our insurance. I even made him the appointment. Then we both discovered the one big catch. My husband had seen this gentleman prior. He was in fact the gentleman my husband was sent to in the process of getting disability. My husband spent the next 3 months ranting about how much he hated this gentleman. Needless to say, that appointment got canceled promptly. The best part? I was planning to ask him for a referral to someone else if he didn’t take our insurance. I can’t ask him for that referral now.

So we are back to square one. So the question is, where do we go from here? No, really…

Now let’s take a step back. Let’s look at you finding one.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say you are probably not like my husband and are textbook something. I don’t care how complex that something is (trust me I know BPD is complex) but you are textbook something. Ok I admit, you have your quirks, I have mine. No mental illness is strictly by the book. But chances are you aren’t something brand new they haven’t seen before.

What am I getting at now that my foot is in my mouth? Well basically, this: You don’t have to be as picky as my husband. Oh trust me, I know you are still going to be picky. I mean your relationship with your therapist is going to be one of the most meaningful relationships in your life. But still, you aren’t limited to a PhD who wants to be published. Add in a personality match and my husband is screwed in try to find one. Admit it, I’m right. You have more options.

But how do you find the right one?

The answer is simple. You pick up the book of providers for your insurance, you find one close to you, you set up an appointment and you go. Talk to them for at least an hour. Maybe several hours spread between a few sessions. You’ll know when you are ready to decide. Decide what? Well if they are the one. It’s like true love. You don’t settle on your spouse, you don’t settle on your therapist either.

I remember the one for me. Her name was Amy. She had a therapy dog name Ollie. Now, Ollie wasn’t the whole package, but he sealed the deal. Amy got me. Right off the bat she got me. I was a teenager at the time. A confused, depressed, lonely, angry teenager. So truly getting me was no easy task. But she did. And she spoke to me in a way that made me really listen. She knew what to say, she knew how to say it. She was magic. Our therapist, client relationship was magic. It was like true love at first sight.

I don’t know what happened to Amy. Something medical that lead to her having to quit her job. I never fully recovered from that blow. To be honest I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had cancer and passed away. I know it was something serious like that. But whatever it was, she is no longer in practice and I miss her deeply.

And now? Well next there was Joe. Joe was me desperate needing something. I didn’t like Joe but he was the best I could do at the time. Amy at least thought I was bipolar. Joe thought I was just depressed. Next came Julie. Julie was almost as magic as Amy. She was the one who figured I has BPD. Life changer, that Julie. With Julie I reached a point in my life when I no longer needed therapy so I took a break. When I came back to it Julie had been promoted and was no longer seeing patience. I understood this and started seeing Cindy. Cindy had been the DBT leader so I knew her, liked her and knew she understood BPD. I’m at a point in my life where I need the BPD knowledge more than I need the magic connection. I’m not saying Cindy isn’t magic. I like her very much and it’s a great fit. I’m just saying she’s no Amy. Maybe if she had an Ollie dog. Maybe.

I think it’s time for my point. Pick a random therapist. Try them on like a pair of jeans. If they don’t fit, move on to the next pair. Keep trying on therapists until you find the one that fits you the best. This could take awhile. Believe me, I understand. It took me years and many misdiagnosis to get to the team of help I have now. But don’t get discouraged, keep trying. The right therapist is out there. And believe me, they are worth waiting and digging for.


My cousin David wrote a very moving piece about his Grandparents on his blog. You can find the post here. We, of course being cousins, share a set of Grandparents.

I direct you to this post for two reasons. One, it’s well written and I think it should be read. It’s enough to make you remember back to your own grandparents and miss them in turn. But I also want you to read the comment I left. I’ll go ahead and copy and paste it up here, so you don’t have to dig for it. But don’t go thinking this gets you out of reading David’s post. It doesn’t. Read it. It’s good and sad.

Any way, my comment.

I really miss Grandma Yeast. I miss Grandpa too of course, but not as much as Grandma. Grandpa Yeast we too far gone by the time I knew him. All I had left was the shell of a grandparent and stories.

Grandma was a different story though. I didn’t have the time with her that you did, because I lived so far away. But I did the best I could with the time I did have. She and I were pen pals for awhile and we shared the two halves of a “best friend” necklace. They were simple gestures from my 8-year-old self. But I never doubted that she knew how important she was to me.

I remember Grandma’s bird. I remember Grandma’s bird singing along to Grandma’s keyboarding. Dear god how Grandma could play her keyboard. She loved it as much as she loved any of us and it really made her happy.

I remember asking her to make my doll a blanket. She was expecting this huge task and all I wanted was a little thing. 3 squares by 3 squares. Just big enough to cover the doll.

I don’t remember but my mom does, the time I asked her point blank if I could have a certain blanket she had made because I wanted something from her before she died. My exact words. Grandma nearly had a heart attack on the spot, but she gladly gave me the blanket I wanted. I don’t think she realized how special I’d consider such a gift. I was only 7 or so. To this day I have that blanket and my boys aren’t allowed near it. It’s the only blanket, besides the doll one, that I have from Grandma and I’d bust into a million pieces if anything ever happened to it.

Then there are the what ifs. What if she had lived long enough to see me as a teenager? Would she understand the whole Goth thing? No one else really did but I think she would. She’d at least do her best to try to. And now, with my blog… I think it would break her heart to read how much I hurt inside, but I know in my heart she’d read every word. On second thought, maybe it’s better she didn’t live to meet the adult me. I don’t think I could deal with knowing how much my inner hurt would hurt her. I know my mom can hardly handle it. And I think my mom is tougher than Grandma. She’s had to deal with more heart break. Maybe not though. Hard to tell comparing child memories to adult memories.

I remember the Grandma who took care of Grandpa. I remember asking her once if she loved Grandpa. I don’t remember her answer but I know it wasn’t an easy one. She couldn’t put that much work into caring for someone she didn’t love. But I do know she was held back for years by Grandpa and his needs.

I do remember and have heard stories about how she really seemed to come alive and live life after Grandpa passed. She was finally free and she took life by the horns.

I regret that my Grandma will never meet my boys. She’s love them and they’d love her. It just doesn’t seem fair.

As far as my kids and their grandparents… I think that’s one reason I don’t feel bad that my mom has the boys every weekend. If she ever needs a weekend off she takes it. But otherwise she has this great opportunity to really know her grandbabies and they will know her for all the rest of her life. Can you imagine the memories you’d have if you lived with Grandma Yeast 2/7th of your life? My mom was there to bare witness the first time my boys said Grandma. She’d seen first steps, heard first words. She’ll be there for all the sports events or school plays or band concerts. She’s kissed skin knees, caught leaps into the deep side of the pool, and taken the training wheels off of first bikes. She is in their life to the best of her abilities and my boys will grow up being close to her like I only wish I was able to be close to Grandma.

I’ll admit I’m a little jealous.

Alright so now that my comment is as long as your post, I’ll go ahead and end this. But anytime you are feeling nostalgic and went to talk about Grandparents, let me know. You’ll have my interest.

Mom, go read David’s post. His grandparents are your parents, after all.

In Response aka I’m so Happy

Pat’s live journal:

Karen and I…

there are so many ways I could end that sentence.

when we met we were players in someone Else’s game, when we fell in love we were players in someone Else’s game, when we were happy we were players in someone Else’s game.

I tried so many times to try to breath life in that aspect of our lives to try to rekindle those feelings we had. to make the list I still have of reasons why I was better then Brandon speak the truth once again, and I kept failing because of one key ingredient… it was never someone Else’s Game. It was mine. with it being my game I didn’t have the time for her that she deserved and it never did what I intended. thus I always lost interest because as much as I loved my other gamers, it was always for her… and I failed over and over again.

18. Me First
28. Karens are good distractions
29. Patience with me when Role playing.

2 weeks ago we found a Game. DDO. its D&D online. it creates the Illusion that we are playing D&D again. Side by side. as Equals. Because of this we have found ourselves enjoying each others company more then we have been. we have still had our arguments in the past 2 weeks but they have been husband and wife arguments not Crazy bouncing off of Crazy Arguments.

We’ve cuddled for the sake of Cuddling. we have spent time together doing NOTHING and enjoyed it. I got to do naughty things with my wife not for a single minded messy goal but because I wanted to hear her make cute lil noises(TMI I know but deal with it).

Karen and I…

*happy Sigh*

that sentence is perfect the way it is.

I don’t even know how to begin.

I’m really enjoying playing DDO with my husband. I enjoy his company. I enjoy having something in common. I even, and this is selfish, enjoy that he has said he doesn’t have fun playing without me. I know I don’t have fun without him. I even find I enjoy him more outside the game now that we are enjoying this together. It’s like his patience with me in game carries over to out of game. And a little patience goes a long way. Lord knows I require it.

And internet, here is the best part: I love him more these days.

I don’t know what it us. We are calmer. Happier. Nicer to one another. We are enjoying laying in bed and just chatting. I don’t mind the feel of his arm across my body. I’m even kissing on him more and requiring more hugs.

I think it’s because when we play I get his undivided attention. And the more attention I get, the more I want and the more he enjoys giving it to me.

Internets, I’m eating it up!

This is what love is suppose to feel like!

My Mom

I wish I could remember that conversation and what I was going thru in my life for me to have answered in that manner. Maybe we can discuss it sometime off-line and you could refresh my memory ?? I’m truely sorry. I sent you for counseling while your dad and I were going thru our divorce and nothing surfaced then. How old were you? Can you forgive me ?

My mom likes to blame herself for my mental health. I don’t.

The one thing I can find fault in is the thing she makes reference to in the above quote.

I remember I was in the 6th grade. The only reason I know this is because my bedroom was in the basement at Brian’s house. Brian is my ex step father. Now if you want to blame someone’s actions for my mental health… But that is a whole different story. I remember I was sitting in bed my mom was standing beside me. I told her I thought I was depressed and needed help. She told me I had nothing to be depressed about. And that was that.

I was depressed from the time I was 12 up until well, now. If I blame anything, it’s the programming in my brain.

My mom was supportive of my in life.

She sold her violin to send me to band camp, though I quit marching band before band camp.

She bought me books in support of my love of reading.

We’d stay up late into the night talking about everything before she married Brian. Can’t blame her for stopping the late night talks after that. She was sharing her bed with her husband, not her daughter.

My mom also has mental health issues. Maybe it’s just depression, maybe it’s more. I’m inclined to think she too has BPD. If she does she’s in the recovery zone. She has her BPD moments but she is for the most part stable.

If she is BPD then that would in part explain why I’m BPD. This stuff is hereditary.

But I don’t blame my mom. None of this is her fault.

There is nothing to forgive.