Tag Archives: letters of love

Who's mental?

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I always have to do several very different things. I can’t just concentrate on one thing. And I always jump back and forth between all of my various projects. This blog is project one. The two novels I’ve been writing are two and three. Freaking Bookworm is four, I Rocked the 90′s is five, Letters of Love is six, Scars Can Speak is seven, and I’m sure there are more I’m not thinking of. I need to learn how to focus, because if I can’t put enough effort into each of these, none of them will do that well. I feel like a kid with ADHD. Hell, maybe I have ADHD. Then again, I also think I’m (more than?) slightly compulsive, neurotic, and bipolar. I think these are things I should mention to my psychiatrist.

I'm only perfect in weakness

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Something is bothering me lately.

I have to start by saying that I am very proud of the work I’ve been doing with my Letters of Love project. I’m proud of where the project has gone — it started off small, with me thinking that it would be cool to write letters with a couple of people who knew what it was like to live with depression — and I’m proud of myself for putting countless hours into it. I’ve put my heart and soul into it, and to see it finally be what I dreamed it being is just unbelievably beautiful and humbling.

But I’ve noticed lately that some people have been calling me big names, names that don’t fit me: “perfect,” “awesome,” “amazing.”

Ever since I read Faiqa’s “Secrets of Adulthood”, one specific secret has been repeating over and over in my head:

Pedestals: avoid putting people on them, avoid being put on them.

I am in no way suggesting that anyone is putting me or has put me on a pedestal, but the names people have been associating with me are too much, too big. Especially “perfect.” I don’t know why someone would think that I am perfect, but I assure you, I am not.

I’m human, just like you. I make mistakes. I pick my nose. I trip over my own feet. I bruise myself on counters and table corners. I pick fights with my boyfriend. I get depressed. I think about suicide. I write long chapters in a novel that might not be good enough to see the shelves of Barnes and Noble (but oh, if only). My handwriting resembles that of a guy’s on good days, an elephant’s on bad days.

I’m not downing myself. I’m trying to show you that I am JUST LIKE YOU.

I have received emails, messages simply saying “thank you,” and it warms my heart, but… None of this would be possible without anyone else. It takes more than one person to build a community, to exchange letters.

Yes, I am very good at hiding my true feelings. They can get pretty ugly. For a long time, I made myself believe that I shouldn’t show you how much I hurt when I am hurting.

But even that careful mask is not perfection.

So please, let’s be friends and see each other on the same level. Let’s walk side by side.

Let's add another specialist to my doctor soup

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An inch of snow on even the most fragile tree branches

When I saw Pam — my PA-C — on Friday, my mission was to make sure that she looked into Crohn’s Disease. With all of the symptoms together, knowing that my aunt has Crohn’s, and knowing that my symptoms are cyclic as opposed to occurring all of the time, Pam decided to send me to a gastroenterologist. (Whom I forgot to call today and yesterday.) It also turns out, interestingly enough, that the doctor Pam referred me to is also my aunt’s gastroenterologist. My aunt said that he was the first doctor to say to her, “I don’t know what’s wrong, but your problem is real, and I’m going to figure it out,” sort of like how Pam is to me. My aunt also said that he was the one to diagnose her.

I’m probably getting my hopes up here, but maybe he will be the one to diagnose me — even if it isn’t Crohn’s.

Pam also bumped me up to 300mg of Seroquel XR. I’d been on 250. So far, I’m still not seeing any difference — at least, I don’t think so. I think it may be helping a little, but she said that if it were working, I would notice it. If I haven’t noticed a difference by Friday, I’m supposed to call her so she can bump me up again. Luckily, she’s been really cool and has given me tons of samples so that I don’t have to keep buying different prescriptions as she changes my dosage.

I have noticed that it makes me pretty fatigued. I think today wasn’t as bad as the previous weeks, and Pam said that it is supposed to ebb as my body gets used to it, but damn it sucks. I’m tired enough, you know? Between all of the hours I work, barely sleeping, whatever this autoimmune disease is, and now this med, I’m beat.

Still, I’ve been accomplishing a lot lately. Letters of Love now has a community for pen pals. It’s doing pretty well. I’d like to see more interaction between everyone, but it’s still early. Right now, my focus is building up a readership for the myLOL blog.

I’ve also been reading a lot. Right now I’m reading On the Road, and before that I read The Lovely Bones.

As soon as I finish the big client project I’ve been working on throughout the last few months, I’m going to give this place a makeover, finish my design for Freaking Bookworm, and do something about Letters of Love and myLOL so that they match (right now myLOL has a generic theme). Being a designer, I can’t stand not making them look unique. It’s time to make my digital homes look like home.

Maybe the Seroquel is working. I feel a lot more positive. Then again, my mood is like a roller coaster; I never know when it is going to change and how long it is going to remain the same.

I guess we’ll see what things look like on Friday.

I love myself because…

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Today is Self-Love day, created by Hilly! What exactly is Self-Love Day? It’s today — also known as Valentine’s Day — and it’s a day to celebrate what you love about yourself.

Please go see what I love about myself over at the Letters of Love blog, and leave a comment over there to share what YOU love about yourself.