Sleep. Please just happen to me. Please.

Apparently I've officially entered old lady status even though I'm still 3 weeks out from my 26th birthday.

I've been doing this wonderful thing lately where I wake up at 4 for no reason and am just... Awake? It's the worst.

Because now, I've been awake since four. I tried going back to sleep and failed. So I got up and logged into WoW.

It is now 615am. My eye lids are drooping. So I guess I will try to go back to sleep. AGAIN. Who knows what will happen.

I just realized I forgot to put my three positives from yesterday. Or, I guess that was a lie.

I sat at my computer last night, trying to think of something positive and couldn't think of anything. It was a rough life. Apparently this positive challenge Rufus posed is going to be harder than I thought. I'm not sure why I can't think of anything positive. But it was a struggle.

1. Ryan and I officially booked our honeymoon for Disney. We got a Little Mermaid room. And I am so freaking stoked it is going to be so magical I can't even with how excited I am.

2. I traded in my electric guitar for an acoustic. I am excited to go pick it up after work today. I'm also just excited to take the journey in teaching myself how to play guitar and hopefully use that as a healthy way to channel some of my feelings too.

3. I can't think of a third. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough? I'm not sure. .It's also the next morning so the day isn't as fresh in my head.

Good bye.

Bipolar II

I did a thing today. A thing that I didn't want to do. A thing that I have been putting off for a long time. And a thing I am now kicking myself for not doing sooner.

I went to a psychiatrist today.

I sat in the chair in her little office. Drawings on the wall from her small child, an old beanie baby on her desk that was rainbow with a peace sign, and a framed copy of her masters degree hung on the wall behind her. So when you talk to her you are reminded of her medical degree, her knowledge on this subject, and her ability to execute in her field.

Her first question got me. "So tell me why you're here."

Not really a question. A command? No, she didn't asset herself in that way. Just a simple way to start things off.

I was eerily aware of my fingers twisting my rings around and around. My foot thumping against the ground. My eyes shifting around because making eye contact has become hard for me.

When filling out the paper work in the lobby I checked almost every single box. Every. One.

About what kind of feelings I experience.

"Do you have trouble sleeping?" Check.
"Do you sleep too much?" Check.
"Do your thoughts race?" Check.
"Do your feet have trouble staying still?" Check.
Etc.

It was two and a half pages front and back. Most of the boxes were checked.

My inner monologue raced, thinking "She's going to think I'm making this up. There's no way someone feels all these things."

But I read the list over again. And every box that was checked was truthful.

I have this habit of withholding information, whether it is fear of judgment from my peers or whatever who knows... But I only tell people half of what is going on. Ryan is the only person who really gets one hundred percent real life Shayla. And Alyssa. But she is also my person. I have two people.

Regardless, the list was long.

We start to converse and I let it all out, the word vomit didn't seem to end. "Oh, you want to hear about that thing that happened when I was five? HERE YOU GO. TAKE IT. PLEASE, JUST TAKE IT."

Things that I knew weren't relevant, she got to hear about it. More than I've told my therapist. More than I've told any counselor, friend, confidant, anyone who would listen. I didn't tell them all of this. My entire medical history. Every medication I've taken. I just let it all out. And... I still don't know how I feel about it. After examining my medical history, listening to my life story, observing my habits, getting a VERY thorough work up from my primary care doctor...

She stacked her papers, Flipped through them once more, observing her notes she jot down as my vomit spewed.

"Well. From what you've told me I'm going to diagnose you with Bipolar disorder. I don't mean any offense by that."

Offense?
"Umm... No offense taken?"
"We are working on it, but there is still this weird stigma about bipolar disorder."
"Please just... Keep going."
"If I had to narrow it down I would say Bipolar II. However, we have a lot of work to do to really narrow it down. But you don't seem to get too high with your mania, staying up twelve days at a time, etc.
"It's kind of like a spectrum, and you are high functioning. You graduated high school. You can hold a job. You function, as well as you can. But everything you've told me is all tied into this diagnosis."

She went through everything I said. SHE ACTUALLY LISTENED. She tied everything back together. It was... So refreshing.

Muscle Memory

My entire childhood memory vault contains at least one Ellis in the corner playing the guitar. It is the soundtrack to an Ellis existence. Apparently one I wasn't cool enough to get in on. Womp womp.

Yes, my dad got me a guitar when I was twelve. Yes, I played it for two weeks then couldn't figure out how to tune it. Since my parents are divorced I didn't see my dad except in the summer because of the distance and custody battles and a bunch of mess. So, by the next summer I was probably into whatever the opposite of guitar playing is; like how much eye liner I could smudge on my face until my goth phase screamed at anyone I encountered. 

Regardless, I've had this guitar since then, about 14 years ago. It has traveled with me to and fro across the country on my many indecisive adventure moves. It's been my constant. I always found a way to bring it with me. Fielding questions about if I play guitar rather awkwardly, stumbling over some weird explanation about my family playing but I didn't get the gene. 

That was a lie though. I've always been gifted when it comes to music, and as I type that I completely understand how pompous I sound. "I'm Gifted". I want to tell myself to fuck off just thinking it. However, it's true. I pick it up pretty quickly. Or I did back in the day and I'm gambling that it's still true. 

My father gave me a Jackson electric guitar that I, to this day, have no clue how to tune or play. I've been procrastinating going to our local music store to see about trading it in for an acoustic (after getting my dad's blessing of course) because I just don't know if I can handle another hobby. 

These are my hobbies in no particular order:

Writing. Reading. Crocheting. Wreath Making. Rock Painting. Drawing. Coloring. WoW. Baking.

And now apparently teaching myself how to play guitar has been added to the list. 

I'm very excited about it. 

We took the guitar to the store after I got off work tonight and the owner is looking into the value to give me an estimate on sale price, trade in value, etc. I'm confident I found a good shop to build a relationship going forward. 

Regardless, it was a good experience and I'm excited to get the quote so I can get my acoustic and learn how to play the guitar and join the ranks with the Ellis Greats that our family revolves around. 

So, this is ultimately my first positive for the day. Visiting the music shop. It was out of my comfort zone but being in the shop just made me so happy and at home. It was great. I am excited to go on this new adventure and hopefully find a new way to battle depression through music. 

Second, we went to our favorite Thai restaurant for dinner. I just feel so great going in there. They already know what we order, we catch up with the waiter, it's just a nice feeling having these connections in our local community. 

My third positive is staying within my calorie goal for the day. I've been doing well logging my food the last few days and still abstaining from delicious calorie filled Coke. 

So. I am sleepy. And I'm going to probably sleep now. And ignore my adult responsibilities for the rest of the night. 

My name is Shayla. I am addicted to Coca Cola.

It's about 940 in the pm as I start to type this.
And I'm already yawning like crazy.
I think I've passed normal 25 year old behavior and gone straight into old lady territory with my sleep habits.

I'm not very energetic with my writing this evening. So I'm just going to stick to my three positives for the day as suggested by Rufus the Therapist.

1. I had a good day at work. I really have amazing coworkers. The day wasn't too busy that I couldn't catch my breath. But it wasn't so slow that it drug by like a snail making it's way over a mound of sand. It was just a good day. I'm very thankful for the position I am in right now with my career. It is kind of awesome.
2. I didn't drink any soda. Which is nice. It's just pure poison going into your body whenever you drink it... BUT I LOVE THIS POISON. I'm so addicted to coca cola it's pretty disgusting. The last couple weeks I've cut back significantly and I think Grouchy Shayla is still here because of it. Instead of soda I drank 3 bottles of water. So. I feel good about that. All about that self control, or something? Because my self control is the worst.
3. I won't lie. I'm struggling to find a third thing... I guess that is a side effect of depression? I have no idea. I'm sure there were more than three positive things that happened to me today. I'm literally sure of it. But here I am, staring at my computer screen just trying to find one tiny little positive thing I can put in my "positive journal" so I can take my ass upstairs to color and watch Bob's Burgers until I fall asleep. Yes. Coloring. I have recently purchased a Bob's Burgers coloring book and it is just so much fun! I guess this can be my third positive thing! Coloring. In my beautiful coloring book.

Kind of a shit post today. I'm sure some, if not most days will be something akin to this.

Rufus the Therapist

Today I had an appointment with my therapist. I've been seeing my therapist for a couple months now since I had a complete mental breakdown the likes of which I didn't think was possible. Work was missed, facilities were called to admit me for horse therapy or something, I chopped off all my hair and barely remember it, I drove three hours to my grandparent's with no recollection of doing so, and it was just a generally shitty situation. I have since stepped down at work and am enjoying my day to day a lot more. I started feeling like a piece was missing though. Something in my life of being a lead teller at a major bank my anti-capitalist spirit animal despises, writing another novel that won't get published, logging unhealthy amount of hours on World of Warcraft, obsessing over my dog... There just was something missing. Of course there was, there had to be. It isn't normal to feel like this every day. Exhausted before even waking up. Struggling to get out of bed because it's just going to be another day where I procrastinate the dreams, drudge through the present, and ultimately go to sleep before my body is ready to because I just can't anymore. But the last couple weeks I've been slowly realizing nothing is missing. My depression does this to me. Every day it slowly chips away at my being. That isn't a hyperbole or dumb imagery about the monster depression is literally chomping away at pieces of my happiness. (That was dumb imagery about it though, by the way.) Depression is a fucking bag of dicks that is constantly trying to choke the happiness out of me. I'm on all the medication and have been for a few months now. I go to lots of therapy. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next week. (One that I was supposed to go to last month but chickened out and didn't show up because... Reasons or something. Anxiety. Yeah, that.) Anyways, back to today's activities,,, These therapy sessions usually go fairly standard. I talk about my feelings. He ties the way my brain works back to life experiences. Analyzes how my reaction to certain things can be improved or conversely reaffirms my healthy reactions. Occasionally he will play a guided meditation from the youtube and talk about the importance of meditation and concentrating on the breath. Today though... Today I told him what I needed to talk about. Two realizations I've had in the last few weeks about behavior I would like to change, if it's possible. Behavior that I know affects my relationships that mean something to me. The first: I have constant negative thoughts about myself. Like all day. It's all negative up between my ears. My inner voice which is often sarcastic, bitter, and generally disparaging toward society has turned on me. Now I'm being sarcastic about my body, about my ability to converse, I've developed a slight stutter out of no where because I am constantly trying to get out the billion thoughts going on in my brain, my eyes are struggling to make contact with any one on one conversation I have with a person, and I put myself down constantly. "Hey fatty, why don't you get up and walk instead of leveling your Troll Warrior on WoW." "Girl. Know your body. Those pants look like fucking shit on your body. You can barely button them up. You can't button up any of your pants anymore because of how fat you've gotten." "You could hide before with your long hair. Your hair is so short now everyone can see how round your face is, how greasy your skin gets by the end of the day. They literally can see the oil glistening on your face." "Did you really think that bright red lipstick was a good idea? Now they are drawn to your face instead of away from it, Idiot." "Why did you post that on facebook? No one cares what you think. You're so fucking dumb with your liberal angst. Just get over yourself." "Delete that post. Delete it. People are going to call you on your bull shit You are so dumb. You dropped out of art school. You didn't even go to a real college. People don't think your opinion matters. What have you done? Published a book on amazon? So has everyone's rando cousin Greg. That doesn't make you special." "Oh, by the way, that 'novel' is a piece of garbage. I'm surprised they are still even allowing it to be sold. If it weren't digital they would burn it. It shouldn't be read by anyone. Just... Just go hide in a corner so no one can be disgusted with you." This is constant. These are my demons. Often appearance based because I'm actually quite comfortable with who I am personality wise. I have my nerd tendencies and wear them like a badge of honor. I watch too much TV but I'm okay with it because it makes me happy. I log too many hours of WoW, but again, it brings me happiness. I write. I read. I over analyze but I think that helps my writing, or hopefully will one day when I can learn to channel it. Anyways. I was telling, let's call him Rufus, because I want to. Rufus the Therapist told me that depression will cause these negative thoughts plaguing every second of my day. Then he wrote some things on the white board (yes, he has a white board. It is awesome. Don't judge.) about positive existence and how to try and live a happy life. Great. We're getting somewhere. I took notes on my legal pad. We made a plan of action. The second thing I'm not going to talk about today all that much because it is a beast of it's own. "I get too upset about politics and social media and... ALL OF THAT." Probably the exact quote I told Rufus today. Yes. That. The stuff Aunt Janice says. The "articles" people share from Fox News, Conservative Daily, I HATE OBAMA FAN PAGE, or whatever. The click bait from the bacteria filled pool of polarized politics, the lures geared to enrage the liberal populous that I am the mayor of. That stuff bothers me. No, it doesn't bother me... It enrages me. I shut down. I see red. I have no emotional tether to reason most of the time. That isn't productive for anyone. Me especially. Because I have to interact with humanity on a daily basis. Especially since I live in the bible belt. I don't have the luxury of hiding in the blue sea of the PNW where I was raised. I am in the part of the united states once identified as the confederacy. Heritage Not Hate banners are everywhere. Confederate Flags that back home mean instant racism down here are worn as a badge of honor. It's confusing for me. I grew up in a liberal's wet dream. It seems that way to me now anyway since I literally have had multiple people (especially since the election) tell me all about how the "Libtards" are scum, etc. At work. To my face. The stories I can tell could... They are bad. People are bad. It's overwhelming. But, like I said, I'm not going to write about that today because I'm still figuring that mess out. I'll write about it down the road... But not today. Today I'm writing about my depression and the task my therapist gave me. To keep a positive journal. "Write down three positive things that happen each day." Or how about I don't do that and whither away in my depression hole until I have alienated all of my loved ones. How about that? How does that sound? Obviously I'm going to try the positive journal thing. I'm going to put it in blog form. Because it gives me an excuse to write. It gives me an excuse to post. It gives me an excuse... To emote.

That's what it boils down to. Just writing this today, spur of the moment, transforming a rant about depression into a post about what I'm doing to combat the monster (or trying to anyways) is something. It's something. So today my three positive things are as follows:

1. I had a dude legitimately stalk me in the grocery store this afternoon. He followed me around corners. I thought it was a joke at first but he kept following me. I was texting my best friend, as I do all hours of the day, telling her about the situation. Sending her a few creeper shots of the rando stalking me like prey. But then he kept literally following me. All he had was a giant water bottle and a pack of toilet paper. He followed me down the dairy aisle on the far wall, the cereal aisle, the back of the store to get my ground turkey, the produce section... So obviously I doubled back to make sure I wasn't being crazy. THEN HE STARTED CREEPING AROUND CORNERS. SEEING IF I WAS STILL LOOKING AT HIM. I'm not even joking, it was some crazy shit going on. So. I told the front counter. I stood my ground, took pictures of him on my phone, and told management that they needed to address the issue. Pointed him out as he blatantly walked by YET AGAIN because he was following me. Normally I would have talked myself out of being bold and talking to store associates, chalking it up to be my paranoia and nothing more (who would want to stalk me, anyways, Overweight Shayla is dumb. See how I'm tying it back to those negative thoughts in my brain? Yeah. Anyways.) Plus, I knew I could take him if it really came down to it. My handy dandy pepper spray combined with my foot to penis kicking skills would come in handy. So, while that wasn't the most ideal situation, the fact that I addressed it, alerted those around me, and risked looking like a paranoid freak, I did it. I got over it. And when I boldly pointed him out he dropped what he was carrying and went in the opposite direction, so obviously he was up to some shenanigans. Anyways. Positive thing one: Alerting store management about a creeper and not being embarrassed to do so.

2. I told my therapist about my negative thoughts, and I guess the internet void now since I wrote this post. I've never really told anyone about the self esteem battle to the death going on in my brain until today. I've always tried to show myself in a light that I am confident, strong, independent, and I don't need anyone to tell me any different. When inside I am literally crumbling. I have been for some time now. Those closest have probably known about my deteriorating mental state for some time, but I'm finally being more transparent about it and trying to actively knock it off. So I think it is important to acknowledge these realizations and tell my therapist about them so we can make a plan together to kick some ass and knock that shit off right now.

3. My third positive is creating this blog. I was just going to keep a paper journal but I'm excited to see where this goes. Whether I share it with my social media, keep it just for myself, or whatever. I am just happy to have somewhere I can go daily to type out a few sentences, rant about whatever is bothering me, or just tell a story. I have this space. It is my own.

Anyways, since this is the first official post of The Shaylaverse I would like to welcome all of you readers (if there are any of you) to a little slice of me. I like movies, reading, writing, being lazy, television, WoW, discussing all of the above, Star Wars, telling stories, hiking, my dog, etc. I don't know if etc. applies here since I'm not sure what etc. is in regards to a list of things I like... Because I like a lot of things. 10-4. Over and out. Or something? Who knows. The first post is done. Goodbye.