For at least a year or two now, I have been debating with my husband whether we should get a handgun for home protection. You see, I have an intense fear of home invasions. I often have nightmares about it. I think part of it may stem from being robbed at gunpoint when I was 17 years old. Or maybe some of it comes from living in several areas over my lifetime that were crime ridden in one way or another. A history of physical abuse and c-ptsd certainly doesn’t help either.
That is why I believe that I might feel a little more safe with a handgun in the house (most likely locked up in a safe). My husband worries about keeping a loaded gun in the house though because of my intense periods of depression. I have bipolar type 2, and while I have never had a psychotic episode, have never tried to commit suicide, and do not think I am generally a danger to myself, my husband has seen me go through some extreme emotional lows that worried him. He fears that if we had a loaded gun in the house there is always the possibility that in a moment of intense depression I might make a rash decision.
I am thinking that perhaps I should discuss the possibility with my therapist and psychiatrist. I know both of them have said they do not think I would ever actually commit suicide. Personally, I agree that I am very unlikely to commit suicide unless my husband died and I was somehow left all alone without any help in the world. I do not think I could kill myself unless the prospect of living genuinely became worse than death. I also would not want to cause anyone who cares about me pain, as I know first hand what it is like to lose someone close to suicide.
A couple days ago, I was watching Kanye West’s “interview” in the White House Oval Office with Donald Trump. I must admit I mostly wanted to watch it just to see what kind of crazy stuff Kanye would come up with. To be frank, he has always seemed a little like a loose cannon, even back in the days when he announced that George W. Bush didn’t care about black people, or when he interrupted Taylor Swift during her award speech to say that Beyonce should have won.
However, when I heard Kanye say during his recent interview that he had been diagnosed bipolar, suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place. I hadn’t really thought of it before, but Kanye does come across as highly manic in his speech sometimes, especially when he is all worked up about things and causes a scene. He definitely seems to have pressured speech (his words just flow out everywhere and in every direction), and I recognize flight of ideas as well (his train of thought is often hard to follow, he shares his thoughts in a way that definitely isn’t always linear or seemingly coherent). Kanye often appears paranoid during these times as well.
I heard that after the interview, Kanye was asked about the bipolar diagnosis and said something along the lines that he thought he was misdiagnosed or he had somehow been cured (contradictory thoughts together). Even this reminds me of manic episodes, after all, what is more predictable than someone with bipolar denying their disease or refusing treatment when in the throes of mania?
Anyhow, my main point is that as someone who has bipolar type 2 myself, I do have empathy for whatever Kanye is dealing with mentally, even if I don’t agree with some of his bizarre or outlandish statements.
I woke up this afternoon (I am a late sleeper lol), and as soon as I put my feet on the floor I noticed it was freezing! Fall hit overnight it seems! Or maybe even winter! So, I had to break out my Garfield fleece pajama bottoms, my thick black cat slipper socks, and my plush hot pink robe. Now I am super comfy, but still a little cold! Even as I type this, my numb fingers feel like ice.
I don’t know if it is the cold, or the fact that I am all snuggled up on the recliner, but now I feel incredibly lazy. So, I think today I’m just gonna sit here with my Halloween blanket, watch some Dr. Phil, maybe drink some hot tea, and probably eat some chocolate. Love you guys! Stay warm!
When I see weird things, especially weird artistic stuff that fits into the category of folk or outsider art, I like to take pictures of them! This past weekend, my husband and I visited a little curiosities shop in downtown Fairborn, Ohio called The Secret Chamber House of Oddities and Artwork. They had this cool looking creature guarding their door, so I just had to get a photo of it:
I hope to return to that shop and maybe take some pics of some of the other cool stuff they had (like some awesome creepy dolls). I find stuff like this so inspiring for my own artistic style. The weirder – the better!!!
By: Maranda Russell
Why do I feel like
my poetry sucks?
I try to write,
only to find myself
poured out like milk
and starting to
This month I decided to try two new subscription boxes. I enjoy trying out various subscription boxes just to see what kind of stuff you get, and this month I tried out Cryptid Crate (which as you might have guessed, is a subscription box for those who love mythical monsters and other creatures of folklore) and Paper Kitty (a subscription box for those who love cute notebooks, bookmarks, postcards, stickers, pens, and other kinds of stationery).
Here is what I got for the Cryptid Crate box:
I actually got the Cryptid Crate Lite option because it is cheaper than the full box, but was still happy with all I got! I love the Mothman t-shirt and pin, and the Bigfoot keychain and magnet were awesome as well! All together is was definitely worth more than the $20 I spent!
For the Paper Kitty subscription box, here is what I got:
This box is around $17 including S&H. It is harder to judge the cost of stationery, but I still think it is worth it. I adore the Strawberry Milk themed pencil case, which feels like real leather! I also love two of the bookmarks (the Van Gogh and Anime Bunny ones). I’ve already used the animal stickers to create some new artworks, and the syringe highlighter and cute sheep/giraffe pen are great too! There are also three cute or decorative postcards, some bear sticky notes, a fox notebook, a plastic bear business card holder, and a few other little goodies.
I liked these boxes so much, I think I will stick with them for at least another month and see how it goes!
I was inspired by this Instagram photo by the Instagram account lucifer.mob, to create my own abstract version of the image, so I used my art markers to do this ACEO drawing:
It is definitely much different than the inspiring image, but I still think I caught the spirit of it well and I like my version! As of right now, this artist trading card is still available for sale on my Ebay store if you are interested!
This post will contain a collection of short journal entries I wrote recently about what it was like emotionally to grow up with autism. These thoughts specifically dealt with bullying and (for me) the most confusing time of adolescence, which was middle school and the beginning of high school. By the last couple years of high school I had figured some things out and learned how to “pretend” to fit in a bit better, even though deep down I still felt like an oddball.
I hated always being the butt of the joke – even among friends. I was naive. I was gullible. I was trusting. Too many times I was set up for humiliation or embarrassment.
In an effort to avoid this embarrassment, I quit trusting anyone. I quit taking anyone at their word. I became suspicious. I struggled to identify sarcasm, so I started assuming ALL was sarcasm unless I knew someone well enough to tell the difference.
Due to this struggle with recognizing sarcasm, how many “mean” comments did I take to heart that were meant in jest? How many cruel words that cut me to the core, were never even meant to be cruel? When boys would say they liked me and I would take it as them mocking me and choose to ignore them or laugh at their “joke”, did I instead end up hurting their feelings in an effort to save my own?
Bullied for my weight during middle school, accused of having a lack of “feeling” or frustrating others who thought I didn’t care about anything because I suffered from selective mutism under stress, constantly feeling reminded that I wasn’t “feminine” enough – this was much of my teenage experience.
The common thread throughout was that I unknowingly made myself a target for abuse. The way I dressed. The way I talked. The way I acted. I was so desperate for acceptance and approval, but I reached for them in ways that were socially unacceptable to those around me and ended up only painting the bulls-eye larger on myself.
I’ve come down with another nasty case of bronchitis, so I’m taking it easy, hoping the antibiotics kick in soon, and putting together bits of loosely created blackout poetry (using some magazines and comics I’ve read lately). Here are a few of these creative little bits:
Not a single one
became a hugely successful
save the seals, coins,
and animal bones.
of a terrible illegality
a large new stairway
to the mounds of holy dirt.
To the ramparts!
To let me nap in peace.
than the sword –
into thine eye.
These bits of poetry are short, random, and sometimes a bit nonsensical, but I enjoy playing with language, and even the most ambiguous ones have a sort of language musicality to me.