So this is the place where I’m supposed to tell you who I am, and what makes me tick. I’ll be honest, I usually hate these things. I can never quite figure out how to summarize me. Plus in this instance this entire blog is about me, so this seems a little redundant. Still, I suppose writing a quick overview couldn’t hurt.
I am currently thirty-two, with bleached blonde hair that is also dyed blue, and green, and a color that was supposed to be orange but turned out to be more pink than anything. I am five foot four inches tall, unless I’m wearing heels, which I almost always do. I like to believe I dress stylishly when I leave the house, though I don’t leave the house often. I am fair skinned, so when I don’t burn in the sunlight, I freckle, and I am on the heavy side, which is my polite way of saying I’m too fat to be 100% healthy, and not fat enough to be a sumo wrestler.
My psychological issues are many and diverse. I have a complex about pretty much every aspect of my appearance, particularly about being fat and white (which I will probably blog about later, but will not go into detail here). I have massive social anxiety that is practically a phobia, and I am bipolar 1, which for you laymen out there means that I have a period of days or weeks when I am full of boundless energy, plagued by insomnia, and have an insatiable need to do everything all at once, then I have another period of days or weeks where I can’t get out of bed, nothing makes me happy, and little things make me want to die. I also have mild OCD. I say that it is mild, because my compulsions aren’t obvious to the casual observer, but they are there, and they do affect my life. For example I have to have things in groups of three, five, and ten, which I recently discovered is a self fulfilling need since the ten is largely simbolic. If it’s divisible by ten, it is also divisible by five, but I had to have at least three numbers in my list.
I have never held down a job for more than two years, and most of them have lasted less than three months. I blame my brain. Every time something comes up that makes me quit. I’ll get mad about something and quit in a huff, or worse, if I love my job I’ll suffer through weeks or even months of being on the verge of killing myself so I don’t have to go in before I finally say enough is enough. All this has happened when I am medicated. When I am off my meds I am so unstable I can’t even trust myself to drive, let alone handle the stresses of a job.
My creativity suffers, too. It is hard to tell my OCD laden brain that the world won’t come crashing down around my ears if everything isn’t perfect. I am never completely satisfied with the lighting in a photograph, or the way I drew that whips of hair or blade of grass. I keep rewriting the same lines over and over, and my brain will be ok with it, until I try to save and close. Then I have to read over it, just one more time, just to make sure, and then it isn’t perfect, nothing ever is, and I have to rewrite it again.
Now you might think that these things all add up to a lonely, loser of a girl, and ordinarily you would probably be right. Strangely enough, though, I have been blessed to have a wonderful support system made up of my enormous loving family, my wonderful husband, and some amazing friends. I can be hard to deal with, I know, and I often find it hard to deal with them, but somehow we make it work. I am so grateful for all of you, and for everything you do for me.