Another Week (And Other Extreme Sports)

Wow, hey.

What's up? How's it going?

Good, I hope.

Me?

Ha.

Well.

A lot has happened that I haven't really gotten to talk in-depth about.

Let's start with Baltimore, yeah?

Wow, what a trip. I had never ventured into a city on my own before, much less after psychosis, so this was an ambitious undertaking in a variety of ways. I've written about my feelings about that elsewhere, but I was terrified. I was so scared of going to my first ever book conference and marketing myself, my book, and my publisher at this AWP Conference and Bookfair. It is the largest book conference and marketplace in North America. Fuck, it was intimidating. Of course I was scared!

It went off without a hitch, I am pleased to report. I sold a good amount of books, networked with other writers, and had a lovely time at the conference. It was cool. Pretentious at times, but cool.

My book existed in the same room as the Pulitzer Prize. Pretty crazy, huh?

It also made me realize that I never want to do this for a career. God, that would suck the life out of it for me. I prefer my writing to come to me organically. It can get quite destructive if I try to force it, especially if I'm feeling big emotions (which I almost always am anyway).

So, this will stay tucked away in the hobby box of my brain. As in, this is something that I do for leisure. It is something that I enjoy. I do not want to make a chore of that.

This was a great thing to find out about myself. I didn't quite realize it until then. My book, on some level, is a bit of a vanity project. It is, after all, about my singular life. The thing about my episode of psychosis is that I already did the most embarrassing things once. I've got no fucks left to give.

So, hey, here's my book that depicts a lot of the trauma I've experienced put into poetic verse. Here’s my whole soul completely undressed. Hope you like it!

Yeah, haha. I am wicked proud of it, obviously. I made a whole website and everything, after all. I even have custom bookmarks! Wild stuff, but I only ever want it to exist exactly how it is for me right now. It is my little diaristic coping mechanism and healing balm. It's not about success. It's about me. It's for me.

Anyways, back to the trip.

I explored Baltimore and Washington DC all on my own. I saw the sites and navigated public transportation all by myself. I could get into the specifics of my visit, but it would be redundant. When I had my old blog, I would force myself to write about my travels because I thought that I could force that into being interesting for my nonexistent audience. It was performative.

I probably could dissect it, but travel is more about the experience for me. It's a thing that I enjoy revisiting in photos and feelings. Who knows? Maybe I'll feel the urge to write about it later, but I don't feel the need to force that. Admittedly, that's a little bit of why I haven't been writing here as much. I didn't want to do the chore of dissecting the itinerary of my trip, you know?

So, instead, I will just list the places that I visited. They are as follows:

• Edgar Allan Poe Burial Site and Monument

• Edgar Allan Poe Museum and Birthplace

• Lord Baltimore Hotel (which is where I stayed, more on that later)

• Smithsonian Air and Space Museum

• Smithsonian Museum of Natural History

• George Peabody Library

• Library of Congress

• National Archives

• Other DC things (US Capitol, Supreme Court, Whitehouse, Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, etc.)

This trip was jam-packed with shit. I did so much in the four days I had in the area. It was incredible, although very exhausting. I got to see some of the best collections of literature, history, and natural wonder in the world in one trip. Not bad for a gal in the city, huh?

AND!!! OH MY GOSH, AND!

I went to a concert to see Knuckle Puck and The Wonder Years! I will, however, give you some more details about that. These bands are huge lyrical inspirations for me, so it seemed fitting to add them in to my itinerary. They just so happened to be touring together at the very same time that I was in the area.

I could not possibly miss it.

It felt kismet, you know?

So I went. Somehow, I got moshed and pushed and shoved to the barricade. I had never been at the barricade for any concert event, ever. I never liked the idea of showing up hours in advance just to be a little closer to the band. Plus, it was standing room. Your girl likes to mosh and crowd surf, you feel me?

Holy fuck. Being at the barricade is not overrated at fucking all. There is nobody in front of you. There's nothing obstructing your view. Holy shit, it's amazing. I saw my inspirations about a foot from my face. It was incredible! Not only did I get to hear my inspirations live, but I got to see the animation of their performance up close. I could hear their voice, right there in front of me, before I heard it on the speakers.

God, it was so cool to be that close to them. They were such a fucking vibe. I tried to catch a guitar pick that fell right in front of me, but THEN there was this girl beside me that stepped on my hand as I was reaching for it. She then maneuvered the pick under her foot and took it for herself.

I was fucking pissed.

I'm not about to make an enemy when I'm in a new city by myself, so I kept my mouth shut. Honestly, I'm a bit of a pacifist anyway. I'm not one for confrontation. Someone has to be a pretty miserable person to do something like that, so that was karma enough for me.

Well, guess who caught a broken drumstick when the set was over?

I fucking did.

It was the only thing they threw out at the end of the show and I fucking got it.

The look on that bitch's face was priceless. I asked her if she wanted a picture of it and she flipped me off. Haha, what an asshole.

Still, I had a souvenir from my role models. A piece of wood that hit drums so absurdly hard that it was nearly split in half. Maybe it's a little silly to be so starstruck by a broken piece of wood, but it nearly brought me to tears. I truly will treasure it forever.

Although, it will not be in my possession for much longer. You see, I have this old friend. We had a falling out over something stupid, but she is the biggest fan of The Wonder Years that I have ever known. They are her favorite band. So, I thought, she should have it. I'm going to give it to her soon. For me, the fun of it was the act of catching it in the first place. I can definitely still treasure it even if it isn't explicitly in my possession anymore.

Best fucking trip ever. Dude, it was so cool.

Next, I want to tell you about my hotel. It was the Lord Baltimore Hotel and it is famously haunted. I had no spooky or unsafe experiences, but that didn't stop me from going on a ghost tour. Plus, I mean, the hotel has a fucking ghost tour. How could I not?

Well, that evening, I got a few drinks at the bar in the lobby. A lot of other writers were also staying in that hotel for the conference, so it was flooded with us literary folks. I couldn't help but make a friend, you know?

So I did! Turns out, he knew that there would be a poetry reading on the top floor of the hotel and invited me along. I met so many cool authors! Corpus Collosum (which is also a super dope name) hosted the event. For those that do not know, the corpus collosum is a structure in the brain that connects the left and right hemispheres.

In the spirit of anatomy and science, I decided to read three of my poems centering around medicine.

Believe it or not, this was my first reading. I've recorded some videos of myself reading some stuff for my Instagram page, but I had never read anything for a crowd before.

Let me tell you, they loved them. It was so cool to have my work recognized so positively among other poets. It was so cool!

Anyways, I had more drinks.

I invited three other people to this ghost tour.

God, it was a mess.

I was so drunk.

I was arguing with the poor tour guide about the origins of Edgar Allan Poe (to be fair, I had just done a tour at his birthplace and museum earlier that day). This poor man was just trying to give us spooky vibes and I was ruining it. I was so skeptical about everything that he had to say. It was messy, but I tipped him unbelievably well the next morning.

He said it was cool and that I actually had articulate, funny things to say on the tour. He said that he enjoyed my skepticism.

Thank god he met my antics with grace, fuck.

Independent of that, the tour was cool. We got to go into a ballroom walled off from the rest of the hotel and a secret speakeasy. It was neat (from what my drunken mind could remember).

I met some other people that night and we agreed to go back up to the top floor to hunt for these supposed ghosts. We found a staircase that should've been locked and we tried to go further up.

Of course, I was leading the way and actively instigating.

Well, I go to the highest doorway and creep into whatever is on the other side.

A man in his boxers emerges on my left.

Bro, when I tell you that I bolted down those stairs. I do not know how I managed to move in such a way while I was so inebriated, but I did. We all ran back into the lobby, had a couple more drinks, and that was that.

I separated from my newfound friends and called it a night.

What a wild ride it was.

Being hungover and going to the Library of Congress is not for the weak, I will say.

Anyways, now that we're caught up on the Baltimore trip, that brings us to present day.

I don't want to officially say anything until I'm ready to make the move, but let's just say that I have some exciting career prospects. I have a very ambitious goal for my five-year plan. It starts will pretty rigorous self-study. That's where I am now, in addition to volunteering/shadowing for sixteen hours a week (on top of working 40-50 hours plus on-call shifts).

How do I do it, you might ask?

I have absolutely no idea, but I can tell you that I've never wanted anything more than I want this job.

That's all I'll say for now. If I dare to type it into the inter-sphere, then I fear that it may dissipate. I'll let you know as I go, how about that?

Cool?

Cool.

Alright.

I'm trying to take better care of myself. I have a nasty habit of ghosting my therapist from time to time, especially when I'm feeling ashamed of myself.

That happens a lot these days.

My episode of psychosis was so traumatic for me. Nearly everyone in my life abandoned me. It's difficult for me not to run from the support system that I do have left, therapist included.

I have been unearthing a lot of trauma from my life lately. I think that I buried some experiences so far down in my brain that it all erupted in a volatile way. It came out as psychosis, as a literal loss of touch with reality. I am trying to process these things as best I can, but it's hard. It's hard and it's overwhelming.

It makes me so angry.

I have been the victim of so much abuse, it's insane. These perpetrators, they're just out in the world. They're probably continuing their bullshit, abusive cycles. They probably don't even think about what they did to me.

All of this to say, it's been rough. I'm trying to be more consistent with my therapist, but it's hard. My knee-jerk reaction has just been to hide away. That's how I've been dealing with my episode.

Smiling and nodding and hiding away whenever possible, knowing that literally everyone in my life saw me go through this.

It's awful, dude. It's so awful.

The shame spirals are slowly getting less potent, but they are still a strong contender for my attention. My husband reminds me that people don't care about my episode nearly as much as I think that they do.

I was starting to believe this, too.

Then, I had a coworker bring up my episode to me. It was so triggering. I hadn't worked with this person since a little before my episode. It was hurtful that she brought this up almost immediately, although it was by bringing up her own issues and trying to relate them to mine. She had good intentions, I know that, or at least I think so. This person has been historically abrasive. She is very honest, but she can be a bit harsh and intense for me. I've always sort of kept my distance from her for this reason.

Anyways, it was clear to me that my episode was the first thing that she thought of when she saw me.

It was such a setback. I was starting to feel okay in my own skin again. I was starting to feel, dare I say it, good. I was starting to let it fade. Here it was, back again with a vengeance.

It was a sobering reminder that I will never be able to run from it. To some people, my episode is all I will ever be.

A lot of people cannot differentiate psychosis from schizophrenia. Even medical professionals are unable to make this distinction. I tried to explain to this person that normal people can be triggered into psychosis in situations of extreme stress.

I tried to explain the schizophrenia spectrum to her.

I tried to explain that I am bipolar, not schizophrenic.

It didn't matter.

She told me that it looked like a schizophrenic episode to her and I guess that was that.

I crumbled after that. I'm still recovering from it, if i'm honest with myself. I thought that I had rebuilt my life again, but it appears that my episode will always follow me in some way.

I worked really hard to establish myself in an entirely new hospital system to avoid people that saw my episode. I worked really hard to be good in my current role.

I really did think that I had finally outrun it.

I haven't.

In some ways, I never will.

I can publish a book and be successful in my career and get married... And to some it will never matter.

That really eats at me. My therapist has helped me understand why. Growing up, my parents were extremely negligent. I was left to fend for myself for the vast majority of the time. When they were around, they were abusive in some way (physically, verbally, sexually, etc.). Somewhere, in my little child brain, I knew that nobody around me was safe. I knew that I didn't want to be like the family that I came from.

So, where else do you look for a role model? How is one to gauge their success?

School.

I began to equate positive attention with excellent performance. The only way to gauge this success was with my grades, comparing myself to my peers, or feedback from my educators.

This is one of the cornerstones of who I am today.

Organically, I do love learning. I can find a way for everything to be fascinating. I also learned how to work hard to maintain this new standard of mine.

Plus, sometimes, my parents would pay attention to me if I did well enough.

So that's what I did.

I still struggle to shake this. I still compare myself to my peers all of the time to gauge my success. Objectively, I am very successful. I am exactly where I have worked so hard to be, but I am terrified of losing it. I have only ever known my carefully-crafted ecosystem to be extremely fragile.

One bad test meant bad grades. Bad grades meant bad GPA's. Bad GPA's equated to losing scholarships. To lose scholarships would be to lose my education. To lose my education was to lose the best shot I had at escaping what I was born into.

It's hard to shake that survival instinct.

Even now, everything feels fragile.

With psychosis, I have come to realize just how fragile life can be. You can just... Lose everything. Just like that. It sucks.

Nobody wants anything to do with me. Nobody thinks that I am even worth talking to. Nobody loves me. My episode is all that I will ever be.

You get the idea.

I've got a lot of abandonment scars. Psychosis didn't help that, but you know what?

I survived it. I survived post-psychosis depression while being halfway across the country from my husband on my first, and only, travel nurse contract. I did very well at that job. I forced myself to visit five national parks, two state parks/preserves, and several local hikes and hot springs. Despite everything in my way, I found the best way to make light of the situation. I did it all on my own.

I had the courage to realize that I couldn't be a travel nurse at that time (and maybe ever, we'll see). I had the courage to take on a new job, in a new hospital system with a completely different charting system, and was the first nurse in their float pool for surgery. My brain was mush and I was recovering from a brain injury and I still fucking did it.

Now, I am the youngest nurse in a different regional float pool for surgery while also maintaining this original job. I can read books again. I got married to my loving husband. I published my first book. I found a few new productive hobbies.

Fuck, I went on a solo trip to seven national parks all by myself. That was a huge milestone for me. Similarly to the conference, I was terrified of doing this. Also, similarly to the conference, I did it and had a lot of fun doing so.

I have even gained enough cognitive function back that I can actually study for fun again. It isn't agonizing anymore. It's nice to have my brain back. It's nice to trust it again. I felt like I was without it for about a year and a half after my episode. It felt like I had to relearn how to be a person again.

Sure, I may have shame spirals, but I've made leaps and bounds in my recovery process. Honestly, the worst part about this right now is the antipsychotics.

Fuck, they're awful.

Every single morning it is unbelievably difficult to get out of bed. I wake up with a potent drowsiness and brain fog. It's a fight every single morning. Most mornings, it takes everything in me to just stand up and get ready for work.

Working out or doing anything productive during that time feels next to impossible.

The other thing is the weight gain. I am the heaviest that I have ever been. We are also approaching the summer and I'm not able to hide under baggy clothes.

Antipsychotics make your metabolism super fucking slow. They also make you unbelievably hungry. All the time.

It's so difficult to combat. I am terrified of anyone seeing me in a swimsuit, much less slightly revealing clothing.

I am going to try to lose weight by counting calories and working out, but I've been trying to muster what I can to do that for months now. The antipsychotic brain fog really is hard to work through. It's an effort (ever decreasing, but still an effort) to do productive things cognitively. It's a whole other beast to bring exercise into the mix.

Hopefully I can meet some of my goals in regards to that this week.

I am going to try to update this weekly, maybe even more. I'm not sure. We'll see how it goes, you know?

I posted some new poems, maybe check those out in the meantime?

That's all for now.

See you on the flippity flip!

Later gator!