Random update: meds, memory, hair, hate beast
I'm still having memory problems, chiefly an inability to remember words when I am trying to speak and, to a lesser extent, write. Also, concentration problems, difficulty prioritizing, and a short attention span (max of ~2 hrs., after which everything dies). I'm forgetting what I was talking about in the middle of talking about it several times a day. Also, I'm making a lot more spelling errors, chiefly with homophones. This makes me so angry.
These are scary symptoms. Upping the thyroid meds was supposed to help with the dullness of thought. It has, somewhat. Not completely. I'm upping it again to see if that helps. If it doesn't . . . I don't even know. I'm worried about it, probably for no real reason, but I'm not about to let it slide. I take my brain really seriously. I don't like feeling like it's not working right. And this feels different from anything I've felt before. More stubborn, more disruptive.
Other than that, progress on the novel continues. No word yet from the potential publishers re: eligibility of the manuscript. I wish I could go on posting, because it's lonely and boring and the feedback was a real bright spot in my week as well as a powerful motivator, but . . . I have to try this.
I cut about four inches off my hair. Still well past my shoulders, but shorter than it's been in a long, long time. I love having long hair, but I've never had the kind of hair I wish I had. Mine is very fine and I don't have as much of it as I would like. Thankfully I don't need or want hair that "does" anything. I don't want it styled or anything. I just want it to be long and soft. Split ends were getting in the way of the soft part, so I cut them all off. Feels better.
Been in kind of a down patch for reasons too complicated and trivial to go into here, and no doubt the bipolar thing is playing its role as well. I'm feeling frustrated and inadequate, in no small part due to my inability to brain properly and the negative effect that is having on my ability to get shit done (which is terrible on a good day).
Amazingly! Body image woe is still at an unprecedented low following the epic ass-beating of August 02. The hate-beast has stayed pretty much quiet, despite a couple of events that should have caused terrible, terrible emotional pain. Whatever. I've just decided to not give a fuck what people think of me when I'm not trying to be attractive. I'll worry about what people think of my appearance if I'm trying to look sexy or appealing, but not before. And frankly, if I'm trying and someone still doesn't like what they see, they have a serious problem. I'm pretty, and when I make something out of it, I'm beautiful. I'm not saying I have to be everyone's type, but there really is no arguing that I'm not attractive. I wish I looked different, but . . . I can't look the way I want. And I am learning to be okay with that.
If I had known that going and getting my backside striped in front of everyone and their undead monkey was going to have such a long-lasting salutary effect, I would have done it years and years ago, and maybe never would have fallen into the sick trap of starving and abusing myself. It's at least given me a reference for what it feels like to have that particular part of my brain go quiet, so I might conceivably be able to find my way back there should I ever go too far astray. Interesting, and completely unexpected. I'm still not sure what to make of that.
These are scary symptoms. Upping the thyroid meds was supposed to help with the dullness of thought. It has, somewhat. Not completely. I'm upping it again to see if that helps. If it doesn't . . . I don't even know. I'm worried about it, probably for no real reason, but I'm not about to let it slide. I take my brain really seriously. I don't like feeling like it's not working right. And this feels different from anything I've felt before. More stubborn, more disruptive.
Other than that, progress on the novel continues. No word yet from the potential publishers re: eligibility of the manuscript. I wish I could go on posting, because it's lonely and boring and the feedback was a real bright spot in my week as well as a powerful motivator, but . . . I have to try this.
I cut about four inches off my hair. Still well past my shoulders, but shorter than it's been in a long, long time. I love having long hair, but I've never had the kind of hair I wish I had. Mine is very fine and I don't have as much of it as I would like. Thankfully I don't need or want hair that "does" anything. I don't want it styled or anything. I just want it to be long and soft. Split ends were getting in the way of the soft part, so I cut them all off. Feels better.
Been in kind of a down patch for reasons too complicated and trivial to go into here, and no doubt the bipolar thing is playing its role as well. I'm feeling frustrated and inadequate, in no small part due to my inability to brain properly and the negative effect that is having on my ability to get shit done (which is terrible on a good day).
Amazingly! Body image woe is still at an unprecedented low following the epic ass-beating of August 02. The hate-beast has stayed pretty much quiet, despite a couple of events that should have caused terrible, terrible emotional pain. Whatever. I've just decided to not give a fuck what people think of me when I'm not trying to be attractive. I'll worry about what people think of my appearance if I'm trying to look sexy or appealing, but not before. And frankly, if I'm trying and someone still doesn't like what they see, they have a serious problem. I'm pretty, and when I make something out of it, I'm beautiful. I'm not saying I have to be everyone's type, but there really is no arguing that I'm not attractive. I wish I looked different, but . . . I can't look the way I want. And I am learning to be okay with that.
If I had known that going and getting my backside striped in front of everyone and their undead monkey was going to have such a long-lasting salutary effect, I would have done it years and years ago, and maybe never would have fallen into the sick trap of starving and abusing myself. It's at least given me a reference for what it feels like to have that particular part of my brain go quiet, so I might conceivably be able to find my way back there should I ever go too far astray. Interesting, and completely unexpected. I'm still not sure what to make of that.