Why I Don't Watch Movies

Good movies cost too much emotionally.

Bad movies don't.

I can't waste myself on bad movies, and I can't kill myself over good movies, so I just opt out.

Hi, I'm Still Pissed Off

I just want to post a great example of benevolent sexism.

Here is what my direct supervisor told me in an email re: my contract renewal:

"Consider it a sort of hiatus--perhaps some time for you to deal with the things you want to work on."

The "things" in question happened to be panic attacks.  This is how he addressed those:

"I still get a bit anxious before my classes, but I can't imagine what it's like to have a full fledged panic attack."

Yeah, at least he "can't imagine," but, really?  Let's not compare panic attacks to performance anxiety.

Jesus to a Child

I love this song.  I’ve posted before about the link I feel between homosexuality and bipolar disorder and I just feel like this song encapsulates the struggle of being an outsider and the desire to find meaningful connections.

 

Sharp instruments…

Unless they are for food, you cannot show them to me.  Immediately my brain goes to thoughts of cutting.  It’s irrational; it’s absurd; it’s OCD and bipolar of me.

It’s not necessarily that I WANT to cut, it’s that the IDEA of cutting is lodged in my head the rest of the day.  I can’t stop thinking about how it feels and what it looks like.  And my gut gets all twisted and I want to cry, but I STILL can’t stop thinking about it.

It helps that I have a four-inch scar on my thigh.  I can tame things a little by thinking about how awful the night was when cutting finally sent me to the ER.  I never want to feel the way I did on that exam table, with my sister crying in one of those stupid chairs and the doctor trying to help me by telling me it’s a first-world problem.  I just lay there feeling broken and wrong; I don’t want to feel that way again.

The thoughts still come, but I can CBT them a little by thinking about my thigh.