- Fri, 17:02: RT @amaditalks: Understand very clearly that giving this kind of advice KILLS PEOPLE. https://t.co/aQ4hobIIrB
- Sat, 00:39: RT @sethfan4eva: Finding a comfortable place to sit in public before collapsing. #criplympicevents
- Sat, 00:44: Still the luckiest Lunatic in the world. (Got a selfie from someone who does not, in general, do selfies. Luckiest. Ever.)
- Sat, 08:44: RT @cdaargh: Instead of offering platitudes, please fight against cuts to mental health services & disability benefits. #WorldSuicidePreven…
- Sat, 08:53: At 35, I told my doctor St. John's Wort wasn't enough& asked for proper medication. The first med worked. #lucky #WorldSuicidePreventionDay
- Sat, 09:06: RT @hollyamory: Suicide rates increase with poverty, pain, ill-health, esp in marginalized groups, with good reason; people are leading mis…
- Sat, 09:06: RT @hollyamory: No amount of telling someone they have a lot to offer will pay their debts, get them safe housing, reduce oppression agains…
- Sat, 09:14: When someone you love says something actively counterproductive, talk to someone else. It's hard. #WorldSuicidePreventionDay
- Sat, 09:16: People respond differently to meds. The ones saving my life also make my brother intolerably wired. Try again. #WorldSuicidePreventionDay
- Sat, 09:19: A good counselor helps you forgive yourself for the many fuckups in your past. If you get a mismatch, try again. #WorldSuicidePreventionDay
There are certain self-preservation skills you can pick up with a nasty depression. ( nearly two decades old suicidal pain. )
Thank you to River, who did have time one afternoon when I called asking if he had time to talk. I don't remember what we talked about. ( Read more... )
Antidepressants: you're doing it wrong
Jan. 3rd, 2013 09:28 amEvery last one of you peeps who have never been on an antidepressant: the next time you are tempted (whether out of ignorance, fear, or some other non- evidence-based reason) to dismiss the entire category as "happy pills", pipe the fuck down.
Of course some people have shitty reactions to antidepressants, either a specific one or entire categories. This includes shitty emotional reactions. Also, a health provider who pushes pills without other treatments is an utter shithole of a system.
However, for the people for whom it works right (with or without other treatments), this is what it does:
Stops the self-reinforcing cycle of shitty life events bringing down brain chemistry and shitty brain chemistry hindering recovery.
Makes it possible for other brain tinkering to work.
Allows a normal range of emotion while preventing the deepest lows from sticking. (Me off St. John's Wort looks a lot like me on, until I get in a shitty mood and don't recover.)
Saves people's goddamn lives, jobs, relationships.
"Happy pills," my ass.
Of course some people have shitty reactions to antidepressants, either a specific one or entire categories. This includes shitty emotional reactions. Also, a health provider who pushes pills without other treatments is an utter shithole of a system.
However, for the people for whom it works right (with or without other treatments), this is what it does:
Stops the self-reinforcing cycle of shitty life events bringing down brain chemistry and shitty brain chemistry hindering recovery.
Makes it possible for other brain tinkering to work.
Allows a normal range of emotion while preventing the deepest lows from sticking. (Me off St. John's Wort looks a lot like me on, until I get in a shitty mood and don't recover.)
Saves people's goddamn lives, jobs, relationships.
"Happy pills," my ass.
This is how it sounds...
Oct. 21st, 2012 12:49 amWhen someone gives me some well-intentioned advice about how they manage their moods by just not allowing themselves to be depressed, this is how it sounds to me:
Annnd how does that typically turn out?
( Cut for .gif )
Annnd how does that typically turn out?
( Cut for .gif )
Feelings Jam in the Horn Pile
Mar. 29th, 2012 08:40 pmI suspect that the ultimate answer to this problem is going to be "lol, code it yourself, Lunatic", but hear me out.
I am looking for a multifacted mood measurement service. I was, up until sometime in the last hour, a member of Moodscope. More about that in a bit. I'm looking for a replacement.
I want to track my mood on a daily basis. I want to be able to look at trends over time. I want to be able to track my mood based on its components, because there is rarely just one thing going on in isolation; this is why DW/LJ mood does not really work to actually get a picture of what's going on with my mood. (Shout-out to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dwell, who could make "horny" say so much.) Numerically rating a select panel of emotions was working reasonably well for me. I need to be able to alter the preset emotions if it is not asking me about the specific thread that has come to my attention. I need to be able to set thresholds for alarm on any given emotion, if it is a numerical scale -- for example, on a scale of 0-10 for alertness, anything under say a 2 is alarming, and a 10 is also alarming, especially in conjunction with a high anger, irritability, excitement, and ambition. Being able to leave a note about why this was going on ("Work was awesome!" "Manager & Overlady are awesome; new email app, much less awesome" "Broke again :(" "FUCKING SHOES.") is also a good plan. Data portability, also excellent.
Now, the squishy bits:
Site should not enforce the gender binary. At a minimum, it should have a "decline to state/other" option, as this lets me judge for myself whether I should pick that, or whether I'm feeling mostly cisgendered today. (Moodscope fails on this axis, and my record low mood of Moodscope 27% is associated directly with this fuckup of theirs.)
Site should not lecture me on what I should do with myself if it thinks my mood needs fixing. I need to be the one to determine that. If I am determined that my mood does not, in fact, need fixing, well-meant advice on how to accomplish that actually piss me the fuck off, elevating my mood in the wrong direction. (Again, Moodscope and I don't get along; my mood was at a nice calm 51% -- all negative factors but one zeroed out, but very few of the positive factors lit up -- braindrained and chilling after work -- it dropped to 37% after reading the condescending advice about how to lift my motherfucking mood and that I would need to gather my friends by me in this time of crisis. Taking the evaluation the second time and seeing how actually much the site pissed me off resulted in my annoyed email to their support becoming a flounce email.)
Site should not use colors in a way that feels wrong to me. I can see using red for happiness. I cannot get behind using blue for anger. (Moodscope had blue swirled cards for the "bad" emotions, which I found pleasant and restful in appearance, and red swirled cards for the "good" emotions, which I found disturbing and unrestful.) Site should not have an obnoxious user interface (tiny checkboxes and radio buttons are irritating; fucking interactive animations replacing a checkbox thing, MORE IRRITATING).
Site needs very much not to congratulate me on dangerously high factors, such as attentiveness (can we spell 'hypervigilance', folks?) or any other thing that I define as a possible danger point. Furthermore, anyone who congratulates an anorexic on their weight loss can please go fuck off and die. (Moodscope did not do that one. Fortunately. Or I'd be even more stabby. But it's in the same family of "all right, does someone have a stiletto I can borrow" rage.)
So. Recommendations?
Mood Panda does not suit -- it is a numeric one-factor thing.
http://www.findingoptimism.com/ looks promising, and has a free 14 day trial.
https://www.trackyourhappiness.org/ didn't look entirely like what I was looking for.
http://belikeben.com/ is the right general idea, but in the wrong direction.
http://moodjam.com/ is not even loading for me right now (which may be not its fault, given my computer and Comcast are conspiring to fuck shit up).
I am looking for a multifacted mood measurement service. I was, up until sometime in the last hour, a member of Moodscope. More about that in a bit. I'm looking for a replacement.
I want to track my mood on a daily basis. I want to be able to look at trends over time. I want to be able to track my mood based on its components, because there is rarely just one thing going on in isolation; this is why DW/LJ mood does not really work to actually get a picture of what's going on with my mood. (Shout-out to
dwell, who could make "horny" say so much.) Numerically rating a select panel of emotions was working reasonably well for me. I need to be able to alter the preset emotions if it is not asking me about the specific thread that has come to my attention. I need to be able to set thresholds for alarm on any given emotion, if it is a numerical scale -- for example, on a scale of 0-10 for alertness, anything under say a 2 is alarming, and a 10 is also alarming, especially in conjunction with a high anger, irritability, excitement, and ambition. Being able to leave a note about why this was going on ("Work was awesome!" "Manager & Overlady are awesome; new email app, much less awesome" "Broke again :(" "FUCKING SHOES.") is also a good plan. Data portability, also excellent. Now, the squishy bits:
Site should not enforce the gender binary. At a minimum, it should have a "decline to state/other" option, as this lets me judge for myself whether I should pick that, or whether I'm feeling mostly cisgendered today. (Moodscope fails on this axis, and my record low mood of Moodscope 27% is associated directly with this fuckup of theirs.)
Site should not lecture me on what I should do with myself if it thinks my mood needs fixing. I need to be the one to determine that. If I am determined that my mood does not, in fact, need fixing, well-meant advice on how to accomplish that actually piss me the fuck off, elevating my mood in the wrong direction. (Again, Moodscope and I don't get along; my mood was at a nice calm 51% -- all negative factors but one zeroed out, but very few of the positive factors lit up -- braindrained and chilling after work -- it dropped to 37% after reading the condescending advice about how to lift my motherfucking mood and that I would need to gather my friends by me in this time of crisis. Taking the evaluation the second time and seeing how actually much the site pissed me off resulted in my annoyed email to their support becoming a flounce email.)
Site should not use colors in a way that feels wrong to me. I can see using red for happiness. I cannot get behind using blue for anger. (Moodscope had blue swirled cards for the "bad" emotions, which I found pleasant and restful in appearance, and red swirled cards for the "good" emotions, which I found disturbing and unrestful.) Site should not have an obnoxious user interface (tiny checkboxes and radio buttons are irritating; fucking interactive animations replacing a checkbox thing, MORE IRRITATING).
Site needs very much not to congratulate me on dangerously high factors, such as attentiveness (can we spell 'hypervigilance', folks?) or any other thing that I define as a possible danger point. Furthermore, anyone who congratulates an anorexic on their weight loss can please go fuck off and die. (Moodscope did not do that one. Fortunately. Or I'd be even more stabby. But it's in the same family of "all right, does someone have a stiletto I can borrow" rage.)
So. Recommendations?
Mood Panda does not suit -- it is a numeric one-factor thing.
http://www.findingoptimism.com/ looks promising, and has a free 14 day trial.
https://www.trackyourhappiness.org/ didn't look entirely like what I was looking for.
http://belikeben.com/ is the right general idea, but in the wrong direction.
http://moodjam.com/ is not even loading for me right now (which may be not its fault, given my computer and Comcast are conspiring to fuck shit up).
Surviving a day as me
Jan. 10th, 2012 05:13 pmIt was a toss-up whether to use this icon or the St. John's Wort icon, but I went with this one.
My depression bites me in the ass frequently enough, and my base level of distractibility is high enough, that I often require checklists to keep myself either doing normal tasks in a reasonable length of time, or simply just to take basic care of myself like a normal human being. I use Hiveminder for my to-do lists most of the time, and all of these items are set to repeat regularly (most daily, some less frequently based on how things actually are). I mentioned this in IRC and there was interest in actually seeing this, so!
These are three of the lists that I use. Some items appear on more than one list. Some of these things are totally autopilot things, but having them on the list so that I can check them off resolves a good deal of my anxiety about "wait, did I forget to -- !!!" that often accompanies absolutely anything that's out of standard routine, especially something that involves me walking out my door.
Dayfacing:
This list is for the moment I get up.
( Read more... )
Launchpad:
This list is to make sure that I don't forget anything before leaving somewhere. A number of these items are pretty flexible, because too specific and it doesn't work with a repeating list, and too general and I'll panic.
( Read more... )
Bedtime:
Some of these things are on multiple lists, and that means that if I get them done before bedtime, great, but if I haven't done them at all, that I need to do them or check that they're done before I actually crash out.
( Read more... )
My depression bites me in the ass frequently enough, and my base level of distractibility is high enough, that I often require checklists to keep myself either doing normal tasks in a reasonable length of time, or simply just to take basic care of myself like a normal human being. I use Hiveminder for my to-do lists most of the time, and all of these items are set to repeat regularly (most daily, some less frequently based on how things actually are). I mentioned this in IRC and there was interest in actually seeing this, so!
These are three of the lists that I use. Some items appear on more than one list. Some of these things are totally autopilot things, but having them on the list so that I can check them off resolves a good deal of my anxiety about "wait, did I forget to -- !!!" that often accompanies absolutely anything that's out of standard routine, especially something that involves me walking out my door.
Dayfacing:
This list is for the moment I get up.
( Read more... )
Launchpad:
This list is to make sure that I don't forget anything before leaving somewhere. A number of these items are pretty flexible, because too specific and it doesn't work with a repeating list, and too general and I'll panic.
( Read more... )
Bedtime:
Some of these things are on multiple lists, and that means that if I get them done before bedtime, great, but if I haven't done them at all, that I need to do them or check that they're done before I actually crash out.
( Read more... )
The current project of getting me diurnal again is going vaguely reasonably. We shall see.
( Day, cookingish. )
( Menstrual cups: how to get me from zero to hating everyone. Includes mention of suicidal ideation. )
Fortunately for me and everyone who cares about me, the combination of meds, training, and just plain old tired means that I know this mental state, and I stare it in the face and remember that fear is the mind-killer, et cetera. (Fear, the Ectogenesis universe, K, and Rose, remind me, is the little death that's going to lead to the big death if you slip and fall.) I'm cranky, but functional; I probably wouldn't even be mentioning it if I weren't trying to set the habit of actually talking about what's going on inside my head on a daily basis in the new year. I've taken basically two years off from daily self-analysis, and that's been driving me crazy. Crazier.
... yeaaahh, how's that for the department of things-looking-ok-until-you-actually-think-about-them, huh?
( Spoilers for Connie Willis's 'Passage' )
( Day, cookingish. )
( Menstrual cups: how to get me from zero to hating everyone. Includes mention of suicidal ideation. )
Fortunately for me and everyone who cares about me, the combination of meds, training, and just plain old tired means that I know this mental state, and I stare it in the face and remember that fear is the mind-killer, et cetera. (Fear, the Ectogenesis universe, K, and Rose, remind me, is the little death that's going to lead to the big death if you slip and fall.) I'm cranky, but functional; I probably wouldn't even be mentioning it if I weren't trying to set the habit of actually talking about what's going on inside my head on a daily basis in the new year. I've taken basically two years off from daily self-analysis, and that's been driving me crazy. Crazier.
... yeaaahh, how's that for the department of things-looking-ok-until-you-actually-think-about-them, huh?
( Spoilers for Connie Willis's 'Passage' )
the spear in the heart of the Other
Oct. 29th, 2011 12:25 pmThe Spear in the Other’s heart is the spear in your own: you are he.- Surak, Spock's World, Diane Duane
When I hear the voice in the back of my head whispering cruelly: "You castigate others fiercely for denying c'thia, and yet you deny c'thia yourself in a thousand tiny ways each day," my first thought is to fight. Deny, destroy, get the hurtful intruder out.
I've been down that path a lot. The harder I fight it, the harder I claim it's wrong, the worse I fall, because while that voice is cruel, it knows from experience that the deadliest weapon it has to skewer me with is things which are true in objective fact. I am harsh at people who deny c'thia, that handy Vulcan word that represents the unwavering truth that includes and transcends all individual experiences. Yet in my daily life there are so many moments where I think and act in ways that are inconsistent with the harmony with c'thia that I purport to desire to embody. The voice reminds me: This is c'thia. That is you. See how they do not match up?
This process gets tiresome. I do not like this voice. It tells me about things that I know I should change, but have not yet. It points out all the shortcomings without fail, and does not make allowance for the good things. Listening to it, I would believe that I am nothing but failure, and then feel bad about myself for believing myself a failure in the face of my clearly awesome accomplishments. One cannot win.
Greetings and defiance. I really have been stabbing myself in the heart, haven't I.
Greetings and defiance, fairest and fallen. You would have me fail more by pointing out all my existing failures, twisting the virtues I seek to uphold into unattainable nightmares. And here I am trying to stab you and make it worse. The spear in Your heart is the spear in my own, for You are me.
I've wrestled too many years with you to have not learned a few tricks. First, I'll pin you down with words and strip naked in public, exposing both of us to the clean light of the internet. Then, I'll take these two little green capsules, the ones that keep my brain chemistry clear enough to recognize You for Who You are. Then, I'll go to bed, because You always do seem to come out when I need sleep.
Wireless, anger mismanagement, and more.
Aug. 29th, 2010 10:10 am10:09 PM 8/22/2010
Josh offered to have the Johns' children, hollered from our Ewok perch. "Mpreg?" I asked.
Josh has short hair now! Not the shortest ever, but conventional-male short. I asked; it wasn't a can of worms, just one of those time-for-a-change things.
Josh and JD both know @tiger -- JD from college, Josh because they're roommates.
7:05 PM 8/23/2010
The troll next door seems to no longer be there. This is the second one who was involved in a screaming fight with his girlfriend, the fellow who would often be out smoking at late hours when I was either venturing forth or coming home from social events or shopping. I refer to him as a troll because when we were chatting once about what we did, he mentioned (apropos of me mentioning that I did Online Stuff) that he was not much of an internet person, but he would occasionally (for entertainment) go and start shit on random message boards. Thus, troll next door.
I know he's no longer there because the door was open and they were ripping up the floor.
8:19 PM 8/24/2010
It's been a bit hot in the Bay Area.
11:08 PM 8/24/2010
How is it that I've never encountered this song before?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOWA-L3JZO4
( Read more... )
6:35 AM 8/29/2010
Apropos of the Eternal Chat, I am reminded that I've got a few rather strict values about relationships.
If you're in a long-term relationship, you should be able to either trust that the other party in the relationship will not cheat on you, or that if the other party in the relationship is having happysexyfuntimes outside the relationship, that they are going to come back to you. (Also included in that last: having your permission to be doing that.) If you cannot trust them this far, why are you in a relationship with them, anyway?
Related: the trope that all friendships or acquaintanceships between people of compatible sexual preference are inherently fucking waiting to happen, is really messed up. Really amazingly messed up.
I have sketched up the approximate problem with my cellphone reception.
10:03 AM 8/29/2010
I ... may be unaccustomed to caffeine again. On the bright side, I have re-located my St. John's Wort bottle.
I think I've also figured out some of my problems with People. If I've slept enough, I love the whole world. If I've not slept enough, I'm a complete misanthrope.
Also, my aunts think Dad's depression is a side effect of OCD, which actually slots in really really well with one of the things I've learned about mine. I wind up in a lovely hate spiral where all the major things I've done wrong in X number of years will circle around in my head and remind me how much I suck. At least I don't think anything from elementary school is in the hate parade, but stuff from high school still is. And when I'm on meds, I can break out of it in a way I can't when I'm not.
Also it is entirely possibly time for a round of anger mismanagement classes (apropos of a friend's horrifying experience with an unexpected evangelist who got too inappropriately attached too soon) involving shrieking, stomping, hitting people with one's cane, fleeing vigorously, and avoiding being alone with anyone who makes one feel dodgy, even otherwise friends.
Josh offered to have the Johns' children, hollered from our Ewok perch. "Mpreg?" I asked.
Josh has short hair now! Not the shortest ever, but conventional-male short. I asked; it wasn't a can of worms, just one of those time-for-a-change things.
Josh and JD both know @tiger -- JD from college, Josh because they're roommates.
7:05 PM 8/23/2010
The troll next door seems to no longer be there. This is the second one who was involved in a screaming fight with his girlfriend, the fellow who would often be out smoking at late hours when I was either venturing forth or coming home from social events or shopping. I refer to him as a troll because when we were chatting once about what we did, he mentioned (apropos of me mentioning that I did Online Stuff) that he was not much of an internet person, but he would occasionally (for entertainment) go and start shit on random message boards. Thus, troll next door.
I know he's no longer there because the door was open and they were ripping up the floor.
8:19 PM 8/24/2010
It's been a bit hot in the Bay Area.
11:08 PM 8/24/2010
How is it that I've never encountered this song before?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOWA-L3JZO4
( Read more... )
6:35 AM 8/29/2010
Apropos of the Eternal Chat, I am reminded that I've got a few rather strict values about relationships.
If you're in a long-term relationship, you should be able to either trust that the other party in the relationship will not cheat on you, or that if the other party in the relationship is having happysexyfuntimes outside the relationship, that they are going to come back to you. (Also included in that last: having your permission to be doing that.) If you cannot trust them this far, why are you in a relationship with them, anyway?
Related: the trope that all friendships or acquaintanceships between people of compatible sexual preference are inherently fucking waiting to happen, is really messed up. Really amazingly messed up.
I have sketched up the approximate problem with my cellphone reception.
10:03 AM 8/29/2010
I ... may be unaccustomed to caffeine again. On the bright side, I have re-located my St. John's Wort bottle.
I think I've also figured out some of my problems with People. If I've slept enough, I love the whole world. If I've not slept enough, I'm a complete misanthrope.
Also, my aunts think Dad's depression is a side effect of OCD, which actually slots in really really well with one of the things I've learned about mine. I wind up in a lovely hate spiral where all the major things I've done wrong in X number of years will circle around in my head and remind me how much I suck. At least I don't think anything from elementary school is in the hate parade, but stuff from high school still is. And when I'm on meds, I can break out of it in a way I can't when I'm not.
Also it is entirely possibly time for a round of anger mismanagement classes (apropos of a friend's horrifying experience with an unexpected evangelist who got too inappropriately attached too soon) involving shrieking, stomping, hitting people with one's cane, fleeing vigorously, and avoiding being alone with anyone who makes one feel dodgy, even otherwise friends.
( Apparently my best friend is Kryptonite to any given depressive episode. )
( Sleep. )
6:55 PM 4/12/2010
Today MissKat had to reassure![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stonebridge that he did not remind her of a whale penis. (Or, I assume, an orca penis.)
8:25 AM 4/13/2010
A friend had a bit of a rant on the topic of a woman changing her name upon marriage -- in some cases, her whole previous identity goes up *poof*. The naming of people is serious business, especially in the internet age, where your name is not just what people call you, but where you are, how people recognize you as yourself, and of course your clan identity. On Facebook, if you don't include previous names of yours, people who knew you then may not be able to find you. (Note that this isn't always a *bad* thing.) But continuity of identity is an important thing that one doesn't generally brush aside lightly, and if the name is a major component of your identifiable self...
And I looked at that rant and realized that actually I was not as averse to changing my name upon marriage as I had been in 2000. If I got married to someone and I liked their surname and family, I would happily change mine. That shocked me to no end. Why? What had changed?
In the comments, there were stories about women who had changed their names at the beginnings of their careers, and women who had declined to change their names while their careers were in full swing: women whose names were their brands, women who would not and could not and chose not to weather the problems of changing a name, changing a brand, when they'd already invested so much time and energy into being and promoting that name.
I haven't invested that much identity and worth into my surname in the last decade. Since moving onto the internet, I have been fully inhabiting this name instead.
I tried on the idea. If I was planning to get married, and my spouse-to-be tried to insist that I had to change my username after getting married? My response was immediate and furious. "...first they'd see my middle finger, then they'd see my naked ring finger, then they'd see the outside of my door. This is my name and it is not negotiable."
5:01 PM 4/14/2010
Enjoyed a dip in the hot tub for the first time in far too long. Sadly, it was more of a swimming temperature than a hot-tubbing temperature. Embarking on Yet Another Dan Simmons Adventure: this time it's Ilium.
Cautiously thinking that diurnal may be back for a while.
( Sleep. )
6:55 PM 4/12/2010
Today MissKat had to reassure
stonebridge that he did not remind her of a whale penis. (Or, I assume, an orca penis.) 8:25 AM 4/13/2010
A friend had a bit of a rant on the topic of a woman changing her name upon marriage -- in some cases, her whole previous identity goes up *poof*. The naming of people is serious business, especially in the internet age, where your name is not just what people call you, but where you are, how people recognize you as yourself, and of course your clan identity. On Facebook, if you don't include previous names of yours, people who knew you then may not be able to find you. (Note that this isn't always a *bad* thing.) But continuity of identity is an important thing that one doesn't generally brush aside lightly, and if the name is a major component of your identifiable self...
And I looked at that rant and realized that actually I was not as averse to changing my name upon marriage as I had been in 2000. If I got married to someone and I liked their surname and family, I would happily change mine. That shocked me to no end. Why? What had changed?
In the comments, there were stories about women who had changed their names at the beginnings of their careers, and women who had declined to change their names while their careers were in full swing: women whose names were their brands, women who would not and could not and chose not to weather the problems of changing a name, changing a brand, when they'd already invested so much time and energy into being and promoting that name.
I haven't invested that much identity and worth into my surname in the last decade. Since moving onto the internet, I have been fully inhabiting this name instead.
I tried on the idea. If I was planning to get married, and my spouse-to-be tried to insist that I had to change my username after getting married? My response was immediate and furious. "...first they'd see my middle finger, then they'd see my naked ring finger, then they'd see the outside of my door. This is my name and it is not negotiable."
5:01 PM 4/14/2010
Enjoyed a dip in the hot tub for the first time in far too long. Sadly, it was more of a swimming temperature than a hot-tubbing temperature. Embarking on Yet Another Dan Simmons Adventure: this time it's Ilium.
Cautiously thinking that diurnal may be back for a while.
(no subject)
Mar. 17th, 2010 03:44 pm( Read more... )
3:08 AM 3/17/2010
OMG,theresa, are you actually local?
( Read more... )
2:31 PM 3/17/2010
"X is gay, so he's immune to Y's radioactive vagina, right?"
3:37 PM 3/17/2010
There will probably be Boozing later. I think I want a nap. Early lunatic was up early.
3:42 PM 3/17/2010
Thank you, everybody, for all the kind statements. My brain is even recognizing many of them as true!
3:08 AM 3/17/2010
OMG,
theresa, are you actually local? ( Read more... )
2:31 PM 3/17/2010
"X is gay, so he's immune to Y's radioactive vagina, right?"
3:37 PM 3/17/2010
There will probably be Boozing later. I think I want a nap. Early lunatic was up early.
3:42 PM 3/17/2010
Thank you, everybody, for all the kind statements. My brain is even recognizing many of them as true!
Yeah, I've been there.
May. 28th, 2009 12:42 amSomething somewhere said reminded me of the meds battle.
So you're depressed, right, and you wind up on meds (for me it's St. John's Wort, for others it can be something else) and you take them and take them and one day you're just living your life and out of the blue you notice hey! you're happy! where did this come from? your life almost feels ... normal!
And you realize, looking back on it, how very much of your personal mental clutter you have worked your way through, that all of those things that bothered you back when you were unmedicated and unhappy, you know how to deal with those now, and things are really not as bad as they were.
So you drop the damn meds (or you taper them, if you're on the hard stuff; I hear brainbuzzes are not funtimes, and if it's the thing where your head zaps like you're turning on an oldschool monitor, then no not at all; I had those in high school) and maybe you convince yourself that you know, you were just going through a hard patch. You don't really need drugs to cope with real life. You were weak, but you can handle it just fine now that you have got all these shiny new skills.
And you sail along without the meds and you're doing just fine. And then either BAM! life hits you out of the fucking blue, and one of those situations comes up and you're down for the count! -- or maybe you're sailing along with each day not much different from the last, and you're living your life and out of the blue you realize that god damn you are MISERABLE -- or even that it's not quite that you're miserable, but you ... just can't seem to remember the last time it was that you were happy.
Maybe this isn't the first time.
And you pick up that bottle again, and you hate yourself a little, but you take them. Day in, day out. And gradually, life starts to sail on again, and the black cloud, or the gray fog, starts to lift. Or there's a way to climb out of the hole. And life is good again, until you realize that hey, perhaps you don't need those meds, since you're doing so well...
So you're depressed, right, and you wind up on meds (for me it's St. John's Wort, for others it can be something else) and you take them and take them and one day you're just living your life and out of the blue you notice hey! you're happy! where did this come from? your life almost feels ... normal!
And you realize, looking back on it, how very much of your personal mental clutter you have worked your way through, that all of those things that bothered you back when you were unmedicated and unhappy, you know how to deal with those now, and things are really not as bad as they were.
So you drop the damn meds (or you taper them, if you're on the hard stuff; I hear brainbuzzes are not funtimes, and if it's the thing where your head zaps like you're turning on an oldschool monitor, then no not at all; I had those in high school) and maybe you convince yourself that you know, you were just going through a hard patch. You don't really need drugs to cope with real life. You were weak, but you can handle it just fine now that you have got all these shiny new skills.
And you sail along without the meds and you're doing just fine. And then either BAM! life hits you out of the fucking blue, and one of those situations comes up and you're down for the count! -- or maybe you're sailing along with each day not much different from the last, and you're living your life and out of the blue you realize that god damn you are MISERABLE -- or even that it's not quite that you're miserable, but you ... just can't seem to remember the last time it was that you were happy.
Maybe this isn't the first time.
And you pick up that bottle again, and you hate yourself a little, but you take them. Day in, day out. And gradually, life starts to sail on again, and the black cloud, or the gray fog, starts to lift. Or there's a way to climb out of the hole. And life is good again, until you realize that hey, perhaps you don't need those meds, since you're doing so well...
GIP: Sanity (St. John's Wort)
Mar. 23rd, 2008 09:23 amHi. I volunteer for LiveJournal Support, and I probably have depression.
I say "probably", because I've never been diagnosed with it, despite knowingly battling with it since 1994. I know it runs in the family, because Dad has since been diagnosed with it. It's either been bad enough that I couldn't face anyone to do something to deal with it, or else under control or not so bad. These past several years, now that I am taking my St. John's Wort religiously, it has been under control, enough so that I can confidently say that any and all bad days in the past year have been caused by my reaction to external factors, not my biochemical inability to snap back from a bad mood.
I am grateful beyond belief that I have come to a point where medication will keep me on solid ground, and I am grateful to have found a medication that works to keep me there so long as I have good mental hygiene. Too many people do not have that, and I did not have that for too long.
It first got bad in the winter of 1994. My journals from then exist somewhere, most of them. I knew that something was wrong when I had to keep telling myself that I needed to stay alive long enough to see the new Star Trek movie. I was fourteen, everything was more or less going right in my family and school life, I had a cluster of good friends, and I didn't want to be alive anymore.
The movie came and went, and by that time, I had entangled myself with enough things to finish that I couldn't just drop them, and I'd gotten used to the idea that even though at any given moment I was perfectly bubbly and happy, there was this underlying lurking overwhelming woe that could come out of nowhere at the least provocation and eat away any and all of my happiness. I subdivided my brain, and let the happy side of me be in control and face the world, without really realizing just how bad it actually was. This continued throughout high school, with more and less success at keeping the depression under wraps. My everyday public-facing persona was not allowed to understand exactly how bad it was. I did not exactly repress memories, but the guardian persona was the gatekeeper of as many bad emotional memories as possible, and the main persona was not allowed to check those memories out without explicit permission and supervision. Most of my junior year of high school passed in a blur. I was not used to not remembering things, and most of that year had to be stripped of its emotional content before I was allowed to remember it. The catastrophic and epic bad relationship with my then-best-friend Shawn did not help matters at all, as he was self-centered, manipulative, callous, and histrionic. (More so than normal for a teenage boy.)
Each year was worse than the next, with little ability to recover from emotional blows, and quite a lot of deliberately self-destructive behavior. I think I started wearing at least one item of black clothing a day in 1997, as a reminder that anything I said or did was suspect, because I was depressed, and I could not forget this at any cost, or it could mean my life. After the incident that involved some muddy green paint and my beautiful white pirate shirt, I started phasing out coloured clothing altogether.
Things that get worse sometimes start to get better. After the final curtain closed on the Shawn Era, I wound up moving to Arizona (in the wake of BJ). Between one thing and another, I wound up on LJ. (See, I met Sis at school the first day. Then I met Darkside. Darkside's friend had a webcomic. In the message boards for the webcomic, I metgodai, who dragged me on to LJ.) On LJ, I met iroshi. Between Darkside and iroshi, my head got a housecleaning, and I got on St. John's Wort.
It got worse before it got better. See, the fact that I was getting counseling for the built-up issues of years meant that all the screaming agony that had been hiding under dull endurance started popping out, and that led to some scary and slightly psychotic acting-out. I would go through phases where I felt that I had recovered, and was doing better than ever, and so I'd stop taking the St. John's Wort. I'd be fine as long as it was in my system, and then I'd coast, and sometimes it would be quite a while until something happened. But, inevitably, something would happen.
Without medication, I do not snap back from emotional blows. I am slowly but surely training myself out of the idea that one poorly-placed word will inevitably ruin my week. When depression is lurking just around the corner, one event will snap me back into it, and I will obsess over that event and how horrible I am, and obsess over the running litany of ways in which I suck, and notable occasions in the past in which I have sucked worse, and how I could have, should have, would have done them better. That's not the case anymore. Sure, I will be put out of sorts by bad stuff happening, but within a few hours (depending on how bad it was) I'll feel better. I could have done things differently, sure, but it's not something to obsess over. I won't get abandoned by my true and close friends; the sort of friends who abandon me weren't really that close to start with, and if I was wrong about how close they are, then I'll just have to keep that in mind for next time. (I'm no longer scared that Darkside will tell me he's sick of me and to stop trying to be his friend. We've known each other too long for that now.)
When my brain chemistry is behaving itself, I am a bright and cheerful person. But even for all that, I know I can't dare let myself forget how tenuous that hold is. I've finally come to understand how it is that people who haven't touched a bit of alcohol in years still think of themselves as alcoholics, and go to meetings. It's part of who you are. It may not dominate your life now, but it did once, and it can never be allowed to do that again.
I'm Azz. I'm not depressed now, but I have depression.
I say "probably", because I've never been diagnosed with it, despite knowingly battling with it since 1994. I know it runs in the family, because Dad has since been diagnosed with it. It's either been bad enough that I couldn't face anyone to do something to deal with it, or else under control or not so bad. These past several years, now that I am taking my St. John's Wort religiously, it has been under control, enough so that I can confidently say that any and all bad days in the past year have been caused by my reaction to external factors, not my biochemical inability to snap back from a bad mood.
I am grateful beyond belief that I have come to a point where medication will keep me on solid ground, and I am grateful to have found a medication that works to keep me there so long as I have good mental hygiene. Too many people do not have that, and I did not have that for too long.
It first got bad in the winter of 1994. My journals from then exist somewhere, most of them. I knew that something was wrong when I had to keep telling myself that I needed to stay alive long enough to see the new Star Trek movie. I was fourteen, everything was more or less going right in my family and school life, I had a cluster of good friends, and I didn't want to be alive anymore.
The movie came and went, and by that time, I had entangled myself with enough things to finish that I couldn't just drop them, and I'd gotten used to the idea that even though at any given moment I was perfectly bubbly and happy, there was this underlying lurking overwhelming woe that could come out of nowhere at the least provocation and eat away any and all of my happiness. I subdivided my brain, and let the happy side of me be in control and face the world, without really realizing just how bad it actually was. This continued throughout high school, with more and less success at keeping the depression under wraps. My everyday public-facing persona was not allowed to understand exactly how bad it was. I did not exactly repress memories, but the guardian persona was the gatekeeper of as many bad emotional memories as possible, and the main persona was not allowed to check those memories out without explicit permission and supervision. Most of my junior year of high school passed in a blur. I was not used to not remembering things, and most of that year had to be stripped of its emotional content before I was allowed to remember it. The catastrophic and epic bad relationship with my then-best-friend Shawn did not help matters at all, as he was self-centered, manipulative, callous, and histrionic. (More so than normal for a teenage boy.)
Each year was worse than the next, with little ability to recover from emotional blows, and quite a lot of deliberately self-destructive behavior. I think I started wearing at least one item of black clothing a day in 1997, as a reminder that anything I said or did was suspect, because I was depressed, and I could not forget this at any cost, or it could mean my life. After the incident that involved some muddy green paint and my beautiful white pirate shirt, I started phasing out coloured clothing altogether.
Things that get worse sometimes start to get better. After the final curtain closed on the Shawn Era, I wound up moving to Arizona (in the wake of BJ). Between one thing and another, I wound up on LJ. (See, I met Sis at school the first day. Then I met Darkside. Darkside's friend had a webcomic. In the message boards for the webcomic, I met
godai, who dragged me on to LJ.) On LJ, I met iroshi. Between Darkside and iroshi, my head got a housecleaning, and I got on St. John's Wort. It got worse before it got better. See, the fact that I was getting counseling for the built-up issues of years meant that all the screaming agony that had been hiding under dull endurance started popping out, and that led to some scary and slightly psychotic acting-out. I would go through phases where I felt that I had recovered, and was doing better than ever, and so I'd stop taking the St. John's Wort. I'd be fine as long as it was in my system, and then I'd coast, and sometimes it would be quite a while until something happened. But, inevitably, something would happen.
Without medication, I do not snap back from emotional blows. I am slowly but surely training myself out of the idea that one poorly-placed word will inevitably ruin my week. When depression is lurking just around the corner, one event will snap me back into it, and I will obsess over that event and how horrible I am, and obsess over the running litany of ways in which I suck, and notable occasions in the past in which I have sucked worse, and how I could have, should have, would have done them better. That's not the case anymore. Sure, I will be put out of sorts by bad stuff happening, but within a few hours (depending on how bad it was) I'll feel better. I could have done things differently, sure, but it's not something to obsess over. I won't get abandoned by my true and close friends; the sort of friends who abandon me weren't really that close to start with, and if I was wrong about how close they are, then I'll just have to keep that in mind for next time. (I'm no longer scared that Darkside will tell me he's sick of me and to stop trying to be his friend. We've known each other too long for that now.)
When my brain chemistry is behaving itself, I am a bright and cheerful person. But even for all that, I know I can't dare let myself forget how tenuous that hold is. I've finally come to understand how it is that people who haven't touched a bit of alcohol in years still think of themselves as alcoholics, and go to meetings. It's part of who you are. It may not dominate your life now, but it did once, and it can never be allowed to do that again.
I'm Azz. I'm not depressed now, but I have depression.
Too late, too early
Jul. 3rd, 2007 04:20 amMade fudge. Fudge did not work as well as it should have; it crystallized. Alas. Dad explained how you had to be very careful with that, but I did it wrong. I'll try again sometime.
When I was leaving, there was a skinny little cat on top of the car next to mine. It licked me and rubbed my hand. I don't know if it was stray or just out and friendly.
Tired. Stiff from too much floor internet. Moody and slightly sorrowful that there are things that many people have that I probably won't wind up having full-time. But I had what I had, and it was beautiful, and now it's time for me to see what else I can be.
And a nice shower has improved my mood. It'll do things like that, you know?
I've been in love. I've been a secondary parent for a while. I've been deeply depressed, and I still have to keep vigilant that I don't return there, because I never want to be there again. V said to me once that I've already had so many adventures that if I stopped right now, I'd still have enough to write about for the rest of my life. I know that. But I want to see what else there is. Cordelia listed off her litany of roles she had played in her life to Elena, and perhaps I'll take Elena's part.
I've had the brilliant happiness that some people will never, ever know in a relationship -- and I managed it without even quite the relationship. That's what I'm taking from this. It would be too easy to get annoyed and bitter and try to bury all traces of what once might have been, but I still have two solid things that came out of this: I have my memories of the sheer joy and brilliance that happens when I'm madly in love, and I have a best friend who's seen me through all kinds of crazy situations (and I've seen him through a few too). Those are both treasures, and they're freely mine to keep and cherish.
When I was leaving, there was a skinny little cat on top of the car next to mine. It licked me and rubbed my hand. I don't know if it was stray or just out and friendly.
Tired. Stiff from too much floor internet. Moody and slightly sorrowful that there are things that many people have that I probably won't wind up having full-time. But I had what I had, and it was beautiful, and now it's time for me to see what else I can be.
And a nice shower has improved my mood. It'll do things like that, you know?
I've been in love. I've been a secondary parent for a while. I've been deeply depressed, and I still have to keep vigilant that I don't return there, because I never want to be there again. V said to me once that I've already had so many adventures that if I stopped right now, I'd still have enough to write about for the rest of my life. I know that. But I want to see what else there is. Cordelia listed off her litany of roles she had played in her life to Elena, and perhaps I'll take Elena's part.
I've had the brilliant happiness that some people will never, ever know in a relationship -- and I managed it without even quite the relationship. That's what I'm taking from this. It would be too easy to get annoyed and bitter and try to bury all traces of what once might have been, but I still have two solid things that came out of this: I have my memories of the sheer joy and brilliance that happens when I'm madly in love, and I have a best friend who's seen me through all kinds of crazy situations (and I've seen him through a few too). Those are both treasures, and they're freely mine to keep and cherish.
Me vs. the Movies
Sep. 22nd, 2006 04:02 amI went to go watch M*A*S*H tonight and encountered a resistance. I'm bad about watching movies and things. I'll go out and see movies in the theatres. I'll buy DVDs. I'll watch movies with friends. I just don't sit down and watch a movie by myself.
Tonight I realized what this was.
Back in 1998, during my first (failed) attempt at college, I had a nasty little depressive episode. It was the sort where I was up all night because I couldn't sleep, and then asleep all day because I was up all night, sleeping for nearly twelve hours a day, feeling generally disoriented, and completely unable to recover myself from the nasty little emotional shock that had set it off.
I don't like to dwell on it. The past is always the past, but some of my past is an open book, and some is a closed book. That part of the past is not only closed, but locked as tightly as I can bear to keep it. There are some parts that were good, but the rest -- I describe it as "a black cloud" when I look back on the depressions. It's like walking through ice-fog in the dark, with no streetlamps to make it glow and provide illumination, just a darkness with occasional flashes of illumination. (I could probably have used this book then; I was certainly flailing about ever more wildly in my knowledge that I hurt enough to want to die but I didn't actually want to die die, just wanted the hurting to stop.)
I did have some emergency measures. When I knew I was on the edge of seriously falling apart, I had a temporary measure that would fix me up good as new and get me through the night unless something worse happened. I would take .75 liters of Jolt (I got it in the liter bottles from the little dorm store, and one time I wanted to know exactly how much it did take to get me out of the dangerous frame of mind) to artificially elevate my mood to the point where I could be made to laugh, and apply a comedy. Any comedy. It didn't matter which one, so long as it would make me laugh. Laughing would get me the rest of the way out of danger for the night, and I'd be decently all right. So I'd sit by myself in my room and watch a movie. Company would have been better, but bad company was more dangerous than no company at all.
150 mg of caffeine + 1 comedy = the ability to live until morning.
Needless to say, I don't ever want to go there again. And something small inside me still doesn't feel quite safe watching a movie by myself unless absolutely necessary to save what's left of sanity in order to save our life.
Tonight I realized what this was.
Back in 1998, during my first (failed) attempt at college, I had a nasty little depressive episode. It was the sort where I was up all night because I couldn't sleep, and then asleep all day because I was up all night, sleeping for nearly twelve hours a day, feeling generally disoriented, and completely unable to recover myself from the nasty little emotional shock that had set it off.
I don't like to dwell on it. The past is always the past, but some of my past is an open book, and some is a closed book. That part of the past is not only closed, but locked as tightly as I can bear to keep it. There are some parts that were good, but the rest -- I describe it as "a black cloud" when I look back on the depressions. It's like walking through ice-fog in the dark, with no streetlamps to make it glow and provide illumination, just a darkness with occasional flashes of illumination. (I could probably have used this book then; I was certainly flailing about ever more wildly in my knowledge that I hurt enough to want to die but I didn't actually want to die die, just wanted the hurting to stop.)
I did have some emergency measures. When I knew I was on the edge of seriously falling apart, I had a temporary measure that would fix me up good as new and get me through the night unless something worse happened. I would take .75 liters of Jolt (I got it in the liter bottles from the little dorm store, and one time I wanted to know exactly how much it did take to get me out of the dangerous frame of mind) to artificially elevate my mood to the point where I could be made to laugh, and apply a comedy. Any comedy. It didn't matter which one, so long as it would make me laugh. Laughing would get me the rest of the way out of danger for the night, and I'd be decently all right. So I'd sit by myself in my room and watch a movie. Company would have been better, but bad company was more dangerous than no company at all.
150 mg of caffeine + 1 comedy = the ability to live until morning.
Needless to say, I don't ever want to go there again. And something small inside me still doesn't feel quite safe watching a movie by myself unless absolutely necessary to save what's left of sanity in order to save our life.
Tags:
Things that suck:
Sep. 10th, 2006 03:19 amIn un-fun/happy/cool news, my sleep schedule flaked out on me. When that goes, my agoraphobia spikes. The combination means that even if I'm awake, I don't leave the apartment until sunset or after. That meant that work on Saturday? Ha. By the time I was coherent and ready to venture out, there would have been no one left there.
Tonight is not looking like a good night either, given that I'm still up. Fortunately Sunday is an all-day shift, and while I had planned to come in early crack of dawn and that's my base schedule, since I am not being depended on for immediate time-sensitive stuff, I can come in somewhat later. Which means I can stay asleep until I'm actually OK to be woken up.
Was it the coffee I had at work on Friday? I don't know. I do know that if it's still happening from time to time, then it's not under control. And Bitchy Witchy Week is probably due any time in the next two to three weeks.
It's excuses all the way down until you hit the rock-bottom layer of crying hysterical "I don't wanna I don't wanna". And then there's stuff. There's plenty of stuff. It's ordinarily something that adult!self can deal with, can rationalize around, can soothe inner brat into accepting temporarily. But not when irrationality is so close to the surface, it doesn't work like that anymore...
Tonight is not looking like a good night either, given that I'm still up. Fortunately Sunday is an all-day shift, and while I had planned to come in early crack of dawn and that's my base schedule, since I am not being depended on for immediate time-sensitive stuff, I can come in somewhat later. Which means I can stay asleep until I'm actually OK to be woken up.
Was it the coffee I had at work on Friday? I don't know. I do know that if it's still happening from time to time, then it's not under control. And Bitchy Witchy Week is probably due any time in the next two to three weeks.
It's excuses all the way down until you hit the rock-bottom layer of crying hysterical "I don't wanna I don't wanna". And then there's stuff. There's plenty of stuff. It's ordinarily something that adult!self can deal with, can rationalize around, can soothe inner brat into accepting temporarily. But not when irrationality is so close to the surface, it doesn't work like that anymore...
Raven's child's rainbow
Jun. 23rd, 2006 03:19 amLJ thinks I am an hour later than I am, so that last entry was actually an hour earlier.
Writers' group yesterday was an adventure.easalle was there! There were several amusingly near-identical reactions upon seeing her, most of which involved squealing. It was fortunate for all of us that the odd paranoid divorced woman who stopped in was not actually intent upon becoming a part of the group. There was this unspoken riple of consensus going around that she and the group were a really awful mismatch. She was scary. I hope I represented for my fellowship of geeks.
There was a certain amount of debauchery over dinner. Our favorite gay waiter is back, and he's all tan! There were dessert moments involving strawberries. Then there was all the earring fun.
Today K-Bone noticed that I was here and in my usual uniform. She said that when she saw Snarky Lady next, she was going to cite me as an example that black is in fact not a depressing color: I wear all black, and I am never depressed.
I mentioned this to Darkside as proof that I am a very good actress. He took it as proof that my co-workers are falliable. In retrospect, it is also evidence that the meds are working. (For the new to this journal: I'm on St. John's Wort, with the uncomfortable realization that I will probably never be able to come off.)
I got an e-mail back from Management. Commander Clueless of the USS Delete Button hosed the copied disks. Dammit. I have only myselves to blame. I will have to duplicate about a week's worth of work.
I will also have to take a week out of Field to work on the stats project that the Queen Bee left us. Joy. On the other hand, this may mean that I will have the Pirates opening night and the subsequent morning free and clear without even having to ask for it.
As a Wierd Pagan Shit first responder, I do not always get to see the extended aftermath of the situations I get involved in clearing up. Sometimes I do. I don't think my role in the extended cleanup action was particularly prominent, or exixted at all, for that matter, but it's nice to see that the cycle of life rolls on. It was Solstice, and my observation was small and very personal.
Writers' group yesterday was an adventure.
easalle was there! There were several amusingly near-identical reactions upon seeing her, most of which involved squealing. It was fortunate for all of us that the odd paranoid divorced woman who stopped in was not actually intent upon becoming a part of the group. There was this unspoken riple of consensus going around that she and the group were a really awful mismatch. She was scary. I hope I represented for my fellowship of geeks. There was a certain amount of debauchery over dinner. Our favorite gay waiter is back, and he's all tan! There were dessert moments involving strawberries. Then there was all the earring fun.
Today K-Bone noticed that I was here and in my usual uniform. She said that when she saw Snarky Lady next, she was going to cite me as an example that black is in fact not a depressing color: I wear all black, and I am never depressed.
I mentioned this to Darkside as proof that I am a very good actress. He took it as proof that my co-workers are falliable. In retrospect, it is also evidence that the meds are working. (For the new to this journal: I'm on St. John's Wort, with the uncomfortable realization that I will probably never be able to come off.)
I got an e-mail back from Management. Commander Clueless of the USS Delete Button hosed the copied disks. Dammit. I have only myselves to blame. I will have to duplicate about a week's worth of work.
I will also have to take a week out of Field to work on the stats project that the Queen Bee left us. Joy. On the other hand, this may mean that I will have the Pirates opening night and the subsequent morning free and clear without even having to ask for it.
As a Wierd Pagan Shit first responder, I do not always get to see the extended aftermath of the situations I get involved in clearing up. Sometimes I do. I don't think my role in the extended cleanup action was particularly prominent, or exixted at all, for that matter, but it's nice to see that the cycle of life rolls on. It was Solstice, and my observation was small and very personal.
Congratulations! You are enjoying the company of one Lunatic. Your model should be blue in color. Some fluctuations in energy level, giggliness, personality, handwriting, and sanity are normal, and are no cause for alarm. Individual variation is part of the charm of the Lunatic. However, like most things, the Lunatic has several error modes. For maximum uptime for a Lunatic, consider these troubleshooting solutions if your Lunatic begins to function in an erratic manner or ceases to function:
- Water. Lunatics carry around a gallon sport-top bottle of water as a matter of course. If this is missing or empty, apply water to Lunatic. This bottle is refilled at least twice daily. If your Lunatic attempts to go somewhere with the bottle less than half-full, make sure the Lunatic fills the water bottle and takes the opportunity to drain.
- Blood sugar. Lunatics are the daughter of someone with issues that border on hypoglycemia, and Lunatic does need to make sure that she eats right things regularly. If Lunatic's right arm are bandaged at elbow, Lunatic has probably given plasma recently, and should be seated and refueled. Do not attempt to refuel the Lunatic with milk products, bananas, or walnuts, as malfunction may result, but if the Lunatic chooses these items to refuel with, it is her Own Damn Fault, and interference is not necessary.
- Temperature. Lunatics are nonfunctional at low or high temperatures. If Lunatics have been sitting without coverings in temperatures lower than 70°F or been sitting in temperatures higher than 75°F for more than an hour or two, malfunction results. Apply motion and heat if chilled; apply motion, fresh air, internal and external water, and a cooler environment if overheated. Temperatures are approximate and may be subject to change, but Lunatics are sub-arctic creatures and can tolerate low temperatures with covering far better than even moderately warm temperatures. Low temperature often results in moodiness, depression, sulking (or curl-up-under-blanket-and-go-to-sleep); high temperature often results in incoherence, sleeplessness, and panic.
- Shock. Lunatics have a disturbing ability to go into a state of shock with sufficient emotional provocation. Standard treatment for shock applies. Additionally, apply bondmate or big brother.
- Sleep. If Lunatics have been in an active state for more than 16 hours, giddiness and/or crankiness may occur. If Lunatics have been in an active state for 24 hours or more, they should be promptly made horizontal and calm. Note that sleep may not be possible if temperature is outside of operational ranges or water settings are low. Lunatics should have at least 7 to 9 hours of sleep in order to resume full operation. If Lunatics sleep before midnight, lo, they will be Up All Night.
- Bonds. Lunatics are unstable without the constant invisible presence of their bondmate. To reset bonds to baseline, make sure that Lunatic's silver star is applied and Lunatic has been recently grounded/centered. Bond may require /renew from time to time, and may not /renew automatically in absence of silver star prompt. Bond is security-enabled and will not connect properly if both ends are not secured; check all firewalls and ground/center before attempting a reconnect. Bond uses address filtering and will not admit additional users who are not whitelisted.
- ( Read more... )
Self-medication
Dec. 9th, 2005 05:40 amI knew I was saving the dark chocolate with cacao nibs for something. It turned out to be an existential crisis of some sort, the type that often results in crying jags and the refusal to come out of my apartment for anything save retail therapy at inconvenient hours of the night. These things are not a good thing to have at midnight.
I'm feeling a lot better now that I've had my chocolate and a bagel. I'd been thinking about coming in for an extra shift tomorrow, but since I'm up late tonight, that's probably not going to be happening. I have too much to do around the apartment.
My earlier dreadful mood's worn off, and I'm feeling positively cheerful. It's three in the morning, and I'm wondering whether I should play around with the GIMP and a few favorite photos now, or later. (Oh, goodness. He was 22 in that photo.)
Ahh, birds.
The jello hasn't gelled all the way as yet, but I think it would be very silly of me to stay up later to watch it do so. (Mmm. Strawberry.)
I remembered just now what I was planning to put in the poll but forgot to due to issues of brains breaking and so forth. People in other bits of California, there is the chance that I would be able to go places at certain points. Road trips. The-Sith, timing?
I'm feeling a lot better now that I've had my chocolate and a bagel. I'd been thinking about coming in for an extra shift tomorrow, but since I'm up late tonight, that's probably not going to be happening. I have too much to do around the apartment.
My earlier dreadful mood's worn off, and I'm feeling positively cheerful. It's three in the morning, and I'm wondering whether I should play around with the GIMP and a few favorite photos now, or later. (Oh, goodness. He was 22 in that photo.)
Ahh, birds.
The jello hasn't gelled all the way as yet, but I think it would be very silly of me to stay up later to watch it do so. (Mmm. Strawberry.)
I remembered just now what I was planning to put in the poll but forgot to due to issues of brains breaking and so forth. People in other bits of California, there is the chance that I would be able to go places at certain points. Road trips. The-Sith, timing?
