Have You Noticed...

The "healthier" I get, the less I post?

Fashion Show F*ck Up?

So I am supposed to be in 2 shows this weekend.

One of the shows was with the designer I had for my bday party. The other is with some new people that I met through a friend that's also doing the show.

So, for THAT show, the organizers wanted me to meet every Saturday and Sunday in June from 4-7pm, for REHEARSAL!

Professional models, DON'T rehearse!

So I told them exactly that.

"I don't rehearse. I can do a fitting and a meeting, but that's it."

I refused to attend.

I was doing them a favor; they weren't paying me. So what the hell do I care if they kick me out or not. I was the best one in the show, I was raising their stock.

Screw 'em!

Grateful that I'm not compelled to pimp myself so that others feel good.

Topst Turvy World

Ate 2 bags of Swedish Fish, a row of Cameo Cookies, and 1/2 a 2 liter of Tropicana Orange Soda.

After all the shit I had this weekend, the plan was to take my psyilium husks pills. Not only am I overdue for a cleanse, but I have 2 shows this weekend, and it'll help my tummy to be flat if the shit is removed. LMBO!

Anyway, I fell asleep last night without washing my face or taking the pills.

So yes, I feel like shit emotionally, and my stomach hurts.

These are the things that piss me off about myself. I know better, but refuse to set in motion the patterns or routines or whatever the hell it is to make me do better consistently.

I'll eat till I'm sick and can't lay on my stomach, then make it better with poopy pills! How stupid is that?!!?

TMI ALERT ON
What scares me is that one day I might not be able to poo on my own. So I haven't done it as much as I did in the past.
TMI ALERT OFF

I have ZERO patterns or habits.

There is nothing that I consistently do everyday - not bathe, brush my teeth, comb my hair, check voicemail, pray, meditate, exercise, NOTHING!

How the hell do I develop some consistency in my world?

Here's what my perfect day would be like....is that the issue? That I'm looking for a perfect day?

Ok, here's what an ideal...well, isn't ideal and perfect the same thing?

Hell, here's what I want my day to look like:
6am - Awake to brush teeth, wash face, make tea
6:30 - Reading bible, prayer, meditation
7:30 - Out the door to the gym

I know that's only the beginning, but that part counts a lot; it sets the day in motion.

Stir Fried Sh*t

Yea, that's how I feel today.

Sleep. What sleep?

I don't wanna go to the other location for work.

Procrastinated on planning today's event partially because I am apathetic as f*ck. Can't focus worth a damn.

I just want to work from my location. The staff at the other location are big ungrteful, whiny babies. I hate them all.

I wish I could just ride shotgun on all of Doggie Daddy's adventures.

Butterfly, don't you wanna have adventures of your own?

Not today I don't.

What a Weekend!

3 Days
2 Nights

12+ Motorcycle rides
2 Nightclubs

8.5 Mini Kobe Beef burgers
3 Cups of Grapefruit juice
2 Swedish Fish Bags
2 Scoops Corn Ice cream
1 Pack of Candy Cigarettes
1 Passion Fruit Shake
1 Passion Fruit Ice cream
1 Baby Apple Pie

1 Amazing Dress
1 Peekaboo Bra
1 Pair orange & red espadrilles
1 Kiehl Lotion
1 Kiehl Moisturizer
1 Kiehl Cleanser
1 Kiehl Body Wash

1 Taxicab Confession

5 Ways to Create Fear at Work

1. Leave a burnt cross on subject's desk.

2. Name a teddy bear after subject. Carry it around and love for one week. Ensure that everyone knows about it and that you named it after the subject. At the start of a new week, break the head off in front of them, and laugh hysterically.

3. Tell the subject a story about a friend. Mirror the friend after your and the subject's relationship. End the story with the friend dieing.

4. Laugh hysterically each time you see the subject.

5. Formulate a poll using polldaddy.com titled "The Most Annoying Person at Work"
a. The Know it all
b. The Smart ass
c. The Secret Farter
d. Other

Mention that you wrote their name as other.

So thankful for the remnants of humor I can muster.

Am I Paranoid?

I swear everyone in the company is conspiring to make me look bad.

Every fuckin email I receive is laced with disdain and disrespect. They feel the need to educate me on every detail of the company when I'm the one writing the muthfuckin employee handbook!

I'm doing things to make them money, and every fuckin opportunity they get, their ungrateful asses have to cc something to the owners in an attemp to make me look incompetant.

One is a ug-mazon 6"2'(ugly amazon), ape of a woman.
One is a fuckin beached whale.
One is a boog-ghetto scary weave wearing wanna be valley girl, but not, dumb bitch!

Their emails aren't even worth a face to face conversation, not even worth a phone call. If I were to pause to address all this bullshit, I'd get zero work done!

They can all kiss my ass. I don't give a damn if they don't like me, but they need to watch how they muthafuckin talk to me!

Thankful that I didn't throw the computer monitor on the floor when I wanted to.

Truth is..

I've seen a return of the April anger.
Brain is scattered.
I'm paranoid.
I messed up twice at work.
I have a huge mess up on the horizon.

What's going on?

I feel tremendous pressure at work; it's kinda not fun any more.

I only want to be around people who make me laugh.

Real truth: I haven't been doing the work necessary to be well.

Why?

Too much going on at work, anger, annoyed, etc.

Out.

You Are An Attention Whore

There's no doubt about it, you'll do almost anything for attention. You crave fame, recognition, and your own entourage of adoring friends. And when it does feel good when you are in the spotlight, you feel pretty down when no one notices you. You're so desperate for attention, you're likely to be well known for the wrong reasons. And it's no fun being the Paris Hilton of your social group. You come across as: Dramatic and needy People may wrongly think you're: Completely self centered and self absorbed

Are You An Attention Whore?

Ok, wow.

Had a friend tell ,e I like attention this week. I've kinda known it for a while, but this test sucks and kinda put it in my face.

Thankful for stupid tests that make me think.

You Are 61% Real

You know who you are, and you're pretty darn comfortable with yourself. Like everyone, you struggle with the parts of yourself that aren't so great... But you're good at accepting who you are and not dwelling on your faults. As a result, you're confident, optimistic, and very real.

How Real Are You?

Hmmm, yeah I know. I'm working on it.

Grateful for a desire to improve.

(Wo)Man in the Mirror

So, you now know that I was a sick kid with bad legs.

Ok, now add skinny to the mix.

I know what you're thinking: skinny isn't that bad.

Were YOU the "skinny kid"?

Unless you were, you have NO idea what it's like, and how it can affect you.

In addition to being teased for my skin, I was teased for being skinny.

I was called "olive oil", "tooth pick", "anorexic", "sicko", etc. When A.I.D.S. surfaced, I was teased about having A.I.D.S.

Yup. Imagine how I felt. Imagine being accused of having A.I.D.S. in front of other kids; in front of a boy!

I was hurt daily, but I hid it. I wasn't a whiner. I think I lashed out at home.

Anyway, as I matured, skinny was OUT; T&A IN. So, I'm sorey, skinny, AND no boys want to talk to me? What a fuckin adolescence!

Fast forward to college. I enter at 99lbs. Perfect for modeling, which I was able to do a lot of, but the ball players want chicks with big booties. So, I see a nutritionist, and go on a 6 FULL meal a day diet to gain weight. I squatted 150lbs and pressed up to 200lbs to "grow" a booty. All it did was speed my metabolism, kept me "skinny" and had me wishing I weren't me.

I'm 118lbs now and still not happy.


I attended a model casting today and realized that I have residual body issues. They're not as severe as anorexia or Body Dysmorphic Disorder, but I certainly see how people get there.

I walked into the casting and instantly starting picking myself apart.

"Butterfly, you need to lose weight."
"You need to be in the gym."
"Leave those Swedish Fish alone."
"You're gonna start drinking water tonight."
"Well, I don't wanna lose too much."
"Your skin looks like shit."
"You're gonna have to lose the boobs?"
"Guys don't like skinny."
"Skinny will get you paid."

Then without warning, I take the sour grapes approach and start picking everyone else apart.

"You're the only one that can walk."
"You're a professional, you have nothing to prove."
"You have the best legs."
"Eeeu, look at their toes. You have nice feet."
"If I'm not chosen its because they wanted video hoes, not models."

I do this all day every day and it's exhausting.

Anyone who's better than me must be stripped of their crown, and it given to me. (See I AM THE GREATEST.)

I've gotta stop this.

I've had an eating disorder; lots of binging, purging with enemas/ laxatives. I wasn't doing it to be skinny, per se, but rather to get rid of toxins. (Or that's what I told myself.)

Hmmm.

The point is that after being lauded as an amazing runway model (skinny high fashion look) and as an amazing pin up (big boobs, butt, small waist), Butterfly STILL isn't comfortable in her skin.

I don't know how I want my body to be because a large part of me is moved by what I see and what is "good to be" at the moment.

How the hell do I fix this?

Was there a section in The Secret about this? lol

Grateful for being able to see my flaws and have a desire to fix them.

I'm the GREATEST!

I AM THE BEST AT EVERYTHING,
THE GREATEST THAT EVER DID
WHATEVER I DECIDE TO DO!
I'm not kidding.

This is the prevailing subliminal thought that seeps into everything I do, and slips out with each person I encounter.

We all saw last week how my superiority "I'm better than you" demon raised its head with the GM. I've gotta fix it.

So, let's start at the beginning.

How did I get this way?

Well, I wasn't spoiled by my parents in the traditional "give her anything she wants" sense. They did tell me I was smart and that I could do and be anything I wanted, but every parent does that.

My mother recently told me that the real reason I only spent a month in kindergarten before being promoted to first grade was NOT primarily because I was performing at 1st grade level, but because I THOUGHT I was smarter than the kindergarten kids, and REFUSED to participate until I was moved!

What!?!

That's exactly what I thought.

Did it start there?

Nopie.

I think these were the ingredients:

4 Parts "Middle-Child-of-5" Syndrome
A 20lb bag of "Severe Allergies"
4 crates of "Excessive Teasing"

Yup.

Middle Child
As a middle child, I was too old to be the youngest, and too young to be the oldest.To be noticed, I had to be the best or worst. I chose to be the best. So I studied harder, cleaned cleaner, and folded clothes better than anyone that ever lived.

Thus, began my OCD with vacuuming. After vacuuming, I could still see "things" on the carpet, so I would get on my hands and knees and pick "things" from the carpet to ensure that it was spotless.

Allergies
I recall as a child that I would try to remember when I was well. I was seemingly always sick; severely allergic to tomato, corn, peanuts and a host of other things. For two years I had a diet of barley and soy. I also had asthma, and was seemingly sick for all my siblings combined.

Excessive Teasing
Because of my allergies, I developed rashes. Hives would swell, I'd scratch, thus a blemish aka spot, aka pox, aka sore, aka raisin. Thus my nick names "two scoops, raisin brand, alligator skin, Sore-y Malory".

Yup, I was teased relentlessly. If my siblings or classmates wanted to get to me, they need only sing the raisin bran jingle: "Two Scoops of Raisins in Kellogg's Raisin Bran. 2 Scoops!"

Yea it would send me into a rage, but I never fought. I internalized it and would dream of a day when everyone would bow down to me like Joseph.

So, to get noticed, I had to be smarter and cleaner than everyone on the planet (I really think this way) in spite of my health.

Yup, I think THATis how it all began.

I am having a love affair with being the best; It's the "when-I-grow-up-I'll-show-you" syndrome.

Only I'm grown, and although this mindset has awarded me many accomplishments, it has a double edged sword that affects me.

I know with my head that I can't be the best at EVERYTHING, but it doesn't stop me from thinking that way.

How do I achieve balance?

How can I stop viewing people as the childhood classmates that teased me because I didn't have the best legs?

How can I stop making every man I encounter fall in love with me just to see if I can, because one boy in 1st grade said I was too ugly to be his girlfriend?

When do I stop subliminally and directly disclosing my resume when people aren't readily aware of and don't readily laud me for my accomplishments?

How do I get to the point where I am happy being the best butterfly instead of the "best-woman-alive-that-ever-was-the-best-at-everything?

When do I stop trying to prove that I'm not the sore-y girl who kids laughed at?

Stay Tuned

Greatful that the desire for a healthy NOW, means more than reliving a hurtful yesterday.

How Do I Learn to Work?

I realized today that I don't know how to work.

It's true.

I've never had a "regular" job - model, actress, tv host, radio dj, talent agent/ scout, writer, etc.

When I did have a kinda regular job - sales - I received special treatment. I've mostly had male bosses, and they let me do whatever I want. When I did have female bosses, I quit when they irked my nerves.

I've never learned how to "suck it up" at a job, or how to "shut up and do what I'm told."

I realized today that I have come to expect preferential treatment simply because of who I am.

The GM told me I must do what he says, and I laughed.

If:
A = GM;
B = Employee
C = Me

If A manages B, and C=B, then A manages C.

Makes sense, but something gets lost in translation; in my head it doesn't apply to me.

Wikipedia states that an employee is "A person in the service of another under any contract of hire, express or implied, oral or written, where the employer has the power or right to control and direct the employee in the material details of how the work is to be performed."

Again, I get it, but I don't get it.

I spoke with the owner; told him about my horrible potty mouth and how I spazzed out.

His reply: "You were honest and got a lot of things off your chest. I am committed to you being with the company and being happy. Tomorrow will be a new day, a better day. Get some rest and we'll chat tomorrow."

SEE?

This is why I act like a brat at work. I get to run to the owner whenever I want. Still, there are no immediate consequences for my actions.

Not that I think i should be punished, but now that I know that I am a workplace brat, how do I fix it?

I Picked a Fight

I knew the GM would never speak to me, and so I picked a fight.

I walked into his office.

"What the hell is your problem with me?"

Ka-BOOM.

He fired back, and to be honest I don't remember what I said or what I did. I know that I cursed, threatened, spazzed out, got everything off my chest, and he got animated and agitated enough to try to leave.

Damn, I knew that I should have stayed away. I was headed home, and made a trip just to strategize on how to be an effective bitch.

Damn.

I'm really disappointed in me.

The good?

He agreed to stay away from me, not speak to me at all unless necessary.

Not sure what to be thankful for, so how about being able to write on blogger with no judgments.

Top 10 Things NOT to Say to a Boss

10. Do you ever make sense?

9. You're a loser who hates his wife.

8. Shut up.

7. You're an cheating, lying ass bastard.

6. You don't sign my fuckin check!

5.Kiss my ass.

4. Stop acting like a pussy.

3. My anger right now is a fucking courtesy,

2. You're nothing to me. I wouldn't sex you another chicks tw*t.

1. You walk out that door and I'll make sure you're fucked up before you get home. I dare you to walk out.

Thankful that I can feel guilt.

New Job?

I've been dealing with my GM for a while.

I tolerate him.

I am growing weary.

Today I woke up and calculated exactly how long I'd be at work; 8 hours exactly. When I start looking at the clock, I'm beginning to hate my job.

He makes it hard for me to enjoy what I do, and quite frankly, I'm weighing whether or not it's worth it.

I used to work in TV - talk show, weather and news, directing and producing, etc. On Thursday, I'll meet with a friend who is also an anchor for an evening news station in NYC.

Just weighing my options. My GM flips every evil switch in me. He pushes every manic button, and quite frankly, I'm not pleased with the well -calculated thoughts on how to bring about his demise and pain.

My peace may mean another job, and so I have begun looking effective immediately. Although the owners and I are supposed to talk tomorrow, I'm tired of talking. I'm gonna grab my balls and act.

So thankful for the courage to speak up and change course at the shore, than to keep my mouth shut and sink in the middle of the ocean.

The X Factor

Since ex's have learned of the guy I'm dating, they're like dogs flocking a bitch in heat!

All of a sudden, they want to "hang out more".

[whine on] We don't hang out like we did. I miss my buddy, my home girl, my partner in crime." [whine off]

Who the hell still says "home girl"?

The Italian called me today and asked what the current beau did for a living, if he takes care of me, and get this, was he cuter.

LMBOAROTF! (that means, Laughing My Butt Off And Rolling On The Floor).

Dude, your questions are in appropriate. Back up off the Butterfly.

Oh, so thankful that I'm neither flattered nor moved by the X Factor.

Dirty Face

You'd think that a model chick would really care about her face and skin.

Not me.

I have every cleanser, toner, moisturizer, eye cream, SPF, etc on the planet, but do I use em? Nopie.

How hard is it to was a face?

Gonna start rewarding myself with Swedish Fish ONLY when I wash my face.
So grateful for the nasty lil brat in me :-)

Wigged Out!

I wear wigs a lot.

I hate fussing about my hair, and it's so easy to wear wigs; not grandmama wigs, but real hair wigs.

Anyway, I'm black (have I mentioned that?), Caribbean actually; the guy I'm dating is white.

He called me while I was shopping for hair on Sunday, and hell, why hide it. He'll know eventually. So I said: "I'm shopping for new hair."

To my utter surprise he replied: "okay, so are you going to to do the ponytail again? I like that. Or are you looking for something more straight or curly? Want me to meet you? None of this by the way, is a secret to me."

WOWZER!

Some guys trip about me wearing wigs.

"Wear your own hair. You're hair is long."

It's so not about hair length, it's about convenience.

This dude is so raking in the cool points by simply being cool with whatever I do to my hair.

So thankful that I no longer feel the need to alter myself to keep a relationship.

A Question

How do you help someone without losing yourself?

Thankful, that I am able to ask this question.

Bip Reality Pt 2

Here's what I learned:

- In NYC, paramedics receive ZERO sensitivity training for people with mental illness;

- Hospital admission staff also need sensitivity training. While in the ER, Vanessa said that she was not bipolar at all, and that she had a nerve disorder. The admissions worker replied: "Sure you do." WTF?!?!

I know, I know they see people like this all the time, and you must develop a thick skin so you're not emotionally attached to everything they say or do, but damn! A smidgen of compassion, a sprinkle of understanding. The paramedic made her wild out even more because they spoke to her so gruffly!

SHE'S NOT IN HER RIGHT MIND YOU MORON!!!!!!

You know what, I change that - EVERYONE is in need of sensitivity training, including me.

Thankful that I am not too far removed from bipolar to be beyond increased awareness and sensitivity.

Bip Reality Pt 1

8:15 Friday night, I am jolted out of bed by a BANG on my door.

It's my neighbor (Vanessa) - crying hysterically, and partially frozen. She hands me the phone. It's her friend.

The friend ask if I can check in on Vanessa periodically because she has issues with her nerves, she's in some pain, and really doesn't want to be alone.

Well, the friend lied to me because she didn't know how much I knew. Vanessa has bipolar disorder as well as a couple other things including hypochondria. When she gets upset or stressed, she shakes and then becomes catatonic.

So, I get her to her bedroom, gave her 2 Tylenol for her leg pain, and ordered food for both of us. While waiting for the food, I made her some chamomile tea (to calm her down), and went back to my apt because hers was FILTHY.

She had more newspapers, magazines, tissue boxes and dust than I had ever seen in my life! It instantly made me wheeze, so despite her desire not to be alone, I physically couldn't do it.

She ate 1/2 of the sandwich I ordered, and I encouraged her to relax. She seemed to be doing better, so I returned to my apt.

10:45ish I am JOLTED out of bed by screaming. You know the sleep where you hear something, but can't readily connect that it's not a dream and that it's actually happening?

BINGO!

My sleep is shot, my nerves are on end. She's back, slumped at my door, and screaming.

"I'm in pain, I can't be alone, my parents left me and went to Atlantic City, I hate them, please don't call the police, you must hate me, they're gonna put me in a home, I wanna die, I'm not a drug addict, its was just a little pot, can you sit with me, I hate my life..."

I share this because I'm a couple months removed from my last depressive or manic episode, and this night held a mirror up to my Feb, March, April.

I called her father, who was less than enthused,and had ZERO desire to return immediately Atlantic City. He told me to call 9-1-1 and "have them come take her".

Callous? Much, but here's why:

She's 58.
Her parents are 88.
Diagnosed 1970.
Has had shock therapy.
"Carried" a baby for 7 years.
4 non-supportive siblings.
Taking klonopin (Clonazepam), Ambien CR, Celexa
Physically abused for not behaving.

The sad laundry list goes on.

I called 9-1-1 after I discovered she drank a bottle of Robitussin for non-existent emphysema, an after realizing that the best thing for her was the ER. The best thing for me was also her being in the ER.

I had to be honest with my limitations. It wasn't a matter of "it's not my responsibility", but seeing her as I did, made ME stressed.

She was non-cooperative with NYPD and paramedics unless I was there. I even got angry with one paramedic because he yelled at her and screamed that he needed to take her blood pressure.

I grabbed him by the arm the same way he did her and scolded him not to ever do it again. Then I showed him exactly how to get her to cooperate; which she did.

I ultimately went to the ER with her, and stayed until 2am until she gave blood work, took meds, and relaxed.

Before I left the ER, Vanessa apologized to me (she called me every obscenity on the planet and made some up as well, but I'm used to that). I told her an apology wasn't necessary. What she said next crushed me:

"Natasha, I'm trapped in my own body. I want to be normal, I want to have a life, a boyfriend, friends, but I feel like I can't be alone. I don't trust myself to take care of me. No one listens to me or knows how to take care of me. My family is sick of dealing with me. What do I do?"

I've been there, but I had no answers.

I told her that I, too was bipolar, to which she SCREAMED that she was not.

I've learned in the last couple months that sharing what made me better, at times appears judgmental, so she didn't want me to, but I prayed with her, and assured her that I'd call the next day.

The REAL Crazy People

Forget Bipolar, Schizophrenia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder etc, the real crazy people are UGLY people!

Yes, I said it!

Ugly people are mean and bitter because they aren't as attractive as others. They are the real crazy folk.

What's got me fuming?

I enter the wrong turn style to get on the subway. I entered uptown side when I needed to go downtown, so I exited the uptown side to enter on the downtown side.

No can do; when an unlimited train pass (aka metro card) is used, there is an 18 minute delay for re-entry.

Are you with me thus far?

So, I'm on the downtown side. I explain my plight to the booth worker (a lady). I said excuse me, please and smiled. I presented my metro card as well as my receipt of payment, and asked if she could please allow me entry.

The bucktoothed heifer replies:
I don't break the rules for nobody- not men, not women, not children and no, not even models!

She said this loudly for others to hear!

I was gonna say: "with your funky ass attitude, concrete wall face and bucktoothed grill, you need to be working in a basement somewhere and not putting anyone through the pain of seeing or dealing with you. You want me to wild out and embarrass myself, don't you? You want me to try to get into the booth to hit you, so you could say I assaulted you and then I'm in cornrows and an orange jumpsuit for 7 years."

But I did not. (Proud of me, Ash?)

I simply smiled, turned around and walked to the first side I entered where there was a male booth worker.

Ok, I'm not calling her ugly, but the mere mention of me being a model in her rant showed me that she's not thrilled with her looks. Anyway, one might say that I approached the her extra nicely because I anticipated opposition based on the way I assumed she'd perceive me. By virtue of the Law of Attraction, I received exactly what I thought about - opposition.

Hmmm, I'm learning.

As I evolve in my dealings with women, I must ensure that I am not sending a "you're gonna hate me because I'm pretty" vibe.

Her stuff- she's insecure with her looks and lashes out at anyone who reminds her of what she doesn't have.

My stuff-What I think, I will have. Thus, women will give me what I desire-courtesy or bitch-dom.

Yee-hah!

Take that Dr. Phil!

So thankful for the ability to de-escalate my anger even when I would be justified to have it.

He's in Trouble

"No weapon that is formed against you will prosper; And every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, And their vindication is from Me," declares the LORD.
Isaiah 54:17

Thankful for comfort in God's Word.

Affirmations

People like me wherever I go.
My efforts are appreciated.
My creativity is valued.
I'm loveable because I exist.
My words are a sweet savor.
My opinions are welcomed.
My contribution is respected.

Sad, for real

$5 bag of Swedish fish
1 foot long sub
1 bottle of Cascara Sagrada.

I hate that I'm letting this twerp get to me.

What would the Italian do?
Wait for him to leave work, pull him into an alley, stick a gun in his mouth and have him affirm that he will back off.

Or walk into gms office with gun in holster. Take it out, slam it on gms desk and ensure that he gets the point.

What does Butterfly want to do?
Spit in his face, put neet in his already thinning hair and make him maltitol brownies.

What would The Secret say?
To focus on negativity is to attract more negativity. Focus on the good in the demon spawn aka gm, and things will get better.

Okay, what would JESUS do?
Pray for him, pray for me, pray for a resolution, pray for his salvation.

I know better than to be so angry, and no this has nothing to do with being bipolar. I am being targeted, and I wanna whup his ass!

Ok, but then what will the day after yield?

So tired of being the bigger person.
So tired of taking the high road.
So tired of appeasing others.

Let ME get some muthafuckin respect.

Let someone else dumb down to me!
Let someone else tiptoe around me!

He will have NO muthafuckin peace if I must leave.

Word to ma moms! LMBO!

Thankful for the remnants of humor I can salvage from funny moments past.

Emotional #2 Link

So, the GM wants me moved to another location. He doesn't want to work in the same building with me any more because he "simply can't take me any more".

What a fucking spineless bitch!

Yeah, that's what he told the owners.

Professionally, I've done too much at my present location to move. I'm not the problem child; HE IS, and everyone knows it.

I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!!!! If I am told that I must, then I want to quit. Highly irrational right? I know. I'm working on it.

He really likes Chrystal Light Iced Tea. If I must leave, TRUST ME, I'm gonna make certain that he drinks lots of iced tea and drinks all of his meals (including is peanut butter and cheese sandwiches) through a muthafuckin straw!

That's right, I'M GONNA BREAK HIS JAW!!!!

Ok, so I won't be the one doing the breaking, but I have 3 people lined up who would be happy to do it for me. He'll damn well know that I was the wrong chick to mess with!

Angry? Yes!

I overextended myself and tried to get this man to like me and to warm up to me. I tried for us to have a good working relationship. I brought him cupcakes, brownies, etc as ongoing olive branches. When I had lunch meetings, I'd always bring back an amazing dessert.

Was I trying to buy him?

No, just find a way to chip away that the huge insecure funk wall surrounding him.

Yet, after all that, he's still a DAMN ASS!

I know, he's gonna get MALTITOL BROWNIES!

Maltitol is a sugar alcohol used a sugar substitute, but has tremendous laxative effects. You won't taste the difference when it's used in making milk chocolate candy bars.

May he SHIT until he loses consciousness!

TMI ALERT ON

After all, I'm doing it. Thanks to being psychosomatic, I have a link between negative emotions and #2.

TMI ALERT OFF

So thankful that I'm not permitting myself to be a doormat for the sake of a job.

SCREW HIM AND HIS BALDING, ADULTEROUS, SCREWING IN THE HALL CLOSET, NO SOCIAL SKILL HAVING, BIG NOSE, EATEN FINGERNAIL HAVING ASS!!!

I Feel Guilty

I'm happy.
I sleep well.

No tantrums.

I'm in a healthy relationship with a good guy.

The owners of my company love me.

I go to work when I want.

My landlord adores me.

2 doggies think I'm great.

I'm not manic or depressed.

So why do I feel guilty?

Well, one main reason: I Haven't Blogged In a While.

Onemeanmutha is my sister, and her blogged touched on an issue that I've kept "out-of-sight, not so successfully out-of-mind" - my brother.

My brother was the first person diagnosed with a mental illness in my family, and it really tore the family apart. There was a rift in the family for a year stemming from his first hospitalization, and the effects are still felt.

He is 6.5 years my Junior, and prior to his diagnosis we lived together. I blamed him for his misbehavior, short attention span, marijuana use, etc. I even moved to another state because I couldn't deal with what I was seeing him "do to himself". I couldn't understand why he just simply couldn't behave himself.

Fast forward to his diagnosis, and I felt like shit.
I should have seen signs.
I should have known.

I should have known that my brother wouldn't purposefully treat me like shit. But at the time it was easier to think that he was going through the "teen years" than that he had a mental illness.

I felt even shittier when our brother-sister bond wasn't enough to make him take his meds. I felt frustrated, betrayed, angry, etc.

I've stayed a way from the situation first because it truly hurts me to see him not at 100%. I realize that I've been placing my hurt, frustration and feelings of helplessness over his need for my support. Although I truly feel I did what I needed to do for me, now that I am stronger, I think it's time for me to reach out to him a bit more.

So I feel guilty about my brother.

I also feel guilty about onemeanmutha.

I just don't get it.

I think the worst part of bipolar disorder is that it quietly robs talented people of their contribution to the world.

I look at my sister and see beauty, health, intelligence and so much to offer the world. When I read that she's not in remission like me, it frustrates me.

How can I make her get better like me?
How can I make my brother better?
Why am I better?

I feel that maybe I should be in the trenches of mania and depression with them instead of going shopping and to spas; kinda makes my rants about GM seem like bullshit.

So how exactly do you support a family member with mental illness when you're afraid to lose yourself again to the same thing?

How do you support anyone for that matter with a mental illness when you're no longer there?

Is how I got better really how I got better?

Yeah, feeling a smidge guilty.

So thankful that I "feel".

Could I Be SAD?

Here's what I'm thinking:

I am doing REALLY well off meds, kinda like I was never diagnosed. I think clearly, I feel great, I'm sleeping remarkably well, and have had zero episodes of depression or mania.

If I had to attribute my change to one specific thing (other than The Secret, God and determination), I'd say it was the change in the weather.

I'm an island chick. I HATE THE COLD!!! In fact, whatever is stronger than hate, that's how I feel about the cold weather.

I remember when I was badly depressed, I would hang out under the bed or under my dining table (with a thick table cloth) because I could keep the light out. Well, this morning, I thought: what if the winter makes me bipolar? What if I am seasonally bipolar?

Whaddya know, there is such a thing!

It's called Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's more than mere "winter blues", it's very closely related to bipolar disorder.

Ironically, what is said to help is actually the opposite of me hanging out under the bed; it's to get as much light/ sunlight as possible.

Wow!

Why am I considering this if I am supposed to be healed or in remission?

Well, knowledge I power. I know how I feel, but it helps if I can explain how I feel to a doctor in their language if necessary. Worse case scenario, I help someone else.

So grateful for self -reflection and the Internet.

Dollars & Common Sense

In the last couple years, I've begun to equate how much a man cares about my well being by how much he is willing to do for me financially (among other things).

I don't make as much money as I did during other periods of my life, and until such a time returns, any man in my life should take up the slack.

I was a massage-a-week, spa-a-month girl. I haven't been in a while, but any man that cares about me should know that those things make me relaxed and happy, and should ensure that I am relaxed and happy.

(DD did send me to the spa on Monday.)

It only makes sense to me: how can you say you care about me, but I'm stressed or unhappy?

It blows my mind that some women (yes, I've retired "chicks") will date a guy who is unwilling to contribute to their well being.

What is well being?
- How do I get to and from work?
- Am I taking the train at night?
- Is there food in my fridge?
- Do I have money?
- Am I happy with work?
- How can I make more money?
- When was my last vacation?
- Am I stressed?
- Could I use a spa day?
- How much money remains after paying bills?

This week, a friend kinda suggested that I was borderline "gold digger". So, not true. I'm not saying that every woman should do as I do, but it only makes sense.

Can't you do bad by yourself?

How can I date a man that won't give or repay my cab fare to get to him?
How can I date a man who is ok with me taking the train at 10pm?
How can I date a man that wants me to stay over, but doesn't care if I have food?
How can I date a man who wants me to go out, but doesn't care if I have clothes to go?

How can I date a guy who wants me happy and perky, but won't discuss or research being bipolar?

How can I date a man that knows about "bipolar", but does nothing to alleviate my stress?

How can I date a man who's interest ends at "what time are you coming over"?

I'm all for an adult relationship. Adult is recognizing that I can do it on my own, but as a man in my life, your role is to ensure that I am worry-free. I'm so past being the (trumpets on) New Millenium Independent Woman (trumpets off). I've always been old fashion relative to male/ female roles. I have the "women-tend-to-the-home, men-work-and-take-of-home" mindset.

Still, my father would do anything for me. Why the hell am I with a man who merely wants to sleep with me? For what?

Sex is so overrated.

Shortly into our relationship The Italian gave me an Amex to ensure that if he was unable to get to me, I would always have access money. He told me upfront that I should use my money for important things. He took care of rent, hair, nails and spa.

Adult was him knowing how much money I made, realizing that he made much more, and that he had the disposable income to ensure that I wanted for nothing.

Hey, this isn't for everyone, but it is life as the Butterfly.

Grateful that I am so past deluding myself on what is important to ME.

Milestone

An Ex Strike Back

So, I had an ex come to my job this week.

He is an incredibly handsome, motorcycle riding, very financially stable, Italian 39 year old, who in addition to being a bf, was also my regional GM.

Yes, I know, "Butterfly, you just walk into trouble."

Anyhoo, I ultimately left the company. We broke up, but remained great friends and would keep in touch a couple times a year.

So after no contact for about 2 years, he just happened to be near my job on Wednesday. He's getting married on June 9th, and wanted to see me one more time.

Really, now.

I didn't bite, and so he moved to Plan B - "Butterfly, come work for me again. We were a great team."

Really now.

Yup, double my current salary to work for him once again.

Oh, hell no!

I congratulated him on his upcoming nuptials and told him I'd think about attending his bachelor party (if I do, it will be with DD).

We were great together, but exes are exes for a reason.

So thankful that I can see through the bullshit fart cloud. LMBO!

Updates

This Just In!

Wives
Found out the identity of 3 of the callers; all wives, gf's of business associates. No longer spazzing about that; simply checked and severed ties with the husbands.

S
We've had some really good chats since clearing the air. We did an charity walk today, and I'm feeling really good because I've done the work to improve my interactions with women. I'm not 100%, but I am getting better. Btw, she's been reading The Secret, and so get's where my head is and my whole "off meds" thing.

Work
The GM is acting up again, but instead of doing the passive aggressive email thing, I'm gonna have a face to face air out. Gonna try not to yell or curse because I know he wants me to do so. He's so insecure and threatened by me. Honestly, I have no time to care. I'll keep ya posted.

The Italian
He called me one day, and I let it go to voicemail. What's the point of playing the game? I've moved on, we aren't gonna be together, so why "act" like things are the same? I like, so, like moved out of bubble gum land last month. Lol!

Whew!

So thankful for a life I'm proud of. If nothing ever changed, I'm happy.

They're Baaa-aaak!

Mickey returned them!!!

I woke up this morning, and they were under my bed!

Ok, so they aren't exactly the cool, shiny Dorothy slippers; they're more like the "After-a-pedicure-we'll-give-these-to-you-for-a-$1" slippers, but they're mine!

Hooray!

Purple Cow

Purple cow - Reality

Don't you do it!

Don't you dare think of a purple cow!

You did it didn't you?
You envisioned a purple cow.

See what happens to me?

I try so hard not to crave swedish fish, and that's all I want. Just bought five packs. Gonna "quit again" tomorrow.

Yes, DD is out of town and didn't leave a ration.

Purple Cow -ala The Secret

Butterfly, how are ya?

I'm doing wonderful, just watching some Comedy Central and snacking on swedish fish.

Won't it give you acne?

Naw. It can only give me acne if I keep thinking about it giving me acne. I love em and so I've chosen to have a healthy relationship with them.

So thankful for life's little pleasures.