The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Where are you and where are you going?
7Wannabe5
Posts: 9369
Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2013 9:03 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by 7Wannabe5 »

I would definitely be on the Austen/Alcott side of cottage core vs Bronte/Hardy. However, my current cottage core look is definitely not photo worthy. I do think some aspects of aging are easier for women such as myself who have never been all that. My sister who was very beautiful seems to be having a harder time with it, but might have more to do with being INFP, so more invested in aesthetic than ENTP me. I’m kind of like the female version of the guy who just sucks in his gut, throws on a Hawaiian shirt, and goes for it.

ellarose24
Posts: 175
Joined: Tue Feb 02, 2016 9:44 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by ellarose24 »

7Wannabe5 wrote:
Sun Jul 11, 2021 3:59 pm
I would definitely be on the Austen/Alcott side of cottage core vs Bronte/Hardy. However, my current cottage core look is definitely not photo worthy. I do think some aspects of aging are easier for women such as myself who have never been all that. My sister who was very beautiful seems to be having a harder time with it, but might have more to do with being INFP, so more invested in aesthetic than ENTP me. I’m kind of like the female version of the guy who just sucks in his gut, throws on a Hawaiian shirt, and goes for it.
I like your essence quite a bit 7wannabe. I find your journals very inspiring.

-----------------Money---------------

I believe that me early experiences with ERE had me believe that I was above the psychological tricks that debt (such as credit cards) would have on you. Indeed, credit is a useful tool if it is paid off monthly, with points and cash back. But that slowly changed over the years, as I stated--especially with zero interest credit cards. I believe that, mixed with shopping being almost completely online, without even entering your card information but simply clicking buttons that magically allow presents at your door is one of the most terrifying things happening right now. And I believe, even up until now, that I thought in some ways I was above it. Even as I was falling prey to it, the thought was that I KNEW I was falling prey to it, and in that way there was no issue. I cannot explain how much easier it is to not spend when it comes straight from my debit card, with the amounts waning over time.

Somehow it is the CFP that made this clear. Again, I know I already went over it--but to see credit cards as "debt" and not an outflow until they are paid off, even if that is monthly, somehow made categories much clearer in my mind. My spending has been drastically reduced.

I am, for practice, making a cash flow statement for both myself and M. We have a goal to move to CO within 5 years, both of us would be able to with our current jobs. But I would like to have a sizable down payment for a house out there--which are notably scarce.

There are several things that I have defined as goals within the physical realm. Those are to be close to the mountains and to have a modest amount of land (2 acres). I have reframed how I think about work, which I will get into later. But M and I will be sitting down in several weekends (family obligations and such until then)--and detailing out concrete financial goals. Are goals, up until now, have always been separated. That is mostly my doing. I absolutely still want him to have primarily control and access to his own accounts, and same for my own, given my history of spending. I will try not to make an excuse for my spending. If I am not bipolar, then the only excuse I have is that psych meds gave me bipolar symptoms (which I am reading more and more studies that support this view, and it is true my spending problems did not exist in any away until medicine). See, even knowing I do not want to make excuses I do. There will be a period of rebuilding trust, mostly of myself, in regards to finances and whether or not I am, or can contain, this nebulous "stability" off of medicine. I sure as hell did never attained it on medicine.

--------Mystical Tradition------

From a very young age, since my early teens, I have been drawn to mystics as well as asceticism. I believe that is what drew me to ERE to begin with. I would practice things such as sleeping on the floor, fasting, intense physical exercise, prescribed labor. Later on, I would filter these attempts at asceticism as "mania." Now that I am getting rid of such labels, I find the experiences appealing again. The goal I have always had is to tear down ego and engage in humility. And it is true that during these times, I was also at my happiest (also later prescribed as mania).

I am not someone who can simply theorize things, use charts and numbers, set concrete goals for some future that I am unable to really define. My previous success I believe came from a deep belief in my lifestyle and values. When those values were torn down as some sort of person defect of brain chemistry, I have found it impossible to gain the same "results." I believe this is specifically because I do not live in the world of "results" but in the world of experience. And experience became terrifying to me, so terrifying that any feelings at all prompted a call to my doctor to raise my meds, to put emotions and feelings to sleep--lest the ruin me the way they ruined my mother. It is, after all, my mother's image that most haunts me.

I am currently on 75 mg of seroquel. The vast tapestry of emotion I had access to has come back, only slightly tampered now. I'm enjoying it. I have very deep wounds from childhood--these wounds I was taught must be numbed first, and then soldered over to contain. I now realize that it will be a grief I carry with me likely throughout my life, and I've made friends with it. I have begun to cry quite a bit, but I relish the crying and the pain. And afterwards, I feel peace. I believe it is just a part of my child-me asking me not to forget her existence. And she is calmed as I allow her to express her pain and soothe her, and then I go about my day at peace.

The peace I feel is also pronounced. I feel utter gratitude in the mornings in my garden. I have not been able to feel for so long that sometimes I cry then, out of gratitude, to feel any semblance of joy, safety etc. Overall I feel enriched.

----------Work---------

I am engaging with work as a way to connect to other humans. I did this when I first started the job, but stopped out of mostly anger, annoyance, etc etc. Also because it does take a lot of work, patience, "emotional labor" and it can be exhausting and hard. There are parts of me that I really like--and this is one of them. Elderly clients call in and are often beside themselves with anger, despair, frustration. I could say that 99% of the time a client called in yelling at me--back before medicine and marxist theory etc--by the end they were deeply apologetic, but even more than that, they would open up about some of the tragedies they were facing--which when you are older are numerous. Spouses dying, children in the throes of addiction. I took pride in my ability to reflect their anger and despair with kindness and empathy. I eventually would neuter those feelings with what I describe below.

------Rethinking labels and frameworks----------


I am over labels and diagnoses, that being said, in all of my research I think I do fall on the spectrum. "Bipolar, highly sensitive, sensory processing disorder, borderline" these are all labels that have been applied to me for a long time, and I loved labels. I love them because the only real label that's been applied to me has been "weird." It is a very othering feeling, and my looks allowed me to make up for this fact (in the past that is). But I still wanted to be something other than just "weird" and "pretty." In high school, I did this by trying to become a pot-head. Pot head and counter culture (being a pot head was still seen as counter-culture in by conservative town!) allowed me to adopt another identity to explain my weirdness. My beauty is failing, and I could see it would not last even then--and diagnoses were new ways to explain, or rather apologize, for my strangeness. The concrete, structural presence of a label that I could contain my strangeness within was comforting to me at one point. They are not, anymore.

Spending time away from social media as well as waning off of my psych drugs is giving me myself back. As far as social media--I am wondering if all of these labels stemming from marxist classifications--radical feminism was actually the first after dissecting classes such as the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, and critical race theory is the newest interpretation of such--I can't help but think they are setting us up for absolute splintering and isolation, and that they themselves are a manifestation, perhaps even an exploitation, of traumatized minds who no longer hold community.

There is no peace in feeling that you are oppressed and that you live, every day, with those that oppress you. While it's easier to prescribe labels to people to try and make sense of your own trauma, collective trauma, etc--it is ultimately set up so that you live in a state of high anxiety and depression. It is perhaps a sense of mental enslavement.

One thing that happened recently that made me rethink quite a bit was that I got a message on ancestry.com from a group of men from the netherlands researching US combat veterans from the WWII. They had found my grandfather's name, who was one of two survivors in a plane crash and had been held as a POW in Germany for two years. I thought of him returning home, and the way he may have interacted with the world. I thought of the women of that generation who welcomed these men back and learned to live and love them as they were suffering from extensive trauma, trauma that no one has the ability to understand. I thought of my grandfather from my other side, whose mother had left him and his brother when he was 10, before social welfare existed. And whose only way out of poverty was war. He was one of the most brilliant people on this planet. If you watch home videos of him on vacations, he spends his time dissecting the geological formations of the mountain ranges they were visiting. He spent time with the Inuit in Alaska for military service that we still do not have the details on (classified)--and he brought back whale harpoons and carved Mastadon bracelets that have been passed on to me. Can you imagine the life of such a man? Abandonment and poverty, war, education. He became a geologist and was quite successful.

And I felt an sense of both amazing sadness as well as pride for men, men who were raised by men, a long line of men who learned what it is to be human either from war or from those who have been to war. It obliterated my thoughts of "MEN THE OPPRESSOR." Very likely our social roles are dictated, in large part, by war.

I dislike the current popular thought of calling everyone that is abusive, an ever-encompassing label, "narcissists." And I dislike the need, it seems, to cut out everyone in your life who is even a slight detriment to it. It is true that M was abusive, I cannot get around that fact. And it is true there are men in my past who I do not believe will ever change, and whose entitlement was so profound that they could not see me as anything other than an object for them to use. But it is also true that M has transformed, and that my ability to see the humanity in him has been echoed back to me. I find we have more and more moments of togetherness in vulnerability. I notice when I tell him that I believe he is a good man and a kind man, that he glows. I do not believe he has ever been told these things before. I do not know if he has ever even been complimented, certainly not by his own family, and it is not my place to talk about the details of the absolute horrors of bullying he went through growing up.

In radical feminism, you are told that being kind, understanding--that seeing the human underneath should be obliterated. That it is nothing more than female socialization, made to make one subservient to men. I feel that just like medicine, this thought process has had me, in the two years since being introduced, to subdue those parts of myself that I was most proud of. It left the framework of my world in ruins. And that framework was actually a really beautiful one, in which I felt the ability to see humanity, and by that myself--or in the "mystical" framework which I've always felt close to, to see the divine in other humans. There is no divinity, I was told. There are only chemical concoctions within our brain, and a broad series of those who oppress and those who are oppressed. And while yes, each of us sits on both sides of that line depending on "axes of oppression" we observe, we shall only focus on the ways in which we are oppressed--in order to dismantle such systems.

It is, I believe, a reductionist way to view humanity.

ellarose24
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Joined: Tue Feb 02, 2016 9:44 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by ellarose24 »

Labels
I have become even more averse to labels. At one point, egalitarian societies must have found use in them. To know who to gather and who to hunt, and perhaps those were related to gender and sex. Who was a child and who was not.

Oh no, I knew the day would come when I would argue for post modernism. On my way there at least.

I was thinking about labels that, once applied, seem to make you less human to others. Criminal, drug addict, abuser.

And within ERE, I was thinking of labels such as independence, freedom, self sufficiency.

Labels are at the best quantitative and at the worst prescribed limitations.

I wonder, too, at our desire for independence and self sufficiency and “freedom.” I think I know deeply that there is no true freedom, only acceptance and gratitude which feels like a better aspiration.

Independence and self sufficiency—here’s another reason I think that, on the whole, ERE in it’s true essence (what I wish it could be) will not work without some acceptance of its limitations. It is in desperate need of physical community. Independence and self sufficiency sounds terrible to me. We are not homesteading in Alaska with only a hatchet and straw to our name.

But that is perhaps because I am deeply concerned with the rising isolation and misanthropy that seems to be occurring. And those who take comfort in such things (I am one, and trying to rewire that part of my brain). I used to feel alone in my love of solitude and terror of other people, but now I see entire movements around this. Labeling humans as an other and prescribing them all of the things that bring us terror.

I suppose I am coming to this after an interaction I had yesterday. After all my talk of being someone who would open my heart and kindness for others, a person came that really broke me for a spell.

He could not change his address because all he had was a PO Box. He had no physical address as his ex girlfriend had been swindling him of money and his house (this I knew from reading previous notes). He was at the early stages of dementia. I tried to ask probing questions to see what plan he had in place. His daughter had estranged him, and he broke down sobbing that he has no one, he lives in a camper in parking lots.

A lawyer told him he needed a guardian due to the quick progression of dementia, but being completely isolated, he had no one. He did have about $500k to his name.

Should I have promoted ERE to him? “$500k, sir, is actually quite a bit. You just have to rethink consumption.”

I did think about it, but understood very well this was a problem beyond lifestyle changes and frugality, and even beyond the deep philosophical change at the heart of ERE.

I understand this because I was a child once in a similar position. Thank god it was as a child, and I had adulthood to look forward to. This mans story was far more horrific to me. But there was a time when society had utterly failed me. I was living with my mother, who in the midst of psychosis and mania had sent me spiraling into a never-ending nightmare. As my mother had exorcisms performed on me, priests come to sage the house from my “evil spirits,” and eventually left me alone. Hours at first, then days, then weeks.

Growing up in a fundamentalist school, I was taught demons existed everywhere. “You have a circle of angles surrounding you, but every time you sin, their hold weakens and allows the demons in.”

Later, as my mom began her research into folk witch craft disguised as Catholicism, and her descent into psychosis—I was told demons existed within me. That they had taken ahold of me. I did hallucinate as a child, left on my own in that miserable house.

Later, when my father gained custody, I was taken to therapy as my mutism caused great concern. “Show me your arms” the therapist would say. And I felt exhilaration and terror that they might find out, but they stopped at my arms, never asking to see my upper thighs nor stomach mangled by scars and fresh scabs.

I found suffocation a nice reprieve. I would tie a scarf to the door knob—I had no intention of killing myself. But I would find comfort as my vision became bleary and my thoughts became hazy and ethereal, I ultimately passed out oblivious to my reality.

When my father and friends, at different times, read my journals and did find out about my pain, I was met with mocking (from my friends) and extreme anger (from my father).

And that was my reality, was i truly mentally ill for reacting to that reality? As an adult I was told that I was. “That is not true reality” they seemed to say. Take medicine to fix your brain. Prescribed ways of dissociation that society can bare to look at. How much easier it is for therapists and psychiatrists to think to themselves that these experiences can in no way be true or real. That they are simply chemicals within the brain that need a bit of tweaking. I often wished lobotomy was still prescribed, at least then these little fumes of reality would not be cast off, even with the medication dulling my brain.


Contrary to popular belief, people do not see neglected children and then fill their hearts with love and charity. As the situation got worse, the (private school) teachers gossiped, and I was called into the principals office and told that I must keep my hair in a pony tail as I was “not just representing myself, but the school.” I was chastised for doing such a bad job and representing the school up until now. No one dared to ask why my hair wasnt brushed and I was wearing the same wolf shirt every day to begin with. We wore our school shirts on Friday which is, perhaps, what they were most concerned with. When my mother drove up in a suburban with all the windows smashed out (I am not sure why, but we had a lot of smashed windows and mirrors in those days)—and dragged me into the school crying and threw me on the floor—the other children laughed, and the teachers hurried me into the bathroom to quit me from causing a scene sobbing.

The uppity mothers stopped inviting me over. That is except for one—one kind soul who to this day makes me sob for gratitude when thinking of her. There was one out of hundreds who dare cared about an 8 year old little girl going through obvious neglect and abuse.

There, that is my story, and that is why I turn away from ERE presumptions that independence, self sufficiency, and freedom are the primary goals or that they are even attainable at all.

This man that I spoke to either needed several million dollars, which fair enough with enough ERE and time he could, to have enough care to help him with his dementia—either in the form of a hired conservator or long term care (remember, Medicare doesn’t pay for dementia or long term care).

So he either needed millions and millions as he is only in his early 60s, and he would essentially institutionalize himself and trust that uninterested third parties would care about him enough to do a good job.

OR he needed a family or community of people willing to sacrifice some of their time out of love for him.

He has neither.

Looking through his notes, there was already a fraud case opened against his girlfriend. His financial consultant had dinner with him and his girlfriend the month after, he noted it was a great dinner. I wonder how much easier it was for him to delude himself that this mans life would turn out alright than to face the ugly truth—a truth that is inherent to all of us—that we are only several circumstances away from complete abandonment and isolation. And once you’re there, no one is coming to help you. Your situation disgusts society, they never want to be reminded that such a reality could exist.

I keep going back to that journal I read, in which the author very proudly wrote that she had a lovely childhood with encouraging parents, and that ERE is likely only possible for those with such childhoods. It was said not in a humble, but a proud way, with several replies that affirmed her assertions.

And perhaps that is true, my own journal certainly reflects massive failures. But are we so proud to not be labeled “them.” “Them” the broken and terrible, whose reality disgusts us?

I have been called hyper sensitive because, for instance, that fifteen minute phone call with the man yesterday was enough to break me down and send me reeling. I have also been called highly empathetic. I do not believe it is either of those things. I believe it is that I know his reality well, I know there is, very likely, not a happy ending. I am both magnetized by such stories as they reflect something of my own experience, and completely terrified—brought back to the knowledge of such realities. And that knowledge does not leave you.

That is not to say I have no hope or beauty in my own life. Granted, I feel this almost solely from intermittent moments of quiet safety, or within nature—a reality that holds no presumptions on what or who I am, nor the need to label my circumstances.

I find beauty in domesticity—a forgotten time in childhood or those periods in between-liminal spaces of pure happiness and love funded by my mothers divorce proceeds and mania. This is perhaps where my spending is most problematic. I have heard it called “nesting.” And it does feel like a revolutionary act sometimes, to fill your home with beauty and peace, with scenery you are able to create and label for yourself. A home. A home filled with lace curtains and thick textured paintings, and bright yellow embroidery. Domestic refuge from the horrible reality that exists beyond your front door. Escape from the reality that exists within yourself, as if covered with enough tapestries and paint and lace the echoing of its callings will be dampened.

And in my own need to label I see those who live in blissful ignorance of such realities as the enemy. I can acknowledge these realities are not the only ones. That there does exist within humanity realities of safety and independence and structure. That some people do have cohesive narratives. And I blame no one for that. But I do find an ever growing anger and despair that they are so unwilling to acknowledge the experience of human beings whose existence threatens their narrative. That they look away with disgust and terror, and instead of acceptance project hatred and feign ignorance.

I believe the general reaction to a story like the man who called yesterday would be some sadness and even sympathy, but also a largely defensive nature in which they list out all of the ways they are protected from such an outcome. The only protection is from the fickle relations you have with other humans, there is no amount of money that will save you from such a fate. Only muffle it, the same way my tapestries and lace do.

7Wannabe5
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Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by 7Wannabe5 »

I was recently talking to my youngest sister about the year she was mostly alone in the custody of our mother who has been diagnosed with bipolar disease. One incident she well remembered was that our mother had taken charge of producing a play for her elementary school, and when she decided she no longer wanted to do it, she made my sister tell the other adults at the school. My third sister who would have been a very independent 16 that year reported that one time when she came back after several days absence, our youngest sister was alone with nothing to eat in the kitchen except lasagne noodles and a jar of grape jelly.

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Egg
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Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by Egg »

You have a hugely different background to mine, although I could certainly make some case à la Philip Larkin that my parents fucked me up in their own way. What you said did resonate with me, though. I do agree with the general thrust that empathy/compassion is an underrated quality (at least in 'the West') these days, and relentless individualism may well be part of what has eroded it.

I also related to your observation that 'in radical feminism, you are told that being kind, understanding--that seeing the human underneath should be obliterated' and think that's another part of the same puzzle as to why empathy can seem lacking in society. I have been down a similar path, albeit in mirror image, through the 'manosphere', which has its own dogma largely based around an 'alpha male' archetype. Also an archetype which doesn't favour sensitivity or kindness, at least in the way it is often presented.

Anyway, cheers to being a sensitive soul, and wishing you all the best.

ellarose24
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Joined: Tue Feb 02, 2016 9:44 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by ellarose24 »

I apologize for my last post. I wanted to vomit after posting it and was too embarrassed to even come back and face the fact that I had written it. Luckily, I think my previous posts have probably ran off much viewership anyways. Unluckily, I've embarrassed myself in front of people that I really like. But I'm trying this thing called "responsibility" now. You know, where I don't immediately blame it on some sort of chemical induced mood episode and instead realize that as I come down on my medicine, the raw pain and memories will come back as those never were really healed--and that's okay and perhaps good, if I can learn to filter and keep it to my personal journals.

Anxiety is perhaps at or worse than on meds. However, married to that anxiety is an urge and a push to resolve and to complete and to do. On medicine, I had anxiety, but also no real will-power or even interest in... anything.

This is the first time I have weaned off of medicine instead of cold-turkey, and the results are great. I am spending the money I would have spent on psychiatry and therapy appointments on mindfulness apps and the like. I have read a lot about trauma and how our nervous system is set to over-work at the slightest hint of stress, and these apps or whatever are really helping ground me. I think of Jacob talking about decoupling. I do need a buffer from my brain and my reality. Replacing drugs with healthy coping habits, but I cannot just do this reality thing cold-turkey. I don't think anyone can, really.

I don't think I will ever be complete anti-consumption permie living without a smart phone or even subscriptions to apps and occasional "self care." I have actually been feeling profoundly grateful to be alive right now, even ten years ago, aside from therapy there wasn't much. Maybe head-space was just getting started, I can't remember. But now I have 3-4 different ways to calm myself down, and while, yes, it is still dependence on something--that something is no longer $400 therapy sessions or pharmaceutical drugs. (I am still on a low dose of anti-psychotics, and may decide to stay at a minimal dose used for sleep aids for the general population, but being on levels deemed suitable for schizophrenics vs insomnia is very different).

I finally looked at my spending for the first time, I mean really looked. I can't even tell you what the fuck I was doing for the last... 5 years. I don't want to talk about because I'm a bit upset with the whole thing. It seems I was larping being anti-consumption while still feeding myself with amazon boxes of useless shit. I used to blame it on mania, now I want to blame it on medicine, but the reality is that was probably just me. I don't know.

Either way, spending has gone way down as I previously talked about getting rid of credit cards completely. I will never go back to them, nasty things. I have half of my paycheck going directly to a savings account that takes 3 days to get to, and the other half to live off of. I'll start there and readjust. Living without the ability to pull an excuse out of my hat is taking some getting used to, but I think it'll make for better outcomes.

I worry about discussing goal-driven behavior or the feeling that "things are really better" as I know my diagnosis filters that as an exhausting, flushing activity. I hope to prove that is not the case but who knows.

My family came into town and it was rather interesting. My mother is completely gone now, staring into space half of the time, and pictures with her look like she is in pain. There were moments of life in her, and they did seem to grow with time. Her teeth are chipped and ground down from her jaw clenching and she has a constant tremor- parkisonism I believe from her medicine. Ultimately, it made me really, really want to get healthy.

My brother informed me that his plan for retirement is to kill himself. Very original. Hear it all the time, or used to, at work. My dad just got over his cancer diagnosis and is looking really good, but no doubt he is aging--almost 70. We had a family reunion where we met one aunt, who is a multi-millionaire and then my other aunt and family, who have been through meth addiction, neo-nazi affiliation, abuse, you name it. Further made me want to get healthy.

My heart rate while my family was here was consistently above 100. I don't know how to see them without getting an insane amount of stress. I actually broke out in hives, which is the first time that has happened. I do not know how to set boundaries with them. If bipolar isn't enough, then I don't know what would be. I tried to set boundaries like "I need to be asleep by 10" "Please get mom a wheel chair so I am not stuck baby sitting" "My nephew will not sit in trunk of my car while driving at 12 AM in the worst city in the US for drunk drivers"

All of those boundaries were overrun. Which I suppose, is really my fault for not sticking to them. One thing I did stick to was not drinking. So that was good. I've learned, as I come down off of meds, that I cannot smoke weed (Anxiety attack) and I can't drink (guaranteed suicidal ideation). Those things were really kept in check with medicine, but I'm healthier not doing any of it.

I am fully committed to staying in a mid-level, low stress job. I simply do not want to deal with the stress--especially when that stress comes from following up with stupid and irate clients who do not understand the very basics of the market/investing/personal finance. My tolerance has become minimal. I do think I would like, at one point, to find a job that is not client facing at all. I do want to continue to get the CFP and will likely stay in this job until I finish, more just because it's free and interesting and helps me regulate, respect, and enjoy my time.

Ultimately the big thing here is that I don't really have any desire to progress, at least not in my current industry. I make decent money, low stress, and that's that. I'm holding off on talking about further goals away from work until I can be positive that this bipolar thing was indeed a fluke and all evidence can be chalked up to both med side effects and withdrawal. I think I will give myself about a year of learning life without medicine, and keeping my psychiatrist on call if needed, before I say for sure that I indeed am not bipolar. Good to keep myself in check anyways.

ellarose24
Posts: 175
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Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by ellarose24 »

I have decided to only do end-of-the month updates so that I can see some linear progress, hopefully.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about my “problems” and have decided that the problem is that I think too much about my problems. And do… nothing.

Some small context—I am down to 50 mg Seroquel. That is 1/3 of what I was on before. I allow myself wiggle room—on days where I am overwhelmed—I call these my sensory days, I will up it to 75 mg, and on really bad days, to 100 mg. 

However, being on 50 mgs has given me a lot more time, as I wake up after about 8 hours ready to start my day as opposed to the 10 hours, then 2 hours needed for coffee. On the flip side, coffee and other stimulants, social media and news, and even regular arguments send my anxiety levels into insane territory. I am not sure if this was how it was before meds, or if I am overly sensitive weaning off and having the mental capacity to “deal.” Either way, it is taking some getting used to.

—————————————-

I am no longer going to try and fit my goals/actions into some grand philosophy of life. The problem with that, is that my philosophy changes rapidly and frequently. Instead, I have created very stringent goals and habits for myself. The below is from the “Strides” app. I am not advertising, but this has been paramount to me having any semblance of progress. The problem with it is that I tend to be a perfectionist, which means if I don’t get 100% done or on track, I feel like I’ve lost the day.

Some rules I’ve made for myself:

I cannot change a goal/habit for 30 days. The end of the month I will review and change what I want to, but for those 30 days I have to stick with it. I also cannot add goals/habits in for 30 days.

To deal with perfectionism:

I’ve tied my goals to a figure of money. I don’t know why I came up with this, and as far as “Life Philosophy” it doesn’t work as I don’t want to tie my rewards to spending. However, at this point I am just doing what works and will adjust as time goes on. It’s an arbitrary $250—which is the max I would want to spend on discretionary spending. I then take whatever completion percentage for the month to get my “discretionary figure” spending.

———————

I’ve been using this app for a while. You’ll see some embarrassingly simple goals in there from when I was on a lot of meds and dealing with depression—such as “Shower every day” and “brush your teeth.” I keep those here as I have no idea if I will go back to such a place again, and it’s a good reminder.

This month, I added quitting smoking, as I picked it (back) up when my dad was diagnosed, and then when my family came to visit (majority chain smokers) I was chain smoking again.

I also added Studying for my CFP for 1.5 hours a day and getting $10k cash net worth. I track the cash net worth every single day, as it helps discourage spending.

I’ve also added some really simple things, such as getting my drivers license renewed. I realized that very basic tasks—such as getting this renewed, are extremely overwhelming for me. The app lets you break down goals into steps, so for instance my first step was simply finding my expired drivers license, then scheduling the appointment, and going to the physical place to get it done.

Might sound strange to some people, I’m sure I can have another few diagnoses thrown at me for “Executive function” and whatever else, but really—just having a place to organize the things that need to get done has been more helpful than anything else.

Image

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————————————-

Spending

Over the past year my spending has averaged about $3k a month. That isn’t much less than what I bring home after taxes/401k/HSA etc. I’ve been lying pretty heavily to myself about this, sometimes going online to lecture other’s on anti consumption, etc. LOL.

I come from a family of addicts, and everyone has been very proud of me for not being a drunk or getting into serious drugs. But I noticed that I am compulsively addicted to a lot of different things. Online spaces, spending money, weed (if I let myself). I noticed that even something like coffee—I keep drinking it until I feel awful, and then I drink more. I binge eat the same way, I actually WANT to feel like I’m going to throw up from gorging myself. Same thing with hunger! I can go through a time period where I love the way hunger feels, and I want more of it, so I starve myself. Ultimately, I like to be in a semi-dissociative state where there is some external feeling that takes me away from my own brain/body. 

So the addictive gene, I don’t believe passed me—instead it manifested itself in more socially acceptable ways. Even ERE and planning was an addiction (perhaps I should say escape) pre diagnosis. Obsession with charts, figures, checking daily, planning. 

That is all to say that I have to come to terms with this. I have been meditating which has helped significantly—but just need to keep this in mind and be careful.

So—back to the $3k a month. $600 goes towards “rent”—this is actually an air conditioner I bought on an 18 month zero interest credit card for our house. Instead of paying M rent, I pay for the air conditioner as well as groceries and miscellaneous household items. 

Grocery spending itself is ridiculous. Probably $600 a month. We got in the habit, with covid, of ordering Whole Foods delivery. I am hesitant to give this up, but do need to really look at the budget. I buy a lot of pre-frozen meals and snacks and bougie sparkling water. I’m giving myself a budget of $75 a week for groceries.

The vast majority of the spending goes towards “shopping.” I cannot speak for the other months. This month, door to door salesman sold me a $1000 vacuum cleaner at the very beginning of the month. I do actually like it, it’s purely mechanical, made out of medal and wood components. But yeah, that was stupid. I do very bad with pressure from sales people, especially when they guilt me.

My family came into town and I bought my niece and nephew dinner and ice cream and other things. I liked doing that and don’t feel guilty.

Uber eats is an easy one to cut out. I say that but. Just need to flex my self-discipline. 

I got rid of majority of my app “subscriptions.” When I first started going down on meds, I felt I needed something to buffer raw-dogging reality, so I downloaded a bunch of pseudo-therapy apps, mood trackers, meditation. Deleted them all, and tied my app store purchases to my “discretionary spending” account—so if I want some, fine—comes out of what I can spend for the month.

———————
Net Worth

Investments:
Rollover IRA: $57,400
Roth IRA: $17,000
401k: $31,716
HSA: $2087
Brokerage: $859

Total: $106,969

Cash:
Savings: $1902
Checking: $368

Total: $2270

Debt: 0% interest credit card (AC was placed on this, as well as buying other shit because stupid): -$5700

——————-
Current Financial Goals:

Get my cash net worth to $10K. Currently -$3430 when I include CC debt. I will make minimum payments because… zero percent interest. But that means I want more in cash to make up for it.

$850 goes straight from my bank into my savings account. Somewhere around $700 goes to my checking account. From that $700 ($1400 monthly), I move a portion to my “discretionary” based on the previous months goals, pay off the CC debt, groceries, etc.

I expect my “cash” net worth to increase by at least $2280 each month. I am not thinking about other goals until this is completed. Normal 401k/HSA contributions are going in, but I don’t think about those really at all except that my net worth is marginally improved monthly.


—————————
Market Moves

I bought 1 share of TSLA at $280, it split into (was it 4 or 5?)—I can’t remember, but I sold all but one share at above $800 some months ago. I just sold my last share at $670. I also bought ABB about 6 years ago and it’s doing great. Holding onto that one. It’s made me a little more interested in purchasing stocks outright as opposed to index funds. Given that I am on step 1 of building up my emergency savings, this will be some time in the future.

———————

Indulging in Grand Narratives

Okay, can’t help but spew a bit of my thoughts. The more and more I think about what I want from my life, what I dislike not just in my life, but in society in general—the more I come back to Jacob’s thoughts. I actually, at one point, would like to focus way more on the building community, building skills, etc than the money—but I feel like I have neglected practical aspects of my life for too long, and so those things are a luxury for the future. 

It does bring some of my larger goals into question. I work a job I am way overqualified for and I don’t want to move up, but in my industry, people can and do get fired for being “unmotivated.” People who don’t want to move up are called seat-warmers. So ultimately, I will likely have to leave the industry, or just hop from one company to the next to stay at the low-stress level I am at now.

I also wonder if getting my CFP makes any sense at all. If I am being honest, I am mostly doing it to say that I did it. I do find the material interesting, but almost all of these types of certifications prepare you more for passing the test than learning or engaging with the material. But this is another one of those “Just do instead of think.” Studying is nice, I enjoy it, and I am also fully reimbursed for it so… My thought was maybe only study during work hours.

(On a side note, CFP practitioners ARE held to much higher standards than your average advisor, much more stringent oversight, fiduciary standard, etc etc.)

Okay, went on a bit of a tangent. But more what I was thinking about—was that engaging with other “online” communities—I think Jacob has the right answer. Specifically his non-financial philosophies. But it is exactly that part of his philosophy that makes his idea indigestible to the majority of others.

That being said, I think I need to admit I am on Wheaton Level 1. This is hard to admit because I believe pre-my life breaking down I was maybe Level 3 or 4. Oh no I’m indulging in this WL bullshit. Anyways, the point is that I thought I could just hop right back where I was. That is not the case, and I’ve been deluding myself. However, although my net wroth I believe could be 3-4X what it is now if I had stayed the course originally, I do feel some gratitude that early adoption of ERE goals has me in a space where I am, at the very least, doing “okay” with my net worth. I am trying to focus on that, and gratitude for it, instead of despair “what could have been.”

7Wannabe5
Posts: 9369
Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2013 9:03 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by 7Wannabe5 »

I don’t believe that levels of frugality practice are akin to, for instance, levels of math skills. Spending $7.29 on a coffee treat even though you could make it at home for $.79 is not like regressing to counting on your fingers. You can possess the skills that would allow for some practice of frugality, but for any number of reasons temporarily reprioritize your associated values. Frugality will only consistently be ends rather than means if it is stringy hard-wired at very top of values hierarchy. And it is not possible to extricate values hierarchy from limbic system.

Because my mother was shopaholic bipolar 2 and her behavior caused a good deal of trauma in my family of origin during my adolescent years, I actually used to feel kind of nauseous in shopping malls. One thing that helped me move past that feeling was realizing that my own daughter enjoyed going shopping.

ellarose24
Posts: 175
Joined: Tue Feb 02, 2016 9:44 am

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by ellarose24 »

I believe I will post weekly, mostly to hold myself accountable. I am posting for last week and this week as I completed a goal and am very excited about it



Reducing Impulses without (a lot of) medication
----------------

The strides app is really helping me. One of my main issues is inability to follow through on goals, changing of goals, finding new interests and completely forgetting about goals, giving up on minor habits, etc. My commitment is to follow through on goals that I initiate, whether I change my mind or not.

I committed to completing the first educational requirement for the CFP, and completed it today. This is significant, because as of 3 weeks ago, I had a very strong urge (impulse) to quit. Journaling and mediation have also helped with this. The cost of this course was $750 dollars, which I will be reimbursed for if I complete. Despite that, I had a million and one reasons to quit.

This impulse came from a lot of places. Probably the biggest influence was due to increasing interest (obsession) with climate change, re-instated interest in anti-consumption, stress over the delta variant, and general feeling that the world is going to hell so why does anything matter. It was also a re-realization that the job I'm in is not right for me, I didn't consciously choose it, and I am staying in it simply out of fear.

The stress of upcoming crises and instability relegate me to childhood and the only desire is to run and escape. This shows up in my career as a strong desire to quit (without plans/saving), to move away. In relationships, it comes out in distancing myself from people with no warning, breaking up with my partner, and quite literally running away--which I have done a couple of times, (some of those weren't without reason.)

This makes it very difficult to progress in life, as when I do run away, I don't know where I am running to. And the instability of THAT makes me then long for the stability of a stable job, a home, previous relationships. So I tend to move in-between running away from, and then back to, relative stability. Plans are thrown to the wayside.

This is the "impulsive" side of me, and the one that was previously dealt with via extreme sedation by psychiatric medicine. I am currently dealing with it by: Setting my goals (for me on the strides app) that requires daily check ins. The goals cannot be changed/deleted/etc until the end of the month.

I write my impulses down. So far this month I have: "I want to quit my CFP, I want to quit my job, I want to cash out my 401k and join an eco-commune." LOL!

I have been meditating and journaling daily. These things all help me stretch my narrative beyond RIGHT NOW. The problem is, when fear sets it, I can only think of escape. I cannot think of what I want, how to get there, or the steps I've already taken.

I am still struggling with social media--mostly reddit--which feeds into my impulses/fear/and gives me a false sense of superiority as I seem to lecture people on the things I should be doing myself. Very strange.

----------
Goals Completed:

Today I completed my the first educational requirement for the CFP. I do not know if I will continue studying. I don't think I will. Regardless, I am proud--and more importantly--I will be reimbursed for the expense.

This is a bit embarrassing, but I went to work for a month and a half without calling in. I called in yesterday half way through the day because my period was so bad that I was crying in pain, and had to sit in a scalding bath continuously for the better part of the night. Called in again today since I did not get much sleep, and figured I'd knock out my CFP exam, which I did.

My goal was to get to three months without calling in, and I'm going to try and get it again, but the big thing here is that I did not call in once for "mental health." It turns out, when you do not require 12+ hours of sleep a night, nor are you on such high levels of antipsychotics that your cognitive functioning is that of a rock--it's much easier to attend work every day. I had the choice earlier this year of filing for FMLA which would allow me to take time off as I needed it. I am glad I did not take it, as I think it was a way for me to further reinforce dependence on psychiatric care, despite thinking those protections should be defaulted for everyone.

I have not smoked for a month as of today, nor drank. And I have kept our living space clean. I've also begun indoor biking for 15 minutes a day (it's a start). I missed yesterday due to the pain I was in, but have been good every other day.

-------------------------------

Spending


Part of what I check in with every day is my "cash net worth." Meaning I calculate how much cash I have (not investments) every day. Since my goal is to have $13K, I am incentivized to keep expenses low to build it up quickly. Although I have about $850 deposited to savings every paycheck, the excess from my checking not spent will be transferred there as well.

So far what I've spent:

$720 that was charged for the first course of the CFP. I will have that reimbursed within 6 weeks from my job, I just passed the final today.

$197. on groceries. I deleted amazon prime, I cannot in good conscious support shopping there, although I don't know what I can ethically support. I used instacart to deliver from a local grocery store that I actually genuinely love as a company. We're sticking to delivery due to the Delta variant.

$40: Several additional reusable pads, as I have not had enough to last me even a day. (On a side note, the vaccine has made my menstrual cycle unbearable. I mean genuinely writhing in pain and crying, and heavier that it's ever been. This is not to be anti-vax, I'm still glad I got it, but it is being widely reported by women, including women who are getting their period after menopause, and AFAB on hormones who haven't had their periods in years reporting it--and ignored.)

$42 for native wildflower seeds. The mix I got last year had a ton of non-native species. and now is the time to plant. I have zero regret for this purchase, I'm quite excited about it. I'm also thinking of getting a Mexican Plum tree and a native redbud species--both edible.

$59 to get my birth certificate and drivers license--glad I got it done with. This was another "goal" I had.

$45 on takeout for me and M--won't do that again. Maybe I will. It was pizza, and it was damn good. Only that expensive because I feel the need to tip people $15-$20.

$40 for a forgotten skin-care prescription subscription that I promptly canceled.


-------------------------

My mind seemed to be jumbled for the better part of 5 years, and I am beginning to parse out why. I will likely have medicine in my life in one way or another on an as needed basis. For instance, I have gone down to 25 mg of seroquel, and also felt I needed to go up on some nights, as there are times that at night I can hear every minute noise, including air conditioning humming, a car 10 blocks away, etc etc. Those nights I go up to 50 mgs. I also had a veritable freak-out the other day in which I, out of anger, smashed a mirror. I increased my dosage that day to 75 mgs.

However, a massive change has taken place in the narrative I have for myself. Seroquel, and medicine in general, is not something that fixes the nebulous "brain chemistry" that I have. It is what it is--it is a sedative that helps me when my nervous system is so overwhelmed that coping strategies will not work. That's all it is.

Before--the freak-out that I had would immediately be attributed to some sort to episode caused by magical brain misfirings that I inherited from a long line of people with magical brain misfirings. Because I am rejecting these labels, I see instead that I was extremely hurt by something my partner had said, and when I dug even deeper, I was hurt by some events that happened between me and my father and my family, and the pain bubbled up until it was almost unbearable. In fear and panic, I smashed a mirror, then ran to my bedroom and in even more fear and panic, wanted to go back to the narrative "no, I did not do such a thing, that was my magical brain chemistry. Not my fault."

When the fear subsided, I realized how easy it is to become dependent on a narrative--an identity, that gives you an excuse for the parts of yourself that scare you. The more I distance myself from these psychiatric labels--the pathologizing of every single attitude and behavior I have, the more freedom I feel. The more agency I feel I possess. The more responsibility I take. I have not yet been able to fully understand the damage that psychiatric labels and "treatment" did to me, and I feel like I'm still too close to it to explain. I also have the fear that I will have some sort or another "episode" and that I will be proven wrong. Short of a truly psychotic episode, I do not see that happening. I also understand the tenuous trust/recognition my voice even carries, given the labels I carried and my own wavering inability to set definitions. So I know, too, that this is more of an exploration than a statement of fact.

I reject the narrative that my brain is broken, and that medicine fixes it. I believe instead that due to upbringing as well as certain narratives that were applied to me (and that I believed readily), I have a lower tolerance for stressors. I also believe that I can gain tolerance for these stressors over time, and reduce my dependence on medicine.

I reject the modern narrative of psychiatric care--well I suppose the only narrative we have is modern. Lest we bring up lobotomies. I believe medicine can be useful for short term and as needed, but should not be used to rely on. I say this even with a schizoaffective mother. If you saw her, after years of medicine--parkisonism, TD, inability to feel at all, akithesia. Yes, you reading this see a list of symptoms. For the person living with them, they are debilitating. Psychiatric medicine "treats" disability by creating disability. Studies for schizophrenics show that short term use has better outcomes than lifetime use. I have seen the bipolar community become another identity that people throw on themselves--a box to fit into. It's become so prevalent that people are beginning to say that everyone is autistic and bipolar, "we're on a spectrum."

I am rejecting this altogether. The path to agency is to not say that everyone is a little bit ill. (I am aware that autism is not an illness, but it is a definitive label of "Brain Not Normal.")

---------------

It seems progress is being made, but I have been in this position many times only for things to fall apart. I do feel some really big changes in the way that I think and the reality I acknowledge. I will limit myself from writing about such things until I can prove that I am not mentally ill and episodic. It is very hard to go away from those labels, with the labels themselves incorporate the fact that people consistently try and escape them as further proof that they exist. Oh well.

shaz
Posts: 420
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 7:05 pm
Location: Colorado, US

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by shaz »

Congratulations on the progress you are making. I look forward to reading your next journal entry.

If you are having unusually heavy bleeding during your period, you should get it checked out by your gyn even if you think it is due to a vaccination. It can be a symptom of something that is easily solved if caught early and very bad if let go on.

Biscuits and Gravy
Posts: 240
Joined: Thu Aug 06, 2020 1:38 pm

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by Biscuits and Gravy »

I appreciate reading your entries and the direction your thinking is taking. I hope you can accept, embrace, and nurture the best parts of your atypical nature and recognize and mitigate the parts of it that aren’t working for you. Please keep writing; your voice is wonderful.

Gilberto de Piento
Posts: 1942
Joined: Tue Nov 12, 2013 10:23 pm

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by Gilberto de Piento »

It's been a little while, how are you doing?

Stahlmann
Posts: 1121
Joined: Fri Sep 02, 2016 6:05 pm

Re: The Road Goes on Forever--Sometimes in Circles

Post by Stahlmann »

r ok?
no suicude?
ur favourite mood tracker?

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