Doing Code Year, again, and it's been a while (MONTHS) since I've been practicing coding at all. I'm kinda surprised at how quickly things come back, and how I'm starting to see how different things fit together, and similarities between JS and Java and other languages I've been tinkering with. It still totally BAFFLES me how I'm decent at picking it up; and how I did a programming logic exam the other semester with a migraine and still got an A.
It just seems to make sense to me, for the most part, and I like how tidy and orderly it is.
When I dropped the first load of stuff off over at mom's, there was an interesting thing in the door. One of those churchy pamphlets, entitled "All suffering will end". I dragged my tv in and my insolent sewing machine (I never knew an inanimate object could insult people, but there you go), and laughed.
G.'s lost it, going increasingly violently and abusively senile, talking about how the house will be on fire, alarms, and sirens that ...aren't there, in between periods of brooding in the dark while he smokes, or watching Fox News as loud as he can.
I'm getting stuff to mom's. Service Dog stuff is on hiatus, and I've had to find a new home for my kitty (-I can't believe I'm typing that. But it's true).
This is a horrible, horrible time. And it scares me. Because there is NO logic here. And I don't know what he'll do next.
The plan so far is to just clean and get my shit out. Because it's probaly not that safe for me to be here. And after that I'll have only spotty internet. :(
Keep your fingers crossed for me and the kitties, guys.
I've never much been one for hope. It's something I've usually found too fragile to hold on too, too easily dashed by the recklessness of others (well-meaning or not). It's easier to be wary, to hold onto the more pragmatic approach to things which is: Don't get too caught up in your own ideas, because anything you care about can just as easily go away-- or perhaps worse- hurt you.
But it seems like this service dog thing might be real; and the hole in my heart that was made when my boy Hunter died, might find someone new to settle down into that patch of my life, so I won't be so alone, and at the mercy of the whims of my mind's illness, or the side-effects of my medication (which hunter did not know how to do. He was a good dog, but a couch potato).
I don't think it's real hope. Not the butterflies-and-rainbows type; but something borne out of need. I have to believe that someday this dog will exist and will be waiting for me, because the alternate is an unthinkable horror;-decreased skills in dealing with the world and increased dependence on increasingly dangerous medications.
I'm nowhere near my goal; but I'm closer to it than when I started; and have found the internet has been supportive and helpful, and understanding whereas my own family has had trouble understanding the concept of a service dog for something other than mobility and a pet (But they are slowly getting around that).
Just thought I'd blog this in case anyone felt like, you know, looking back at old threads and not typing a few words into the search box. Or didn't notice the search box. (I figure that Search, along with Blogs, is often forgotten).
Medicine finally started to kick in, and I'm starting to feel more human, though that last span between going off one med and waiting for the new one to do SOMETHING other than side-effects was a bit of a rough ride. :P
Working on paperwork crud towards getting a psychiatric service dog; hopefully by thurs. night I will have all the official paperwork done, so I can work towards getting the dog and training it with all the letters dotted, crossed and suchlike.
This is way more complex than you'd think it'd be. Doctor signed papers, then training signed papers, and tests for the doggy. So many tests.
... at the end of it all, though, I'd have a specially trained animal, that can deal with my crap, and help me deal with the crap from my meds so I can be a real boy just like pinnochio can go back to being a high-functioning, productive human being instead of afraid of everything and everybody.
Just ... having major issues dealing with my depression and increased mental crap as of late and cannot deal with people anymore, or whatever. Pretend to be normal, happy, relate. any of it at all.
So I'm shutting down socially. Turned off facebook, stepping back from Twitter, G+ and chat. I just don't feel I have anything I can contribute anymore, and I can't deal with people.
I don't know when I'll get better, or if I CAN get better. My life feels like a tornado. Even with a herd of professionals trying to help. Or who are supposed to help.
I know a lot of you probably won't believe this or agree with it. But it's my choice, and at least this way I'm sparing you from having to deal with the fallout of my fallout. It's not polite or right for me to impose my madness on you guys; and some of you are clearly sick of my bullshitting and whining, and you deserve a break. Hell, even I am sick of myself.