A writer, they say, writes. This makes me a sysadmin, queer/poly pervert, a geek, but certainly no kind of writer the way I’ve been neglecting my blogging. And, really, the whole point was that I was trying to improve my writing habits. But, I’m not writing it off yet. (See what I did there? It was a pun, people! A writing-related pun! HAH! Oy…)

So, I’m going to check in and tell you about the nosebleed-inducing highs and the soul-grinding lows of late. All three of you who still read this blog after months of basic fallowness.

I’m not breaking down, I’m breaking out…last chance to lose control!

Some of the highs, it turns out, were chemical. And they were helping me screw some things up in epic fashion. If any mental health or medical profession ever again tries to prescribe me any form of Wellbutrin, they’re getting a smack. I mean it. The stuff is seriously no good for me. It and another antidepressant called Remeron were effectively doing bugger-all for me and canceling one another out for some months as my primary-care was at his wit’s end trying to help me medicate myself out of The Tale of Woe™. (One of these days, I’ll post a timeline of that. Long story short, it was about 3.5 years of my life during which the universe seemed to be conspiring to turn me into emotional road-pizza.)

Actually, that’s not true, it wasn’t accomplishing nothing. It was draining my pocketbook horribly on my current employer’s horrible high-deductible + HSA health care plan.

So, my newly-referred psychiatrist thought it would be peachy-keen to step me down off the Remeron first, leaving the Wellbutrin unchecked (and the truly marvelous Cymbalta as the only really effective med for me in the cocktail). And the resulting behavior prompted my therapist to say I was acting like a bipolar person in their “manic” phase—euphoric, out of control, and in my case even more oblivious to the concerns and needs of those around me.

I ended up burning my romantic relationship with wee Amy (tho thankfully not my friendship), screwing up so badly at Bawdy they asked me not to come back, and so obsessively seeking new partners that I almost drove the lovely Renie away completely.

Once I came down, I was (to continue to overuse the word) mortified at myself. I can’t think of a single relationship I didn’t strain, romantic, platonic, or employment.

Don’t try to keep your composure, I’m only having a laugh…

But there were happy things, too! My relationship with Renie has been intense and amazing. Even if we don’t make it (though I still have this odd presentiment that we will…I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am), it’s nice to know that I can feel chemistry that intense for anyone, and that someone so miraculous could feel it for me.

I’ve also been seeing two delightful women named Amy C and Kanane, who’ve just been wonderful to me. I guess my polyamory isn’t “academic” anymore, and what’s more it’s really nice to settle into a groove without feeling obsessive about meeting new partners every which where and all the time.

My longstanding friendship with a woman who’s always impressed the hell out of me—Heather—deepened in a wondrous way, as has my friendship with Amy of Chasing Amy, who’s also damned impressive. Chasing Amy has also been responsible for some of the more interesting and sexy stories of my recent life, for which there will be future blog posts, have no fear. (Teases: “Best…housewarming…EVAR,” “Pasta and strippers!” and, “FIVE?!? And a boy in the room?”)

I’ve also made new friends, like the astonishing Mags, and reconnected via the Internet panopticon of Facebook with two friends I’ve known from birth (mine or theirs, depending), Nick and Sam.

And Polly! Never has anyone made me look so good as this camera-slinging Photoshop goddess. She’s sweet, kind, and talented. How could I know her for a couple of years and only now start to realize how cool she is?

I am so surrounded by exceptional people. And they all, oddly, seem to like me. How cool is that?

The psychiatrist poses as psychologist…

And my therapy has gotten in-fucking-tense. We’re into all the crappy childhood imprints I took that have been holding me back since time immemorial and perennially making me feel like a loser and a failure. I’ve been avoiding talking to my mother for months now knowing that, after our last conversation was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the next time I talk to her I was have to read her the riot act. She still wants me in her life things are gonna have to change, swiftly and permanently, ’cause I’m not having it anymore.

*sighs* What a fucking cliché.

But this is going out to all my friends…I need your help. I need your encouragement. I need you all to check in with me and help me overcome all this crap in my head that keeps me from doing things for me. Doing things for others, never a problem. Other people deserve things, and the people around me are so worthy of happiness and success.

But I’m having such a hard time making those baby steps toward feeling like I deserve things, too, and not neglecting myself horribly. So help me not lose sight of my goals and wants, OK? I really need you guys now.

You all rock. And speaking of rock, 10 Scooby Snacks to whoever can name all the songs quoted in my section headers without Googling ‘em. (Not that I could prove you didn’t Google them, of course…)

But I won’t wait two %^@!*($#^ing months to write again.

Hi, everyone out there in Internet-land. I know it’s been a while since you heard from me. Long enough that I actually had to clean some cobwebs off this bad boy, even (though goodness knows how they managed to latch on to a bunch of pixels).

Well, what can I say? The post-part-time depression got really bad after my brother’s lovely wedding down in Baja and I started losing enthiusiasm for pretty much everything. The only things keeping me going were my regular gym attendance, Chasing Amy events, Lost,  and my hardest of hard-core friends, like Deborah, Dana, Gina, et al.

So it got bad. Really bad. But, at the risk of sounding like a bad sports cliché, I didn’t give up. Once I gave up the delusion that I was was bursting with motivation and entrepreneurial spirit enough to actually start my own business, I started looking for a proper job in earnest. And I got one. This was the “Important Stuff™” I was nattering on about in my Twitter feed, for those of you who happen to follow that.

As of this past May 26, I’m the new Mac Server Goddess at Eaton & Associates and so far, I’m loving it. The people are great, the clients are varied and interesting, and it looks a lot like I’ll end up making substantially more than I did previously after figuring in their “profit-sharing” bonus plan.

So that’s one of a few things that have been keeping me massively busy since I found out I would get the job. Obviously, I had to get my old employer all buttoned down and school my replacement, for starters. Then I had a whirlwind weekend including a day and night at BayCon and something else I’ll be getting to soon enough. (I really should also post a separate piece on my BayCon experience. Believe it or not, after a lifetime of geekery, it was actually my first time attending a major con.)

BTW, going from depressed to the point of permasloth to getting up at 6:30 every “school day” and scurrying hither and yon pretty much instantaneously has been a jolt that my system really hasn’t adjusted to fully.

There have also been changes of seismic proportions in my personal life. I’ve met not one, but two wonderful women who’ve really helped me kick aside the last remnants of The Tale of Woe™ which has dominated my personal life for about 3 of the last 3.5 years. In chronological order, they are Melanie and Amy.

I met Melanie at the home of a mutual friend and was already fascinated by her before I realized she doesn’t live locally. In another, earlier time both the distance and a certain shared characteristic would have caused me to give up interest then and there even though she and I have more chemistry than I expect is strictly healthy. But she does come steaming through here every couple-few months and tells me she’s trying to find a way to get out here to stay. Needless to say, I’m doing everything within my power to help with this immigration project even if it isn’t a whole hell of a lot. I like this picture of her in her goth-princess finery!

Of course, once I have such a thing as disposable income again, she gives me a reason to go back to Jolly Old for the first time since 1990. Always meant to go back…

And then, at a recent Chasing Amy event I met Amy. But not the Amy who runs it. (Though that Amy, aka Ms. Kitty, is like buttah, dahhhling!) I mean this Amy. I’ve been spending every spare moment I can with her (and sometimes her lovely fiancée, John, too. Ain’t polyamory grand?) and as a result have had emotions woken up in me that I hadn’t properly felt in my whole post-op life…emotions I was really starting to wonder whether or not I’d ever feel again. And, again, she’s someone I might have looked past not that very long ago precisely because of the perfectly lovely fellow she’s going to marry. Doesn’t make her any the less into me, though goodness alone knows why. (But I’m not gonna question my good fortune!)

The net result of all of the above is that I’ve been experiencing a curious phenomenon: Happiness.

Now I just need to learn how to adjust to these new rhythms of life, making time for work, play, home, and everything else. Consequently, I propose slowing the rotation of the Earth to create a 25-hour day and its orbit around the sun to allow for 8-day weeks.

And, oh yeah, I still need to find more time to write in these very pages. I have ideas for posts that have been stewing for weeks and hopefully haven’t gone past their “use by” date.

But, to all my friends, family, and assorted loved ones, thank you THANK YOU THANK YOU! for putting up with me while I lingered in The Pit of Ultimate Darkness. I can’t imagine I’ve been a while hell of a lot of fun to be around.

Hugs to you all and *happy little sighs.*

I sleep now!