Hospital scented

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It has been a rough couple of days. We moved! We decided that renting wasn’t working out anymore and bought a house. Moving is the absolute pits, but will hopefully be worth it in the end.

As I was cleaning out the rental house today I got to thinking about candles… At the time I was cleaning out the refrigerator with bleach when the brilliance hit. Why are there no hospital scented candles? I love nothing more than the clean and sanitary smell of a hospital. The bleach smell. I really think there should be a candle called “hospital smell”. I mean why not? Who wouldn’t love a candle that smells like the hospital?

Also I should never be trusted to clean the fridge. I have to completely disassemble the entire interior to feel like it has been cleaned. That being said the last time, when we were moving out of our house in Germany, I broke the damned fridge. The day before our inspection to move out I BROKE the damned shelf in the fridge. Not good.

This time thankfully Matt stayed near to monitor me not to break this one and only clean it. He took all the pieces out and put them back in after I had thoroughly OCD cleaned the whole thing, with bleach. Have I mentioned I LOVE bleach?

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Chip dispensensers

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Me: Reece got chippy with me.

Me: 2 pictures of my son and smashed tortilla chips all over the living room floor.

Matt: I take it he got the bag?

Me: No, he’s magically shitting tortilla chips now. He’s like a little chip dispenser.

Matt: Sell him then.

Me: And he’s doing Mio shots.

Matt: Nice.

Me: This is not a joke. He is stained orange from doing Mio shots. So don’t be surprised.

Matt: How did he get the Mio so he could do shots?

Me: Off the counter.

Me: Okay, so I am legitimately going crazy. No exaggeration here.

Matt: Why is that? (he is not surprised)

Me: I forgot my meds and my judgement is highly in question here.

Matt: You forgot them last night or the last few nights?

Me: And I think I may have forgotten more than once but I’m not 100% on that. And squirrels are furry homeless people if that explains things.

Matt: Good lord dear.

Me: And I’m breaking up with my therapist. Communication is key in any relationship (Manda brought that point up in another conversation) and she and I just don’t have that, so I’m going to have to leave her. And I need to get a referral for McKenzie from Medical but my judgement is too suspect for me to call right now.I may just tell the person I need a referral to stab people, who knows.

Matt: Maybe you should take your meds now.

Me: I did…..Now it’s the waiting game.

Matt: Okay.

Me: Me and the crazy are becoming one, and my husband won’t let me be a goldfish. (I’ll explain about the goldfish later)

Matt: Well now you know what happens when you don’t take your meds.

Me: So, I will now fully admit that I’m mentally ill, but I’m not exactly sick.

Matt: You might be but I am not a professional.

Me: I’m supposed to be a professional one day but I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle all of that, I’m not good at adulting.

Matt: Me neither. (not sure if he meant he’s not sure I can handle being a professional or if he isn’t good at adulting either)

Me: We are quite the pair.

Matt: Yes we are.

Me:You should find a better wife, I’m a shit one.

Matt: Well, I believe you are the best wife for me dear.

Me: I’m not sure, but what do I know?

Matt: I told you Reece got his attitude from you.

Me: No, just his listening skills.

Matt: Same thing.

Me: Thankfully right now he’s not as crazy as me.

Matt: True that.

Me: (Meds finally kicked in). It’s exhausting to be me!

Matt: I bet. (He means it’s also exhausting to be with me)

Cattle and Unicorns

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Me: we are all cattle

Matt: I would rather be a deer.

Me: You can’t, you’re a dear.(Ha! Now he’s being ridiculous)

Matt: Hahaha

Me: I’d rather be a unicorn with a limp, but you don’t see that happening either now do you?

Matt: Nope.

Me: Not even going to ask about the limp? That’s disappointing.

Matt: I was wondering about that but I didn’t ask.

Me: Okay, well now that you asked I’ll tell you. If I had a limp people wouldn’t want to kill me or ride me for fear of injuring me more. So it’s a win win.

Matt: You will still get shot just to mount your head.

Me: Doubt it, They would just take photos because who wants a gimpy unicorn head on the wall when they will always remember how cruel it is to kill an already fucked up unicorn.

Matt: How would you know if you are limp or not with your head mounted on the wall?

Me: I’m not limp, I have a limp, big difference.

Matt: Limp in your leg?

Me: And no one wants to kill the last unicorn that has a limp.

Matt: I would just keep you.

Me: I’d probably end up in a zoo or circus. People will pay to see my gimpy ass and no one will be able to kill and stuff me. I’ll get my own special enclosure with an awesome caretaker who is my BFF and brings me treats, and thinks my limp is cute.

Matt: Yes you would dear.

Me: Thank you, that means a lot to me.

Matt: I would put you in the back yard.

Me: You would need a bigger back yard and don’t forget the treats. And bestiality is still frowned upon so don’t get any fucked up ideas.

Matt: Too late.

Me: You’re just sick you know! I am a gimpy unicorn for God’s sake!!

Now who is the disturbed one?

 

 

Sanity vs. Sanitary

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Conversations with Matt. Now before we get started, I mentioned I’m OCD, so sanitary and clean are the same thing in my mind. Once I get cleaning everything has to be bleached. I can’t just stop at picking up and say this is good enough. Oh no no! So here is our conversation.

Me: I’m trying to figure out which is more important, sanity or sanitary?

Matt: What do you mean? I think both are a little equal.

Me: I mean just what I said, is it more is my sanity more important than my house being sanitary or vice versa?

Matt: Well one feed off the other but then with Reece (our 2 year old) it is hard to say.

Me: Excuse all the typos and incoherent jargon in that text and decipher that as: Is my sanity more important than the house being sanitary or vice versa?

Me: Exactly! It’s a hard call so I’ll just keep mulling it over for a bit before deciding. Let’s also consider my sanity has always been in question so why is it so important now?

Matt: Just walk in McKenzie’s (our 12 year old) bathroom and see how you feel. That may answer it.

Me: I may also need to call in back up and use my phone-a-friend option.

Matt: Who is your phone-a-friend?

Me: Manda, her sanity is mostly in question too, so it evens out the playing field.

Matt: Nice dear. (His general response which means I’m being ridiculous)

Me: True story.

This is my story!

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There is always one Negative Nancy in every group. I absolutely loathe when I’m on a tirade about something, and being hysterical (hysterical funny, not hysterical crazy), that someone has to pipe in and say that I’m looking at it all wrong. This is the point where I’m like “hey, shut up, this is my story!” so stay the fuck of out it! No one wants your input and my views are much better than your intrusions with the so called facts. You don’t know me!

At this point make sure you go onto your Facebook and make sure you delete that asshole from your friends list so the next time you go on a tirade they can’t ruin your awesomeness. Delete, delete, delete.

My brain vs. My brain on drugs

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You say the word drugs and you get everyone’s attention! Now, don’t get too excited it’s not those kinds of drugs. I’ll start this from somewhere in the middle of my life. I am Bipolar and OCD, legitimately, diagnosed, medically crazy. Don’t ask me specifically when it started because I’m not exactly sure, but probably somewhere near the middle-ish beginning.

Now my brain is normally somewhat erratic, completely untrustworthy, has poor life and judgement skills, and that bitch smokes like crazy and has the listening skills of a toddler. It can be a bit overwhelming for people around me as it puts them as well as myself into some very awkward and potentially life threatening situations. It gets a bit intense for me sometimes too, so don’t worry you’re not the only one.

My brain on drugs is more stable, less efficient, less brilliantly entertaining, with slightly better adulting skills (it’s still iffy). It’s quite underwhelming for me when I’m on drugs, which is not nearly as fun as other people who are on drugs, and I definitely feel much less amazing. Yeah, yeah, I’m amazing blah blah, this is about me and my feelings, so no comforting or flattering me right now. Save that for the comments below.

I keep getting told I’m better on drugs, but every once in a while I like to spice things up and keep my family and friends on their toes. Those are the times when I stop taking the magic pills that make everyone else like me better. Sometimes things get a little too spicy and I become paranoid and try to rip half of my face off. This face ripping is literal. I feel around for bumps and imperfections and scratch them off, making me look like I have flesh eating disease.

Not to mention I’m an insomniac. I tend to stay awake until 4-5 in the morning and realize my husband is about to wake up to get ready for work. At this point my paranoia kicks in and I make a mad dash for the bed, crawl in with my total lack of stealth, and pull the covers up and pretend I’m sleeping. This way he wont know that once again I’ve been up all night.

Yes, I know he knows, but it makes me feel like I’m not letting him down when I pretend to be a normal human being, it also discourages him from pointing the finger at such an early hour. He’s not a bad guy and I love my husband, but I just can’t let him have any finger pointing or “I told you so”‘s. He has to work for those in cases that don’t have to do with my mental intrigues or insomniac escapades. Just like the time he won the debate over almond M&M’s, he rightfully won and I was wrong, and credit was given where it was due.

By the way, my husbands name is Matt. Thankfully he loves me and can put up with me for long periods of time. I think he loves me more than I love myself, but either way he looks out for my well being and generally tries to keep me from falling off the wagon with my meds (good luck sweetheart), which I occasionally forget to take. I will probably talk about him a lot in this blog as he is the only constant person I have here, and he has to live with me. We have lots of good talks and I’ll make sure to post them so you can enjoy them too.

How to Blog

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Honestly I have no idea how to blog at all. I decided I would get a blog for no particular reason but to write down all the rambling that goes on in my head. I am not a writer, as in I don’t write novels, not as in I don’t ever write because apparently I do. I just refuse to write via pen and paper and prefer to type. That being said, I’m Racheal and welcome to my blog.