A bag of cats

My brain has something in common with Loki the trickster god. It's a bag of cats. You can smell the crazy coming off me. 

My mental health practitioners would frown upon me using the word "crazy". My therapist two therapists ago used to ask me if I thought I was crazy when I said I was crazy. But you get the idea. I've been in country since September and I'm on my second psychologist and my very first psychiatrist ever. It's really very exciting to have someone who specializes in crazy drugs! 

I was first diagnosed with depression in a round about fashion when I was something like 16. My family doctor thingy prescribed me an antidepressant. That was it. No, you have depression, go see a therapist. Just meds and on my way. So I took them cause duh. And they worked for a really long time until they didn't. Then about three? four? five? years ago they stopped, so I switched to a diffrent antidepressant. It worked out alright. With a side of antianxiety for those hail mary moments. Then a death in the family, a move, some kind of strange world with no real purpose that was kind of a purgatory of sorts happened. About 32 appointments into my prolific career as a patient of the most patient therapist I've ever met, she diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder. WTF?!?! But it's true. All of it! Bag of cats. Then a month later we moved again. And now you're all caught up.  That was my Doofenschmirtz flashback.

Anyway, I'm now on my very first antipsychotic. I feel very Girl, Interrupted, except not really. It's really really helped. I've made it through multiple "cycles" without wanting to run away or cause immense physical harm. So, naturally, I'm psyched!!! (see what I did there?) I actually had a moment last week when I was just fine. We were half way through the day and all of a sudden I had one of those Keanu meme whoa moments. 

So, Yay, me!!! That's pretty much all I wanted to talk about was that I'm finally on some meds that I think are actually doing really good. They make me hella sleepy, but they're really good. And things are good. And I think I might actually be coming out of some kind of funk, so that's exciting. And this is a good time to have a mental health thing. There's awareness out the wazoo! Yay, interwebs! Yay hashtags! Yay! 

How Jehovah's Witnesses Taught Me to Never Trust Anyone.

I live in Germany. It's like An American in Paris except Germany and no cool musical dance numbers. Just a lot of rain. And bread. Lots of bread. Anyway, I was recently visited by two very nice Jehovah's Witnesses. Here's the story:

I'm helping the kids with their laundry and the doorbell buzzes. Thinking it might be our landlord, I go down to open it. On the other side of the door however, is not our kindly landlord with the goofy hat, but two smiling German women with cute hats. And yes, I said smiling Germans. It happens.

The younger one introduces herself, first name only, and this is her mom.

Okay. Good for you.

 Then she says she wants to ask me a few questions about government, says she's looking for English-speaking people.

So I'm thinking this is some kind of survey thing or this girl is gathering info for statistics or something.

She babbles something about corruption, and asks why I think that is.

So I give some sort of answer and she says yes, here, let me show you this bible verse that gives an explanation.

So I'm like, ... o... k... I'm being polite at this point, but I really want them to go. My hair's a mess, I'm in sweatpants, and to be perfectly honest, I was using my sweater to cover up my non-bra.

I then learned that the kingdom of god is the corruption-less government that god promised us. I even got a nifty pamphlet... and caught completely off guard.

So the lesson here is that when some nice person comes to your door implying that she's just trying to get an American's opinion on European governments, close the door and run because she's a politician for Jesus. Okay, I mean seriously, here I am thinking I finally got asked questions that might go into some kind of poll results or something and then all of a sudden, Jesus walked the earth. That's very disconcerting. I mean, how am I supposed to trust anything anyone says ever again? I feel so used...

Derpin' hard or hardly derpin'.

I recently tried to take a selfie. It didn't work out well for me.

I mean, I'm not a classic beauty, but I'm not a toad either. I'd say I'm right smack in the middle of average. If I apply a little effort and an ungodly amount of cosmetics (not tested on animals), I even think I look quite foxy. Then I get a little cocky, and think, “The world needs to know how damn good I look today.”

And then it happens. I take the selfie and every single one looks like I'm about to sneeze or have just been goosed. What is that crap? I'm over here looking adorable, but all I can come up with is some kind of horrid school photo quality selfie. All I need is that weird blue and purple hazy background and you wouldn't know the difference.

I derp hard. If only the word “derp” were around when I was growing up...

Well, it's actually probably a good thing it wasn't or I'd have been the ermahgerd girl. 

You know, if I really think about it, that's not true either. Like I said, I'm smack in the middle of average. Always have been. I wasn't derpy enough to be a meme (hahah like those were around then lol) and not popular enough to be noticed. I tended to hover just out of the way, in the shadows of the recesses of teenagerness. In some kind of popularity limbo. I was always trying to make my way up and out, but only until I got my shit together and realized I was in the best place ever. Where else can you judge the entirety of man, but back in the corner where you can see everyone?

So, I wouldn't have been a meme. That's a little depressing in itself, but not really. And as for those defunct selfies, I figure those are the faces you get when you talk to me, so what the hell. I mean, it's not like I hide the derpy faces when I'm around people. I let my derp flag fly! I feel like Chris Farley, 

and have been told not to make myself ugly. Meh, it is what it is. I'm doing the best with what I've got. This is the part where you think of Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries where she looks in the mirror pre-princess, and says, “This is as good as it's gonna get.” 

And it for real is. Besides, I don't think funny people are supposed to be the uber pretty ones, it just wouldn't be fair to every one else.

By the way, popular kid, I saw you pick your nose. You didn't think I noticed, but I did.