It Was Titled "Once More With Feeling!"

     So, shut up, I know it's been a while.  Turns out the trip to Austin had me so screwy that I ended up not doing so hot.  I gained back all the weight I had lost (and yes, 10 pounds is a lot to me) and haven't been to the spark site since.  This is sad, because I really liked spark.  But I'm like some sort of addiction freak, and it's all or nothing to me.  I either do something every day or whatever (regularly) or I don't do it at all.  Like smoking.  I smoked pretty regularly, especially at the body shop.  And when I stopped, I stopped.  There wasn't a struggle or gum or hypnotist.  I just wasn't a smoker anymore.  And I used spark all day.  All day.  Every meal, everything I read, related to spark, tracked in spark.  And now, it's just not done anymore.  I've always been like that.  I get like that with games, shows, even friends.  Like, I get super-clingy and I know it's bad.  And when I started drinking, I drank a lot, and often.  And so now I'm off spark.  I'd like to be able to introduce myself back into it.  My account is still there, I think.  And I was losing weight.  And I still have a gym membership.  I caught a cold recently and had to quit going.  But now I'm all better.  Well, betterish.  And so, back to the gym I head. 
     Also, things at work are changing, and we all know how I just loooooove change.  My mom's been moved to another dealership.  So, even though she didn't understand what was always going on with me, she was still the only person with any pull around here who had a clue.  No one else knows.  No one else even knew I had been diagnosed or anything.  And now, I'm on my own about it.  So it'll be like old times.... too many excuses.  She got moved and another guy took her place.  And he keeps changing things.  Like, I have a great big mirror behind my desk, and I like to draw things or write on it, like "Happy Mardi Gras" or a flag for Memorial and Veterans' Days.  Except we're not allowed to write on it anymore.  And we had a big glass in front of my desk with like an 8" opening at the bottom to do transactions through, for protection, like banks used to have.  But they took that out, so we can seem more approachable to customers.  Well, customers aren't supposed to approach me.  They are supposed to give me money in exchange for their car keys and leave.  Even when I do know the answers to their questions, I'm not allowed to answer them.  So, no, I don't want to be approached by them; because usually, it's in an infuriating combination of anger and ignorance.  And now, anyone can reach over and into my cash drawer and take money, because it's not like the drawer locks or anything.  And the security camera (and button that sounds an alarm and summons police) that helps keep bank tellers safe?  We don't have that.  The cameras don't work here... so take THAT safety!
     I'm being moved to another dealership soon.  Not the one my mom works at, but yet another one.  A different and kind of better one.  It's busier, and cleaner.  My mom told me... not even my boss(es).  Also, the girl I work with told me (in secret) because we're not all supposed to talk about things here.  I think they are firing the other cashier and moving me there and hiring someone else here.  The girl I work with knows because until they fill my spot, she has to do my job.  But I haven't heard when it will be official.  Today's the end of the pay period, so maybe they'll call me on my way in and say "Go over there instead,"  because that's the kind of people I work for.  Everything's a secret... but no one can keep a secret, so make what you can of that. 
     But at the new place, I won't be in a very "private" place.  Like, here, I have a sort of cubicle with a window.  So I can do things, like goof off online and blog anonymously.  Over there it's a lot of people... and all my superiors work there, too (as opposed to my superiors here, who are the same people but who work, well, over there and not here.  I'm not sure what I'll do; since I'll be busier, maybe I won't need to worry about what I'll do when I'm bored.  Maybe I'll read really big books to impress them... because people are idiots.  That's always been my favorite way to say, "please, just leave me alone" and "why, yes, I am pretty intelligent" at the same time.  It sounds trite, but one of the owners has like 5 family members throughout our dealerships (one is our receptionist) who only work here because they are his relatives, and not because they can, you know, do the job.  And since I am my mother's daughter and work here, they think that I'm simple, too. 
     But really, I think I work here because of my mood disorder.  I don't think I can handle a real job.  And I can't afford to work part-time.  Although, DaVinci said I could, but I know we can't really afford it.  I've applied to other places, like PetSmart and PetCo, and am thinking about Home Depot/Lowes.  Autozone was really good to me.  I worked full time there, and I quit because I worked for an idiot towards the end.  But to work part-time in a situation like that wasn't all bad.  I was in school at the time, and that kinda sucked.  But if I could afford to not work, and just had a simple part-time job, I think that would be okay.  I applied to a jewelry store before, to get a skill and not a ton of stress.  That would be awesome.  Not that jewelry is my thing, but I'm good with small detail work with my hands.... not creative or artsy, but I can do links and undo knots and such.  I'd rather work weekends and have weekdays off.  I'd rather not do retail... but some sort of other work.  I like a bit of variety in my job.  I was happy doing manual labor at Target, merchandising at PepBoys, and manager/office stuff at Autozone like some merchandising and sales and some back office work like checking the safe and approving payroll, etc.  So, I don't know what I like to do.  Here, I like playing on the internet and reading.  The work sucks, because I get all the questions, and I'm not allowed to answer any of them.  And I do things that's not my job.  Like work as receptionist.  And I don't need to file everyday, because I can do a week's worth of it in about two hours... which, you know, sometimes it's nice to have two hours of work... because I have nothing else to do!
     So, with all these things changing, and me being recently flung into a low, I decided to seek help once again.  In about two months my work will be offering insurance again.  Having insurance is nice, because you can see doctors and get prescriptions.  But then the insurance is so expensive, you can't afford the doctor or the medicine.  So I cancelled my insurance a few months ago.  I think I will sign up again.  DaVinci's work offers him something now, so maybe it will be better this time around when I can cover just myself.  But I still can't afford therapy... or time to see a therapist.  Damn jobs... with all their work and effort and unhappiness.  So, I contacted some local human services people to see what my options are.  DaVinci and I aren't quite yet middle-class, but we're above poverty.  I am offered insurance, but can't afford what insurance helps me with because I am paying insurance... etc.  So, I found out that the community offers help with a sliding scale pay rate, which is like when I saw the lady at the Catholic School.  She was a grad student, and worked as a counselor like my Pat, and we paid her what we could "afford" based on income.  It's not a perfect system, I assume.  I go on Monday.  I'll see a man named Bob, who is a social worker.  He said that they offer counseling and sometimes meds.  But he said that, from what he could tell by by what I told him on the phone, it seems more like I suffer depression.  Well... sure, maybe.  Look, I'm not even always sure I'm crazy.  But he'll contact the people I saw at school and get a history on me, and talk to me, and see what they can do.  So... yay!  Help!... not like "Help!" but like, "Yay, help!"  Whatever.
     So, maybe I'll be better.  Maybe he'll say I just need to control myself better.  I've already been told lots of things.  And how do I talk about it?  I mean, can I say things like, I hurt myself, but not often?  And do I say I suffer from a series of ups and downs, and sometimes can't tell one from the other?  Do I say I've switched to a sort of organic diet to prevent any extra hormonal influence in my already strained body?  I'm more nervous I'll come off as someone trying to cheat the system and get some attention and meds, because when I try to talk about it from a clear-minded and stable position, I come off as a person who has read the symptoms from a textbook.  And, while I have complained before that not all of us crazy people are the same... I sometimes think that I'm pretty clearly within the definition of what bipolar disorder is.  Which is weird when compared to my normal times, when I don't think anything is wrong with me, and that everyone else is just stupid.  But I don't want to sound like one of those people who has read the side effects section of a medicine bottle and thinks "oh my god, I soooo have those symptoms."  You know?  I know- deep in my insane, desperate, roller coaster- riding, addict of a soul of mine- something is off with me.  Emotionally, mentally, maybe even physically, something about me is a little off... and it's not my love of crappy action movies and dark comedies.  I find that a charming aspect of my personality. 
     Still, how honest do I get?  I mean... how can I be honest without sounding crazy?  Because I know that I want to come off as crazy as I feel, without being as crazy as I feel.  Talking about the depression makes me depressed.  And it's hard to convey just how sometimes mania feels like a fever, or an infection.  You can feel it coming on and getting worse, and feel it when it's gone.  But to clearly talk about it makes me feel less like a crazy person and more of an expert on crazy people.  Like I'm not the person who has it, but sometimes, she takes over my body, and I can define and explain every move and emotion, and to do that makes me feel separate from her... and I know it's me... but it's not who I am.  No, I'm not suicidal, but I have been.  No, I'm not manic, but I have been.  And I know that I need the meds, but I don't want them.  And I don't want to be all "Gimme the drugs, man!"  It's like eye drops.  My eyes will still close and refuse the drops access, and yet, I know it's necessary, and only I can help me.  I guess this is the paradox I face once again... of being too sane to be this crazy... or too crazy to be this sane.  I'm not sure what I am anymore.  Maybe I'm just damaged, but not necessarily broken.