Hey all,

It's been a while and you probably don't remember me. Well hell, may as well consider me a new member again. New username and all that. The new layout sucks. Just sayin. And I've tried to change my profile picture, but I see no "submit" "change" "ok cool here's your new profile pic" whatever. Got one picked out and it's awesome, tried to do it, blah, whatever.

So here I am. Figured since I'm new all over again I'd introduce myself best I can. My name is Krista. Please excuse any future foul language. I'm sarcastic and cynical most of the time, but I know when to control myself. I'm not a social idiot. I don't believe in censorship. I'm not the most "PC" person, so sorry. not really. I'm just trying to do me. Because I can't stand fake people. (Everyone says that, right?) I also write. I'm not the best writer in the world, but I write. I paint though. I'm a painter. Period. I've got a very ecclectic taste in music. But I've got a huge soft spot for blues and bluegrass. (I've got a blues name a friend gave me. "Kentucky Bluefoot". If you keep reading you'll see I have CRPS. My foot turns blue. Makes sense). 

I have a very dry sense of humor, as you will see from posts. I try to throw in a little humor into stuff because it makes me feel better and I also love to make others laugh. Because I LOVE helping others out. (I'm no therapist though. or comedian by any means) I try to make light of my awful situations and past because that's the defense mechanism I've always used: dark, dry, dumb humor.

I mentioned an artist, I have my website on my profile if you're interested. You should be. Go buy my shit. I'm poor. (aren't we all?) I'll brag a moment because we all have to feel good about ourselves about something, right? I've been published multiples times online, and in lit/art journals (like you know, books. Those them thar old fashioned thingies with paper. To quote Egon Spangler "print is dead"). Made the cover of one journal, made the cover of a book. I've also had a gallery showing, which was super cool. 

Beliefs:
I have strange, strong spiritual beliefs. Not religion, because organized religion doesn't help me out. If it helps you out, cool. Keep at it. Don't give up the faith. I don't judge. I'd go into what I believe spiritually, but it'd sound absolutely insane to some, and make sense to others. Plus I'm already writing a book here. Don't much feel like writing a manifesto. 

I'm also big on not EDUCATION, and NOT activism. I think that activism might wear on people's nerves and won't help the stigma surrounding mental illnesses, but education will enlighten and interest people. If only it reaches a few people, it's a start. I don't believe playing the victim and whining is the best way to go about fighting stigma.
But I do understand, you have to bitch and moan sometimes. Everyone does. Sick or not. That's what support groups are for, right? And therapy. And all those dumb hoops we have to jump through.
When you're that way, I encourage you to seek help because I don't know you, but I love you and want the best for you. When you're feeling well, read, study, educate people. Please. Bitch and moan, endulge in your hobby, snap your fingers by your ears, do whatever makes you feel better if you're sick, do more if you're feeling up to it. (Just don't do heroin, please). 

There. I introduced myself. Maybe you'll like me. Hope you do, but if you don't, I get it. Hope I meet some friends. Hope I get aquainted with people. Hope I fit in. But if not, I get it. I understand. I don't get offended, butthurt, or pissy easily. 

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Here's the short version of my dumb medical issues, if you don't care, you don't care. I get that too:

I have bipolar disorder type 2 with psychosis. I'm pretty damn proud of myself because I've learned, self taught, how to "tame" everything the best I can because I hate being some dumb victim. Guess I am but whatever. I don't like it so I do my best to not be. Since I left, I've had some pretty bad luck. I had an accident at work, on my graduation day from college. Yes. I went to work instead of graduation. Now I'm fucking diabled. I have CRPS in my right foot/ankle. It'll take too long to explain what that is, so if you're really that interested read about it. It's weird and it sucks. I miss working. I loved working. I'm a social person, now I'm kind of forced to be a hermit because I can't get out on my own. Can't afford car insurance. Wahh. Once I can afford it again, I'm in need of a left foot pedal because I have very limited motion and can't put down proper weight to push a gas and break pedal. Damn. I loved driving too. Whatever. 

SO not only that, but about a year ago I started having symptoms I'd never had before. I thought I was having a mixed episode and I was doing all I can, all I knew to do for myself, all I've ever done for myself, but nothing worked. It just kept getting worse. Severe insomnia, nightmares so awful I'd wake myself up screaming. Or grabbing the shot gun (guns are a hobby and shooting one RESPONSIBLY AT THE RANGE helps me feel a bit better). Anyway, grabbing the gun, having to turn on all the lights and check every room because I would "KNOW" someone is in the house. No one was of course. Repressed memories (which I always thought was bullshit) started coming back via nightmares. I would have to ask someone who was involved "did this happen?" the response was always "holy shit, krista! you don't remember that?" So yeah. Then I got sleep paralysis. Then I got to the point where I was afraid to sleep so I'd chug energy drinks to stay awake. For days. I was much more paranoid than usual. I realized there were literally years of my life missing. 

TL;DR, I went to a therapist. Always thought talk therapy was bullshit. But I had no other choice. After a few sessions she was all "you're a textbook example of PTSD, hon." My response? "NO. that shit's for veterans, survivors of natural disasters, and rape victims." She was all "NOPE! from everything you've told me, you've been abused your whole life and didn't really know because you were so conditioned to the abuse" wah. Lovely. It made sense though. I still refuse to be a victim.

SO NOW my dianosis is bipolar type 2 with psychosis and PTSD. Great. I've been in therapy for a good year, started going to DBT classes, which have both been helping but now guess what? I'm moving. I've checked ALL comprehensive cares around to see if they offered DBT classes. Nope. So I'm going to have to self-teach myself. I have a lot of resources and I'm not a complete idiot so I'm confident I'll be able to do this but obviously it's not the same. And what's worse, I got lucky and got a therapist that I absolutely love, and she admires me because I'm not the "oh poor me poor me" type. She said she doesn't get someone like me often. Yay my counselor thinks I'm cool. I'm going to have to give her up, find another one where I'm moving to, and I'll probably get stuck with some asshole. 

LOL I ALSO HAVE A SEVERE CASE OF ENDOMETRIOSIS! Medical mess, ya'll. I have to take a lot of pills. Which also sucks because I hate pills. I went from meds for bipolar disorder, to hormones, to pain shit for the CRPS. Damn. And migraine meds. I'm a miserable waste of human. I've had 3 surgeries for endometriosis and one more to remove a growth from my cervix (cancer scare). I told people close to me that I was having a cyst removed. Lie. I went through that cancer scare alone because I didn't want to scare anyone unless there was a reason to be scared. I don't have cancer thank god. Because if I did, I'd rather kill myself than go through that bullshit. But I'm no victim. 
GUESS WHAT! I'm facing another possible surgery. Lovely. Great. I hope I get a hysterectomy. That uterus of mine has been nothing but trouble and I'm not using that shit anyway. Rip it out, throw it in the dumpster. please. For the love of GOD one less medical problem would greatly improve the quality of my life. Sounds good, man.


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IN CONCLUSION...
Here's the thing about this post:
I rarely trust anyone. So it's really weird that I'm pouring out all this bullshit because I rarely share experiences or feelings with even the closest of people in my life. People I've known for years. My therapist says I need to speak out. She says I have great potential to educate the ignorant and uplift the sick. That's super cool. And I need to let stuff out because not speaking out is what landed me with PTSD. So I have no idea why the fuck I'm posting this on the internet, guys. Please excuse all this.

There's my first post. Sorry it's a book, but I wanted to get it all out, be open, honest, "naked" if you will, but without sharing my whole life's story. Because it's long and sad. 

I really hope I can relate to people on here, and people on here can relate to me.

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Nice to "meet" you. If you read all this, I feel sorry for you. But I really, REALLY sincerely appreciate the time you took out of your day to "listen" to me.

I'll leave you with this:
You can't know what joy is without pain.
You can't know what success is without defeat.