Straight Outta Reznik

So low key feeling very shaky about this because I feel like I am trying to be artsy fartsy by trying out poetry. But hey! It’s 10:23pm (aka super late on the Resnick time zone) and I thought why not try it out — worst case scenario it flops (which it probs will) but y’all are kind and won’t care.

Rip Current

Here we go, start again

Which way is up

Which way is down

Toss, turn

Is this the sea

Trying to overturn me

Red flag from the lifeguard stand

Should have known not to go in

But the sea was calling me

In all of its infinity

Here I am caught in the cycle

Toss, turn

Which way is up

Which way is down

All I can feel is the

Pound

Pound

Pound

Please poseidon, whoever you are

Let me come up for air

Please life of the sea

Please be kind to me

__________________________________

Remote Control

Play, pause

Rewind

Record over

Please, all I want is the fast forward

__________________________________

Deep breath in

Deep breath out

That’s what anxiety is all about

__________________________________

Natural Disaster

I promise you

You will rise

You will fall

But you can do it all

Mountains have moved

Streams have stopped their babble

You are an earthquke

You are a tsunami

You are a natural disaster

Waiting to be loud

My first day out of Resnick for the second time and what am I doing? Standing in line at the DMV because I know how to enjoy myself. In a zoloft and heartbreak induced fog, I lightly rear ended a car on the freeway and my nerves got the best of me. I dropped my license somewhere on the side of the freeway. Great move, Elizabeth. Really well done, bravo.

Anyways, I start journaling in line and here are some of my clearly brilliant (not) insights:

Hour 1:

Sitting in the 8 hour long line at the DMV– cigarette smoke in the air. Ironically, from the father of a newborn baby. I am not sure why is he dancing with death when he just brought life into the world.

Luckily for me I’ve spent the last two week perfecting the art of entertaining myself. 8 hours at the DMV is nothing compared to two weeks in the psych ward (this would later be proven wrong, a note from future Elizabeth– cocky young Elizabeth thought she was invincible to the pain of the DMV) I have music — music can make any amount of time pass but let’s see how I feel in a couple hours. I can’t believe I dropped my license, oh dear Zoloft/ love brain.

Hour 2

I love looking at my life as a story. As the author I finally feel like I have control, for once I am in charge. I ask for what I need, I make necessary changes, I take ownership. Side note, I feel very zen and unusual journaling in line (FYI my handwriting is messy because I am writing on my knee not mania– I feel the need to clarify in case future me is analyzing this document).

I wonder if it is a good idea to analyze myself this much. I think being self aware is crucial to piecing my story together and reclaiming it. I need this in order to feel whole again. I need clarity and only I can give that to me.

Wow, so many good coping skills being put to the test in this line. Asking for what I need, wincing at the person who sneezed but not running away from the germs. Bless up, I am the journal QUEEN.

People are looking at me as I am journaling so much — but I am an author — catch me on the best seller list ho! (future Elizabeth is telling young cocky Elizabeth to pls calm down, k thx) This may be the irritability and conquer the world attitude that come with bipolar– at least I am aware and most importantly safe now. Really though safe and not getting checked on every 15 minutes, what a concept!

Hour 3

So you originally were very zen in the line—like the psych ward had allowed you to achieve some magical sense of nirvana. Yeah, right. Anxiety is peaking—could really use some gabapentin right about now but of course I didn’t bring it. I was going to try the breathing techniques but they are loud and obvious and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.

Things I have learned from this experience: When you start talking to people it turns out that you have a lot in common with them – I started up a conversation with the woman next to me at the DMV and she was super cool. Turns out she’s a UCLA grad from the 60s and worked as an art therapist at Resnick – seriously though what are the odds that I just happen to sit next to this person and strike up a convo that leads to Resnick—cheers to being open and honest—the world sends cool things your way when you take iniatitive and start talking.

When you ask for accommodations people are likely to give them to you especially when you ask nicely. For instance, asking for a chair at the DMV when I was open about my RA — even the “mean” DMV lady was kind.

Feels weird turning the DMV into my personal office and then every so often striking up a conversation with the person next to me like I am going to the water cooler – writers need breaks too you know? Everyone seems so over it but once I talk to these people about my dog search they light up—people are so cool, damn maybe I am an extrovert getting all jazzed from talking with people. Who knew quiet lil Elizabeth could be so energetic and enthusiastic with everyone!

Wow it 3 hours into the DMV experience and I am so done—I probably have three hours ahead of me and I am trying not to go crazy and end up back in Resnick

Hour 4

My super cool Resnick bud got her number called and she left me. No, a true loss — she was a real homie. She hugged me on her way out, god I love human connection. Don’t you worry though I think I have a new buddy. Same grandma age- she has gravitated towards me and is making some casual small talk with me from what she overhear about the dog search.

Hour 5

I have added another place to my bucket list, the Hava Supai Indian village. Theresa (the name of the woman I have been chatting up a storm with) went on so many beautiful hikes and adventures there and we’ve spent the last hour or so looking at the stunning crystal blue water. I am going, done and done.

Hour 6

Dear lord, let the earth open up and just swallow me whole. Why I am still at the fucking DMV. I couldn’t be hungrier– at 8am I couldn’t fathom that I would be here past lunch time. I keep it to myself as I tell Theresa about my backpacking adventures across Europe (although I do spend even more time describing the food than usual). Theresa’s husband has arrived to deliver Los Golandrinas for her lunch, what a kind human. Theresa an even kinder human insists we split the burrito and I attempt to turn it down or even pay her. She refuses, splits it in half, and generously gives the lovely breakfast burrito.

Hour 7

Well, well, well even the seemingly kindest people do have some flaws. Turns out Theresa is hella homophobic due to her extremely religious background. She just described Las Vegas as a hell scape where “prosititution, homosexuals, illicit drugs, and rock and roll” reign and threaten to pull people away from the Lord himself. Gasp! God forbid the gay people come find you,Theresa, and dangerously talk with you for 6 hours making the DMV experience fly by! Oooh wait….

Hour 8

I AM FREE! I AM DONE! AND I AM LICENSCED! I am out of here and Theresa gave me a hug goodbye — ta, ta forever! But damn that homophobic burrito was pretty damn good.

Coming out is scary. Like the kind of fear that shakes you to your core and makes you stumble over your words and trip on your tongue. Even though I knew all the important people who I truly care about in my life would love and accept me, I was still so tremendously and overwhelmingly scared. I am still scared because it is a process and you have to keep coming out. Does the coming out ever end? Plot twist, probably not. Every new person you meet, well not every single one, has the potential for a coming out moment. Slip in a “Oh the girl I dated” and BOOM you are O U T — no going back. I’ve come out in group therapy, at the DMV, in my dorm — you name it, I have leapt out of the closet. More like tripped and clumsily fell out with the grace of an awkward zoo animal.

Take a good look, the flailing arms say it all– it is not an elegant, well refined process. But I am doing it. 

The real problem was that I didn’t accept me. In my head I was the number 1 ally ever! Gay marriage, of course! Human rights for all! I was outraged at any mention of discrimination against the LGBTQ community. When my dad voted against gay marriage, I refused to speak to him for a week. I was completely silent (not a hard to task for old, introverted high school Elizabeth) for the Day of Silence at school. I was a straight ally who went to pride parade back in 2014. Throughout it all, I genuinely thought I was straight. I just hadn’t found any guys that I thought were that interesting. Like sure, great friend material but nothing that I wanted to go hold hands with at the movies let alone anymore. God forbid. It made my stomach turn. When I finally dated a guy for 6 months in college, I threw up before and after any intimate moment. And let me tell you I threw up quite a bit in that time period. Throughout it all I was convinced these were butterflies. I must just like him so much! I would be amazed I had found a guy I was finallyso head over heels with, expect it would be nice of the sight of him didn’t send me running to the bathroom.

After getting out of my first stay at Resnick I reached out to him and wanted to check in. I am convinced he is the kindest human ever. Even though it turns out I don’t like guys, I sure do know how to pick them. 

I am sure there will be more on this topic later — but for the moment hit me up if you want to go to either the LA or San Diego Pride. I am ready. Let’s do this.

Alright, gather around we are going to take a trip back to the time in between my two psych ward stays. The big task: pack up my suite and get the hell out of Hitch. My experience in Hitch had been less than satisfactory. I worked as an RA on a small, eight person staff that was surprisingly unsupportive (minus a select, truly wonderful few). Now don’t get me wrong, I love UCLA’s Residential Life — it has defined my experience at UCLA, given in me my closest friends, and provided me the opportunity to create a sense of community. However, this year in Hitch did not reflect my once warm and fuzzy feelings about the program. A fellow staff member, who was known for making insensitive comments, once turned to me as I was singing and dancing in an albeit goofy manner and said, “What’s wrong with you? Oh, that’s right – you’re on medication.” Needless to say this hurt. At this time in January I was struggling to convince myself that going on medication was not only the right decision, but also a decision that I did not need to be ashamed of. After reporting this behavior to my supervisors on a “private” form (plot twist no form is ever private) they told me that I had been “harboring seeds of resentment” and that I needed to confront this person. I broke down crying and they told me that a Lead RA needs to have difficult conversations and that my recommendation for rehiring would be “tabled” until I had this confrontation (excuse me, carefrontation). I was not ready. I told them I was not ready and not emotionally there yet — medication is a complicated subject for me between my rheumatoid arthritis drugs and myriad of psychiatric drugs. Let me tell you, now I would have that conversation in a heart beat. But I am #straightoutofreznick Elizabeth and I am a badass. But January Elizabeth was scared out of her mind and wanted more than anything to be rehired. I had the difficult conversation and was not rehired. The staff member who had made the comment was and it quite honestly crushed me.

Now with some background information, you can see why I was so eager to get out of Hitch and start fresh at home. I felt stifled and unsupported. At home I felt free and loved. I was ready to go.

I woke up and even in my manic state I could not find the motivation to pack the daunting room that stood in front of me. Depressed Elizabeth did not care or give enough of a flying fuck to even attempt to tackle the mess. And even manic Elizabeth felt the earth shift every time the idea of starting the packing process entered her mind.

Thank god, Stefani brought me her extra yearbook boxes and Hannah bless her soul woke up at the crack of the weekend dawn (8am) to efficiently tackle the chaos.

I wasn’t kidding when I said it look like a bomb went off. My room is always and has always been a direct reflection of my mental state. In this case, a shit show.

 

Woo, way to go Hannah crushing it with efficiency! We finished in two hours thanks to her hard work and dedication.  I would not have even gotten out of bed that day is she hadn’t come over.

The face of people who are FINALLY done and about to celebrate with some Thai Food and La Croix.

And as a final goodbye I had to pose in front of all my earthly belongings and do a good “Peace Out, Hitches” for the full effect.

Currently my mother and grandmother are discussing their lack of eyelashes and the pros and cons of fake lashes. Luckily one thing I inherited were my dad’s flowing lashes. One of the only things I can thank him for.

Today has turned into a good day. A genuinely good day despite the flashbacks. They aren’t as intense today I feel more grounded surrounded by people. People and connection are the answer.

So a run through of the day, I made my grandma and Mom a delicious lil’ breakfast and then got started on a cute picnic. I found this adorable basket at a garage sale down the street for guess how much (ONE dollar) — anyone who knows me knows I love my deals and steals.

I took my gabapentin for the first time since the hospital. It helps with the physical symptoms of anxiety, but has the tendency to sedate me a bit. But honestly sedation sometimes is a better alternative to being a jittery, paranoid mess.

Anyways, back to the events of Mother’s day — I went to go set up the lovely picnic in the park. As I was setting up I could tell it was a beautiful day — only by noting deliberately the sun shining, the breeze, and the vivid greens of the trees. The flashbacks threatened to creep in. I can hear his voice– “Don’t  go to the park”, “bad people hang out in the park”, “they could hurt you”. Push them away, I tell myself — they aren’t true. But it’s hard to teach a semi old, 21 year old dog new tricks.  I ran back to the house and soon my fam joined me to enjoy a delicious meal (if I do say so myself) and a competitive game of bocce ball.

The beautiful picnic basket, truly a gem.

They both get very into the game, catch their game day poses below.

Now, we are enjoying a refreshing drink in the backyard. Shout out to all the meds for keeping all nice and sober at 1:30pm on a Sunday– no champagne for me (darn).

It even looks like Doogan had a little too much as he enjoys basking in the sun and rolling in bunny poo. What a guy, my toothless man.

 

Rough Night of May 12th

When the thoughts get so bad I don’t know how I can possibly continue. Why it would possibly worth it to keep living — if living means living in hell. How can the world be so unfair to someone who is just trying to be a kind human being. I need to remember that I am kind and worthy of love. I don’t want to end up back in Resnick — I can make it through today. I have a 100% track record of survival. I can do one more day. One more day and tomorrow could be better and it could be worse, but when you have hit rock bottom the measures of better and worse seem insignificant. Better would still be most people’s bad. And worse would kill most. I am a fighter. I am a fucking warrior.

Things that make life worth living

1. Seeing Nick in two days and all my lovely, amazingly genuine friends — shout out to the OG Elizagram chat!
2. Getting a dog
3. Eating gluten again
4. Making change to mental health system
5. My friends– so amazing they are worth mentioning twice
6. My family (the select few)

Let’s cut the edge of suicidal Elizabeth. Something lighter, let’s go.Now to distract myself, here is a much more random rant:

It’s weird that the figdet cube gives a noise to my anxiety. Like alert, alert with every click that hey everyone in the nearest vicinity– Elizabeth is feeling anxious right now in this very second– please direct your attention her way and proceed to make her even more anxious. New design for my techy folks out there– a quiet fidget cube! Please, and thank you

It’s strange to be writing like my life depends on it. Because worst case scenario if I don’t stick around at least my writing will.

To anyone struggling reach out to a Suicide Hotline, 1-800-273-8255 – I use the CAPS one through UCLA (11/10 would recommend)

My Ashe portal message I sent to my therapist my first time I was discharged from the hospital, entitled Straight Outta Resnick.

Dear Dr. Friedmann,

Guess who is FREEEE! I wanted to touch base and see if I could schedule an appointment with you this week and also wanted to give you a few life updates.

I am moving back home to Orange Country on Sunday to start a partial hospitalization program and I am really looking forward to taking this time to figure shit out and prioritize my mental health.

So now for less important life updates because we only have 50 minutes in person so you need to choose your top three favorite topics:

1. So I am pretty gay and ALIVE and I finally feel like things do get better and it not some cliché bullshit
2. I am really interested in working on an inpatient psychiatric ward—maybe as a psychologist or nurse? So that is cool since I was a bit directionless- I have been looking up the different grad school options. It feels so good to look forward to things and see a future.
3. I texted Chris that guy I dated freshman year and checked in lol – it went well, what a truly kind human.
4. I deleted all my social media (facebook, instagram, snapchat, group me)—after a week long phone cleanse I realized the real homies are all I really need and social media is not actually helping my mental health—they created a group chat for me to send uglie selfies and life updates while I am in Dana Point
5. I don’t need to have children as a 21 year old college student. My mom’s expectations of me don’t need to define the rest of my life. Kids are cool and all but my womb ain’t open for business anytime soon, thank you very much. I can choose what I get to do with it.
6. Today when I got out my friend/boss at camp from back home came up to take me out all over LA and when we reached the beach in Malibu I cried on the shore because it was so beautiful and I am fucking ALIVE and I am so happy that I am still here. Going to the psych ward was such a reset that I needed because stuff wasn’t working, clearly.
7. I am so incredibly grateful for my amazing friends Jo, Brooke, Nick, Katie, John, and Stefani – having so many calls to make on the unit and so many people visit kept me sane and I don’t even know how to begin to repay them—but sometimes friendship is a one way street and I know I want to be here now and that means I get to be there for them in the future which is what it is all about.
8. On another note, Isabella sucks–she barely visited or called and Jo let her know I was discharged today and she didn’t even reach out. But that is okay. I have an incredible support system in my friends and grandparents, I am comfortable drifting apart from her. She may be my oldest friend but she is not right for this time in my life, she is there only when things are easy. I deserve more than that and I have more than that—I want to commit time to better friendships. My other friends helped me tear down all the pictures of her off my dorm room wall and it felt so cathartic.
9. I have never felt so at peace with a decision than withdrawing from school, I will still graduate time and this is some much needed me time because I deserve it—This is long overdue and I want to figure myself out.
10. The social worker told me my stay was 100% covered since I had SHIP but plot twist my dad has shitty weed farmer insurance and because of that mess I now owe $3,000 so that is super fun—I decided I am going to ask my parents to help pay for it (they think I was in the hospital for rheumatoid arthritis NOT psych)—I pay for my own college so I think I am going to ask for help with this, maybe they can split it—either way it was worth it to go—my life is worth more than any hospital bill.
11. My mom yelled at me for half an hour today for not calling her for a week and said that she doesn’t understand why I don’t care about her anymore—it hurt because I care so much and don’t want to hurt her. But we are moving through this patch and I want a solid relationship with her.
12. When I went to the AA meeting on the ward (because it was highly recommended to attend all groups) it helped me realize I am not really past my feelings of resentment towards him so gonna work on that in therapy lol also the prayers really annoyed me so lowkey realizing religion is also super frustrating to me
13. I think I have made a lot of progress in a week and I am really proud of the work I have put in, I deserve to be nice to myself. I want to meet whoever this person is that I haven’t let myself be and in order to do that I need to love myself. I can’t believe what a dark place I got to, and that scares the shit out of me—I want to be alive and considering last Tuesday I could barely make it to CAPs I would say that is pretty damn resilient and I need to give myself some credit.

I really want to thank you so much for all you have done for me. You have truly gone above and beyond your duties at CAPS and I genuinely don’t think I would be alive it wasn’t for you. You have made such a lasting impact on my life and not to sound super cheesy, just left the psych ward vibe but I owe you my life. I have no idea how to repay you, but please request a different flavor other than vanilla from Salt n’ Straw (for the love of god please look at their menu find something else, trust me). Or anything please let me do something, bring something! Anything! You were my first experience in therapy and let me say you have set a high bar – I am going to really miss our sessions. I have made so much progress thanks to you, I don’t know where I would be. I would probably be “straight”, puking at penises Elizabeth, who knows but thank you. I am so grateful, like I have never been more excited to be alive and make a life that I actually want for myself and that is thanks to you. You the real MVP and I appreciate everything you do for students on campus and I am sure in you work on the psychiatric ward. I have so much respect for you and wish we could stay in touch outside of CAPs, but I get that is not the nature of therapy. I really truly wish the best for you in all you do in the life that exists outside of CAPs.

See you soon!

Elizabeth

P.S. This is probably a futile attempt but please can I know about your life now, I am not going to give up on that as creepy as that makes me sound but you already know I am creep so might as well ask again lol

Tuesday, May 8th

When I was on my way to JC beans I was perplexed because I forgot my composition book at home! The horror! Could I really go if I wasn’t going to journal- what is a chai tea latte without a sprinkle of productivity? Turns out a chai is still a chai and now I have this fancy gadget called a phone with a real honest to god notepad.

I think I have a good voice — I would read this book by me — trying to piece together this shit is the theme. The Whole World is the deck you gonna happen. Even if I don’t get published, it will be a pretty damn therapeutic project.

I really want this chai tea and I have like zero patience— is this my bipolar or just a general human thing? Why do I constantly need to ask myself that question? Is asking myself that question a bipolar thing? GAHHHH, you see the loop I get into — infinite loops of brain hell. Not really sure how that occurs, but oh well what you gonna do.

My chai has arrived and it is looking goooooood— I know it’s too hot to drink and now it’s another waiting game. I am typing so fast is this my normal typing or mania? Maybe I should stop analyzing myself— but I am so damn interesting. Human behavior is such a puzzle and I have a whole quarter to figure myself out. I am like that a thousand piece puzzle Katie brought to the hospital— it was impossible but if I had finished it I would have been so proud.

I just got back from a sunrise walk at the beach. The sun rise was more of a fog rise but still stunning — here let me find the best pic:

Damn, this is like a composition notebook on steroids.

I was the only one on the whole beach listening to “Same Love”— what a journey to self acceptance! I am so loved I just need to love myself.

I am going to head home so I can start packing — who knew unpacking could be so exciting. I am giving so much shit away: it is cathartic and cleansing. 

Ta ta for now,

Elizabitch

The morning started off with my typical 4:32am trip to the “whiz palace” as Leslie Knope would say. After an evening of restless sleep filled with night terrors and sleep walking you could say I am a lil groggy. Getting the diagnosis of PTSD did not feel validating in the same way that anxiety, depression, and bipolar did — it felt sad. Like a deep, hollow sadness that sits in your chest. Going in circles like Doogan trying to nest in the crevices between my ribs. Sinking it’s paws in to try to make a home in a barren basin. PTSD is new. PTSD is scary. I don’t have the adequate coping skills to deal with fucking trauma. Why does my life have to add another thing to the list?

I am feeling a bit better after I went and got myself a bagel, yes that’s right a real life bagel with gluten and everything. Chocolate chip that gets all melty when you toast it. And fresh squeezed orange juice as a thank you to my will power for making it through the hell that was yesterday, and let’s be honest the past few months. I am going to spoil myself silly and then maybe I will learn I am worthy of having good things. If I treat myself with love, I can learn that I am lovable. If not it’s still worth a try — worst case scenario I am just eating delicious meals on a regular basis. And after months of not eating that isn’t such a bad thing.
I realized the same time my anxiety was acting up in high school was the same time I started having stomach issues. Consequently, I went gluten free but my stomach issues magically resolved themselves when I moved into my grandparents’ house (shout out to a healthier home environment, woot woot!)

I got my shit together so early this morning- full outfit, make up, everything by 5am. Shout out to horrific nightmares that make you never want to sleep ever again. That being said, all in all I really look like I have my shit together.

Then I went to walk the Headlands and found this beautiful flower laying on the ground– had to take a quick pic for some reminders of the good in the world.

Also please note how good my expensive ass gel manicure looks after a week. I am a bougie lady now– new hair cut, clothes, sunglasses, everything! Welcome 2018 Elizabeth– this shit show is yours!

Goal for the next few months: every day have at least one “The Whole World is the Deck” moment:

Here is today’s:

Since there will be a lot more (hopefully) I will abbreviate it to WWD at the end of my posts.

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