Shirley Sunday: Mental Illness

Welcome back, to another edition of Shirley Sunday! Today we learn my mother's intolerance of mental illness.

I am not even kidding you, my mother wants me to turn down FREE medication for my bipolar disorder, and throw away FREE medication for my anxiety disorder.  She's not even aware that she helped aggravate the conditions until I needed medication!

Speaking of mental illness...my mom has a few.  Let's see, hypochondria, Munchausens, chronic depression, severe anxiety, and let's not forget her own case of bipolar disorder.

We call her Hurricane Shirley for a reason. She exists in two modes. Windbag mode, where she must expel all she knows and thinks about verbally for long periods of time, and Level 70, where she attacks everything she loves and destructs it and her own self worth at the same time. There are, of course, shades of each mode, and they are easy to detect. When she's working up to a Level 70, she pouts, cries a lot, and calls me every day to bitch about everything and everyone. I know then that in a few days I need to stay away from my phone and not answer the door unless I want to be emotionally or physically assaulted. Yes, folks, she has thrown books at me, keys at me, and even once threw a brick at me. All because I told her no. Now she don't need no medication! Windbag mode is much more pleasant. Usually it comes off as the friendly but slightly creepy lady who finds you so interesting that she must tell you all about herself. Sometimes it comes out as the lady who tries way too hard for something she'll never have.

I'll give my mother credit...she lives with mental illness every day, and living with her encouraged me to get help. At times, my brother and I have even contemplated dosing her tea to see if she would get better...then I realized that was a crime, and I had no compunction for living in a cell.

Thursday was a good day, so I'm expecting Level 70 by next Friday. Or even one of her rare but amazing and mystifying Level 70+ moments, in which she threatens her own life and those of any adults in the car with her.  Note to self, do not ride with mom anywhere next week.

To Looney Bins, and Crazy Talk,

Love and Laughter,
-Kat Lady

Alaska, land of ...well, never mind.

Somewhere in our 4th year of marriage, Mr. Kat Lady and I got a wild hair up our butts about seeing the world, and working in new places. Starting over, really. Well, yeah, not so much, as you will soon see...

It was on the plane ride from Seattle to Anchorage that I began to have my doubts. I was scared out of my mind. How were we, two podunk midwesterners going to survive Alaska...IN THE WINTER!  Needless to say, that thought was too little too late. We landed in Alaska and the scariest and most messed up adventure of our lives began.

It was around 8 pm local time, and the airport was crowded with vacationers returning home and workers flying out to the crab, lobster, and salmon boats. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Luckily, we were rescued by a taxi driver. We instructed him to the hotel we were set to manage, and a short time later arrived at a three story, tow up from the flow up, massive motel.  The name alone gives me pause these days...The Big Timber.

What our new boss had neglected to tell us before we left the land of Oz was that he was adding a strip club to the back of the motel. Oh, and have I mentioned the mirrors? EVERYWHERE. It was my job to scrub them down every day and make sure all the rooms were comfortable for the "clients."

It wasn't long and our ethics cost us the job. We were now homeless in Alaska, as we had been staying in the motel until we found a place. Luckily we had made a few friends who helped us find a hotel room for a couple nights so we could call home and ask to be rescued. Another friend found out we were missing from the motel and spent two days going all over Anchorage looking for us. He drove us to the airport and made sure we got home safely. (Thanks Guardian Angel John! You made some awesome crab salad!)

We had lasted all of a month in Alaska.  When we got home we made a pact to always stay where we were doing well, and travel for vacations only. So why do you all care about this story? Well the moral of the story is: When trapped in foreign lands, follow the yellow brick road home. Someday I'll tell you all about the porn superstore that was a block from The Big Timber.

To taking CALCULATED risks, and sometimes failing,

Love and Laughter,
-Kat Lady