Hello, my Chime, and welcome back to Diary of a Bipolar Pixie! In this excruciatingly awful post, you might find yourself bored out of your mind with some of my daily thoughts and struggles. That’s what this series is going to be about, otherwise, how dare I even consider calling this blog a diary.
Let’s start with the most terrifying thing to happen to me lately. Truth be told, I really thought I was going to have a heart attack when I was dealing with all of this at first.
“Why, Pixie? What happened?” I’ll tell you what happened! After twenty fucking years of working my ass towards one goal for my future, I’ve come to a realization. Since I was two years old, I’ve wanted to be a veterinarian. I’ve watched my local vet spay and neuter all of our pets, I’ve helped bandage up wounded horses, pulled quills out of dumb dogs, raised chickens, gave sheep vaccines, studied pre-vet medicine, joined FFA, and pushed myself to the breaking point for this dream. And I hate it.
“What do you mean you hate it?” I didn’t even realize I hated it till I started talking to my counselor. In case I didn’t already mention, I’m seeing a counselor for free at the college. Because she works through the college, she receives reports about my grades for my classes, and I’m not doing very well right now. I can’t even properly explain why. I’m trying, but I can’t seem to get over this mental hurdle and force myself to do better.
My counselor, who reminds me of a caladrius, a magic bird that healed diseases, wanted to talk about this hurdle. She asked if I was burnt out, overwhelmed, tired, if I just didn’t enjoy my classes, what was I feeling. I told her the same thing I told myself several times before, I didn’t see the point in fighting for a life I didn’t even like. I didn’t like my classes, I didn’t like my living situation, I didn’t even like myself, so why was I still trying so damn hard?
She said some things that I’m not gonna lie should have been obvious, but when you’re in that headspace, it’s hard to see it. She suggested that a) I find somewhere else to live. My home life was toxic, my mom made me unhappy, and I fought too much just for personal space, so I should move. Terrifying idea, but it made sense.
B) I should change my major. That was when the panic set in. How could I possibly change my major when I’d been working to become a vet for what was essentially my entire life. It was my only goal, my whole plan for my life. Besides what would I even change it to? That seemed to be another simple question to answer. What did I like to do in my free time? Seems I spent most of my free time anymore just writing. It is a fun safe way for me to express myself and evidently, it might just be what I need to be passionate about life again. So, I’m going to become an English major next semester, I just need to get through this one.
C) Once I get myself in a place where I’m not dealing with toxicity, and I’ve found something I can happily see myself studying, I might be able to find happiness in myself again. I also should come to terms with what I see as my weaknesses and turn them into strengths. Let me just say that sounds like the hardest thing to do ever! I’ve been struggling with those things most of my life, believed them most of my life, so how does anyone expect me to manifest them into strengths.
I’ve been thinking about this whole English degree thing, and it sounds interesting. I really enjoy writing, but can you actually make a serious living from writing? What would I even write? Just my books, or would I write for newspapers, magazines, etc.? What if writing my own books isn’t enough? What else can I do?
I could become a copywriter, writing articles for the internet essentially, or a copy editor, editing other writers works on the internet. There’s also an administrative assistant (secretary), a desktop publisher (helps organizations produce professional materials), an instructional aide (teaching aide), and proofreader (should be self explanatory). A little more education and I could be a teacher myself, a tutor, take a communication or public relations role, manage social media for businesses, create content for websites, become a freelance writer, a podcast, video game, or film script writer, or self publish my own books.
Some of these sound interesting. I’m not entirely interested in becoming a teacher, I already see that as too much work and a little too much interaction with children, which also puts instructional aide in a little box labeled “maybe if I really need to.” I enjoy writing for myself more than anything, mostly because I hate writing to a prompt, but I can manage some pretty amazing papers when I’m given the opportunity, so I could see myself in script writing and journalism. I also really love blogging right now, but I’m not sure if that’s enough to make a living on, especially with where I’m at right now with it. I know of one person reading these posts. (Hey! I know who you are and you know I know who you are, so if you’re not sure who I am, it’s probably not you!)
After doing all of this research, I wondered what it would take to become a librarian. I work in the library at the college, so while I’m not a librarian technically, I feel I do a really good job at shelving books and helping with projects or finding research materials. I learned that you don’t actually need an English degree to become a librarian. You do need a masters in library and information studies. Thankfully, I could get those online from accredited institutions.
“So, what are you thinking you want to do?” I think I am interested in becoming a librarian while working on my own writing. I think I want to get my Associates in English here, and maybe double major in New Media, while I’m working on my Master degree online. It sounds hard, and it weighs heavily on my mind that I’m twenty two and essentially starting over in school. I know I shouldn’t compare myself to other people, but I struggle with knowing a lot of people I graduated with are finishing up their bachelors degrees this year. I’m really trying to just focus on making life better for myself and not on what other people do, but it’s hard.
With changing my entire career plan, I feel like I’m abandoning my passion for animal care in some ways. I’ve been trying to come up with a couple of ideas that would help animals, and I’ve considered volunteering at shelters, fostering animals, and a senior dog home. The senior dog home, for those who may not familiar with that idea, is similar to a senior citizens home, where elderly dogs live. The thought is that I would adopt senior dogs and try to give them the best last years I possibly can. They deserve to be taken care of just as much as that adorable little puppy.
“Since you’re planning out your future, Pixie, where to you think you want to live?” Fantastic question! I don’t know. I want to stay in the Midwest/west area. I love Wyoming, but I don’t really imagine myself staying here. I’ve wrestled with ideas of moving to Montana, Colorado, and Washington, but between them I can’t really decide.
“Have you considered what your family will look like?” A little but I’ve also come to the conclusion that I’m a complex creature with varying needs and wants that I’m not entirely able to identify. By that I mean I’ve been really considering lately what actually makes me happy versus what I think will make me happy. It’s hard. I’m trying to work on me, but working on me is showing me what’s really important. Yes, I would like a relationship someday, but I’m not entirely sure with who, or when. I know I’m only sexually attracted to men, but I also have come to realize that your gender is not the determining factor in my feelings for you. I don’t know how to explain it. If I spent the rest of my life with a woman who cared about me who didn’t want to have sex with me, I’d be down for that.
I also don’t currently know if I want to carry or birth my own children. I don’t know if I even want to raise children in this world with the state of things. There’s also the consideration that there are currently 400,000 children in foster care who need homes. It pisses me off and depresses me so much that these poor children have had such difficult lives so early on in life. I want to do my best to help even a small number of them to have better lives. I’m leaning toward adopting and fostering over having children of my own.
No matter what happens with my family life, I know I want to live somewhere with enough space for tons of animals. They’re important to me, growing up with animals was important to me and no matter how I choose to expand my family, I want to give them the same joy of growing up with pets.
Do you want to hear another separate rant I’ve been playing in my head for a few days? I cut my hair this past weekend. Well, my mom actually cut my hair for me since she is the cosmetologist.
Just for quick context, I wasn’t even asking for a hair cut. She’d fixed my youngest sister’s hair, who I will refer to from now on as Leppy the Leprechaun, which was fading from purple to a weird orangey color. After she bleached Leppy’s hair and made it look incredible, she offered to do something with mine. I told her I just wanted to trim my undercut, since I already had a pixie cut, but she asked if I had any ideas for future hair cuts. I wanted a mohawk pixie cut (think Pink) and I wanted to color it, but I wanted to wait until I grew my hair out a little more. Mom insisted that I let her do it sooner rather than later, so finally I agreed to show her some of my idea. She said she’d be happy to do what I wanted.
The next day, she took me to her salon and proceeded to color my hair. It turned out beautifully. Half is red, half is black, and it looks amazing to me. Then, she started cutting it. She shaved the sides and back like wanted, and trimmed up the top.
This is where she started to get pissed off. Apparently, the back of my head looked stupid to her, so she started yelling that I’ve picked the worst haircut ever because it made me look like a dyke. She eventually calmed down, finished my hair and even though it’s not going to be the end product, it still looks great to me.
The whole process was annoying and belittling, but you know what really pissed me off? The “dyke” comment, for several reasons. 1) Why is being a lesbian an insult? So what if I was? Would she disown me? If that’s the case, I might just tell her I am. It infuriates me that that’s what she considers an insult, like having a relationship with another female is a tragedy. 2) Why would a haircut define my sexuality? She’s a cosmetologist for fuck’s sake. Does every white married woman have the exact same haircut? What about high school boys? Transgender men? Bisexual women? Seriously, do they? I think the answer is absolutely not, and given my experience with high school and college aged individuals of the above listed categories, I’d bet money that I was right. I’m just really annoyed and don’t understand her most of the time.
Let’s move onto a different update on my life that you didn’t ask for, and probably don’t care, but I need to talk about anyways. I’m talking to an ex boyfriend again, who I will refer to as Drago the dragon, because he asked to be a dragon. Well, boyfriend was a strong word for him even back then. He was a nice enough guy, and one of the two relationships I had between the rapist ex, and the ex that I was with for four and half years. The first was with a guy who was secretly homosexual and dating me as a cover, which I found out about by complete accident. Second was above stated ex who randomly popped up again after over five years of not talking.
We were in high school together and took only one class together, but Drago was funny and we used to poke fun at each other in a completely light hearted way. I thought of us as good friends, and ended up asking him to homecoming when I was a junior. We hit it off, and I thought we were dating. Turns out, he had a different term for it; courting. He was an avid Mormon, as was the rest of his family, who grew up in Utah. He was courting in order to find his future spouse, where as I was just interested in learning what I wanted in a relationship after first being abused and then being broken up with because I wasn’t a guy.
After a few weeks, maybe a few months but I can’t really remember, I realized I didn’t like Drago all that much at the time. I don’t mean to say I wasn’t interested in being his friend, but he was a different personality. He was so strict in his religion and in who he was after that I felt very out of place when I was with him. I wasn’t changing my religious views just to be with him, and I wasn’t going to be a stay at home mom for him, so I wasn’t really sure what he wanted from me. I found out he was courting another girl who was more aligned with what he wanted in a future spouse, and I was furious. I was strictly monogamous and made the assumption that he would be too. Then I wondered why he was even humoring himself and me by being in that kind of relationship with me when it was obvious that the other girl was much more his type. I broke it off, in a very loud and moronic way, I will admit, and we completely stopped talking.
Until about November last year. After the break up with my long time ex, I deleted my old Facebook account because I was tired of seeing all of my old memories with him and my ex friends. I made a new account so that I could keep up to date on family members around the country, and one day I got a friend request from Drago. We just chatted for the first few months, catching up on each others lives essentially. I really appreciated being able to chat with him around that time, given that outside of my family I really had no one.
He told me that he wasn’t Mormon anymore. He’d chosen a more agnostic view on things. He also felt bad about how he’d acted in high school. He didn’t like how he’d treated me, he was just doing what his parents wanted. He’d also felt the need to emphasize that he’d gotten a tattoo and vaped, just so I knew he’d really changed. Yeah he’s kind of a dork.
Last week, Drago told me he wanted to admit something to me. I asked what it was, and he said he had a crush on me. He remembered how nice I was in high school and how we seemed to get along until his religious/cultural views got in the way. I reminded him I’d changed since high school, but then, so had he. We still talk, and I like him, there’s no doubt about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a relationship right now.
So, I’m going to lay out some questions. I’m going to try to answer them on my own in time, which may not be for a while, but I need to ask them. If you have your own answers or advice and want to share, please feel free to. I also am well aware that everyone experiences things differently and a lot of the answers will have more to do with my own preferences and feeling, but a little advice from someone might be the push I need to make the decision I’m leaning toward.
- How long after a break up is it appropriate to consider getting into another serious relationship?
- Are long distance relationships worth it?
- Should I even be considering a relationship at all when I’m trying to work on my mental health?
- If we did decided to enter a relationship together, how much should I rely on him for support?
- How do I handle a relationship while still living with my parents?
I’m sure I could come up with more, about compromising and future details, but those aren’t topics that I feel are very important to me right now. They may be important in the future, but I have to decide to get there first. I have decided that I’m not interested in any more casual flings. I tried them while I was getting over my break up, and I’m over it. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to get into a relationship. I haven’t even been on a date in five years.
In case you’re curious, I don’t like the term “dating” unless it’s a casual relationship, or its high schoolers. It is just an odd term to me to use for when people are together or plan to be together for a long time. I’m sure there’s a more specific term I could use, but I’ve done a lot of research already today and I don’t feel like doing anymore.
That’s the end of this fabulous update on my life. Like, comment, and subscribe to stay caught up on the melodrama called my life, and to make me feel good about myself.
Until next time, fly high Chimers!
“I think we all need to be able to laugh at ourselves every now and then. Otherwise, you’ll take yourself so seriously, nothing will ever get through.”
― Callie Bowld, What Goes Down: The End of an Eating Disorder
Diary of a Bipolar Pixie 