Right now, I’m hungry and mad, but I’m not hangry. Maybe mad is a bit extreme, I just happen to be in a bad mood and am now focusing on how hungry I am. Will I be in a better mood when I finally get something to eat? Will I get something to eat? Or will I just sit here, mad and hungry, and just starve until either the hunger goes away or it’s so unbearable that now it’s transformed into physical pain dispersed throughout my entire body. Why is eating so hard sometimes? For some reason sometimes it feels like starving and thinking about being hungry is better than getting up and getting something to eat. I’d have to get off the couch, walk to the fridge (thankfully on the same level as I am right now), stand there and look at the fridge filled with possibilities. Maybe not FILLED, but there’s options. Of course nothing I could just heat up, so I would have to brainstorm. Well there’s eggs so that creates lots of options. But I’m not really in the mood for eggs right now. As I stand at the fridge I can’t stop thinking about my flat feet getting irritated and how comfy the couch is. I shut the fridge and open some cabinets. I could just snack on something. But once again nothing is sounding good. The more I read the less of an appetite I have. I’m still hungry, though. Now I’m hungry, in a bad mood, and all of a sudden have an aversion to every item in my house. Defeated, I go back to the couch. I jump onto the couch with more effort that I’ve put into anything in a long time. Comfort swallows me whole. This is a great couch. I’m still hungry. I could order delivery, that would give me lots of options. But then of course I’d have to get off the couch, put something more than shorts and a tank top on and walk down the stairs. My feet hurt thinking about it, which causes my knees to hurt, which causes my back to hurt. I suddenly feel like I’m wearing a weighted vest. I think about what I saw in the fridge again. Everything sounds even worse than it did the first time. I’m so ungrateful. I don’t have much, but I have enough. Great, now I’m hungry, in a bad mood, feeling disgusted by food, and I feel like I caused world hunger. Of course I didn’t. I try to help in ways that I can. I can do more. I could always do more. Suddenly my irritation turns to sorrow and disappointment. Listen to me, I sound terrible. I need a nap.
Blog Feed
Weekend Reflecting. Socializing is Exhausting.
I’ve been trying to get out of my comfort zone recently, and have been making a conscious effort to analyze my feeling mid situation. I’m very in tune with my anxiety and discomfort and am trying to learn how to tell my body I’m okay. Especially when I’m with people that I trust and feel safe around. This year for me was a year of “yes”. I very comfortably say no and often miss out on things. Sometimes I don’t regret it, but others I get a bit of FOMO. I’ve been trying to put in so much effort on socializing and getting over the whole awkwardness that I feel like I bring. I want to push it as much as I can, and I think I’ve been doing okay so far.
Last weekend I went up north to a cabin with a group of people, a couple of friends and their other friends. I’ve met them all at least once, some more than others, some communicating via social media and what not. I’m a very fun and silly person when I get comfortable, but in the beginning of the day I can be a little bit awkward. It didn’t help that I was at another (socially distanced/masked) event the night before and stayed up late tending to an overly intoxicated friend and had to get up early and drive.
I’ve gotten more comfortable driving to unknown places over the years. It used to give me major anxiety. Even driving to a new restaurant in the next town would really stress me out. What’s the parking like? I needed to know before I left. Anyway, I’m a very suburban person so driving in the more rural areas makes me nervous. I also have a slight fear of the country. I’d rather be walking around a not so great city neighborhood than walk a country road by myself. So I’m following the GPS and of course as we get further into the country it starts bringing me down the dirt roads. Thank you Subaru for making great vehicles and not even having this be a slight problem for my car. That actually helps my anxiety a bit. I’m starting to get nervous that I’m going the right way, and I also have a led foot so I have to make sure I’m going slow enough to make the turn that I can’t see coming, but not too slow that if a car comes I inconvenience them. I turn on a road that says “no outlet” and now I’m getting paranoid about finding the right house. If I pass it how will I turn around? Will I have room? Will I awkwardly have to pull a bit onto someone’s property? Luckily I didn’t miss it. I pull up to the house, and am thankful to see my friends’ cars that I recognize. Now where do I park? I call and ask. Anywhere she says. Her uncle is outside, “just park anywhere” he reiterates. Are any of these vehicles driving to the lake? Will I be in the way? I see the pattern of cars backed into a line. I suppose I’ll have to back mine up as well. I hate backing my car up, I have no confidence. I especially hate it when I have an audience. A country man, no less. “Fucking city girl” he’s probably saying to himself. I start to back up and in pulls another car, oh great another bystander to watch me butcher this. Oh not just another guest, the man I have a school girl crush on (who of course knows because my friend has a big mouth). He smoothly just follows my lead and begins backing up as well. I back up, it was fine. I get out and check, and huh, I did alright. He says hello, my right hand is doing its nervous tremor dance it does. My driving anxiety is gone, my social anxiety kicks in. I think we had a nice little normal chat? I don’t remember.
We walk in the house and introduce ourselves to my friend’s aunt. She thinks we’re together, I didn’t correct her. She’s sweet and welcoming, I feel comforted with her. We walk down to the basement where of course everyone turns and looks. This is possibly one of the most stressful things in the world for me. My right hand is shaking so bad, I’m losing the grip on my phone. I only see two of my friends, the two who’s party it is. I greet them and am offered either a mimosa or Bloody Mary. I don’t drink either, I look around the room and feel left out. I go to my car and make myself a margarita. I go in and socialize and try to be as normal as I can be. I know I come off as awkward, I just hope it’s more shy awkward. After socializing and getting prepared, we’re ready to go to the lake. People get in vehicles and I’m panicked wondering where I’ll end up. I ended up with the aunt and uncle and two girls I barely know. Lovely. I’m trying my best not to pick at my skin.
We get to the boats and I’m excited to be out in the sun. We pull over to a beach and everyone gets out and jumps into the water. I’m too uncomfortable to wear just my swimsuit. I’ll sit in the boat and get some sun. Of course I’m badgered. I get in the water and try to stand knee deep so my shorts don’t get wet. I’m pestered to take off my clothes. “You stand out more with clothes on than you do in a bathing suit” my friend points out. She meant it to be comforting. “You have a great body, stop” another says. Here’s the thing, I’m a small girl. That doesn’t mean I can’t have my own insecurities. I have small boobs, and I’m surrounded by girls with great boobs. I used to have nice thighs, but sadly lost weight so I don’t want to show them off. I’m personally not attracted to the supermodel type, so I’m not attracted to myself. I’m just not that comfortable. The weird thing is, I’m very comfortable with my sexuality and sensuality, but those come with different territories. My friend wants to take pictures in our matching swimsuits. It’s her day, so I do it for her. I suffer through it and it’s not horrible.
Back at the cabin the awkwardness sets in again. It’s time to mingle and what not. I’m trying to drink my margaritas but don’t seem to be getting any more intoxicated. When will the alcohol hit me enough to be comfortable? Why am I still overthinking these inhibitions? We play beer darts, great, another game when it’s your turn people watch! Love those. Not. Someone makes a joke about me so I, in turn, jokingly “angrily” throw my dart. It hits someone’s foot. Pierce’s through his shoe, and poked his foot breaking skin. I’m mortified. People think it’s funny, I’m trying to laugh but want to throw up. He’s laughing, that helps. We play some more games and I’m getting more comfortable.
As the night goes on I’m opening up. I’m having one on one conversations with people I don’t really know, and starting to bond with people. The man I have a crush on tells me he hears I’m a protector. I tell him I will do what I have to for my friends, and if anyone tries to hurt them they’re going to have to answer to the bipolar girl who blacks out when she’s filled with rage. It’s caused me problems in my past, but I’ve been calm for years. She’s ready to come out if she needs to. He asks me to square up with him and show him what I’ve got. I’m nervous but had enough to drink I’m a little bit confident. Plus, I’m always eager to show my east coast side to these midwesterners. He’s impressed. He says he’s glad our friends have me in their lives. He’s a wonderful man. We all play a drinking game, we’re very team oriented, my team was very supportive, I was probably the weakest link but they never made me feel that way. I think I’m comfortable.
Time passes, I’ve drank a whole bottle of tequila, and I manage to drink some seltzer’s and beer without wanting to die. Usually I can’t take a sip of beer without laughing at how horrible it is. Anyway, I’m somehow so comfortable I suggest a group of us go skinny dipping just like they do on Vanderpump Rules, a show me and my friend love. We walk out to the road and try to find an entrance to the lake. We’re not having any luck. We’re laughing about how it’s pitch black and like we’re in a scary movie. I’m laughing along, nervously. We can’t find a smart and safe way to walk through the trees down the hill to the lake so we go back. We go to the fire where the rest of the group is sitting. I feel awkward because I’m now braless. Fuck it. More people hear we tried to go skinny dipping, now they want to try. This time it’s only of my friends and two of her friends. Her male friends. I’m reluctant but I’m thinking you know what, just do it. I’ve never skinny dipped before and I really wanted to. We go out to the road and someone finds a path! I didn’t actually think we would. As we walk to the path I’m getting nervous and questioning why the fuck am I doing this with strangers. We get to the dock and I’m wondering if anyone will back out. They don’t. Someone strips down and jumps in. I take off my dress and jump in. We then realize the other two kept their underwear on and feel weird. No, we should feel proud we did it the right way. The water was so warm but the brush under our feet was a little freaky. I tried not to think about it. Thankfully it was late and dark as hell out so I wasn’t too self conscious. Remember early in the day I was too nervous to wear a bathing suit? Now I’m naked in a lake. I can’t lie, it felt amazing. We walked back and then went into the hot tub. Thank god for the jets so you couldn’t see anything. At this point the heat of the hot tub is starting to make me aware of just how much I had to drink. Time fore to get out before I get too dehydrated and dizzy. I already don’t do too well in hot tubs. I can do about 20 minutes max. I dry off, put on pjs and then get on into a comfy ass recliner. Two people were watching “It”. Just what I want to fall asleep to in the middle of nowhere, a scary movie.
I only slept for a couple of hours and then couldn’t sleep. The next mornings are always awkward. Time to start the anxiety all over again! I woke up feeling a little tired, but not horrible. I was getting praised for how impressed people were with how much I can drink. 120 pounds and put down a bottle of tequila, some random shots from a shot roulette game, beer and seltzer. I too, was impressed. We ate breakfast and said our goodbyes. The hangover hit me on the drive home. Man, was I tired. I got home played with my dog then took a nap. I didn’t even care that I’ve yet to shower from being in the lake and hot tub, I needed a nap. The rest of the day was pretty much a struggle.
I know myself pretty well and know that social situations exhaust me. They take so much out of me. I can still enjoy them, but as soon as I’m removed from the event I just fall apart. I get a social hangover. Then you factor in the fact that I had a bit to drink and was probably hungover from that, too. Man was I exhausted. I’m 26, I should be able to recover easily. It was a struggle the entire rest of the day. Taking my dog for her walks felt like a legitimate exercise. I didn’t even want to make food. I had no energy. I really did have a great time, and it was an awesome way to end the season. I like to think that I pushed myself, and in turn created some friendships. I’m hoping the next time I see these people again, at my friends’ wedding, I won’t have to start over and can go into with a little bit of comfort and confidence and will keep working my way up.
Career FOMO
Do you ever feel inadequate? I recently started binging New Amsterdam and am totally hooked. The selflessness and dedication these characters have to their job has really been making me doubt my self and giving me major career fomo.
I graduated college with a bachelors degree, and am currently working in a job, in the field I studied in, but a job that requires a high school diploma or GED. It’s a government job, and has good benefits, but I just feel like i’m not working to my potential. I feel like I have a job, but not a career. I want a big girl job. I want to have passion for what I do. The problem? I don’t even know what I would be passionate about. I have passion for poetry and writing, but is that a viable career opportunity for me? No. I feel like I really have no avenues. I’m stuck to feel like I’m drowning and losing myself in a job I don’t love.
I don’t hate the idea of going back to school to get my masters, but am I set on this field for the rest of my life? I’m really not sure. When I get my bouts of mania I have all these ideas of what I would want to do. I’ve started writing memoirs, and even started a screenplay. I only really have effort for these during my manic stages. Although I don’t see these hobbies going anywhere, at least I still enjoy them.
How many other people go through this? Of course I know everyone feels stuck at times. How do people get through it? I wonder if I ever will get anywhere.
Medication Mismanagement
I woke up today and didn’t take my medication. I realized I haven’t been appropriately taking them for a while now. Every day I acknowledge that I didn’t take them, and still don’t take them. My main excuse is that they make me nauseous and dizzy if I take them on an empty stomach, and working so early in the morning I don’t get to eat before going to work. I used to bring them to work and eat there, but a lot of times I’d completely forget.
It does seem like when I have a good routine, my life is better, more organized, healthier.
I’ve been stressed about so many little things lately; the color of my teeth, my back and forth battle with my skin, I can’t for the life of me decide on a new couch, what do I want my new bedroom to look like? Are all of these little things a sign that my life is actually going well? My credit card was paid off and then I guess the only finances I worry about are student loans (yay for being postponed!) and some medical bills. Medical bills frustrate me since my kidney doesn’t seem to want to get it’s shit together so that’s fun.
Maybe this is time for me to make a big girl decision and put my mind first. The whole idea of focusing on my morning medication could even become something to set the tone for my entire day. I can try to squeeze something small to eat while I get ready. I tried breakfast drinks, but they seem to make me hungrier than I was when I started. Muffins? Should I try muffins? Maybe I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll start getting a little breakfast together the night before. All this to consistently take my medication.
The truth is, I’ve felt fine without my meds, but I know it’s not the best for me. I definitely do get a little zany, albeit fun, but a little too much me without them. I also wonder if the inconsistency isn’t helping my skin too much.
So today, Sunday April 16th I took my morning meds, and am going to take my evening meds as well. I started this day better than any other day, despite getting drunk last night. Woke up early, cleaned the kitchen, did some diy skin care and drank a nice ACV honey lemon cocktail. Isn’t apple cider vinegar the best? This will be a good day, and hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Extreme Talking to Yourself, or Slightly Disassociating?
Ever since I can remember I have always talked to myself. That’s a common thing right? Doing chores and talking aloud about what tasks to do next, or saying “did I leave the oven on?” I’d say that’s something a lot of people do. Whenever I’d talk about with other people they usually seem to agree that they do that. But it’s when I divulge into my more extreme form of talking to myself where I usually lose people.
Now I’m not even sure if calling it “talking to myself” is accurate because it’s more of a daily acting session. You see, sometimes when I get bored I’ll act out different scenarios. I have conversations with myself out loud and even will respond as the other person would. Usually it has something to do with me being famous.
It can also be influenced by what I’m watching. It seems like I can’t watch a show without putting myself in that show and simulating similar situations. For example one of my usual scenarios is that I’m in an action movie and I always experience an intense situation. I will go as far as running up and down the stairs of my house, hiding behind walls, having intense conversations and saying goodbyes, and even falling on the floor or on the couch when I get injured in some way or another, usually due to my heroic efforts. Just imagine how much fun I had when I watched Game of Thrones. Couldn’t recreate the Arya/Night King scene, that was so legendary that I didn’t even want to touch it.
So for all of you singing show fans out there, how fun are they to watch?! I love both the entertainment value of the shows and also the inspirational moments. I love watching the lives of people change before their eyes. My talentless self is still able to feel for all they go through and I always hope for the best for them. I find myself pausing the shows during their commercial breaks and putting on performances of my own. I actually have a go to set list for my “run on the show”. I start off with a song for the audition, something that lets me display some of my pain for them to feel. I feel like even if it’s not the strongest performance, if there’s pain involved it helps you out. I’d start with something like Elastic Heart by Sia, but the piano version when she says “I want my life so bad, i’m doing everything I can” I usually crack a little bit on “bad” where they can really feel it. I know how sad is that?! I mean me, not the beautiful lyrics.Other songs I usually go to are Everywhere I go by Sleeping at Last (sooo beautiful), and We Don’t Have to Take our Clothes Off the version by Ella Eyre.
Then I always pretend like they tell me that they want to see something different, something less raw and more upbeat so I try and throw in a more pop song like Selena Gomez, or something upbeat by Phillip Phillips. Let me say that I even do the judges critiques out loud as well. I also commonly throw Praying by Kesha into the mix, because you know, why not. On finale night, i’ll put on lipstick and mascara (if I’m not wearing makeup already) and sometimes will throw on a dress. My finale song seems to always be All I Ask by Adele. That is one of my favorite songs of all time and is just from beginning to end extremely beautiful. I’m also going through the exact situation right now, and every single lyric means something special to me. I don’t do it justice but again, I allow my emotions to get the best of me and squeeze in a voice crack usually on, “hold me like I’m more than JUST a friend.” Yes, I literally plan this all out. Of course I have a great winning moment and let out REAL tears everyone. I’m that mad. Mind you, I can’t sing for the life of me.
The same thing happens if I either just saw, or am planning to see a musical, just imagine me performing a one woman show, sometimes to the entire soundtrack. Usually it’s to Rent. I probably lost you through all of this and you’re sitting there looking at your phone reading this and thinking, “what a nutjob, she has way too much time on her hands.” Probably true, but at least I have a good imagination right?
I grew up in New York where it’s not too uncommon for people to throw award show viewing parties. In the midwest I haven’t had any luck finding people to get into it with me. So I usually throw parties by myself. My favorite award show to watch is the Oscars. I love the glitz and glam. I ALWAYS dress up for the Oscars by throwing on one of my favorite gowns. Whether it’s a vintage gown from my mother’s modeling days, a bridesmaid gown, or just something I’ve purchased for a black tie or formal wedding, I’m always in full dress. Glam makeup and everything. I have my favorites that I root for, like I assume lots of people who watch do. Please tell me at least that is normal! I clap along with them, and love to cry when winners get emotional, and also at the touching memorials.
While it seems like I watch like a normal viewer again, during commercial breaks my imagination seems to wander and there I am again watching my “nominated scene” for Best Actress which usually is my first movie, my big break if you will. The scene usually is heartbreaking from a deep, darker drama. When they announce my name I’m in shock and when I arrive to the podium there’s a standing ovation, and my emotions get the best of me and I struggle to speak and the applause gets louder. When it dies down I start my speech which of course I thank my friends and family blahblahblah but then I thank the director for wanting a face no-one has ever seen before to fill such a unique, powerful roll. For example one time I portrayed a mother whose daughter was raped and I was willing to do anything for my daughter to get justice. The scene nominated was me asking my daughter what happened and she was resisting to tell me, I then yell at her that she needs to tell me the truth because I am her mother and I am supposed to protect her, so I would be failing as a mother if she didn’t give me the chance to protect her by telling me the truth. I’m different, I know.
In my opinion some less extreme situations I “act out” is usually just me talking to my celebrity boyfriend, usually a hockey player or actor. I even hug walls and sometimes kiss them because I’m a total freak. I also act out fights and love scenes, and even interviews about our relationship.
So can anyone out there relate to this? Someone please tell me you do similar things. Ever since I can remember I always did this. Maybe I wanted to be an actress? I’m not sure, but I would love to hear if anyone has experienced anything like this. Or even, what are your thoughts on it? Why do you think my brain works like this?
Allow Me to Introduce Myself
Oh god, that was lame wasn’t it? Too cheesy? I’m overthinking this already…
“She is water. Powerful enough to drown, you soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.” – Adrian Michael
Well here I am. All of me, with all of you. I struggle to give anything all of me, as sometimes I’m unaware of where parts of me begin, and parts of me end. I guess writing is a way for me to put myself together and try to make sense of it all.
Ah! My first blog post! What do I say? Just how much should I lay out here? I love words but wish I were better with them.
Here it goes! My name is Cira Dirci and I’m 25 years old. I grew up on Long Island, New York surrounded by people who cared more about their money, their beauty, and their objects more than being good people. Not everyone, obviously, but most of the ones I grew up with. I sometimes find those ideals buried inside me, when I thought I’ve gotten rid of them. Just like the accent that I (very successfully) tried to suppress.
After 20 years of aggressive New York, I followed my heart (a boy) to Minnesota. I know I know, how naive. And before you ask…. yes we broke up! But that’s okay I now have a beautiful home that I share with my beautiful dog. A 25 year old homeowner, that’s something to be proud of right? Minnesota is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. While I sometimes find myself missing New York food, or get a late night craving that isn’t available here, I’m happy I ended up here.
No matter what Minnesota will always be special to me. It’s where I graduated college and then got my first full time job. It’s where after years of assuming, I finally got diagnosed with bipolar depression, acute anxiety disorder, and dissociative identity disorder.
After years of struggling with my mental health it felt so good to finally be diagnosed and to be able to get the help I needed. I was thankful that my job provided me with insurance where that would be possible, but never expected my job to lead to yet another mental health diagnosis.
Earlier this year I was physically assaulted by a male coworker of mine. One that I allowed into my personal life and homelife. I thought this person truly had cared, even loved me. I never thought they would hurt. Yet there I was, laying on the floor, being told repeatedly that he wanted to kill me. Like many other victims of abuse, I failed to contact the police right away. That is the only thing I can say I regret in life (and I’ve done a lot of stupid things). After persistent harassment I decided to get a restraining order. Unfortunately my job failed to keep me protected, and ended up keeping me in a hostile work environment, forcing me to relive the traumatic situation over and over again. I finally ask for a little bit of help only for them to figuratively pat me on the head, and then push me aside.
This constant state of fear, anxiety, and extreme stress was keeping me from performing my job to the best of my abilities. Going to work started to make me physically ill. I could no longer sleep. I then got diagnosed with PTSD. After explaining my situation to my unbelievable psychiatrist she requested that I take some time off of work and focus on therapy to start the healing process.
That leads me here! Being off of work is great of course, but with my history of depression I tend to fall into the pattern of doing nothing all day, and losing what progress I’ve worked so hard for. I wish I could binge a new series on Netflix every day like some people in my situation would, but for me that constant couch time would just spiral my bipolar disorder into a very depressive state. Can’t have that. Everyday I need to work on myself. My mind can not get comfortable with not being stimulated every day. I have to make sure I don’t keep lounging around, because if I do, it’s very hard for me to work out of.
I’m trying to force myself to take this time to get healthy; body, mind, soul. I’m trying to push my anxiety ridden little booty into going outside my comfort zone. Gonna get some house projects done, have some DIY fun! But I can’t let the manic in me give myself too much, gotta keep it just right.
So if you’ll have me, I’m going to work it all out on here. Give myself that safe space to lay it all out. Maybe reading it for myself will start some soul healing for me.
So thank you, and welcome.
She's Out of Range 