Bonjou everyone! (not a misspelling, that’s the Haitian Creole way of saying hello). Who knows if anyone is reading this but what the hell.

I started weightlifting again this past week; I’ve really been emphasizing running over the last year and completed 2 marathons and 2 half marathons.

Things learned about marathon training:

1. Your body’s need for nourishment increases. In other words, you want to eat the fucking couch.
2. Joints creaky creaky…sometimes. Maybe more for me since I’m in my forties now.

But now I feel the need for a new challenge. Maybe it’s my Bipolar Brain(tm) but I kind of got interested in body competitions, such as women’s figure, where they lift and lift and sculpt their bodies then go onstage in a bikini to be judged.

Now, as someone who had lots of people in her life mock the way she looked, wanting to do an event like that could sound like crazy talk. Who knows if I’ll do it? I’m 5 foot 11 inches tall and weigh 190 lbs, I have a LONG way to go before anyone needs to see me in a bikini.

I had weight loss surgery in 2016 and lost over 100 lbs. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to see what my body is capable of, like how far I can push it. I now know I can do a marathon. Now I want to see: can I get buff? Can I have the discipline to make a body change like that? We’ll see.

My dietitian gave me some macros to follow, as in on weightlifting days how many carbs, protein to eat, etc. So I’ve had to start tracking again, but then I moaned about it to my sister The Lawyer, who gave me a virtual smack and said “We talked about this and we agreed you should just at first get into a regular weight routine and then we can closely work on the diet.”

Fun fact: side effects of most crazy pills make your short term memory shit. She’s right, you know.

So I have to make the biggest effort of all: going easy on myself. I wasn’t diagnosed with my illness till I was 35, so I spent my whole life thinking when I messed up or fell short of absolute perfection that it was all my fault. That when I couldn’t make friends or be social it was all my fault. Everyone, including my family, telling me “If you just smiled more/tried harder/acted more positive, you’d be happier and have your own personal unicorn.”

Something like that.

But when I got my diagnosis, I had to accept that my brain is wired like a car in the junkyard sometimes. I mean, I’ve still got my intellect (mostly) but it’s a struggle to accept that I function differently than most people, and though I take medication daily and I do All The Things you’re supposed to do to stay healthy (meds, get plenty of sleep, exercise), sometimes shit happens.

I’m going through a bit of low mania right now because I’m bored.

And now I’m bored with writing so I’m going to drink my coffee and get ready for the day. Thanks for reading, my little unicorns.

Mania, to me, is when every idea that pops into your head is the best idea you’ve ever had.

Want to start 2 new businesses? EXCELLENT LET’S DO IT. Oh, you’re already working full time? DO IT ANYWAY. Go for your dreams. Live life to the fullest. Insert slogan here.

Hey, let’s go have some sex. Craigslist? It’s like a Chinese takeout menu. Scroll through what you want and pick from Column A and Column B. Not Column C though, you freak. Only freaks do that.

Money? MAKE IT RAIN. Of course, this rain will come from your credit cards. Which are rapidly approaching their limits.

I told my boss today (who knows about my mental illness and has always been supportive) that I’m in a bit of a manic phase right now, and I’ve made a couple errors at work and wanted her to know about it. She was cool about it; I promised I’d be even more vigilant until this burns itself out.

More later. Thanks for reading, my little tater tots.

SUP MY LITTLE PUPS. This is Hideous Control popping her head up out of the InterWebs. Think of me as a mystical babe, born supernaturally in the center of a lotus floating in the waters of the Universe, waiting to be snatched up and adopted by a kindly old couple who later learn of my supernatural origins.

Or just know that I’m a 40 something female from the USA who’s created this blog to get some stuff out.

Will anyone ever see this? Who knows. I have many hats I wear in my daily life: healthcare provider, faithful employee, student, deathslaying banshee from the depths of Hell…

One of those may not be true.

I have to put on a Face that the world sees. I think most of us are really superheroes in our own minds, our private Walter Mitty universes, and in order to survive on this Blue Marble hurtling through space, we each have a Face. The responsible Face. The Face that smiles blandly at the guy who cuts around you in line at the grocery store when really all you want to do is bare your fangs, rip off your shirt a la Hulk Hogan at Wrestlemania and chant the lyrics to a Metallica song backwards.

(Disclaimer: I am in no way implying that by chanting the lyrics to a Metallica song backwards that you will summon a demon to fulfill all your grocery store line needs, but I’m saying it couldn’t hurt)

I have a mental illness.

“Well, Hideous, so does half of the Internet. They’re on this other site called Tumblr.”

No, no, hear me out (I myself am on Tumblr, mostly to look at pictures of Cute British Actors). We are finally coming to a place in society where mental illness is being discussed and given a modicum of proper attention. I think the Internet can be a great equalizer and bring people together out of their isolation. And let me tell you, boys and grills and Other Gendered People, mental illness can be very isolating.

I take medication every day for this illness (bipolar type 2, if you want to get specific). I do all the Good Stuff I’m supposed to: meds, therapy, plenty of exercise, try to meditate, snort the musk from a virgin yak up my nose, the usual. And yet, sometimes it isn’t enough.

I’m creating this blog because I feel myself in a bit of hypomania right now. Nothing terrible, definitely not like when I was first diagnosed. But it comes in waves. Maybe it’s the winter season, maybe I’m just bored at work, maybe this, maybe that. But instead of allowing myself to go into my normal not so health coping mechanisms i.e., food, too much alcohol, browsing the internet, procrastinating, I’m going to write instead.

You’ll learn more about me in the coming entries. I’ll sign off for now, and am going to watch a Youtube video of Animal Cops: Houston and wish I had a cat again. Ta ta for now.