Reflection from February 24th, 2017 @ Age 35
Sigh. Okay! I did NOT—do it, yet…
But, I did eat some pizza—with PROTEIN, so that was helpful. I, also, ate lots’a fruit today—and, GREENS, too (spinach, actually—you’re WELCOME, Popeye…) ;oD
Lol, but—it’s true! And, now, I’ma go do nails and bathe in epsom salts—on this ‘ere DARK n’stormy night, but, I’d just like, to note…
No.1. NAMI Ohio—“Kyrielle Adelshine” article; and
No.2. Paul Bodycombe—regarding the nature of bureaucrats ;oD
Okay, so, AS it relates to the upcoming MBM-III task, at hand—lol, as I listen to the sound of THUNDER outside, rolling…
Ugh. However, to make this long-ass story—SHORT!
Just do it, Maris!
FEBRUARY 2011: resumed writing, after having engaged in my lil’ 1-1/2 year, DEATH-experimentation hiatus…
SEPTEMBER 2011: (on or about, you know!) watched ‘8 Mile’ and started my long-ass journey into the musical world of Marshall Bruce Mathers (and, still going ;oD)…
NOVEMBER 2011 – JANUARY 2012: begin intense physical workout regime in preparation for—something other than what I’d originally thought it was for ;oD
FEBRUARY 2012: (I think) decided to take 1-month off WORK-work (a.k.a. attorney work—at the office, back then, with Paul Bodycombe) and made arrangements for same to SEEMINGLY, everyone else’s Chagrin…
APRIL – MAY 2012: TOOK said time (a.k.a. Book Month) for myself, which turned into 5-weeks, at the END of which I had only a prologue—for my book, and knew NOT, how I would live through the thought, of having to then return back, to “work” work;
AUGUST 2012: signed up for NAMI Ohio’s September 2012 Peer-to-Peer program, so I could learn more about “serious mental illness”—within the context of a group comprised of members who were all “seriously mentally ill;” AND, wrote an article about my experiences with same—for publication in NAMI Franklin County’s Fall 2012 newsletter mailing;
SEPTEMBER 2012: went on West Coast “vacation” with demoniac (now) ex-husband trip-challenge—DURING, which time…
Demoniac (now) ex-husband requested that I move OUT of his condo, upon “our” return “home”—that was in NAPA, post-Portland and post-Seattle…
Sigh. So then, NAPA to San Fran—demon gets food-poisoning from burger at Italian restaurant; he ends up in St. Francis’ hospital—where they overload his system with morphine;
Meanwhile, I’M so super awesome angel-wife, as I’ve always been (i.e. through his October 2010 double-lung transplant, the following year’s worth of recovery for same, etc. etc.)—we get him from the hospital back to the hotel room; demoniac (now!) ex-husband, I mean…
All our money (i.e. ALL of my money—but, just some of his) had been moved into a JOINT-Charles Schwab account which he (i.e. demoniac now ex-husband—without, my consent) transferred via iPad in its almost COMPLETE entirety (i.e. leaving only just “cents” ;oD)—over to his other individual Charles Schwab account, after a fight that we’d had. A fight that we’d had about money; one of the MANY—since we’d “combined” finances (i.e. ALL of mine—versus some, of “his”) in, prolly, 2012 at the very start of January.
HE was bein’ so super nice post-hospital visit—which, I thought at the time, was ‘cause he so very much appreciated me. As “it” turned OUT, however—
I mean, as I found out, LATER—it was only ‘cause the hospital had “overloaded” him on morphine; which thereby nullified his desire to “allow” me to purchase $350 worth’a clothing—at the San Fran mall/POST-hospital/pre-return to hotel (a.k.a. BEFORE he sobered up, at which point he told me all this).
So, then, he’s all pissed and moves ALL of the money I have, to my name—OVER into his individual Charles Schwab account which was notably, ENTIRELY out of my reach.
And, I lost it; I didn’t even know how I was gonna get HOME—I didn’t know if he was gonna leave me there, STRANDED without money in San Francisco. I just remember sitting in the bathroom with the door LOCKED—calling Charles Schwab, only to be told, “I’m sorry Mrs. Crumrine—there’s less than a dollar, even, left in your account!”
And then, I started screaming—out LOUD.
I mean, I lost it—and THEN, as it turned out, some guys came to the door, demoniac now-ex-husband answered, words, door shuts, and demon returns with his tail between his legs.
Sigh. So, THAT, at least, was helpful—but then, they were gone, and I was left by myself. Sigh. All alone, to fend for myself—against this demon.
And, I get back, to the hotel, I mean—and give it to him; and then, other stuff happens—the most relevant and presently-noteworthy of which, BEING:
He keeps all the money in his individual account, ‘cause “he” can’t trust “me”—and rather, leaves the hotel room to find an ATM and have a few drinks; then, returns to find me in the hotel room—lying on the bed, crying.
Then, he walks up—throws $300 in cash on the nightstand next to the bed upon which I was lying; just, RIGHT in front of my face, there…
FLOODED, with sea—this, is what I watch, just before he once again, leaves.
Followed up—by, THE. Divine. Comedy.
And so, ALL that’s well—does end well, after ALL ;0)
OCTOBER 2012: hire (what, eventually, TURNS out to be—my awesome, old-school) divorce-attorney—after having completed the NAMI Peer-to-Peer program, and bein’ published for the first time in NAMI Franklin County’s Fall 2012 newsletter mailing.
The point, BEING—that article of mine, that NAMI Franklin County published, right…
It was about my experiences bein’ Bipolar—in regard to creative aptitude, within the context of a MBM-III analysis. The ORIGINAL of which, I think—I’d sent to President Obama, via his White-House/LIGHT-house “packaging” ;oD
Well, anyway, I’d MET with her for lunch one day, to discuss my idea—to (gratuitously) write a series of 3-5 articles regarding my experiences with bein’ bipolar, for their newsletter mailing. And, she loved the idea (too) and so, that’s what I DID—‘cept, after they’d published the first article, I could no LONGER, in any way shape or form, get a response from them.
The time came, to send her the 2nd article for publication—and it was just, like, NOTHING. Crickets! Even.
Whew! And, so, then, LASTLY—linking back up to my former employer Paul Bodycombe, as noted, in the beginning…
That dude taught me so much about life and people and politics and greed, just generally speaking—that I certainly can understand WHY he was disappointed, when I’d decided to utilize said knowledge for **America** as opposed to enhancing his own “profit”-making capabilities ;oD
ONE, of which things—he taught me, bein’ this:
To which, I’d now add the caveat:
IN, perhaps, almost all sets of circumstance—BUT for, the **one-soul** exception.