Who cares about the stigma

I started my spring semester classes today. My evening class is "human sexuality". It's going to be a great class... except for today. As I was walking to class, I was trying to figure out what room I should be in and had to examine my schedule many times to figure out that we were supposed to be in one room on Mondays and another on Wednesdays. For any who are keeping track, today is Wednesday. That means I missed the first class which was held on Monday. Missed it entirely. And then I remembered that since it's a compressed class, I missed 3 hours of lecture. In a class at a normal pace, this is equivalent of missing a whole week worth of classes. Okay. Not the end of world. I'll get the syllabus and get caught up. There is a big group project in this classes. We have to explore a topic in sexuality. Okay. We have to do an interview on the topic with somebody in the city. Adding to the stress a little bit. And since everybody made it to Monday's class, I'm now in a group with 2 guys who also didn't have a group. The end of the world is coming. My anxiety levels went through the roof. It took all of my power to focus on the lecture. But focusing was good because it didn't give me a chance to break down. At the time, my opinion was "I need my dog and I don't care who sees". Now I'm home, I've patted Page and taken her down for her pre-bedtime trip, and have had a moment to relax. I'm still shaking but am not stretched quite as tight.

Page, some kids, a bull, a horse, and a pole.

This stuff is getting a little bit old now but I wanted to post it anyway just to document our adventures. I'm getting caught up now that I've managed to find my key board again. I've just been so busy.

I was walking Page in one of the green spaces by my place when we were approached by some kids. The oldest of them was no more than 6. And at first, their mother was no where to be seen. Okay. Have to deal with the moment. I wasn't sure how Page was going to be with them. So I got her to sit while the oldest boldly approached. She asked if Page was friendly; good child. So I invited her to pat Page. Then she called her brothers over. And they surrounded Page. Yikes! When the mother did finally come over, she was no help at all. Even when I said that Page and I should get going, she didn't herd her children away. OMG: Note to all parents: Don't let your children do what ever they want without any regard for other people's space. Page eventually backed inbetween my legs to stand behind me. I think she had enough. So we went. We wondered around the park some more and the little girl kept appearing at our side. What was her mother doing?!? But over all, Page did very well and I was quite pleased with her.

There are statues of a horse and a bull near my house, on the busy street. We were going to cross the street at the corner near the bull and I never even thought of them. When we stopped at the corner to wait for the light, Page looked around and jumped sideways so that she was facing the bull. I figured that this was going to be a good exposure activity so I took advantage of it. Slowly (very slowly as we got closer), I got Page to approach the bull. With lots of encouragement, pats and "good girl"s (my treat bag was at home), I got her within a couple of feet of the bull. I figured since we were there, I would try the horse that was up the street as well. I had approached this one from behind. Page smelled its hock and ducked right away. I tried so hard not to laugh. It looks like Page's livestock instincts are just fine. But she approached it again right away and smelled it's leg, tail, belly, nose and even wagged her tail at it.

I took her back past these statues again a few days later. We approached from the opposite direction so we met the horse first, head on. She was a little bit more hesitant to approach the horse from this angle. When we approached the bull from the rear, she walked right up and smelt its tail. Silly doggy. I'm hoping to post pictures of her sitting in front of these statues soon, as soon as I can convince her to sit in front of them. :)

In other new experiences, I have pole danced for a number of years. I was playing around on my pole the other day and Page was so curious as to what I was doing that I kept nearly tripping over her. Hopefully it won't be such a shock in the future. Some people are super shocked that I talk about pole dancing so easily and openly. I think the main topic of this blog (Bipolar and PSDs) are way more controversial than pole dancing is. For those of you who may not believe that I have a pole in my house:

Trouble going

I know that I used to post so regularly. And a lot of it was real and honest at the moment that it was written. And now I'm faced with the daunting task of reviewing and possibly rewriting many of my entries. We want this blog to reflect everything in the best light. I want to use this blog to encourage the acceptance of psych dogs into main stream society. I'm a guinea pig but I want it to become real and legit. I want to help it become something that is supported by government and society at large. There is so many hopes that I have for this topic. But I'm having trouble writing because I'm scared that I'm going to write it wrong. I don't want to have to go back anymore after this and rewrite stuff. To change my original words. My brain and heart feel different now then they did when the incident happened. What if I can't remember it correctly? What if in rewriting it, I change or destroy the impact that the day had on me? This is about my growth as well as Page's journey. I feel paralyzed. The fear of destroying keeps me from rewriting and the fear of being told that what I wrote isn't in the best light keeps me from portraying our new challenges and accomplishments. These are supposed to be my words and I feel like they are being doctored. I understand why they need to be doctored but I don't want to. I want to tell the truth as I see it. And I want to document the way I see the truth on that day. Some days my truth is very skewed from reality. I want to show this because I think it is being true about my mental illness.