Hair box

It helps to remember my mental illness began manifesting at age 3.  Severe depressions by age 7, manias by age 10-11. 

I never much cared for myself.  I saw myself as weak, useless, flawed.  My learning disability gave me extremely variable results in school, which drove my teachers insane.  I heard a lot about how I wasn't living up to my potential.   My parents felt the same way; and I was often punished for poor grades. 

Funny thing, though.  When they left me alone with a stack of work, I did fine.  I have an audio processing disorder.  I don't always understand what I hear.  But if you let me read it, instead, I do very well.  Ron loves that with me and vending machines.  I just pick up a manual and master the thing. 

The educational system finally understood that, when I was 17, and I began pulling straight A's for the first time in my life.  

For most of my life, I've despised myself. 

I never used sunscreen. 

I took minimal time with my appearance. 

I never brushed my teeth, unless I was going to youth group with that guy I liked. 

I find it funny; I recently, during a mania, organized the bathroom.  I have some small storage crates.  I allocated one for deodorant/perfume, one for hair things, and one for my menstrual cups, etc.

I find my dental care products overtaking the hair box.  I have 3 bottles of mouthwash, an electric toothbrush, two kinds of flossers (I prefer hands-off flossing), etc.

I never would have seen myself as taking this much time and trouble with my teeth, unless, of course, I was manic.  

I may have to evict the menstrual cups.