Monthly Archives: November 2013
I didn’t have another title in mind. Becca has been using this term ass trash for awhile now and well…It just describes life these days, so I’m gonna go with it.
So R FIRED me, as his friend. I thought I was kind of an employee who did things to earn things. Apparently it was just a friendship and my failure to answer the phone on a Sunday to tend to his needs was the sign that I am using him. I sent a text explaining that I was in a bad mental state coming off a med I ran out of so avoiding me was in his best interest…And he didn’t like the tone of that so he texted back that I need to stand on my own two feet for a change and he thought we were friends and he sees he was wrong.
All because I didn’t answer my phone on a damn Sunday. It was so bad, he called like five times. When I didn’t answer he called my dad’s house at 9 pm and got them all worried. Seriously, dude? I’m 41 and American. I am entitled to a bad mood and to not answer my damn phone when I think that mood might lead to trouble.
And it did. And I didn’t mean for it to,was just kinda giving the heads up, this is why I’m not answering my phone…But he doesnt accept I have a mental illness therefore trying to explain winter depression and its shut down and med withdrawal is pointless.
So we’re done.
And the thing is…I feel free.If my car breaks down I am totally screwed but I am breathing for the first time in months. I dont feel caught in a stranglehold. I’m not having bad dreams about busted electronics. I don’t dread ringing phones now. Because I am FREE.
I don;t like it came down to this. But being pissed off because I didnt want to answer my phone seems to reflect more on him than me. I mean, seriously, my own father doesnt get all bent and worried if I don’t answer my phone for a day. Ridiculous.
And I’d rather do without and fail on my own than be beholden to someone who’s keeping track of his good deeds done for me without thinking that I’ve earned the stuff he’s done for me.
Now the aftermath is my paranoia running rampant on how he’s likely maligning me to anyone who will listen. I don’t mind being called out for what I’m guilty of. Bitchy? Yep. Moody? Uh huh. Self absorbed?Sure. But I thought I was earning every good deed he did for me, and it turns out,he was just being a nice guy therefore I used him and I owe him. He was carrying me so I have to stand on my own two feet now.
I dont think he;s said anything to my dad yet but I know how that will go. Dad sided with R 15 years ago when we broke up. I mean, R works and has money and he’s respectable and I’m just a lazy ungrateful brat who can’t get her shit together. (Not making that up, my dad has said that to me.) This is why I hate small towns where everyone knows everyone and everything. I don’t consider it anyone’s business but R loves the sound of his own voice and loves to play the victim so it’s gonna be lovely when it all comes down.
Now you may ask what the fuck that whiny diatribe has to do with mental illness.
Well, I had a bad day mentally on Sunday. Altered mind states make you behave in strange ways. Like not answering the phone.Like not opening the mail box. Like being too weirded out to go to the grocery store so you eat food you dont even like since it’s already there. Like not being able to force yourself into a shower.
This winter depression has taken hold like a pit bull and it won’t let go for shit.
And it doesn’;t help that I ran out of lamictal and can;t get more til Tuesday. The doctor just told me it;s not something you quit cold turkey cos it could cause seizures. Ha ha ha ha. And I’m bitching about being out of it?I got lucky apparently.
Tomorrow is turkey day. At my mom’s. With my dad, his gf, and their kid also attending. Plus about 15 people not even related to me that are part of my sister;s inner circle. I am going but I dont have a good feeling. I’ve been to enough of these family things to know they rarely go well. And with my current depressive moodiness..My dad starts in on me about the wrong thing, it could get ugly.
On the plus side, my anxiety has been lesser. Not by much but definitely lesser. I’m no longer certain people are out to get me. Thats an improvement.
(Pardon all the punctuation mistakes, this netbook keyboard is so small my fat fingers fuck it all up.)
I read another blog earlier…And this woman mentioned her bipolar daughter and how much trouble she is having..And the mom said she wanted to run far far away from her daughter’;s problems.
And it made me see things from the other side. I know its gotta suck for people who have to deal secondhand with mental disorders. I don’t have any wisdom except it’s not personal. Being bipolar has not enhanced my life in any way. I want to run away from it. I’ve tried countless times. It doesnt work though.
I talked to my mom on the phone tonight and she said, “I cured myself of depression.”
Yeah, my family’s about as comforting as the Marquis de Sade was kind.
As it stands, Becca is my only friend and support system that I am certain of Everyone else seems to come and go. When I’m manic, they think I am awesome. Then the mood swings and away they go. And I am not so insecure or desperate as to require such people in my life. You’;re real, you’re in for the whole deal, not just the happy parts.
And Bex has been there for over ten years. Maybe only by an internet tether but it means the world to me, and so does she. You find out who matters when the chips are down and everything turns to shit.
Or as Bex would say, when it all turns to ass trash. <3
Today I’m especially thankful for my friends. There’s quite a few people I am blessed with who stick out the rough spots and enjoy the good times. I’m also especially thankful for one friendship that was rekindled after a couple years of silence. Apologies were made, forgiveness was granted and one of my pillars of support is once again there.
I think new beginnings are grand. I love to see new life crop up in previously dormant things. Today’s DIY craft reveal is a quick recycle/upcycle that is really going to help me in the kitchen.
I hate to throw away a useful container, it’s got a good seal and helpful handle. Perfect for storing my gluten free flour, my sugar as well as lots of other things. So I put a couple coats of paint on it (spray paint probably would have worked better, FYI) and applied a “chalkboard” label.
Voila! A new but not new storage container, perfect for kitchen, pantry, laundry, etc.
Have you ever rehabbed an item to give it a new life? Please share your DIY’s!!
I know, I know, I do a lot of Carrie Fisher quotes, but I absolutely love her:
I’m fine, but I’m bipolar. I’m on seven medications, and I take medication three times a day. This constantly puts me in touch with the illness I have. I’m never quite allowed to be free of that for a day. It’s like being a diabetic.
– Carrie Fisher
Becky reminded me that I’ve gone a bit silent. Well, I think that time of quiet is nearly past, but not quite. The pregnancy nausea lifted last week, which is yay. But I’m still feeling really fatigued and brain-dead; I’ve got network-related emails building up that I *really* need to find the spoons to respond to. If any of you are reading this — I am incredibly sorry to not have gotten back to you yet. I was really hoping that today would be the day, but I got slammed by a migraine first thing this morning, atop two annoyances on Facebook from my chère Maman. She probably wasn’t trying to be annoying… I don’t really know. It’s hard to be impartial on tone when one wakes up feeling crappy!
I think there’s another migraine coming on, which suuuucks (especially when pregnancy means I can’t take codeine), but I’m still trying to keep as cheerful as possible. I might be feeling like crap, but my husband is doing worse right now. He dotes on me pretty much every day, so it’s pleasing to be able to turn the tables and take care of him. I’d prefer him to not be sick, obviously, but I feel like this is the especial time that I’m able to remember how to lock off my feeling terrible to do what I love do to — help other people.
There’s also the coming off of my meds factor which might be contributing to my spiking ire lately. We agree that, should my pregnancy follow the path set by the previous one, my mood should be stable enough for me to come off so I can have less worries about the effects on Microbutt, as well as enabling to have a home birth; hospitals stress me out so badly that I can’t make it an hour without hitting hysterical sobbing from the ‘way too fucking much stimulii’ factor. Worst comes to worst, I know the local health care proviso includes a homebirthing centre that’s the best sort of middle ground between hospitalized and not, but… we’ll see. I’m fingers crossed it will all work out. But I did know that coming off the antidepressant could be a bit difficult, so I’m going to attribute the slight spikes to that. I’m to see my psychiatrist again in the next week or two (waiting for the appointment card) to determine what the next course of action will be. I’m glad I’ve not gotten the card — my first scan of the little fetal one is Monday, so that will let me know that (hopefully) the kiddo is doing fine at 12 weeks, and is only one (ESPECIALLY only one; my broken-ass brain can’t handle twins, of this I’m sure).
So yeah, still out here somewhere, still alive. *smiles wanly* I hope everyone out there is doing well.
I just had an interesting experience. I am a member of a few online support groups now, which is something I was afraid to take part in earlier. I think like so many others I had fear of being judged, categorized unfairly, or just unsupported. In this exchange I had with someone in a group I experienced everything I was hoping to avoid. It was a good learning experience though.
This person decided that I was in fact manic because I had enthusiasm for my work. He decided I was unable to lead this project, and would undoubtedly fail at my task. He did this based on my diagnosis alone. That is discrimination! Discrimination amongst my peers, means that others have internalized this notion of permanent limitations based on this label alone. He was basically saying, albeit indirectly, that HE had limitations, so I must as well. I haven’t created walls like that around my life.
It is TRUE that bipolar causes massive disruptions in one’s existence. There is NO doubt that there is struggle to overcome for all of us. But for me, that was only true until I found a treatment protocol that worked (medication, exercise, sun-lamp, no drinking, therapy, and meaningful work). I have been so fortunate to get to this pinnacle, with the help of my patient doctor, lots of personal strain and effort, and the unconditional love of my family (namely my husband).
This brings up another point, that I have often faced, with friends and family alike — so the people that really matter to me. I’ve found on many occasions the need to “prove” some sort of state of mind. I think the sad truth is that people do not trust your reactions *permanently* after this diagnosis has been bestowed upon you despite your actual level of health. I understand why, and I am not even suggesting that it needs to be change. I am really just pointing out the existence of this internal conflict. No one wants to be “checked in on” like a child. No one. I do understand that an important part of stability is letting go of one’s ego, and accepting that those around you simply care. But still, as someone who has learned to accept help, it’s irritating at best.
I’m realizing that if stigma and discrimination is found amongst my peers, then I will face it head-on in the larger society around me. This will be particularly true as we move through the production process. I imagine I will be sized up and my capabilities judged quite often. Now I was prepared for this obvious scenario, but I was less prepared to be cut-down by someone who shares my diagnosis. I was expecting more empathy and understanding, which perhaps makes me naive.
The sad truth is there are people who will never see themselves as a full person, an equal, in the eyes of society. I can only say that this notion makes me even more firm in my resolve to make this film. The truth of the illness, the truth about possible recovery, the truth about treatment, stigma, and healing alike all needs to be visualized to comprehend it. Perhaps I can help my accuser realize that they are perpetuating the very stigma that holds us all down.
To anyone reading this, who has been doubted. Don’t internalize a word. Keep striving and taking action towards being the best version of yourself possible. Let your gifts of creativity, numerous talents and skills, run wild. I’ve seen some of the most profound artwork and humanity derived from people with so called mental disabilities. Make realistic plans, be inspired, and don’t temper the innate creativity that lives in so many of us, and you will succeed at your given task. I believe in so many of you out there.
The statement that was made by this poor disgruntled soul said something I’m sure others will consider, so I am addressing it here. He states, “You want to find more out there, but there’s not much to be found. There’s nothing out there to find. It’s a mental illness. It’s all been researched before. It’s all out there in open books left and right.” *note I’m leaving out the swearing and name-calling shenanigans because it wasn’t creative enough to share*
I feel like this couldn’t be further from the truth, and I look forward to compiling all of the research, the people we capture on film, and compiling it into something meaningful for people in the bipolar community and those well beyond that cohort. This close-your-eyes-and-accept-it approach doesn’t settle well with me. There is so much out there to learn and share, and we will.
My love to all of you at Thanksgiving. I hope it is filled with love and peace in your homes and minds.
Out of all the things that can make your life hard, the things that people say can be the hardest. The funny thing is that they come from those closest to you. It makes you lose faith in humanity that it comes from them. Like, if those close to you hurt you like that, who needs people?
And you want to say people, please, for the love of God and peace and love and cute little pink ass bunnies, STOP.
Today is a tough day. Many friends have lost loved ones within the last few days, which always makes you stop and think about how precious life is and how lucky we are to wake up and see another day. So today I’m grateful for life itself, with all its ups and downs, joys and sorrows. All the more reason to live with as little impact, both on ourselves and the planet, as possible.
In keeping with our Greening theme but recognizing the consumerism that seems to define the US, I’m excited to talk about a program some of you may already be aware of. Patagonia, maker of fine sports/outerwear clothing have a great program called their Common Thread Partnership. The goal of the program is to reuse, recycle and reduce our environmental impact. It’s a pledge between the manufacturer and their customers to provide a quality product, with responsible use of the products. With the Common Threads program, Patagonia will repair, replace worn out products, find a new home for items you no longer use or recycle existing products into something new. It’s a simple, yet intelligently realistic program put on by one of the most famous lifestyle clothing companies in the world.
As a proud owner of repurposed Patagonia clothing (yay Regulator fleeces!!), I can vouch for the quality of what you receive. My used items are several years old, but certainly don’t look/smell/feel old. If you’ve always wanted the look of Patagonia, but couldn’t afford it, the Common Thread Partnership may be just the thing for you, or for gifts this upcoming holiday season. It’s absolutely a fantastic way to responsibly provide a product and reduce waste.
Join Patagonia for “Anti Black Friday”, which encourages us to not buy what we don’t need and to reuse what we already do have.
Do you know of any other companies who practice sustainability and responsibility? Share them with us in the comments!!
People wonder why anyone would bother working at a psych hospital-- but they don't realize it's a place where you can live out your Disney Princess Dreams. Within the walls of the ward, you can be whoever or wherever you want.
When I first started, I worked on a ward full of fairly docile adults who'd been found too incompetent to stand trial for their various violent crimes.
Read this first thing in my morning (not what most people think of as morning, but it's mine). Made me feel grateful. And she's a fine writer. I can't bear to say "enjoy"- too close to the bone for many of us. If anything, I'd have to post a Trigger Warning for those of us who have spent any significant length of time in a psych hospital. But here's a view from the other side of the... experience, I guess you could call it.