Daily Archives: April 19, 2014

What goes up must come down

Remember that little blue car I cried about a few posts ago, well, I hemmed and hawed, listened and reasoned, listed and prayed...then I bought it.  Now I know which ones of you are dialing my number right now.  Relax.  It's going to be okay...but not without a few adjustments.  But that is not what I am here to discuss.  I bought the car yesterday and let my son drive it home.  He's quite familiar with that kind of clutch, etc.  Then this morning, I drove it with him coaching me on the finer points of braking, fast clutch work, tight steering, breaking loose the back end, and when not to do that.  We put the top down and went up on the parkway and then wound down Elk Mountain Scenic Highway.  We even took it to show my priest, who gets to drive it next week.

This afternoon, I started feeling bad.  My daughter and I had to go to the grocery store but I did not feel comfortable taking the little car.  Back from the store, I still felt bad and after putting away the groceries I climbed into the bed for a nap.  I did not sleep long.  I just lay in the bed a while until I started thinking about the car.  I thought,"Oh my God, what have I done?"  My heart started racing, my breath came quick.  What have I done?  I bought something I have wanted for a long time.  I went over my reasoning.  It is sound.  I went over my financial strategy.  It is going to work.  And my back up strategy?  That will work too.  So what is going on?  Why am I so upset?

It is simple...what goes up must come down...at least in the bipolar world.  Getting the car was exciting.  Driving the car was a thrill.  Is this a let down?  No, I do not think so.  I feel more of a responsibility to the new car, responsibility to keep it well maintained and protected.  There is still a lot more I need to learn about the car's gauges and temperatures and switches.  There is a weight to it I do not feel with my other car.  But, no, I am not let down.  I am tired and a little overwhelmed and coming down off of a high.  That is what we do.  And just like the car, I am to be well maintained and protected.  I will eat healthy, rest well, and prepare to fend off those of you who may feel justified to cluck and scold.

Taking Chances

Life with bipolar means following a routine to avoid any mood swings. This can often mean life gets mundane and boring, but it reduces your risks of manic or a mind numbing fall into depression. My routine works pretty well for me. Some people looking at my life might think it’s boring or less than exciting but I’ve noticed a lot more stability with my moods and sleeping habits. So the trade off to me is worth it. Still it is human nature to get a bit restless after a while and we look to shake things up a bit and I am no stranger to drastic change.

I’ve always lived life by the thought that I’d rather live a life of “Oh wells” instead of a life of “what ifs”. This on more than one occasion has led me to heartbreak, disappointment and losing trust. And on other occasions this has led me to the happiest moments of my life, those pure and crystalline moments when you truly feel alive. Of late, I’m honoring that voice inside of me that tells me to take chances- carefully of course. I am giving my heart credit for taking a beating and still being willing to try again. If I had to pick which of the qualities I like best about myself I would say my strength. I have been so heartbroken I actually wanted to die and yet here I am again, ready to give love another shot.

Is there a time you took a chance and it worked out well? Please share this experience in the comments!

Filed under: Self Discovery Tagged: chances, change, love, risk, routine

Unwanted, Dead or Alive





Drink:  Green tea, water
Food:  Cinnamon graham crackers
Mood(s)  Anxious, depressed, a bit confused
Background noise:  Supernatural mini marathon on TNT

I'm feeling pretty fucking down today. Over wasted coffee and the courtesy to at least say goodbye to me by my the spouse? It's got to be more than that.

Wow. So this is how I kind of remember depression to feel sometimes. The really mild shit, that is. Rejection, too. I'm also feeling somewhat anxious too, and every little sound is making me jumpy, especially the door rattling, or sounding like it's almost being scratched on. Being scratched on is actually a possibility, or head-butted by a neighborhood cat that some people keep letting into this building by accident. He remembers my smell. I saw him the other day and called out to him with one of my special cat calls. He stopped and watched me.

Depression. Wow, this is really weird, and I don't like it. I set a new record on the treadmill, although a tiny one, and I'm depressed.Stinky and haven't taken a shower yet. It's not supposed to work that way, so they say. I was going to do some Wii yoga afterward, but I haven't used the Wii in so long that I forgot how to use it, and the batteries were left in there too long. One was corroded, but I cleaned it, and it didn't look damaged but still... Not good. I have tons of new batteries, but I don't know what the fuck to do with the controls. Maybe the spouse will be nice and help. Maybe he'll just completely ignore me. Maybe I'll take them outside and set them on fire on the sidewalk and dance around it. 

At least my headache is mostly gone, and I beat the nausea. The seroquel probably isn't helping the situation, but I was anxious from being outside this morning after the coffee thing.

Well, I think it's pretty damn rude not to reply to your spouse's text when they ask you a question. You get breaks, and you get lunch time, and it's not my fault that there is no food here that's hearty enough for him to eat for dinner. He never suggested to go shopping, and I refuse to do it online again. That is just fucking lazy and ridiculous. I am not a donkey to schlep groceries down the street in daylight either. I can't do it unless it was just for me, and I was living alone.

I did manage to take a quick needed break that I normally wouldn't do while on the treadmill, which was to take all the recycling out. It was kinda sad, because I saw two young ladies shooting up in the parking lot below the building. I said to myself "I hope you get some help". Maybe they are. Maybe that is the way to go. No, I guess not. Not good to think that way. Not good to go upstairs and stuff more clonopin in my piehole either. 

The reasonable, adult, nice, forgiving person, that accidentally just snapped at the spouse for no reason yesterday, then later apologized, thought about calling and having Chinese delivered for the spouse. I know what he likes. It's not cheap, but I won't be eating it. Maybe he'll be going for a drink with someone after work. I don't think he'd let me know though. I don't want to be stuck with Chinese food, or do I? This is his first week at his new job.

I have pain in what I guess is my liver, or ghost pain where my gall bladder used to be, and I haven't eaten anything greasy. I ate something wrong, though... Didn't I?

Later...

No word from the spouse, apart from a hello. He's home a bit early, I had just gotten out of the shower. He never mentions me texting him or never calling me. I pretty much ignore him, because by this point, I'm tired. The seroquel's taken hold in bits and pieces, but I'm still up for the marathon on tv. Normally the spouse would have come in by now looking for dinner, or to come and change the channel and watch cartoons. Instead, he's in the bedroom playing some kind of online flying game. No words to me but "You want a tea?" Wow. Deep.

Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I can't get into Starfucks until 6am. I'm wondering if the spouse will want to go to the grocery store early to avoid people, or later on to try to avoid people. He really has some thing about the store that fucks his shit up or freaks him out, but he refuses to talk about it. Gee, that's helpful.

He goes outside through the living room here. He doesn't ask me if I want to come out and have a smoke with him. Just sits in silence. Well, I'm going to be laying in bed in silence since my marathon is over, and some unknown movie is on. Not at all interested. I want to get up and out of here to make a quick exit. He can make his own coffee.

I'm a loaded gun. Tomorrow, it's going to be more of the same, only Ms Nice will have left the building and flushed all that nice shit down the fucking toilet. Better go power up my Kindle, phone, and iPod.