Daily Archives: May 8, 2014

Freak Flag Still Flying High

Moods: Anxiety rising, bit irritable, bit sad
Physical: Tired, nausea, cold feet


This ain't no starschmucks.

Another morning fighting this anxiety-caused agoraphobia had me up and outside after it was officially daytime, about 6ish. Of course I wore my sunglasses. I was pretty much ok with the light as it was partly cloudy. I cursed the sun, and called to the clouds quietly, while cranking up the tunes on the ipod. I made sure I was well medicated before I left.

I was at the corner starschmucks with a cup of coffee, and in my usual spot in no time. I stayed and listened to Jimi Hendrix letting his freak flag fly high as loudly as I could, so that was all that I heard. It was just too bright in there for comfort, and the chairs are not made for comfort for neither back or ass, so I had to get my free re-fill and leave.


The line was very long, but I didn't care because I was in no rush, and I had my own entertainment. As I got to the counter, the guy that treated me like a fucking criminal over a 50-cent cup of coffee (that I reported) walked away from the counter so that he wouldn't have to serve me. So I got my coffee to go from someone else. I could swear I wrote about this guy and that "incident" before, but I can't find it in any post. Anyway, it's an ongoing thing now...

When I got home, I found another email from starschmucks telling me to call their CS number with a reference number, and that a certain CS person wanted to talk to me in person. Hmm.,, I thought that was interesting. Could it be because the last message I said was maybe they felt it was ok to treat me shitty because of my disability? I might have mentioned something about the ACLU as well... So I called the number, and all I got was a ditzy CS person that asked me a question or two about what I had already reported online, and I told her so. I also told her that I got an email from so and so that said he wanted to speak to me in person. She said I would be contacted by phone within 24-48 hrs. Well, that was a waste of time. She even mistakenly said at first that "a customer harassed you..." I cut her off fast. 


Now I'm wondering what the shithead who treated me badly said to his superiors about me. I was as calm as I could have been at that time, despite growing BP psycho rage. I was not threatening. I asked him why he was treating me this way, like a criminal, over a 50-cent cup of coffee, etc etc. I forgot to add disability to my complaint the first time! Damn! 

Their response was blah blah blah, worded very carefully so that there was no apology, but a $10 credit. I sent them another email suggesting maybe it was my disability that they felt gave them licence to treat me so poorly. I also said that my dignity was worth more than $10 credit, which would work out to be about 10 cents for them. The letter probably said they wanted to "talk to me in person" because they wanted to see if I had a disability that they could "see". Well, guess what fucknuts, the disability lies within, lemme school ya. Does this mean they really want to see me, and decide for themselves whether I'm disabled or not? Where they expecting a wheelchair or a white stick maybe?



Blecchh... All I feel is nausea now, and I have to wait and hope it goes away so I can get on the treadmill on time, and get through all the big plans I had in my head. Gotta get tough and just try and walk it off. Water, some saltines, and some gall, well, no gall, had gall bladder removed. Ok, some liver. Whatever!

Freak Flag Still Flying High

Moods: Anxiety rising, bit irritable, bit sad
Physical: Tired, nausea, cold feet


This ain't no starschmucks.

Another morning fighting this anxiety-caused agoraphobia had me up and outside after it was officially daytime, about 6ish. Of course I wore my sunglasses. I was pretty much ok with the light as it was partly cloudy. I cursed the sun, and called to the clouds quietly, while cranking up the tunes on the ipod. I made sure I was well medicated before I left.

I was at the corner starschmucks with a cup of coffee, and in my usual spot in no time. I stayed and listened to Jimi Hendrix letting his freak flag fly high as loudly as I could, so that was all that I heard. It was just too bright in there for comfort, and the chairs are not made for comfort for neither back or ass, so I had to get my free re-fill and leave.


The line was very long, but I didn't care because I was in no rush, and I had my own entertainment. As I got to the counter, the guy that treated me like a fucking criminal over a 50-cent cup of coffee (that I reported) walked away from the counter so that he wouldn't have to serve me. So I got my coffee to go from someone else. I could swear I wrote about this guy and that "incident" before, but I can't find it in any post. Anyway, it's an ongoing thing now...

When I got home, I found another email from starschmucks telling me to call their CS number with a reference number, and that a certain CS person wanted to talk to me in person. Hmm.,, I thought that was interesting. Could it be because the last message I said was maybe they felt it was ok to treat me shitty because of my disability? I might have mentioned something about the ACLU as well... So I called the number, and all I got was a ditzy CS person that asked me a question or two about what I had already reported online, and I told her so. I also told her that I got an email from so and so that said he wanted to speak to me in person. She said I would be contacted by phone within 24-48 hrs. Well, that was a waste of time. She even mistakenly said at first that "a customer harassed you..." I cut her off fast. 


Now I'm wondering what the shithead who treated me badly said to his superiors about me. I was as calm as I could have been at that time, despite growing BP psycho rage. I was not threatening. I asked him why he was treating me this way, like a criminal, over a 50-cent cup of coffee, etc etc. I forgot to add disability to my complaint the first time! Damn! 

Their response was blah blah blah, worded very carefully so that there was no apology, but a $10 credit. I sent them another email suggesting maybe it was my disability that they felt gave them licence to treat me so poorly. I also said that my dignity was worth more than $10 credit, which would work out to be about 10 cents for them. The letter probably said they wanted to "talk to me in person" because they wanted to see if I had a disability that they could "see". Well, guess what fucknuts, the disability lies within, lemme school ya. Does this mean they really want to see me, and decide for themselves whether I'm disabled or not? Where they expecting a wheelchair or a white stick maybe?



Blecchh... All I feel is nausea now, and I have to wait and hope it goes away so I can get on the treadmill on time, and get through all the big plans I had in my head. Gotta get tough and just try and walk it off. Water, some saltines, and some gall, well, no gall, had gall bladder removed. Ok, some liver. Whatever!

Freak Flag Still Flying High

Moods: Anxiety rising, bit irritable, bit sad
Physical: Tired, nausea, cold feet


This ain't no starschmucks.

Another morning fighting this anxiety-caused agoraphobia had me up and outside after it was officially daytime, about 6ish. Of course I wore my sunglasses. I was pretty much ok with the light as it was partly cloudy. I cursed the sun, and called to the clouds quietly, while cranking up the tunes on the ipod. I made sure I was well medicated before I left.

I was at the corner starschmucks with a cup of coffee, and in my usual spot in no time. I stayed and listened to Jimi Hendrix letting his freak flag fly high as loudly as I could, so that was all that I heard. It was just too bright in there for comfort, and the chairs are not made for comfort for neither back or ass, so I had to get my free re-fill and leave.


The line was very long, but I didn't care because I was in no rush, and I had my own entertainment. As I got to the counter, the guy that treated me like a fucking criminal over a 50-cent cup of coffee (that I reported) walked away from the counter so that he wouldn't have to serve me. So I got my coffee to go from someone else. I could swear I wrote about this guy and that "incident" before, but I can't find it in any post. Anyway, it's an ongoing thing now...

When I got home, I found another email from starschmucks telling me to call their CS number with a reference number, and that a certain CS person wanted to talk to me in person. Hmm.,, I thought that was interesting. Could it be because the last message I said was maybe they felt it was ok to treat me shitty because of my disability? I might have mentioned something about the ACLU as well... So I called the number, and all I got was a ditzy CS person that asked me a question or two about what I had already reported online, and I told her so. I also told her that I got an email from so and so that said he wanted to speak to me in person. She said I would be contacted by phone within 24-48 hrs. Well, that was a waste of time. She even mistakenly said at first that "a customer harassed you..." I cut her off fast. 


Now I'm wondering what the shithead who treated me badly said to his superiors about me. I was as calm as I could have been at that time, despite growing BP psycho rage. I was not threatening. I asked him why he was treating me this way, like a criminal, over a 50-cent cup of coffee, etc etc. I forgot to add disability to my complaint the first time! Damn! 

Their response was blah blah blah, worded very carefully so that there was no apology, but a $10 credit. I sent them another email suggesting maybe it was my disability that they felt gave them licence to treat me so poorly. I also said that my dignity was worth more than $10 credit, which would work out to be about 10 cents for them. The letter probably said they wanted to "talk to me in person" because they wanted to see if I had a disability that they could "see". Well, guess what fucknuts, the disability lies within, lemme school ya. Does this mean they really want to see me, and decide for themselves whether I'm disabled or not? Where they expecting a wheelchair or a white stick maybe?



Blecchh... All I feel is nausea now, and I have to wait and hope it goes away so I can get on the treadmill on time, and get through all the big plans I had in my head. Gotta get tough and just try and walk it off. Water, some saltines, and some gall, well, no gall, had gall bladder removed. Ok, some liver. Whatever!

I have a Mental Illness. I can’t pretend to like you.

I can’t pretend any emotions at all. If I don’t like you, you will know it. If I’m angry, you know it. If I’m sad, you know it…

The people in my life want me to pretend everyday, and well I can’t. I don’t think any diagnosed mentally illed person can.

You already know the people at my job are horrible, but now they want me to go about my day as if no one is trying to get me. They want me to laugh and joke in their faces, and well I’m not.

Actually, I don’t think ill pretend with my emotions ever again. Wherever i am. They will not overtake me..but they wont be ignored.


Filed under: Ranting, Work

Facts and Information for Mental Health Month

In addition to managing Bipolar Bandit’s Facebook page, I also am an administrator for the FB  page Mental Health Advocates United. I designed these facts for that page and thought I would share them here too. Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image

mhau mental health month fact 12

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mhau mental health month fact 15

Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image MHAU mental health month fact 26 mhau mental health month fact 27 mhau mental health month fact 28 mhau mental health month fact 29 mhau mental health month fact 30 mhau mental health month fact 31


Memory and Bipolar: What Can You Do About It?

The Problem With Memory and Bipolar Disorder My memory is bad. Really bad. No, actually, it’s terrible. For many of us, memory and bipolar disorder do not go together well. The fact that memory loss is associated with bipolar disorder is nothing new. A recent study partially funded by the National Institute of Mental Health […]

A Mother? Me?

Ah, the shrieks of laughter and squeals of delight from playful children! They cut through me like a light saber through Jell-O. I’m hyper-sensitive to loud or high-pitched noises.

A while back, one of my blogging buddies was speculating on whether she wanted to or ought to have a child, despite her disorder. I have no answer or even advice for her, but but here is what I think about motherhood and Bipolar Me.

When we got married, my husband really wanted to be a father some day. To tell the truth, I never gave it much thought really, since I had never expected to be married.

At that time in my life I was barely medicated and had a lot of meltdowns and breakdowns and up-and-down cycles (mostly down) ahead of me.

Looking back, I am glad that I never became a mother. The thought alone overwhelms me.

First of all, I would have been a really bad mother. It would have been unfair to a child to have a mother who would disappear into her room for days at a time, not communicate for weeks at a time, be depressed for months – or years – at a time. Not to mention not being able to enjoy anything. Put that person in charge of a live human child for 18+ years?

I know there must be people who do it, but I don’t even really understand how non-biploar people manage it.

Second – and this is the part that is going to sound selfish to those people she feel that childless-by-choice women are all selfish – but I needed all the resources I had to construct and reconstruct myself. As Gloria Steinem reportedly said, I didn’t give birth to a child because I was giving birth to myself. I still am, after my most recent and most monumental breakdown, still trying to salvage what I can of my psyche, seeing what pieces still fit, and learning to live with the things that are no longer present – or maybe never were.

And I had all kinds of irrational thoughts on the subject of motherhood. The one time I thought about motherhood, it was because my father was dying, and I wanted him to see his grandchild if there was going to be one.

Also, I was terrified of losing myself. My husband had some issues of his own and was, let’s say, way too close to his inner child. I thought he and a child would outnumber me and I would be the mean one, the killjoy, the Other.

As time went on, I grew less and less inclined to even be around babies or small children. And my husband would go into a funk if one of our friends had a baby. Eventually, he decided that if he wasn’t going to be a father, he could be a mentor, a helper, a healer, to other children and former children. Maybe even his inner child.

Now having a child is no longer even a possibility. And I’m good with that.

 


Zero to Bitch in Ten Seconds Flat

I was fine when I woke up, aside from a miserable night of sleeping in short bursts and waking repeatedly. My cat Willow decided to gift me with three kittens during the night. It’s cat-a-fucking-palooza here. Thank God I already have a farmer who says he wants them as barn cats.

Then my kid got up. The Mommy,Mommy,Mommy started. I tell her to get dressed. She yells NO. I tell her don’t hurt the kitten. She screams YES. I expected this as 2, not nearly 5.

I coped.

Then from nowhere, and I mean nowhere, my mood darkened to black. It was like a flash flood, no warning, just BAM. My hostility when though the roof, the satan voice came out, the teeth grinding began. I handled it with my usual aplomb, trying to sound firm but coming off as hateful and grumpy. I don’t want to feel this way.

And I find it odd I didn’t have these episodes so much on the lith-numb so apparently it did more than just make me sick. Which means either the Paxil is setting it off or the lamictal simply isn’t working at all. I don’t want to face that. The other mood stabilizers have terrible side effects and require labwork and I have as much on my plate as I can handle.

Now I am starting to emerge from the dark space.

No one should rapid cycle this quick. No one should gnash their teeth so hard their gums bleed.I need Valium. Never had it but if it makes me docile, it would be hose beast pissed off for no reason.

Why is stability such a foreign notion to my stupid brain?

Now…I have to go to the shop and pretend to be pleasant so I don’t bum R out by being…Me. Fuck. Not like when I agreed last night I could see this shift coming. But then, I never do, I am constantly blindsided. It does tend to make one unable to get their equilibrium back.

I’m gonna stall and chain smoke for awhile, see if maybe the mood goes up a bit. For all I know this is some reaction to coming off lithium so abruptly. They say that’;s never happened to anyone but I remember in the 90′s when my shrink yanked me off Effexor and I began to hallucinate and freak out because that’ never happened to anyone before.

When I die, I am donating my body to science. No joke and not just because I am broke. I want my brain studied. I want them to learn something from my miserable existence so that it might help others with mental illness have quality lives. Something good out of something good out of something shitty.

My gums are bleeding.I didn’t grind my teeth for almost a year.

Equilibrium for a bipolar brain is kinda like government intelligence. Oxymoron from hell.

 


Holy Shit Tapping Really Works!!

I’ve had some pretty big life events in the past few days. First, I was terminated from my job (you know, the one I hate so much, that I’ve been off on Disability from). Second, this girl with the worst case of stage fright you’ve ever seen (It’s been bogging me down and making me sad for 20+years) got up and sang not one but TWO songs at Karaoke tonight (my first Karaoke experience). And I didn’t even shit my pants!!! Wow oh wow am I am a happy girl!

With the job loss, I have been tapping, saying “I am safe and secure.” And lo and behold, I HAVE been feeling quite safe and secure, not having the major meltdown like I would have in the past. While I was waiting for my friend tonight at the bar, I tapped “I can sing in public.” I can’t TELL you what a HOLY SHIT experience this was for me!! I actually SANG! AND I WAS GOOD!!!!!!!!!

To say that this has been a transformative few days would be an understatement. Tapping is really helping me to change my life! Shit that I’ve spent ten or twenty years talking about in Talk Therapy (with no change) is CHANGING!! I can’t tell you how good this feels!! Releasing the old shit that has hurt me for years. It’s like a miracle! I encourage you to Google “Tapping”, or look it up on YouTube. Do it, and then let me know how it goes. It’s Tapping, or EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique). It’s real. Thank God, whatever or whoever that is. I am grateful.


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Stuck, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Gratitude, Bipolar Happiness, I do NOT love my job, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, EFT, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader, Stage Fright, Tapping

A Certain Kind of Freedom

For years now, I have been haunted by the demise of my relationship with my ex fiancee. The pain was more than I could bear at times and always a ripe subject during my therapy sessions. I have been praying for the strength to get through the pain since we split and I am happy to say I feel free of the pain. It clearly wasn’t an overnight thing and I’m sure every once in a while I will feel a pang here and there, but I can honestly say it doesn’t hurt. Is it because of the medications or therapy or that I have new, happy distractions? Maybe it’s all of those things, maybe it’s nothing but time and space.  In any event I am enjoying the freedom from the pain. It is wonderful to not be tormented by bittersweet memories, to no longer berate myself over my shortcomings and failures. I thank God for His wonderful love and guidance through this and for showing me the reasons why He wanted me to keep going. 

Too many happy thoughts to really compose much more of a cohesive post, so I will simply say to anyone hurting, anyone who feels like giving up or not trying again, hang on. It does get better. You will heal and love and laugh and be happy again. I chose to trust in the plan God has for me, though it doesn’t always make sense when you’re going through it.  Just hang on.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: freedom, healing, heartbreak, moving on, pain