Daily Archives: August 8, 2014

I Am Grateful!

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I am grateful. What a powerful, life-giving force gratitude is!! Yes I went to the Denver Broncos game last night and yes they beat the Seattle Seahawks! Yes! Yes! Yes!! I just had to post this picture because that’s ME, experiencing JOY, being in the MOMENT, loving every minute of that game, even as we got rained on! Today I feel like I have a “glowover” from last night, still feeling the happy effects of my favorite team winning, and how much fun I had with my sister being there to see it happen. This is why DBT says that one of the skills you have to practice is “Cultivating positive experiences”!! My heart is full and I’m feeling better than I have in a long, long time. Thank you, Universe!!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Gratitude, Bipolar Happiness, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Denver Broncos, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Gloom,doom, and wine in the afternoon

I went out of the gate running this morning. Got the kid her shots, got her registered, ran errands, came home.

Bex immediately went back to bed when we got home and she didn’t even venture into the dish. Worse, she witnessed family drama on Facebook (my IP address is so sullied) so in addition to returning to the UK it will be amidst that bucket of fail. I get her depression, her mood, her desire to just sleep herself to oblivion.

But then it also stung that she’s in there sleeping her last hours here away like not even the time we have left can help and even though her departure has me miserable as well…i’m not hiding or running, I am just coping.

Then she reached hour three asleep and I opened the wine. Fuck it, it’s happy hour somewhere. She has sleep, I get the numbness of wine. And I need it.

Last night’s kid birthday party at my mom’s was…As usual, the sort of ordeal that leaves me licking my wounds. But this time, it wasn’t all the people or chaos or noise. It was my mother. She made comments about how she heard I drink all the time and that’s wrong. I’m a tightwad like my dad because I pay bills instead of blowing it all on a birthday bash for my kid. Then I insulted the show Honey BooBoo which she apparently likes and she nearly severed my jugular with her verbal slashes. Jesus. I didn’t crumble, but she certainly got her digs in and left some trenches.

And while I don’t live or die by my vindictive nasty mother’s opinions, I do feel the weight of her NEVER having anything good to say about me. Nothing good comes out of her mouth in regard to me. Nothing. I can do no right by her. And while I know she loves me in her own limited dysfunctional way and her opinion is at best, suspect and tainted by her resentment toward my father and the fact I look like him, have many of his traits, and still have a relationship with him thus earning me top spot on her shit list….I still think I have earned a modicum of respect for at least sticking by my kid and doing my best for her in spite of our shit circumstances. i’ve raised a great kid thus far, pretty much on my own, and rather than kudos…I get comments like “Shame you couldn’t find a man who’d be a dad to his kid.” Like his failings are my fault.

This is why I speak to my mother maybe once a week. If I want to feel shitty about myself, I can do that on my own and be more objective about it, at least. The woman has an evil streak of mammoth proportions. I don’t want her venom infecting me or at some point turning my kid against me.

Ask me about my mommy issues…And I guess I have more than I thought. But it’s about the same with everyone else. call me on something I’ve done wrong, and it’s true, I’ll own it and even feel guilty. Criticize me for shit that’s not true or not my own doing..Yeah,it digs and burrows under my skin until it’s a psychological wound.

Combine that with Bex’s departure (even though she hasn’t been here mentally in a couple of weeks and while I get the necessity for the emotional withdrawal, I don’t fucking like it because it didn’t do anything but hurt me) and all the stress of my kid’s birthday and all the stuff needed for her to start school whle the financial stuff is still so tight….

I can feel myself falling into a depressive abyss.

This is situational so I may have a chance to fight it if I actually put forth an effort. Giving in is too easy. Avoidance is easy. It takes courage and strength to fight it.

I am NOT a wuss.

Now if I am still circling the drain in a month or two…Then I’ll know that’s the seasonal kicking in and I’m probably not going to win that battle. I’ll give it a hell of a fight but it is what it is.

This environmental thing…This I can stand up to. This I have a chance against. As long as I don’t wave any white flags simply because life isn’t going the way I want it to be going right now. 

I guess that’s what I learned this summer. There is clinical depression and then there is situational depression. One you can fight with all your might and still lose. The other, you lose when you give up fighting. You become your own worst enemy by not even trying.

Life is sucky at this moment.

But the summer was amazing because I found my best friend in the entire world, the one person who seems to get me in every way, the one person i can live with and who can live with me. It took 12 years to get there but get there we did.

And it’s that I am going to holding onto and use as a shield and a weapon against the dark clouds circling overhead right now. This isn’t the end. This is just a new chapter.

now…I’m going to drink more wine and later I will probably have a good cry and tomorrow I will probably cry even more and possibly even chase after a Greyhound bus in denial laden screams…

It’s just the next chapter. Painful, heartbreaking,  ass trash chapter.

 


Quiet Desperation

“The masses of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”   — Thoreau, Walden Yup.  That about sums it up.Filed under: quoth

A Really Good Day

This has been a really, really good day. I haven’t done a single constructive thing, but the sun is shining, it’s not too hot, and I’m in this super good mood. Despite the fact that I still don’t have a job and money is nonexistent after we paid the phone bill with our garage-sale profits, laughter has come more easily today than it has in a long time, and I think it has a lot to do with Will’s recent explosion of cheerfulness, which is apparently infectious.

I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I’m sure enjoying it. He’s been playful lately, even to the point of tickling me in the grocery store and making me giggle. It’s obvious he feels healthy, and on days like today it almost seems like he’s going to live forever. What a difference from a year ago!

The weather has been spectacular as well, reminding me of why I love this time of year so much. The skies are a brilliant sapphire blue, the breeze is soft and carries the aroma of freshly cut hay on its wings. The temperature is perfection itself—today it’s 86 degrees—and according to the weather report, nothing but continued perfection is on the horizon for the foreseeable future…..endless days of warmth and sunshine and sweet, sweet summertime.

This is what I live for all year long, what I yearn for when it’s been forty degrees and raining for weeks on end. Summer is worth all the crappy weather we have to put up for nine months out of the year, with an average high of 84 degrees. We’ve been pretty hot this summer, with a good number of days with temps in the 90s, but we’ve only reached the century mark once and…..wait a minute, you’re not reading this blog to find out what wonderful summers we have here in Oregon. You’re reading it (presumably) because you either know me or because you’re interested in how I live my life as a person with bipolar disorder.

Know what I hate? Having to do a gut-check anytime my mood changes abruptly. I can’t just have a really, really good day without asking myself if I’m ramping up. I don’t think I am, but then I NEVER think I am, so the fact that I’m asking myself that question means I’m probably just fine. It’s when I don’t do that gut-check that I run into trouble.

I’m still amazed that I haven’t been manic at all this summer. I’m sure that’s made life easier for the people around me, but more than that, it’s made it possible for me to deal with our current circumstances without going totally ape shit, It’s bad enough that I’m having trouble focusing on a job search, while simultaneously trying to empty out our house and figure out what to do about moving when I’m going to run out of unemployment benefits in another 10 weeks or so. But by gum, I’m in my right mind while I’m doing it!

Yes, today has been a really, REALLY good day. Even though the outside world seems to be coming apart and my own situation still sucks, I’m hoping tomorrow will be even better. :-)


Overwhelmed

Driving the hour-and-a-half into Asheville for my weekly therapy appointment, I pulled into my favorite coffee spot.  Looked around for the backpack that serves as my purse.  Not where it normally is.  Searched the car.  No backpack.  No wallet, no driver’s license, no cash, no credit card, and worst of all, NO COFFEE!  And no shopping for Shabbat dinner, no Thai food, no nothing that I usually do on Thursdays.

A rush of emotions fluttered by.  I thought about factors that might have contributed to this grave omission.

Oh, it could be that if I had my “stuff” then at the time I would be heading home, a tree would have fallen on top of my car and I would be instantly killed, so the Deity made my pack temporarily invisible so I would have to come home early, thus avoiding the tree.  I saw that happen once.  The tree fell on this woman’s car, crushing it and killing her immediately.

To be honest, that doesn’t sound half bad to me, and I found myself once more angry at G-d for keeping me here.  That is a recurring them in my life and always has been, no matter what kind of wonderful person I am and no matter who fervently wishes I would stay.  Passive suicidality, I would call it.

On the other hand, it could simply be exhaustion.  My brain is thoroughly addled by, oh, just everything.  Dad, Mom, war, growing anti-Semitism everywhere, you name it–I am exhausted and overwhelmed by it all.

I am grateful that nobody is lobbing bombs at my barn (did I mention the “living in a barn with no bathroom” part?).  I feel sorry for the Arabs whose houses are rubble, and once again I’m mystified that the common person cannot look at a picture of a demolished mosque, dome intact, and realize that if it had been bombed from above, the dome would have been destroyed.  Ballistics 101.  Not hard to figure out that the building IMPLODED, meaning that it was sitting on a cache of explosives.  Not hard to see, but people don’t often look at things with a critical eye.

I apologize to people who have sent me manuscripts and interviews, and I have not done anything with them yet.  That goes for emails, too.  I know I’ll get back on my feet pretty soon, but for now….I’m knackered, done in, overwhelmed, and exhausted.  I’m going to bed.

Blessings to all, and to all a Good Night.


Job ditching

I have come up with elaborate ways to get out of work when I hate it.

Today I used a way. Now I feel stupid.

My mind hates doing anything it doesn’t want to do. My mind hates to do anything but smoke, hang out, and feel blah all day.

I have become a lazy individual that starts and stops everything I do.

My mental state hasn’t gotten any better either. Smoking has made it feel sloppy, stupid, tired, and stiff.

This isn’t thee real me. This isn’t who I am suppose to be.

I’m suppose to be fine.


Filed under: Ranting