Daily Archives: August 27, 2014

Fractures In The Foundation

I found my beloved cat of 5 years, Belladonna, dead under my bed Monday night.We have no idea what happened. She wasn’t that old but she was pregnant, after having had a litter just six months ago, and it was 94 degrees and still sweltering in here even with air so…Many possibilities.
I am shattered by the loss. Initially, I felt panic then the tears started. I’m pretty sure my outburst freaked Becca out but I’ve bawled like a baby over every pet I’ve had to bury. It’s who I am. My pets become family, like little fur children. And Bella had a special place in my heart because she was just so sweet natured and beautiful and smart. Her loss will be felt for a long time to come. It feels so wrong without her here, I keep looking around thinking I’m going to see her.
I made the wrong move while having my tearfest because I mistakenly thought my dad would give a fuck about Bella since it was he who gave her to me. He screamed, “What the fuck you want me to do about it, bury the cat and be done with it!” Yeah, he’s a fuckhead. I yelled back for him to put the stepmonster on, at least she has empathy. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have called in such a state of emotional uproar. It was my own idiocy thinking I’d get anything but bitched at by him. Most people can seek comfort from their families. I just get more psychological scars from mine.

In addition to my beloved cat passing on, I’ve learned my car’s transmission has conked out. I have NO money to replace it. Or fix it. I’m still driving my mom’s car and since she gave that to my nephew, even though he can’t drive til he turns 18 in 2 years, I am sure the bitching will start soon about me taking his car away. Makes no sense for it to sit there rusting for two years. I need it. He can have it back when he gets his license. Oh, but no, I’m dealing with my insane family so logic won’t apply.

My mom is in agony. She’s got a scratched cornea. Least that made her less venomous toward me.

All in all, aside from stress inducing anxiety attacks left and right…My mood has been sad with just cause but none of the wacko bipolar swings or crashes have happened. Which kind of blows the shrink’s theory that my moods are tied to bad things happening to me. Dead cat, fucked car, and I am still puttering along and trying to roll with the punches.
When I can manage so well with this shit yet come to pieces during a seasonal depression because it snowed…
I just don’t buy the shrink’s theories anymore. She knows fuck all about me. And she’s basically turned me into a trained seal balancing a ball on my nose by making me feel obligated to give glowing mental health reports. Because me not doing well is “upsetting” to her whereas me doing well “makes her day”. No fucking pressure there.

Aside from extreme heat making everyone miserable and cranky, it’s been okay at home. Though the other day I had one of my old patented hostile mood swings and started having thoughts that were completely opposite of what I’d thought just hours before. I used to run with it and worry about the fallout later. And oh there was uber fall out. People really don’t like being snapped and yelled at for seemingly no reason even if you’re not in your right mind.
To my credit, I didn’t spout off this time. I forced it down like rising bile and let it fester and burn in my mind all the while wondering why I was suddenly feeling so venomous over things I really don’t feel that way about. Just like a fever comes over me and my mind starts boiling with the infection of irrational thought. Thankfully, it’s a pattern I’ve identified and am trying to rectify or at least manage. Not one of my finer moments but for that block of time…My mind becomes utterly convinced by whatever negative seed that has planted itself.
Hate it. Wish people understood. But they never do, they just dismiss me as a bitch. I wish it were that simple.

I think this is the calm before the storm, honestly. The only way for me to properly reboot from stress is to have a mini meltdown of tears and a few days of “fuck this, everything is awful, I wish I’d die.” Then I come back up and move along. Maybe it won’t happen this time.
HA HA HA HA HA.


Anxiety and Back Pain

I’m anxious about going to the chiropractor tomorrow. I am hoping to find relief but often worry about the bad things that can happen. I never looked anything up because I hope my imagination is worse then reality :D

Hubby is home today which is really nice. I miss him since we don’t spend as much time together as we used to. I love that man so much. He is my world. 

There is a lot of storming going on which is making it hard for me to sleep unless it is during the day. I thought that I missed the rain but not enough to put up with the storms. Thunder, lightening and wind.. Nothing relaxing about it.

I’m painting, but am super unhappy with the one that I painted for my mom in law, I think I will have to make another one.

Now on an unrelated note, I am posting it here because it is pissing me off. The whole ice bucket for ALS thing? It’s awesome a bunch of people are doing stupid shit to bring awareness to it but hey how about you speak with more than your idiocy and donate yourselves as well?

I would prefer people donated to bipolar research then did videos kicking strangers in the nuts to bring awareness to it.  Maybe that is just me and is of course a silly comparison but no more silly then not putting your money where your mouth is.

Anyhow that’s my rant.


Oops, I Did It Again

Well, the deed has been done. I signed the attorney papers and mailed them out this morning.

I know I must’ve come across as whiny and wishy-washy during the past couple of weeks, and I’m sorry about that. Yesterday a friend of mine suggested—in so many words—that I really needed to shit or get off the pot, and of course she was right…..I’ve just been delaying the inevitable, and making myself unhappy in the process. I look back over my posts and see what she was talking about: the endless debates, the self-recrimination, the fear of screwing up my life even more. It was definitely put-up-or-shut-up time.

So I arose this morning a woman with her mind made up. I signed and initialed every single highlighted space, sealed the envelope, and sent it off with a silent prayer that I’m doing the right thing. But the feeling isn’t all that different from what I’ve felt all summer—like I’ve stepped off a cliff not knowing how far I’m going to fall before I land. It’s getting to be a very familiar feeling. I’m no more comfortable with it than I’ve ever been, but it’s a known quantity now.

There’s even some certainty in my uncertainty; I mean, I KNOW life is going to suck for awhile. It’s already sucked for quite some time, and nothing has happened yet to make me think it’s going to change any time soon. So I’m trying to focus on the few positives, e.g. we finally got the month’s rent paid, which keeps us off the streets for a little longer, and I slept better last night, which makes me a little saner today.

Which reminds me of the fact that my mood charts have been reflecting a kinder and gentler version of the mixed mood episode. I am up and down, sometimes even within the same 24 hours, and if you asked me how I am at a given moment, I wouldn’t be able to tell you if I’m hypomanic or depressed. My mind races and I’ve got more energy than I’ve had all summer; but then, I’m also having trouble hauling my butt out of bed in the morning, and my outlook is (to say the least) less than sanguine.

Oops, I did it again—I just caught myself whining. But I’ve already written the entire post, and I really don’t want to start over. Is that OK? (laughs) I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad about it, after all this IS my blog and I get to write whatever I want…..but I also want people to read it, so it’s probably best if I don’t make it a continuous downer. And there are some things to be grateful for, like my husband Will. He had a CT done today to see if his cancer drugs are still holding off the growth of the tumors; hopefully the news will be good. In the meantime, he’s still doing well both physically and mentally, and that sustains me during these difficult days.

Now the waiting begins: for Will’s results, for Social Security, for life to get better. God alone knows how it will all turn out. I just hope He lets me in on some of His plans soon!

 


Is Being Bipolar All That I Am?

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2007 and started this blog in 2008. I’m still not sure why I started it, but whatever the reason, it became a big deal to me – a very big deal. Friends, family and acquaintances started reading it and it opened conversations about bipolar and how it affects […]

The post Is Being Bipolar All That I Am? appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Assessment

Well that was quite intense. Not knowing what to expect, I’d got quite stressed, anxious, about the meeting.

She didn’t have a copy of the letter I’d given the GP originally so I had to tell her about what the problem is. It’s not easy to sum up one’s entire adult life, 35+ years, to a total stranger. Particularly decades of depression, highs, mixed states, anxiety..

I’m buzzing; as I explained it, you see those animations of atoms on TV with protons etc. buzzing around them like wasps on speed, and that’s what the inside of my body, my limbs, is doing.

Describe secrets going back to age 6 or so; the ‘mystical’ experiences that I tell absolutely no-one because they’re so personal, and which I now interpret as manic episodes.

The days spent sitting and fighting back tears, until almost understatedly they begin to fall, slowly, salty, and a levee has been breached. And the waves that have been moving inside me, swaying my own atoms, leak a little.

‘How would you kill yourself?’ is never going to be a question that can be considered or answered without emotion. After all, I’ve considered this same question tens of thousands of times over the decades. ‘I wouldn’t. I haven’t.’ Hopefully.

But the control – the self control – that I’ve always had is breaking down somewhat as I age; as anxiety and the highs become more commonplace than the lows. The mixed states are the most dangerous for me; when everything bad appears to be logical. Why not do it? Why not?

Because I have a son.

An hour and a quarter isn’t enough to relay facts of this magnitude and so I have another appointment in 2 weeks time. This is to gather more info to put forward for a diagnosis. This sounds scary; 2 mental health professionals and a ‘medic’ doing a longer (!) assessment. Longer? 75 mins has exhausted me.

So 2 weeks time. Watch this space and I’ll tell you how that goes. And maybe some more in the meantime as I have to keep a ‘mood diary’ by the hour. I explained that some of my extreme highs last 2 minutes, during which time I might have written 1000 words of fiction or painted 2 or 3 small canvasses..


Ghosts in the Fence-Line

She's a FighterA friend once introduced me by saying, “This is Sandy—she has shitty boundaries.”

At the time, he was absolutely right.

I was coerced into a sexual relationship by a doctor who was treating me.  One of my therapists was a sexual predator.  I didn’t see either of them coming.

Since then, I’ve worked hard at keeping control of my own power.  It still takes time to realize I’m being stepped on or pushed, but when the lightbulb goes off, I push back now.  It’s difficult and painful, since the old traumas tend to rise from their graves when I stand up for myself.  I’m told this is a form of PTSD.  Great.  One more acronym for my file.

Like everything else, if it takes too much effort to push back, or the discomfort of it is too much, I bolt.  Run from the danger, run from the past, run-run-run.  But, I’m working hard at that, too—working to stretch my tolerance for distress, which includes the distress of planting my fence posts in the ground and defending them.

I had to do that at work this past week.  I have a set schedule that I can count on now—1:30-4:30, Monday-Friday.  I can plan around it.  I can plan on it.  But some of my co-workers keep trying to undermine it.  “Can you meet with a client at 10:00?”  No.  “Can you come with me at 1:00?”  No.  “If you could flex a bit,” they say.  Or the last straw for me on Monday—”We can wait until you’re ready.”  Ready for what?  To be valid?  To be Normal?

I watched my brain do it’s thing—thrash around with the Ghosts of Boundaries Lost and make preparations to quit the job.  But, then a miracle happened.  I’ve been watching this s-l-o-w shift for a while now.  It’s like my mind puffs out, a little more air in the pink balloon up there, and other options present themselves.  Suddenly, I remembered that my boss is on my side, that she wants me on the team.  So, I sent her a careful email.  “Help.  Do you have any ideas?”

Her response was immediate.  “I didn’t know this was happening.  I’m sorry.  It will never happen again—I’ll make sure of it.”

So, when I met with Luke Skywalker yesterday (my interim therapist), the Ghosts were swirling.  Just walking into his office brings them up anyway—he’s my care-provider, he’s a guy.  The Crypt yawns wide.  He gave me some options—stick them back in the vault for the time being and play a game of Uno with him instead or take them on.  I’m not one for pussy-footing, so I said, “Come on, let’s go.”

Most of that work yesterday was simply staying with the feelings as they rose and fell—terror, shame, guilt, self-hatred, self-recrimination.  There were moments I couldn’t catch my breath, moments I cried so hard it scared me worse than the emotion.  As I write about it now, a sudden swell of despair passes through me.  It’s so strong it washes in the idea that death would stop the pain.  The return of that old impulse, however fleeting, shocks me.  And pisses me off.  How dare those old perverts still have any control over me!

It’s always a restless night when the Ghosts swarm, so I’m heading off to the pool a little bleary-eyed and emotionally hung-over.   But, I’m heading off to the pool.  And then to my new therapy group, and then to work.  Because I’m getting good at mending my fences.  And I’ve got the barbed wire scars to prove it.


HerShadowtime 2014-08-27 03:11:41

The nights fly by and I remember when my days seemed to hold more meaning. More possibilities, color, experiences and life.
There were shades of belief in so many more things and wake, work, struggle wasn’t my routine.
Even on the outskirts I was part of an oddly colorful community, though we were mostly adorned in black. I never knew I’d do most of my living then and that everything I thought was ahead of me was only a wish.

Murder She Wrote

I am so moody. It is really pissing me off. I have gone from sadness to pure rage. I haven’t felt rage in a long time. I realize that it is good that I am feeling again. The numbness was unbearable! I think that having to learn to feel again is always incredibly hard. You don’t know if your medications are making any difference because they typically take 3 weeks at minimum.

I am sure if the antidepressant works I will still need to take a mood stabilizer just to keep things on an even keel. Getting rid of the depression just opens up all the other over the top emotions I feel. I want to get my shit stable enough to be able to at least work at a part time job.

I realized talking with my husband while we walked tonight that I am feel useless. I don’t feel that I really contribute to our lives. I know that I make him laugh and smile but is that enough? I am always making things worse. I spend money when we need to be saving it. I seem to always constantly be having medical shit going on. 

I feel worthless. I hate it :(