Daily Archives: September 2, 2014

Trapped but back

Hello WordPress Family.
I am okay.

Thank you for the messages I have gotten about my absence. Everything is okay.

I haven’t been writing really because I have been trying to finally connect with my own life, which really hasn’t been working. I have been smoking incredibly too much, working, and then also moving out of one place into another.

I haven’t really felt connected to my mental illness side. My bipolar has been really reduced because of my job and medicine, which is great, but it sucks because I don’t feel like I can talk about something that I’m not suffering from at the moment, but that’s wrong. I started this blog to help myself but realize that I am helping more people than I know.

Thanks for helping me realize….so here to me…back in action..


Filed under: Uncategorized

Paralyzed

Judging by last night’s explosion of random of anger and today’s hellish cramps, I’m gonna venture onto a limb and say shark week is coming and this is pms. I am overjoyed as usual. Love having even one more aspect of my sanity yanked out of my reach.

I made it through today’s outing into the dish and to the shop. All the while feeling grumpy and surly and well, not really giving a fuck. My mind wanders. I yawn. I double over in pain. My skin is crawling with anxiety so I break out in hives and itch.
I see all that needs done around the house and yard and say to myself, I need to get on that, it might make me feel better or distract me.
Still, I sit here.
Nervous. Twitchy. Feeling the stress of everything snowballing and threatening to consume me. The rabbit hole is no longer singular, it is plural and they are everywhere and I am trying to step around them like avoiding stepping on land mines.
I feel, in all honesty, a little bit crazy. Like I am no longer in total control, something inside me has come slightly unhinged and it’s this precarious balancing act trying to keep it all together.
I know I should get off my ass and do what needs to be done.
Still, I sit here.
Snap out of it. Get over yourself. Don’t let it get you down.
Still, I sit here.
Paralyzed.
What I said about feeling a little bit crazy…
Make that a lot crazy. The paranoia has crept up and is planting illogical thoughts in my head.
Paralyzed.


Hypergraphia

Originally posted on SuperMom Mentality:
? Oh my God, please help. I cannot stop thinking. I cannot stop talking. I cannot stop typing. I cannot stop writing. I cannot turn off my mind. I cannot turn down the volume. I…

Celebrity Quotes On Mental Illness

If there’s one thing we learned from the death of Robin Williams, it’s that celebrities have an impact on the publics perception of mental illness. It made people around the world stop for a second and think, It could happen to anybody. There are some quotes from celebrites who have been diagnosed with mental illness, […]

The post Celebrity Quotes On Mental Illness appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Writer’s Block: A Massive Ball of Multicolored Strings

I have been trying for months on end to write a post . . . or two . . . or three.  There are so many things I want to write about because so many things have happened.  Yet encompassing all these things is the horrible black depression that has held me down and prevented […]

Soooo Emotional

I am just so all over the place. I woke up this morning in an ok mood. Kind if middle of the road, which honestly I am totally fine with it. My moods started to go array after being oh for about a hour, grumpy, sad, happy, funny (well I am always funny :P) Mostly I was sad.

I sat down and listened to music and the song Wish from the anime Nana and just started bawling my eyes out, it’s like a waterfall started flowing from my tear ducts. My face was soaking wet and my heart hurt because of all the most ridiculous of things was I missed Nana. I’ve watched the Japanese version of it 3-4 times on netflix then they removed it. I wanted to buy the entire anime but it’s about 300.00 dollars for it all and I miss it. It gave me such joy.

There are things that have given me so much joy, simple things. The fact that money always seems to be the one factor that takes away joy. Though there at some free things that are going away again in time. Like for example Parks and Reecreation. It gives me a nice warm feeling in my tummy. It makes me feel kind of morose.

I’m gonna do something I haven’t done in a long time this week and go to a hair stylist. I am gonna get my hair cut and colored. I’ll put up a picture after, gotta share it all right?

Maybe tomorrow I’ll won’t cry, that would be nice.


Thorns In My Paw

I am like a magnet for “what fresh hell…”
Let’s see..family cookout. Fairly uneventful except I could tell Bex was so nervous it was making her sickly. Oh, and the part where my dad said it’s my fault she’s stranded here because I didn’t get her to the bus station on time. Which is shit. I had her there 2 hours early. It was the bus that was late. I really want to throttle people who say shit that isn’t true. Call me a bitch, I own it. Say I’m moody, it’s true. But saying shit that is not based on fact pisses me the fuck off.

When we got home, my kid started in with the “I’m hungry” “i’m bored” thing. Then I went to give her a bath and she threw her tantrum where it wasn’t when she wanted it so she wanted no part of it. Yet I could be in the middle of getting a heart transplant and she’d want me to stuff my chest cavity together and serve her needs then and there.

THEN the other kid so fond of making demands, R, asks me to come in tomorrow. Fine. He prattles on about broken stuff, broken stuff, blah blah blah, do this, make me do that. TEDIOUS.
And to add insult to injury he informs me his eldest daughter has a line on a car for me. The one (let’s call her Bossy) who is so overbearing and abrasive I cringe in her presence. Not to mention how judgmental she is and she’s never been wrong in her life, especially now that she has a master’s degree in psychology. (If I was her patient, I’d kill myself.)
So, yeah, now she’s involved in my business and that infuriates me. Because it’s not gonna matter if I like the car, Bossy has this way of steamrolling everyone in her path until things go her way. And considering what a spineless submissive R is, especially with her, if there is to be dissent it will have to come from me and it will start a fucking war in which he will throw me under the bus.
Do I sound dramatic?
I wish I were.
I just know R well and shit like this has happened before. The man is an expert at avoiding conflict and throwing others under the bus all the while asking, “What’d I do to make you mad?”
Nothing was ever between us. He included everyone in everything, even personal stuff, and he still does it to this day. (His poor wife has no clue the intimate details he shares with EVERYONE.) And no decisions are made by individuals, it’s a committee meeting. Like when he used to consult with his neighbor lady on whether my choice of clothing was appropriate for his kids to be seen in public with me cos ya know mini skirts and halter tops are only for streetwalkers.
GRRRRR.
I can feel my anger rising up, my frustration boiling over. The sad thing is,I have talked to him over and over. I have asserted myself to the point of cutting off all contact in an effort to get my point across. And we are right back where we started. Not even in friendship can he respect me enough to LISTEN to what I have to say and consider my feelings. Hell, he speaks to me, I should be on the ground kissing his feet, he’s that special.
Yeah, I think I am pms-ing but it still throbs like a thorn in my fucking paw.
How am I supposed to gauge my mental health when every day is one more fresh hell in my face?
Well, in all fairness, it wasn’t until today that I truly felt the stress of it all and started feeling the tornado of anger and indignation.
Is this a big deal? It feels like one at the moment.
Will it in a few days?
Will I be able to keep my mouth shut and not burn any bridges until I figure out if this is hormonal, seasonal, or my anti depressant slipping?

My mind was fairly quiet. Now someone has done something to make me feel threatened and imposed upon and the storm is brewing. It’s gonna be a bad one. Nothing to do now but pop some xanax and ride it out, praying that when it finally does pass…there are no smoldering bridges in its wake. By Friday, I may not even remember feeling this way.
FUCK.


September Morn

Well, so much for THIS year.

I just flipped the calendar over to September this morning, and if tradition holds, the last four months of the year will seem like four weeks. I don’t know why it goes so fast, but it does, and before we know it, it’ll be New Year’s.

Which means winter’s coming. Ugh. Luckily for people like me, there is plenty of summer left according to the weather report, and then there’s fall, which is almost always a treat in this part of the country. (At least the first half is; by the time we get to mid-November, it’s sodden and chilly and generally depressing.)  But the signs of the approaching changes are already here; the sun is lower in the sky, the morning air is crisp and cool now, and even when it’s hot it takes longer to get that way and doesn’t stay that way as long.

As usual at this time of year, my moods are unpredictable and I don’t know from day to day which way the wind’s going to blow. I wish I could remember this, instead of feeling like I’m on the verge of an episode when it’s just me going through my late-summer mood swings. I also tend to get hypomanic in the early autumn, so I have to watch out for that as well.

But of course, I don’t want to watch out for it. I want to HAVE it. It’s been a long time since my last really good bout of hypo, and these little teases just make me want it more. (YES, I know it’s bad, and NO, I’m not going to fool with my meds to bring it on. I’m not completely out of my mind.)

Today is one of those days, when I’m on the ‘up’ side and the sun is shining; I’m just a bit hyperactive and having trouble channeling it into something constructive. Even writing this post has taken me over two hours thus far because I keep popping up out of my seat, feeling the urge to do something real quick, and then I come back to write another paragraph or so. Yet tomorrow I probably won’t feel as sparkling, because I was kind of ‘blah’ yesterday and this seems to go in an every-other-day sequence. Who knows?

It doesn’t help that everything continues to be in such flux. It’s a little hard to maintain equilibrium when there are so many unanswered questions and so much instability. Some days I find myself questioning whether this really is my late-summer weirdness or just a reflection of the uncertainty of my daily life. It’s probably a combination of both. I don’t know. I don’t really even care. It just is.

Meanwhile, the sun is still warm, the skies are still blue, and summer still reigns supreme, even if the leaves are beginning to turn and my feet are in need of socks for the first time since May.

But oh, is this time ever going to go fast. See you in January!

 


Enter The Twins, Pain and Aggravation

First I sincerely apologize to everybody to whom I’ve promised various things.  Life is not going in anything remotely resembling a straight line.  I feel caught up in a whirlwind–no, more like the vortex of water flushing down a toilet.

I don’t have a toilet, but other people usually do, if they live in developed nations.

Dad just got home yesterday from the nursing home where mom dumped placed him for six days while she went to visit her relatives.  Dad did not enjoy it, and I ran myself ragged going back and forth to the nursing home, which fortunately is not far away, to my house, to the store to get him things, to therapy an hour and a half away….

Dad was discharged from the nursing home Friday at noon.  Mom came home in the evening.

I settled in for some deep Shabbat rest yesterday, but my phone rang at ten a.m.: It was Mom, sobbing that Dad had fallen and blood was coming out of his head and nose.  He was unconscious but seemed to be breathing.  She had called 911.  Shit.

CALL HOSPICE NOW!  I screamed into the phone.  We are not supposed to call 911 without calling Hospice first, but she panicked and did it anyway.  Now we would be covered up by the fucking millions of Keystone Cops that stand in place of an Emergency Medical Service here in West Bumfuck.

I grabbed my knapsack, which serves as my 24 hour kit as well as a purse, threw some food in my bewildered pup’s dish, and ran out the door hoping to beat the ambulance to my parents’ house.  Dad was on the floor, unconscious and bleeding, just like she said.

He looked like he was in the process of checking out, and I didn’t blame him a bit.  But I did lean down to his ear and softly sang, “Shma, Yisra’el, Adon-ai Elo-heinu, Adon-ai Ehad,” which is the central prayer of the Jewish faith:

“Hear O Israel, Adon-ai is your G-d, Adon-ai is ONE.”

Well, damn me if he didn’t start singing it with me!  He was almost drowned out by my mother’s loud sobs, but I heard him, and he started cussing me out for leaning on him, which I might have been.  I sat up and he still cussed at me for leaning on him, so I knew that he was very much alive, although in rough shape.

After a while I heard the screeching siren shriek of the meat-wagon, driven by a team of bozos with spanking new uniforms.  They looked like milkmen on a spree.  

They were planning to strap Dad to a backboard, but I talked them out of it, citing his spinal stenosis, so they scratched their heads for a spell and then brought their ambulance gurney into the house and strapped him onto it.  At least it had something that passed for a mattress.  

The trouble began when they tried to get him out of the house.  

My parents’ house is not built for ambulance gurneys.  A steel spiral staircase blocks access to the only egress in the house, and the bozos couldn’t figure out how to get out, since they had raised the gurney up on its pneumatic legs, and it wouldn’t pass by the stairs anymore.  So instead of lowering the gurney to the ground and picking it up and over the stair rail, they tried to pick it up with the bed part four feet off the ground.  So the idiots actually lifted this thing, with my dad on top of it, over the railing, grazing the ceiling and taking a layer of paint off the stair rail.

I tried to move my car out of the driveway, because I had a funny feeling we were not done with the Keystone Cops.  I was right.

As I was backing up the dirt-road hill that stands in for a driveway, I looked in the rear-view mirror, and glimpsed the gigantic red nose of the county Heavy Rescue truck.  Trapped.  Shit.  Hit the parking brake and cut the engine, since I was out of gas and running on fumes already.

I got out and said “Hey” to the driver and he said “Hey” to me.  Introductions over with, I advised him that heavy rescue was not needed, as my dad was already in the ambulance.  He cut his eyes at me and said that first of all he wasn’t Heavy Rescue, he was just driving their truck, but since he was a First Responder and had heard it over the radio he was obligated to go and check things out.

Suit yourself, I told him, but you’re going to have to move your vehicle so I can get out, and so the ambulance can get out, because there is no more room in the driveway.

Well, the Heavy Rescue truck backed up the hill, spewing gravel, and tried to find someplace to turn his rig around.  I admit that I smirked a little when he backed right into the ditch you have to watch out for on that dirt road.  I backed around him and got onto my own road after negotiating the tricky spot where the road does a wiggle going over a creek.

I’m too tired now to write anymore, so you’ll have to stay tuned.