Daily Archives: January 4, 2016

"Your illness isn’t interesting" aka "Why blog?"

So much has happened since my last post that I'm a bit overwhelmed on how to summarize it.  It's hard to know what's going to be even slightly interesting to read or have any value whatsoever in a month.

When something is difficult and challenging, my fallback is to go "meta" and start thinking about the activity of blogging itself.  Why am I even doing this?  Reasons I can think of:

  1. I was a bit hypomanic when it started.  I couldn't focus on anything and doing this was a way of feeling like I at least was getting something done.  It didn't require prolonged periods of concentration.  It was a fun distraction.
  2. I thought it might be therapeutic.  To sort of rant to the nothingness of the Internet.  Regardless of whether anyone ever listened.  To have a diary that no one I knew would read, but would still be very personal.  To say things I wouldn't say to anyone.
  3. I wanted a high level view of my changing moods and activities.  That is potentially helpful.
Well, after just a few months I find myself doubting all this.  Isn't it tremendously arrogant to just spew this stuff out?

And I think I can summarize the biggest argument against continuing in one statement... "Your illness isn't interesting"

Is it interesting at all to read an account of someone who is bipolar but relatively high functioning most of the time?  Perhaps not.  Doesn't make for good theater.  The suspenseful ups and downs of someone in constant chaotic flux seems much more captivating.

On the other hand, this is my blog.  Can't I be proud of it and keep at it?  Maybe my children can read it later when they are adults... assuming Curly Jones is capable of reading in the future (weeps).

Spewage Of The Brain

I literally did nothing all weekend even though I was sans spawn. Just wasn’t feeling it. More like a crushing inexplicable cloud of blackness was crushing me to the point I couldn’t breathe, let alone feel.

Do I give off a suicidal vibe with my spewage? Because hearing someone call me suicidal really hit me as being….wrong. I don’t obsess about death, I don’t fear it, I don’t cut, I don’t talk about harming myself…How on Earth could anyone take my posts as suicidal?

But then, that’s what it boils down to, ain’t it. Individual perception. We all see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear. And if your brain is altered by bipolar or depression half of what you perceive is suspect to begin with. I’ve said nothing in this blog I haven’t repeated to my psychiatrist, so if I truly were suicidal, I think he’d have picked up on it. I’m the girl with no filter on her brain, after all. I think it, I usually say it.

Bringing me to another point thrown at me. Though not partial to putting weight into the ramblings of people under the influence of drugs, alcohol, or snorted sea monkeys but…It was just one of those things, like the suicidal perception of me, that hit a nerve.

“Lots of people on line are hating on you.”

??????????????????

I sit in my corner of the interwerbs and bother no one. No one is forced to read this spewage by some sort of spork sorcery.

“But, Morgue, you’re such a rebel, what with your black clothes and foul language, why would you care what anyone thinks????”

Perhaps this is where my weirdness truly shines through….I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF ME.

I do, however, feel entitled to know what I have done to earn the hatred. If it’s something I can validate, like saying “Wednesday 13 could totally take God in an arm wrestling match”…fine. My humor can offend.

If I am hated because I use the word “fuck” a lot or am kidcentric or redundant…Puh-leeze, that’s petty bullshit. If you’re bothered by that fluff, I don’t want you reading my blog cos you obviously don’t get it.

So- hate me with valid cause, excellent, we are good.

Hate me for no valid reason and I WILL perform spork sorcery on your ass.

Just kidding. I am far too apathetic and lazy to be bothered.

In trying to connect all the dots to this seemingly neurotic “Oh, people don’t like her and she’s boo hooing about it” post…The thing is, I watched a movie called “Devil’s Knot” yesterday, based on the “West Memphis Three” case. If you’re unfamiliar, three 8 year old boys were murdered in this backwoods Arkansas town and true to small towns and small minds…

They pinned it on three local kids, “misfits”,  one of whom was mentally retarded, one whose biggest crime was being a gifted artist who liked to draw skulls and such, and one who wore black, was a smartass, had been involved with Wicca and oh THE TIE THAT BANDS ALL EVIL TOGETHER….

They listened to that dagburn satan music called heavy metal which is the gateway to murder.

Now, the movie wasn’t funny, there is nothing funny about three children dying, and three teenagers who are innocent being imprisoned for the crimes…But every time they started in with their southern preaching about the devil and occult and wearing black and heavy metal…I laughed. I really, truly, did laugh out loud.

Thank the sacred pegacorn ignorance isn’t contagious. But, wait…it kind of is.

Those teenage boys were convicted based on hearsay, out and out lies, the police coercing “witnesses” and the “satan” mind set. Prior to the murders, those boys hadn’t been more than a blip of “teenage weirdness”. But because it is so much easier to make anyone different into a monster rather than face the fact that most monsters look exactly like your preacher next door or that nice lady at the post office…They put it on the outcasts. And in their small minded panic, no one gave a damn about facts, evidence, contradictions in testimonies…

The law ceased to exist. The misfits were different therefore guilty.

18 Years in prison before they eventually reached an “Alford” plea just so they could get out. The state never admitted any wrong doing. The locals remained convinced the boys did it.

Because they wore black, drew skulls, and listened to heavy metal, for the most part.

So maybe I am too sensitive to being judged on the fluff inane shit.

See, I was the teenage girl wearing all black, listening to Ozzy Osbourne, and suddenly, I too, became a satan worshiper. No one cared that I lived in the boondocks, too young to drive, home every night taking care of my sister while my parents worked…I was a whoring satan worshiping skank.

Perhaps this is why I am so unfiltered and truth bound. Because it takes zero intelligence to tow the party line, to repeat what is heard rather than proven, because it is just easier to see a person who lives in a trailer park and has holes in their clothes and say, “Oh, what a sleazeball” than to really use your brain and realize…That nice looking young man next door is the next Ted Bundy. But he LOOKS so normal.

So, yeah.

Love me, hate me, love and hate me. Just have a damned good reason all around.

Because if going back on Lithium helps sort out my brain sewage…I just might find the energy to look into that spork sorcery thing.

Only those with a good reason for hating me will be exempt from the spell turning everyone into  human centipedes.

Signed,

not the least bit suicidal or homicidal, just snarky lil me…

Morgueticia


Long Day Already

I am having trouble finding meaning in my life right now.  I feel like I’m at a standstill in my life. Hopefully I will feel better once school starts and I have something to take me out of my own head again.  I just feel very, very frustrated with what I’m able to accomplish nowadays. I’m rebelling against my limitations again.  I feel so helpless right now. ALl I can do is take my meds and hope for the best, it seems like. I’m trying to pray through it, but it seems hopeless.  I know it’s not with my intellectual brain.  But my emotional brain keeps screaming too loudly for me to hear that.

I wish my life were simpler.  I have so much to balance all the time. ANd watching out for my kids seems difficult when I can’t even watch out for myself adequately.  Trying to keep watch over myself seems to take up all my time.

 


Hello 2016!

What better way to welcome 2016, than with one of our brilliant local bands, Prime Circle. Say “Hello” to 2016, release yourself from holding back this year. Dare to do […]

Hello 2016!

What better way to welcome 2016, than with one of our brilliant local bands, Prime Circle. Say “Hello” to 2016, release yourself from holding back this year. Dare to do […]

Reflections On 2015 And Other Stuff

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write my New Year’s post, but I’ve been busy taking care of my sick hubby (?bronchitis/pneumonia?), watching football (the Chargers lost their 12th and last game of the season, dammit) and, well…not being in a reflective mood. I’m not sure why, since the advent of a new year always makes me want to assess the one just past. But one thing I can say for sure: 2015 was one HELL of a lot better than the previous three years.

I mean, it was a huge improvement. In 2015 I escaped homelessness, got Social Security, and went on my dream vacation. I also was relatively stable for the vast majority of the year and managed to do some good work on myself, even if I did lose my favorite doctor and have to start over with a new therapist. I spent an hour on New Year’s Eve with a very nice young lady who seems to know her stuff and I can already tell she’s going to pick up where Dr. Awesomesauce left off.

To be fair, I warned her that I adore the man and that no one can ever take his place; however, I got the feeling from our first meeting that she’ll do just fine. I have yet to be assigned to a psychiatrist or mental health nurse practitioner; that happens after three visits with “Kathy”. I guess the powers that be want to be sure I’ll follow up properly and continue with treatment. They won’t have a problem with me there—I KNOW I need therapy and meds. Heaven knows where I’d be without them.

Which is why, if you asked me to name the single most important thing I learned in 2015, the answer would be this: if I don’t have my mental health, I’ve got nothing. I don’t have the luxury of defining my illness as a mere existential crisis, or ignoring the need for vigilance. Nor do I have any business trying to fix what isn’t broken…there’s a REASON I’m on so many medications. I am no longer under any illusions about being “cured” of bipolar disorder. I may not always need this much help in managing it, but that day has not yet come and I’m not going to waste any more time stewing about it.

I’m not sure when I came to that conclusion. I don’t recall having an epiphany of any sort. But sometime during the past year, I finally accepted my lot in life. I’m doing reasonably well (except Dr. A still won’t say I’m in remission) but things can—and almost certainly will at some point—go sideways. It’s the nature of the beast. On the other hand, there’s no need to live in fear of the next episode; why ruin a perfectly good streak of stability wondering when the feces is going to collide with the rotary ventilation system?

Just a few thoughts on how my 2015 went and my single New Year’s resolution to keep all of the above in mind. I don’t make any in most years because I always seem to set myself up for failure (“lose 100 pounds”, “start an exercise program”, “volunteer more often at church” etc.) and then wind up feeling guilty when the inevitable happens and I lose my momentum, causing me to give my resolution less than my best…or to give up completely.

Can’t let that happen in 2016. Happy New Year!