Daily Archives: February 1, 2016
Concerns about money are both the biggest cause of stress for me, as well as a byproduct of being stressed out. I have talked before about how I like to spend when I am manic, but I also spend when stress levels are high, even if my mood is normal. When I am stressed out […]
I am a pretty emotional person, and the emotions are intense, I’m working on it, truly I am. It’s very hard to live a life always with high emotions. Of course partly that is bipolar disorder, but partly it may be just who i am or the trauma I’ve undergone. Any way, I am in intensive therapy so I never bother my very dear friends. I am going to get these emotions and over reactions under control. As God is my witness, I will never be a drama queen again! (Haha no drama there.) Here’s the thing about us drama queens, firstly we make excellent actresses, and secondly we are not having emotional fits to bother other people. That’s just how intensely we experience things. If you think that’s bad for you, my friend, and I know it is too much for you, you should feel what we go through in this life or death way we live. Ugh. It is totally for the birds! And I am bound and determined to not be in the constant throes of life and death. Therapy is going to help me, I am assured by my wonderful therapist. She has done wonders for others and since I am motivated and intelligent and determined to change, I will change. I will Rewire the circuits of my brain, and create new neuronal connections that foster peace not drama. Amen. And peace. Oh please, I hope so, it is a very hard, painful, and heartbreaking to live like this, and I don’t want to do it anymore.
Also, my trips to Buffalo will be few and far between after May 21st. That’s when my son graduates from Law school and moves to the New York City area, that’s his plan. And I will visit him there. So my Buffalo friends, if I have seemed insistent on seeing you, partly it was because I’ve known of this approaching deadline. But I am sure we will see each other, just no where near as often. I will miss you. But I am sure, our schedules allowing, we will keep in touch. Buffalo has been my home since 1972. It has a very special place in my heart and always will.
Warning: This could be triggering
Check out this poem on Youtube
They say… -They say that everyday above ground is a good day.
They say when life gives you lemons you’ve gotta make lemonade.
They say that when things don’t turn out the right way
That’s okay because tomorrow is always a new day,
Ya know, they say a lot of things about how I should feel, -But let’s get real,
They don’t know me
They are not me
They don’t have to force themselves out of bed every morning and stumble to the mirror and see me.
And I’m not talking about the me that they’d see
If they were standing next to me
As I shied away from my reflection,
I’m talking about the REAL me.
The secret me that I keep hidden behind lock and key -Because I know that if they ever saw it -Even THEY’D say that those lemons are too spoiled,
And even water and sugar can’t help THAT medicine go down. -And I’m not talking about the Depakote, Wellbutrin, or Xanax getting caught in your throat,
To quote Alanis Morissette, I’m talking about the jagged little pill that they call truth
Getting stuck because it’s too hard to swallow. ….
De Cartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” -He said that the only thing that I can be sure of is that I exist,
Beyond this, everything else is a question.
Nowhere is this proven more true
Than in those with mental health issues.
You can give me all your quotes, proverbs, and platitudes,
But the fact is that for me
Tomorrow is not a new day.
It may be true for you,
But obviously my truth is different than yours,
Because when I lie in bed the night before
I don’t think about tomorrow. -I think about today,
What I could’ve, should’ve, would’ve done better than I did yesterday,
And I can’t stop the relay race of thoughts in my mind
As they reach back in time -Struggling to find -Every single thing that I’ve ever done wrong,
So it can take it from yesterday and pass it off to today -And remind me that tomorrow is not a new day,
It’s just a new way of getting it wrong. ….
They say… -They say that they can’t understand how anyone could be so selfish as to take their own life.
Well I say -I don’t understand how anyone can be so blind as to see someone set on fire everyday -And not understand why they might want to put out the flames.
I say… -I say that I can’t understand how anyone could be so selfish as to want someone to burn -Just so they don’t have to feel guilty or question anything.
And I’m not saying that suicide is the right way,
And I’m not saying that’s how I want to end things, -But that’s what mental illness is.
“I think, therefore I am,” -“I think, therefore I am,” -“I think, therefore I am,” -And when I am in pain seemingly every single day -It makes sense that eventually all I’m going to think about is how to make that go away. -It makes sense that if all I can think about is the pain of yesterday,
Then tomorrow is not really a new day, -Because that means that today is just remembering or anticipating the same old pain in new ways. …. -Fear of judgement is the number one reason that those with mental health issues do not seek help. -They say that society is getting better with that.
Suicide is the 8th leading cause of death in the US. -They say that society is getting better with that. -Along with millions of other people, I suffer from mental health issues. -They say that we’ll get better with that. -They say that tomorrow is new day. -They say… -They say…a lot of things.
But now it’s time for them to understand.
Turned in my first paper for class yesterday and got immediate feedback on it today. She liked it a great deal but wondered why there wasn’t more “me” in it. What was I thinking and feeling as I wrote it ?
I told her I was scared of how powerful the emotions it stirred in me were. ANd they were powerful. I cried for a couple of days after I conceived it because it brought out such powerful feelings about my daddy in thinking about it. About how scared I am to lose him someday. Wondering if that day is coming sooner or later. How I’m not prepared for it. But knowing that it is coming, likely in the next ten years or so. So I asked her how to not “write scared”. So we will see what she answers
But it was gratifying to get such positive feedback from a new professor that I don’t know much about on a paper that was so personal. Now I move on to the next exercise and see how I can do on it.
****Yes, I am well aware I am NOT special, single parents across the world do the same things everyday and often, for multiple children. This post is not meant to be an affront or a woe-is-me thing. It is simply a glance into my daily world, balancing limited funds, multiple mental health diagnoses, and a headstrong six year old.***
6:30 a.m. The first alarm goes off. I stab at the snooze button until 7 a.m.
7:00 a.m. I tell my daughter it’s time to get up. I try to motivate myself to do the same. She groans and fusses that she’s too tired, too cold, school starts too early. I tell her she still has to get dressed for school.
7:05 a.m. I make my way to the kitchen to feed and water the cats. I brew myself fresh iced tea. I call to make sure she is awake and getting ready.
7:10 a.m. I check on her and she is still in her jammas, bellowing how she is too tired to dress herself and wants me to do it for her. I tell her to stop whining and get dressed like a big girl.
7:15 a.m. I finally get a chance to go pee. I have my tea, my first smoke, take my shovel full of pills.
7:20 a.m. Kid is still not dressed so I poke her with a verbal stick. She starts screaming at me and calling me an awful mom. I ask her what she wants for breakfast. She never wants anything but brownies and such. I say no.
7:25 She is still hostile about not getting sweets for breakfast and grudgingly agrees to a Pop Tart. (Which technically IS a sweet, ya know.)
7:30 Finally she is dressed. I have to remind her to put on her glasses and shoes, she can eat on the way. She yells at me some more. I tell her she’s lost Uno for the night. She screams more. I take away her dvd player for the day. Still, she is mouthing off, blaming me for school starting too early, and wishing grandma was her mom.
7:35 a.m. Finally get her into the car. She is either yapping a mile a minute or giving me the cold shoulder silent treatment. I try not to get too bent about the traffic, all the while my brain screams to return to its safe bubble.
7:40 a.m. She gets out of the car at school, nose red from crying fits, and barely speaks to me. She trudges along as if she’s been beaten down.
That’s just the start of my day.
8 a.m.-2:15 p.m.- “me time” some days. Some days I go hang out at the shop with R so I can get a pack of smokes or a bag of cat food. At home, I occasionally accomplish something. Mostly I ponder doing things but my body feels leaden and I get overwhelmed and do very little then feel guilty about it. On the really bad days I become so panic ridden I swear bugs are crawling on my skin and the paranoia is so bad I think every tiny sound is as dangerous as a gunshot wound. Good times.
2;30 p.m. Wait amongst the sheeple crowd, skin crawling with anxiety, until finally my slow poke comes running out. She’ll either be pouting or ecstatic. Either way, within the first two minutes she will ask what I got her and if we can go someplace to get her something. If I say no..Right back to her yelling at me.
2:45 p.m. Snack time. I offer string cheese and fruit. She says I am trying to starve her.
3:00 p.m. Homework time. She lollygags and says she doesn’t know how to do it. I try to help her so she tells me I don’t know how to do it. I tell her to do it on her own. She tells me I am a terrible mother.
3:10 p.m. She has dawdled and figured out I won’t do her work for her so she makes an effort. When she asks for help, I help her. She gets it done, I praise her, tell her how smart she is, high five her.
3:15 p.m. She is fussing about being hungry again. I offer alternatives to junk food. I am back in the bad mommy doghouse. “Grandma lets me eat whatever I want!” I roll my eyes where she can’t see. My mother is the devil.
3:30 p.m. I encourage her to play on her own for a bit. Watch a movie, color a picture, go play on her swingset if it’s warm enough. Occasionally I ask her to scoop litter boxes or put her clean laundry away then she can play.
3:35 p.m. She is glued to my side, uninterested in her plethora of toys. She batters me with chatter. If I don’t give her the answers she wants she yells at me. I take one more thing away, she cries like she’s been beaten. I quietly try to explain her behavior is the problem in her losing privileges. Once again, I’m evil.
3:45 p.m. She demands supper because I am starving her to death.
4 p.m. She asks if it’s supper time yet. I offer her a pineapple ring or two. She plays the starving card again.
4:15 p.m. She is still battering me with chatter, bouncing topic to topic. She wants to play UNo. She wants her supper. She wants her grandma. Is the moon made of cheese? How do babies come out of a mom’s belly? I’ve not had a single moment of silence or time to myself for two hours so I am getting a little irate. I can’t even go into the bathroom for a break because she sits outside the door prattling and telling me I am taking too long.
5:00 p.m. I ask her what she wants for supper. Nothing I have is good enough. I finally get her to settle on a meal, fix it for her.
5:05 p.m. Her food is too hot. It’s the wrong mac and cheese. She’s got a stomach ache. It hurts when she pees. She has an ear infection. Just getting her to shut up long enough to put the food in her mouth takes a half hour.
5:35 p.m. She says she is full even though she hasn’t eaten half of her real food but she wants dessert NOW. I tell her she can wait a few minutes and let her tummy settle. She screams and stomps off to her room.
5:45 p.m. She comes out, apologizes, then asks for dessert again. Not nicely, either. I tell her for her rudeness she doesn’t get a bath to play with her paints, she gets a quick shower so I can wash her hair. I am satan.
6:00p.m. Finally she is bathed even though I am soaking wet because she won’t hold her head back for the shampoo rinse and her getting soap in her eyes is my fault so she moves all over and I get sprayed with the shower hose.
6:02 p.m. I get her out, dry her hair, instruct her to dry herself. She throws a fit.She says she is too hot/cold/tired to put on her own jammies. So I let her stand there in a towel until she stops her fit and dresses herself.
6:10 p.m. She demands Uno and dessert. I acquiesce.
6:35 p.m. Either she is gloating cos she won all the UNo games or pouting because I did.
6:40 p.m. I have her pick a book and we read. I try to encourage her to make an effort on the shorter pages which usually sets her off.
7:00 p.m. I tell her it is TV time, because it generally calms her down (yes, I know, she’s as dysfunctional as me.)
7:45 p.m. I give her “snuggle buggle” cuddles and jokes, tuck her in, and retire to my living room chair or my bedroom.
8:00 p.m. I am so beaten down I have no energy to do anything I enjoy so I take my sleepy pills and take up in fort blankie.
10:00 p.m. Just as the pills kick in I am wakened by a text or call from R which gets my anxiety and anger up.
11 p.m. I finally get back to sleep.
12:30 a.m My kid wakes up and wants in my bed so I let her climb in. I spend the night with a knee in my gut and no blankets.
2:00 a.m. I wake up for no reason. Decide to go pee, make sure the cats have food, get a drink of water. Back to bed where I manage to snag at least one blanket from the six year old cover swine.
4:30 a.m. I am swatting the headboard for my alarm to see how much longer I have to sleep.
And then the alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m.
THAT is a day in my life. Are they all like that? No, some exceptions apply. For the most part, this is my Mon-Fri.
So anyone who thinks I have it easy simply because I am on disability thus don’t have a job…You are very wrong. Some days just putting one foot in front of the other is exhausting. Were I a lesser person I probably would hand her over to her father and say “You take all the stress.”
But because of my anxiety disorder, I will be mega stressed whether I have a kid or not. A disorder is a disorder.
Amidst all this, I juggle limited funds, bipolar depressions, and a family that’s absolutely cruel and useless. I don’t have the energy to even entertain dating or a serious relationship.
For those who do…You’re more hardcore than I am.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Okay I am done with puns on the word ‘link’. I’ve been posting linkdumps more or less weekly (and frequently weakly) for almost a year and a half now and I’m all out of inspiration. The above is the final and most feeble of them. To the links! I’d fix mine in a heartbeat: I … Continue reading bipolinkdump
One day you’ll leave this world behind, so live a life that you’ll remember As we launch ourselves into another new year, allow yourself to be inspired and encouraged. The […]
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