Daily Archives: July 28, 2016

Is Depression Better?

Today I have felt a multitude of feelings and I don’t like it! I was calm and accepting of everything when I was depressed. Maybe it seemed like I didn’t care but I was just kind of chill about everything going on around me. Now I have feelings about everything.

Was supposed to hang out with my SiL Saturday and she ended up posting on facebook about going to a concert. Kind of felt like a punch in the stomach. I don’t like that at all. Things got worked out and I explained to her that my feelings were hurt. That’s the problem when you let people into your life. They have the ability to make you feel things. When it was just me and hubby I was mostly happy, not much made me feel angry or hurt. Now everything feels like I am feeling it 100% stronger than ever before.

The numbness of depression just seems to be easier you know.

On a maybe positive note we are having gretna days, which is our little fair and I really want to go so maybe I actually will. We’ll see when 5:00 rolls around.


Not Disco

So, the 103rd edition of the Tour de France has come to an end.The riders conquered mountain passes in the Alps and the Pyrenees before the procession to Paris. Kilometre after kilometre of climbing as the air thins, the oxygen supply diminishes. And they are racing. This is not a sponsored bike ride with rest stops and an opportunity to relax along the way. This is hard. But the riders do everything to drag themselves up mountain passes and retain control of the road as they descend at speed, as fast as cars.

As they do everything physically possible to make up into the clouds the riders rise up off their saddles and push harder still on the pedals, their bodies swaying from side to side as they seek to employ their core strength and even the muscles in their arms and shoulders. They call this ‘dancing on the pedals.’ This not aerodynamic, smooth, metronomic pedalling we see when a lone cyclist takes on the challenge of cycling round a track to see how far s/he can go in exactly 1 hour. No, climbing the Pyrenees, in a race, involves swaying and twisting, a lot like on a dance floor.

I went to a Jewish wedding recently. A lot of dancing is involved. Not the dignified waltzing newly weds kind of dancing, No one is asking to have the next dance. It’s circle dancing, men and women dancing separately (in this particular case the two groups were separated by a curtain.) And before you ask – there’s no space here to delve into the whys and wherefores of the cultural practices of orthodox Jews celebrating at weddings. I raise it here because that wedding represented a significant positive shift for me.

In the past I have written about the impact of genocide, in particular, the Holocaust on me. https://puncturerepairkit.wordpress.com/2013/10/12/614/ In that post I wrote that ‘the Algerian/French philosopher Albert Camus (1913 – 1960), the only footballer – he played in goal for Racing Universitaire d’Alger – ever to have been awarded the Nobel Prize (for literature, 1957) wrote in ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’: ‘revolt gives life its value.’ What is the connection between mass murder, an existentialist philosopher and dancing at a wedding? It’s like this: My upbringing, especially my idiosyncratic religious practice, is heavily influenced by what happened to my family in the years of European infamy (1933 – 45).

For me, observing Jewish religious rites has been a long series of acts of revolt. The most potent of these  has been dancing at weddings. Why is it that my creaking gyrations on the dance floors of assorted ballrooms, Jewish community venues and synagogues is steeped in such energetic meaning?  Back in the 1980s I read a book called ‘Hassidic Tales of the Holocaust.’ It is a series of short of accounts of the experiences of members of the myriad of Hassidic groups during that deadly era. In one account it is recalled how a survivor of the terrors of one of the death marches that took place in the months before the end of the war, who, despite missing toes from frostbite, made it his practice to dance at weddings despite the physical pain that doing so caused to his feet. This response to such suffering pierced me. It has stayed with me. It lives in me as an outstanding feat of resistance, a positive response to his pain, sorrow and loss. At  a distance of 0ver 70 years my response has been to dance … vengefully. A  revolt against annihilation.

Annihilation. A revolt against suicide, the ultimate destruction of the suffering that is life. It is my decision to act in the present moment, to risk celebrating the continuation of the life cycle in public, to stand up and dance on the pedals.

This Room

This room is breaking out,

Of itself, cracking through

Its own walls

In search of space, light,

Empty air.

 

The bed is lifting out of

Its nightmares

From dark corners, chairs

Are rising up to crash through clouds.

 

This is the time and place

To be alive:

When the daily furniture of our lives

Stirs, when the improbable arrives.

Pots and pans bang together

In celebration, clang

Past the crowd of garlic, onions, spices,

Fly by the ceiling fan.

No one is looking for the door.

In all this excitement

I’m wondering where

I’ve left my feet, and why

My hands are outside, clapping.

 

Imtiaz Dharker (1954 – )

 

 

 


I Hate Grocery Shopping

And today shows why–I’m anxious before I go and I always forget something and have to go back.  Very very frustrating.  I had to take a Xanax before I left, and I wound up forgetting buttermilk and chicken.   I’ll go back tomorrow unless there is something that holds me up.  I am  just not up to going back today.

It’s better now that I go twice a week and don’t buy as much each time.  Even going with a list like today I forget things, though. I don’t know why I’m so incompetent at this at this stage in my life at it.   Just one more thing my disorder seems to be stripping away from me.  I do not like  the idea of being one of those women who can’t manage life.  But sometimes I feel like I need to get into assisted living as soon as my children are out of the house.  Then it’s all taken care of and I don’t have to worry about doing it all.

Except for that, it’s been  pretty calm around here.  THe oldest is at work and my middle one is working at the school to help with freshman orientation. ABout one more week until school starts for them.

I have two more pdrojects for my class–a flash find (a research project where I post a discussion for the other classmates), and my final paper. I’ve gotten a’s on all my papers so far, so I don’t think I”ll have a lot of trouble with either one.  We will just have to see what all I can get done for them.

For my final paper I have to pull together all the plays and articles we read this semester and find an overarching theme in them that defines 20th century  theatre.  Big order.  But I think I will have it licked.  I have a good thesis and a good idea on  how I’m going to argue it.  We will have to see how it turns out.

 

 


A Splash of Reality, An Explanation of Sorts

I last wrote a few days ago about the immense changes I have undergone with respect to my person, over the last few years.  It was a sunny post and a hopeful post, with nary a mention of even a minute of negative head space.

That afternoon, I read an article about “Myths of Disability,” which didn’t faze me too much, but I was stunned by what I read in the comment section. I always feel possessed to at least glance through the comment section of everything I read.  I’m uncertain why, especially when there is often such rampant negativity, ignorance, and misunderstanding.

(On a side note, it always makes me feel a bit better about the general positive trend of the comments section of my own blog and *most* of my blog friends)

What I gleaned from this particular comments section, is that there are people out there (how many, I’m not sure) who believe that people who live with disability are “less than” and therefore “deserve less than” and also are (!!) “mostly scamming the system.”

As I was reading these comments, I was thinking back to positive blog posts I have written, where the sun has been peeking out of thunderheads that had been gathered for weeks, months, years, and I wondered to myself, if I post something positive, do people presume that I am “cured” or in some way, “without problems?”

In other words, am I giving off the impression that all is perfect and life is full of sunshine and unicorns and glitter, and that it will stay that way forever and ever?  I certainly hope not.  What I am attempting to get across is that, in anyone’s life, there is good and bad, but that you can change your reaction to and perception of events so that it is less harmful to your emotional well-being.  DBT skills have taught me (and continue to teach me) how to do that, how to change my reaction and perception of events, people, feelings, circumstances.

What I celebrate in positive posts is the MOMENT, and I celebrate the current moment for being increasingly positive, because I know that the next moment or the following moment or next Thursday or in November or in 2017 that there WILL be down times.  I will fall, stumble, flail, be unable/unwilling to pick myself up at *some* point, and at that point, I will start the process all over again.

I fully accept and understand that my life will always be tinged by mental illness, but that I have learned how to pick myself up and carry on as best I can, also fully knowing and accepting that I will have to repeat that cycle of life over and over and over until I am buried and gone.  Do I do myself some sort of disservice during times of fewer symptoms to celebrate, to write obsessively and glowingly about how good life feels in this moment, here, today, now?

I really don’t think so, because when hard times hit (and they will, eventually), I can look back at these positive entries and they do give me hope, tiny little bits of hope that my situation and mood and circumstance and flight pattern WILL change, yet again, and again, and again.  I will be reinventing myself over and over for the rest of my life, in some sort of haunted synchronicity with the chemical ups and downs of mental illness, and that might sound yucky, but that is my life, and I choose to love it.  In this moment.


Filed under: Life Worth Living Tagged: anxiety, Bipolar, bipolar disorder, blogging, DBT, depression, hope, mental illness, mental-health, radical acceptance, recovery, willingness

Mister President – Throwback

A Reminder Just a quick reminder that all entries in the “Caption This” contest must be in my midnight tonight. Here’s a link to yesterday’s post for all the info you need. Caption This.   This Throwback Was Originally Posted in June 2008   President George Bush The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW Washington […]

The post Mister President – Throwback appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

YAY!!!!!!!

My baby girl asked Jesus into her heart at church camp last night!  She came home today and told us.  We are so happy as a family to welcome in a new little sister all over again:).

I have been praying for this day since I finally got right with the Lord several years ago.  Mothers, continue to pray for your children.  Prayer does work and has life-changing consequences. She is going to be baptized this coming Sunday, and we are so happy.  I got to talk to her today about what that means, how, it is a picture of us identifying with Jesus’ death and raising from the dead.  I could not be more proud of my baby.

 

 

 


Today I Am Pissed

My SiL had my nephews birthday and we weren’t invited. In fact I’ve barely seen her lately. I’m pissed off and hurt about it. She promised she would never stop asking me to go places yet we were left out of a family thing.

WTF, just wtf.

I always care more about people than they care about me. Maybe I’m being over the top but since my little green friend is gone, so is she… fuck… just fuck… I miss her.