With bipolar axis two (I can’t speak for bipolar axis one), functionality comes and goes. When the energy is *there* you use it for all its worth. When it *goes MIA*, it’s like someone swinging an axe and cutting off an extremity only to leave you to bleed out. Of course, others who are ignorant of the disorder will consider this dramatic and theatric but it’s the real deal.
Five days I was under the surface, functioning at minimal, seeing the sink of dishes, feeling shitty about it, but totally incapable of dealing with it.
Today, again, I woke before 6 a.m. cos it was light outside. Stayed in bed til 7:30 when the spawn rose. It was church day. Thankfully, they didn’t forget to pick her up like they did last Sunday. Once up and she was out, I washed rugs, then a load of clothes, I did three sinkloads of dishes (I have to do them that way, everything in small increments), I cleaned all the cat boxes then put in clean litter and hauled out the bad stuff. I went Aldi for some fresh veggies, went to the dollar store for anti stick spray (I think the proper term is anti perspirant deodorant but with my anxiety which induces sweat even on the coldest day…it’s not always effective. Yeah, gross, whatever.) I DID shower first before going out into the dish. Humidity’s so high, just the cat litter dust was clinging to my moist skin. Nasty.
Since Spook got home from church…PEACE, no friends. I appreciate the respite.
Then my dad calls to darken my doorstep because I dared to tell him I was eating leftover pizza and he demanded how did I afford carry out and I said, ten dollar any deal at pizza hut and it’s made a meal for two days now….That man may mean well, but he is a dick. Maybe even a cockweasel, the way he carries on about my stepmom working 16 hours a week (my mom worked 48 swing shift while raising us when he was on the road 6 days a week) and oh, my brother who is almost 22 and got a legit high school diploma even though he has the emotional IQ of a 9 year old…
Everyone thinks it’s ego or jealousy making me bitter. Nope. I just don’t like dickbags.
I even mowed the lawn today even if my allergies were in full force due to the thick humidity. I kicked ass. Forgot to take names. Because frankly, the meds make me forget my own name sometimes. Actually, I know my name but there are times I struggle for my or my kid’s birthdate and I blame the meds for delayed access to that particular memory file. It’s like I’m running Windows ME and it is indeed migraine edition.
Now…I am thinking a second shower because two fans in 85 degrees with 69% humidity means Spook and I probably have more cat hair sticking to us than to the cats. Two fans ain’t cutting it, the central air don’t work, and the window unit makes the circuit blow. (Landlord finds that, my broken oven, and my caving floors of zero priority.)
At least, even if limited time only, I got stuff accomplished before going down the rabbit hole again.
Tomorrow, I think I am gonna rant about how even the professionals can’t tell bipolar and borderline personality disorder apart. The THINK they can, but they often cannot. Since having that label tossed at me a few years back (FIRST time in 25 years, from a therapist younger than my diagnosis)…I’ve been soul searching, researching, looking long and hard at myself, for better or worse.
A show I watched today, fictional as it is, sparked something inside me that further convinces me Yoyo counselor was dead wrong and the shrink lumping bipolar patients in with a borderline support group is plain negligent.
Borderlines always feel like a victim.
Bipolar sometimes make us feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, thus not a victim.
Then again, I may be in tears and begging the flying spaghetti monster to smite me tomorrow.
As I said, functionality, limited time only. Same goes for lucidity.