Daily Archives: February 5, 2018

Sisyphus

Imagine adversity as a giant boulder. And as you walk on through your life, you occasionally come across a boulder. What do you do? As far as I see it, you have three options: You can ignore it This is the worst choice. Don’t do this. If you ignore that boulder, it will probably just […]

If Only Nike’s Logo Worked On Clinical Depression

I spend 90% of my life in a constant battle with my own mind. Doing basic things should be so simple, right? Just fuckin’ do it, get it done, feel accomplished. Unfortunately, the folks at Nike don’t seem to suffer from crippling depression. Great logo, though, for people not held captive by their own minds.

And this is not a boo hoo woe is me thing. I really do feel imprisoned in my own mind. What I want, what I want to accomplish, I can visualize and the desire is overwhelming and yet…If I can manage a few steps each day that mimick productivity…I can consider it a win. Low standards, perhaps, but it was the best advice a therapist ever gave me.

Today’s goals were simple: go pay internet and power bill.

But it was 0 degrees when I woke and I was gifted with a really nasty comment from a net troll telling me to grow a pair and stop whining because apparently “Todd” only skims posts before being a douche and getting the entire story. He actually told me I had a job with R! LMFAO. Had he read thoroughly it would have been made clear that it was a favor for promises never kept and boundaries that kept being crossed to the point of infringing on my free will. Indentured servitude with no paycheck, benefits, and no escape, not to mention total abandonment by a so called friend who shut me off for not meeting his demands. It helps to get the entire story before spouting off but then they wouldn’t be trolls if they did that, would they?

It surely irritated me but then I realized…Thin skin is a presidential trait for when people disagree or point out shitty, immature behavior. I am not gonna be that person. Still, such a cruel comment on a post that was essentially written under the duress of K’s suicide…People are vile, cruel and utterly disgusting sometimes. And hiding out on line lobbing their little digs makes them cowards. It does bother me. Not as much as it once did. I just picture net trolls as the cowardly kids at school who had to follow the crowd to save face and lob insults at me. Children too weak to speak up for themselves when following the sheeple is just easier.

Suffice it to say…I felt like I had the flu once I gor Spook off to school. My stomach is either suffering from flu, food poisoning, stress, or a sudden bout of IBS. I became nauseous after my meds but my stomach was too wonky to eat. I couldn’t get warm, couldn’t get comfy, couldn’t find any peace from the spinning thoughts in my brain. Yet snow is called for tomorrow as well as lower temps so it kind of felt like I either pay the bills today or have to brave tomorrow in a car with no heat…

Getting dressed and out the door was like moving cement and sludge mixed together.

And getting into my car now sets off instant panic attacks because no muffler, no heat, brake fluid leak, shrieking belt, random service engine light….It’s like climbing into a ticking bomb every day and hoping it doesn’t blow up. It’s dramatic but when panic hits…Everything is amplified.

I did get the bills paid. To learn I have less than $20 for the entire month and need a ton of lil household things-toothpaste, toilet paper, paper towels, laundry soap, razors….And of course my kid wants to get Valetine’s cards for her class…I keep telling myself I am doing the best I can but…

My dad stopped by yesterday and went off on me because my mom went off on him about them not taking in my cats. Which I NEVER asked for them to do, I just wanted their contacts on the local farms who wanted mouse catching cats. Then mom told dad he should buy me a new washer and dryer, and frankly, the washer works on small loads and I drip dry stuff. The dryer, I am pretty sure it’s my 220 outlet not drawing enough juice to heat it up. I didn’t ask for any of this shit, my mom went at him, and yet I get him sputtering at me about how, “Your mom’s sat on her ass for 8 years after she retired, I still work at 71 years old and earn my money!”

Taking out on me what I never asked for is pretty bogus. But mom is grieving and in the first stages of dementia so I’m just gonna suck it up and let myself take the undeserved blows. And maybe mom did take to her room after retiring but that was after 2 knee replacements that still hurt her so she has trouble getting aroud whereas my dad does not have that issue. So if anyone gets my empathy…it’s mom, no matter how nasty she, too, can get, toward me.

I want out of this depressive abyss. But the fact it’s not lifting says the wellbutrin has run it’s course and hey, 14 months on the same med is kind of a record for me. I’m nervous and excited for my appointment with the new shrink next month. I just need someone to help me organize my thoughts in a way that will make her see I’m not being dishonest, it’s no affect, I really am going under here. I fake my way through what is necessary like keeping bills paid but…boulder up a hill.

I am TRYING. One thing that would help so much would be a solid 6 hours of sleep. Night after night I wake every two or three hours then have to try to get back to sleep which means tossing and turning until my mind slows down…It really is exhausting, not a whine and cheesefest.

On a final note…I just want to say a heartfelt thank you to those of you who follow, read my blog, click the like button, and have the courage to leave a supportive comment. It means a great deal to me to not feel so alone, to not feel like everyone seems to find me some phony making stuff up. My readers are very important to me because you all let me know I’m more than my disorders, I am a human being with disorders, but I am still worthy of empathy and understanding.

Thanks for that, all of you. Spork of fortitude for being able to make your way through my cluttered brain’s ramblings and find value there when even I come to think I am beyond salvation.

Clicking a like button seems like such a small thing but…it means a lot to me. So…thanks, tribe.

Fault vs. Responsibility

Brilliant video by Will Smith. This is truer than true. Even though it’s not someone’s fault that they were abused as a child, it’s still their responsibility to take that pain and hurt and suffering and do something with it so they can have a life full of love and laughter and constructiveness. If they continue to play the role of the victim, and believe me I know that any child who is pummeled into a bloody mess is a victim, but if this victimhood is kept alive, then the person will never take responsibility for their own life and move forward. Moving forward can also involve forgiveness, forgiveness can also take away victimhood. Instead of constantly living with hatred and anger, if you forgive your abuser, it can take away their power! You don’t need to be angry, hateful, negative because you’ve already forgiven them. And forgiveness is not for them, it’s for your own self, to get you out of the cycle of remaining a victim, anger, hatred and fear. Yes fear is at the crux of all the negative emotions. So if you can forgive, and take responsibility for your self, you can invite love and purpose and happiness into your heart.

Anyway, just watch the video, it’s brilliant!

7 Years and Counting

For A Mind Divided’s seventh birthday, I thought I’d look up my very first post.  Hmm…somehow this seems so familiar…

♥

Insanity, Creativity and Living in the Now


When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I thought my life had ended.  And in a very real sense, it did.  Parts of my life fell off like flesh off a zombie–my home, my job, my friends, my ability to support myself, my ability to live independently.  In the months and years that followed, the lessons of living in the NOW and letting go of attachments kept repeating.  Living with bipolar disorder (BP) was like living in a constant fire.  It burned away everything I thought I knew about myself and how the world works.  But with fire comes new growth that could never happen otherwise.  I’m finding that to be true in my life as well.

While I always considered myself a writer, I also became an artist because of BP.  I needed a way to express the chaos I felt and the wild shifts from despair to joy and back again.  My study of the world’s religions deepened.  I explored the science and metaphysics of the brain.  I also fell in love with “Criminal Minds” and “Fringe.”

I invite you to journey with me into the overlapping realms of mental illness, creativity and spirituality.  There will be fire and ice, but also miracles.

Of that I’m certain.

Writing

I have another exercise due this week in my writing class so I’ve been working on it all morning.  It’s an exercise out of the book we have so that was interesting.  I’m writing about burnt toast.  🙂  I’m going to need some more inspiration to finish it–I’ve written all I can thus far and need about two hundred more words for the minimum number I have to turn in. But I don’t think it’ll be too hard.

Busy weekend –we went shopping for the youngest one’s birthday party this weekend. I am looking forward to that–she will be thirteen years old.  Such a big girl. She’ll have a friend party the next weekend–she wants a sleepover so we will set up for that.

Don’t know much else to say. I did have some trouble this weekend–I was in church and the service was starting and I just had this terrible wave of anxiety come over me.  I had to sit down and take deep breaths.  I thought I was going to have to go home.  Finally the pastor began to speak and he talked about how much God loves us.  It was such a good word and I needed to hear it so badly.  I think Satan was trying ot make sure I didn’t hear it that day. But i didnt’ let him win.

Hope everyone has  a good week.

 

6.5

Yep. To my own shame, I outdid last week’s 5.5 days without a shower. I broke down tonight because my scalp was so itchy and I was getting beyond the wet wipe bath holding off the stench. Gross, right? And yet…shame does not conquer the crushing depression.

I attended the funeral Friday, survived immersion outside the comfort zone. Even sprang for some artificial flowers to put on my maternal grandparents’ and uncle’s grave. Because for years I have always vowed to do the Memorial day thing and it’s always something. Car breaks down, no gas money, too manic, too depressive. Always something. So while there…I did the right thing. And I cried during my uncle’s ceremony because damn it…it was sad. Oh, him being at peace after 18 months battling bone cancer and enduring all the dehumanizing treatments…that was good. But seeing the immediate family so grief stricken…grueling.

And since then I have basically shut down. Worrying about our living situation, feeling my heart break over having to rehome some of our cats, never knowing if I am going to be served an eviction notice…Seeing the bills ahead that there’s no way in hell I can pay, I can’t even afford basic hygiene or household products right now due to winter heating bills.

And even with the heat working, I am still always cold.

Every sound makes me jump out of my skin.

My kid wants me to play with her and my attention span is nil, my will to be playful zero…

This is full fledged clinical depression. Six and a half days without a shower. And yet that nurse thought this was normal behavior. I am just baffled by how someone in that profession could be so incompetent. I was falling apart then, and after a brief respite once I rid myself of Trintellix…I am right back down the rabbit hole, with no idea what to do to get out of the gripping inertia.

So I am going to attempt to sleep because honestly, it all has me head hurting me so bad I just don’t want to think about it anymore.

Except it’s all haunting me even in my sleep and that’s atypical for me. I rarely have current events incorporate into my dreams and yet…I had one where people were calling Trump the most important man in the history of the world…Talk about living nightmares.

Throw one the looks my cats give me and I wonder what kind of monster I am, I was supposed to be there forever home and I am failing them, failing my kid by not being in any condition to meet her constant need for playtime (I am trying in small incrememts and little ways but it’s so exhausting.)

Tonight I hope there are no dreams. And it’d be nice to sleep for more than 4 hours. But then I’ve been after that pegacorn for 8 years now. True love and other fairytales…should not apply to getting a good night’s sleep.

Color Your World – Screamin Green

screaming eagles..screaming green...yeah that works