Tag Archives: anger

Antidepressants for ALL!

People are so easy to share (with me, because my superpower is communication) that they were (KEYWORD!) on antidepressants but the got off of them.

I don’t know if I should complain that you told me and then quickly told me that you got off them OR be happy that you told me you were on antidepressants..

This all coming after I confessed that I’m feeling really depressed and that’s probably why I lost 30 pounds..

Does and has everyone taken antidepressants? And if so WHY ISN’T mental illnesses widely talked about and understand…ed?!

I’m not on antidepressants.

I should be.

I’m not on anything..(well)..but who am I to judge her anyway? Mental illness, whatever face and shape it takes, is real.

Maybe I’m just jealous she got OFF them when some people can never stop taking them, or can’t get them in he first place. ✌🏿

Now.

I feel weirder than ever.

I’m tired but yet hype

I’m thinking about things that need to be done, then switching it, switching, forgetting about the it, coming back to it.

I’m feeling my weight loss and I feel like I’m feeling myself too much. Time to get out of control.

I’m doing things I should NOT be doing.

I’m just tired y’all.

A lot of periods no commas.

Here I am again. Here I am again. Writing on the stupid blog because my fucking brain doesn’t want to cooperate anymore. This is stupid. And everywhere I freaking look there wants to be someone who has killed themselves over mental illness. That has stabbed their children. I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know if the universe is telling me to go stab my child and husband. Or I kill myself. I know it’s not saying that. But what the fuck. I am going crazy and I don’t know how to stop this roller coaster.

PS. I’m not gonna kill my husband child but God dammit.

Shit has HIT the fan. Again.

Why is it…every holiday…I go crazy? Just really insane?

I get really angry and shitty to my family. I withdrew from the world just to pop back into it tomorrow at work.

I am getting tired of exchanging my happiness for this stupid disease. This thing that had a hold on me since the beginning of this blog to now.

Now.

I thought I’ve moved on. I thought I could carry on with my life thinking it was just a sad phase. Now that there is a little me in the world and this thing keep popping it’s head up…I have to think that this is forever. Completely. 100%.

I’m tired and pissed that I am doing this again.

Guest Post: Living with Someone with a Personality Disorder

Thank you, Millie Jane, for this guest post. Millie shows compassion for her boyfriend who lives with a personality disorder. Too often those with personality disorders are vilified by family, friends, and even mental health professionals. Millie is UK-based. I’m…

Consumed

I am consumed and I don’t know how to fix it.

I didn’t find out I was Bipolar until I was 33. At 33 my oldest son was 15 before I was diagnosed and medicated. So he has lived most of his life with a Mom that’s a little crazy! I think that because I wasn’t medicated my brain did not see the things that it does now. I knew he was an amazing kid and I enjoyed talking with him but I don’t think I could really see it.

Four years later my meds are fully on board and my two younger kids are 14 and 12(13 in June) and I am consumed by watching them and seeing the things they do. I am consumed by the clarity that I now have. My illness started in 8th grade. I did things I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t listen to teachers, I didn’t listen to my parents or friends or anyone. At the time I’m not really sure what I thought but somehow I thought it was normal.

I was wrong!! I was messed up and my thoughts were not that of a normal 13 year old. My thoughts were chaotic and I remember over and over telling myself tomorrow would be different. And then tomorrow came and I did something wrong or said things that were inappropriate or started a fight(verbal argument) with someone. I argued with my bible class teachers and parents and anyone else that I thought needed to be set straight.

I have seen so clearly through my kids that so much of my life was not normal. A couple weeks ago my daughter was telling me about a girl at school that always has her phone out but never gets in trouble. So I asked her if she ever got her phone out. To which she replied, “No, I would be the one that would get in trouble and you would yell at me”. I looked at her sand said, “that’s a good attitude to have, I never had that attitude.”

She’s told me that before that she doesn’t do something cause I will yell at her(by yell she means a lecture that lasts longer than she wants and makes her roll her eyes🙄) It doesn’t seem like a big deal but for me it is. It consumes me, I think about it over and over and wonder why I was the one that had to be different. I have always carried around a little resentment but I just can’t take this consumed feeling that I get on a regular basis.

It doesn’t help that I have very good kids. Don’t get me wrong I am so proud of them. I am so thankful that I get to watch them do amazing things. Like last week my 14 year old 8th grade boy used his own money to buy his whole 8th period class valentines. It was like $40 and he just shrugged his shoulder when I said that was really sweet and nice of you. Lily had a teacher ask her to help at a special event at school and she was one of only two people asked.

It consumes me how good and amazing they are and how horrible my teenage years were. I know that I have been able to do a,axing things and that I am a very vocal advocate for mental health. But it’s sure hard sometimes to watch them and not think what if. I need it to go away. I WANT it to go away. I want to be able to enjoy my awesome kids without the thought that I missed out and I was ill for close to 20 years of my life. At this point that’s over half. I am so glad I am better. I am so glad that I can look at my kids and my life and really see and understand what is going on.

But I am consumed I can’t find the light. I can’t stop being sad for my younger self and I don’t know how to let go of the fact that it’s not fair. It washes over me like a wave. I am fine and then my daughter does something or tells me a story and it all flows through me again. I am so happy and at the same time I am so sad. I don’t know how to fix it and I don’t know how to make that part of me at peace. I don’t know what it will take for me to accept it and let it go but I hope it comes soon because being consumed by this at the most mundane moments is getting really old and tired. How sad that I look at my kids and see what missed out of instead of just being proud that I have really GOOD kids!,

As always be blessed!

So Pissed Off

The new insurance company is giving us a hassle about the Rexulti I take and to pay for it out of pocket would be 900 dollars a month. This mixture of meds that my doc has me on is finally working, I don’t want to have to change it. I’m so pissed off right now. I’m down to 3 pills and I’m waiting for my shrink to get back to me about samples or getting the meds approved. I hate waiting and especially when things are this close to being out. I don’t know what the withdrawal  symptoms will be but I know just going off a med it a bad idea. We’ve all done it.

Other than that stress my mood is pretty good. I haven’t been smoking any weed and just living each day.  I haven’t quit I just wanted to make sure that I am getting the most of of my medications. In Feb I’ll start smoking again and see if that effects how my mood is. If it turns out to be a bad thing I’ll just quit. I mean I managed to make it through the holidays without weed or alcohol so I imagine I can do anything if I put my mind to it. Though there is nothing like smoking some weed putting on the headphones and just chilling. I tried it without the weed and it was still good but I enjoy it more with.

Anyhow that’s it for today!

 

 


Anger & Lies

The anger
My anger pulsates into my boots
Sitting Across the room
My raw naked toes
Stretch and reach for comfort
Warmth of a blanket
My heart has turned cold
The lies unfolding
Who are we
Turns out nothin I behold
Pretending for the sake
Of stability
The stench of confusion
In my wake
How could I
Could you
Carry on knowing
So much to be untrue
Kisses
Passion
Unbridled senses
Falsified
As you tip toe
Around me
Us

 

 

 


Its Not Easy Being Honest

An old friend once said the hardest part is putting your feet on the floor. I remembered this as I laid in bed unable to move this morning. My alarm had been blaring for over 2 hours. I couldn’t will myself to throw back the covers. I insisted I get myself up right this minute so as not to be late for work. No movement. I stared blankly at the black out window shade in my bedroom. The clock ticked. The 8 o’clock hour passed me by. I should have been sitting at my desk. I had quite an important meeting w my supervisor at 1pm. I negotiated w myself that perhaps I could go in around 11. I was also supposed to run an errand first thing this morning for my husband. Important as well. Paralyzed. I just stared.
My phone was on my nightstand. I finally reached over about 8:45 and sent a text to my boss requesting to reschedule. Not 2 minutes later anger and guilt floods me. I “recalled” that text by sending another stating I would most definitely be in by 11am sharp. No response. Now I did it. I must get up. In one fell swoop I threw back the covers, put my feet on the floor and barreled into the shower. No energy to wash my hair. Looking presentable was the hope at this point.
Out of the shower I was trying to figure out how to proceed when I got her text. She replied, its okay. No problem to reschedule. I have personal things I need to take care of this afternoon. I don’t know if that was true or she was kindly letting me off the hook. I have been upfront with her, she knows I have bipolar disorder. I collapsed on the floor when I read her words. Relief. I crawled back under the covers wet hair and all. Slept for about 3 more hours.
The kindness and understanding of another can be so powerful. I cried on the floor out of shame, anger, relief and realizing my boss is on my side. Its not easy being honest with the outside world. Sharing vulnerabilities. Letting people in. But, today I am so grateful I did!


An Inelegant Deficiency: Anxiety, Writing, & Loss

Set us free: British Library, London

“It’s an act of faith. It’s going on when you no longer believe. It’s walking right into that wilderness.” – Natalie Goldberg, “Wild Mind”

“I’ve had an elegant sufficiency, and anything else would be flippity floppity.” – my mum-in-law

What gives you comfort? And what do you believe in? How do you go forward when all you can see is failure, and grief, and loss? How do you walk “right into that wilderness“?

When it seems like all you ever do is fuck up, over, and over again? When we see that life is sad? 

I write about loss a lot. Maybe it’s because I’m pushing 60, so close, ever so close now, and with what seems like precious little to show for it: and that what I do have, I don’t deserve. Or maybe it’s because I’m posting a card to an elderly relative, not knowing whether they’ll make it through their operation, or whether that card will go onto the doormat of someone who will never open it, never see it?

I write a lot about death, too.

True loss: London memorial to the women who also served.

Gods’ plural truths, I try and appeal to my better nature. Sometimes, though, it seems the “better” part just doesn’t exist. That god(s) created me, not in his/her/their image, but that of a maudy, angry old cow.

The quote from Natalie Goldberg is about writing. It was Goldberg’s response to a woman who had started several novels, got to around page 180 – no mean feat – then would “lose interest, or wouldn’t believe in the story anymore”.

I let the writing slats get kicked out of me, not long ago. No one’s fault but my own. I took something to read, but couldn’t face it. A waste? Not entirely: for one thing, it made me finally replace my printer cartridges. Cue much swearing, but I did it.

And so now more slats have been kicked out: and, once again, it’s down to me.

Time and time again, it is writing which helps restore me: which comforts me, and gives me hope. Am I writing the poem a loved one requested? Am I making my way to page 180 – and, gods help me, beyond – on my current work in progress (WIP)? Editing & publishing my next short story collection?

Nope, nope, & nope. I’m blogging. Which admittedly is better than putzing around on FB, Twitter, or YouTube: my usual refuges in times of stress, and anxiety, and sadness. Which, in turn, is at least better than hiding in bed, or being stuck to the settee.

Of course, my life isn’t all gloom and doom. For one thing, this merry traveller recently returned, after being missing for nearly a month:

Back in the camp chair again: Al, Beltane, 2017

All the things I love are still here: okay, not all of them. But there is enough: compared to many of the people I meet, I do indeed have “an elegant sufficiency”.

And it’s up to me to rediscover it.

I love you still: Detroit, 2006

Tagged: ageing, anger, anxiety, bereavement, cats, grief, Kate Bush, loss, mental health, Natalie Goldberg, nostalgia, poetry, Wild Mind