Tag Archives: mental health

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hope you are all having a happy holiday!!  Like I said yesterday, I know this day can be packed with all the feels so I hope it’s an o.k. day for you.  I am making the World’s Best Dinner Rolls this morning and I already burned out my mixer, yay me!  That sucker was smoking like a crackhead!!  I unplugged it and put it in the trash (once it was done with its smoke).  There’s something about baking bread that I just love.  The rising dough is like a warm baby’s butt, I don’t know what to say about punching it down.  I don’t associate that with punching a baby’s butt.  I’m not that mean.  Who would punch a baby?!?!  Anyway I digress.  My family loves my homemade rolls and it’s going to be a true feat to make them in this postage stamp of a kitchen I have.

Yesterday I started watching Stranger Things on Netflix, I wouldn’t say it’s addictive or anything, I only watched seven episodes.  I could have kept on going through the whole two series I think but I had to go to bed so I could get up and make bread!  I am tempted to turn it on now while the bread rises but I might get so involved that I neglect my bread-making duties and then I’ll miss Thanksgiving and my family would be pissed as hell.  You have to have yeast rolls with your Thanksgiving meal.  It’s like, a rule.

I also started reading the book Lab Girl for my book club, that’s something I can do with the time I have while the bread rises.  I could clean my house but fuck no.  I’m going to wait until the dust is swirling around in little dust-devils and I can’t see the back wall.  Give it a little drama.  It’s hard to work up the motivation to clean.  Maybe if I had a visitor here I would clean.  This apartment is my dirty little secret.

Well people hope you have a great day.  Let me know your plans and how you’re doing in the comments.  I love hearing from you!  Peach out!

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Disorder, Mental Illness, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader, Stranger Things

This Damn Job!

This damn job is not working out.  I have been sitting (AGAIN) with absolutely nothing to do for two days.  It makes me feel like such an asshole!!  It is anxiety-provoking on a couple of levels.  First of all, it makes me feel incompetent, like they don’t have any confidence in me to give me anything to do.  Second of all, I get scared that they don’t have anything for me to do, and that they’re going to get rid of me.  For someone who gets paranoid in the workplace, this is a hazardous environment.  Yesterday, I only lasted until about 2:30 pm, then I emailed the boss and said I was sick and left.  I stayed home “sick” today – I just couldn’t take another day of sitting on my ass and doing nothing!!  I know I’m not being wise – I’m not going to get paid for this time away.  I just don’t have tolerance for this bullshit!!

Today I am going to look for a new job.  There’s all this noise and chatter in my head about not having enough experience to find another job in Security, I am just going to ignore it and blindly apply for Security Analyst jobs.  I can’t imagine that they’re going to keep me at the current job if I just sit there doing nothing.  Fuck, I don’t know.  I just need to be busy and productive!!!  Anyway…

I know the holidays can be jam-packed with the feels for people, I hope you all have a good Thanksgiving.  I will be with the whole fam-damily, we’ll see how it goes.  Hopefully my Dad behaves and doesn’t act like an asshole.  Yay!  Holidays!!  Hugs to you all.  ❤ ❤ ❤

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Anxiety, Bipolar and Stress, Bipolar and Work, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Hives For The Hellidays

In spite of a churning gut and back breaking cramps I was forced awake at 5:45 a.m. by Vex kitten for it was face eating eardrum shattering crying time for him. My kid had already disrupted my sleep by waking me up to get in my bed so by then I was good and agitated and unwilling to take any Xanax that might make me fall back to sleep….So I gave up on the sleep thing even if I held tight to the warm blankie thing.

Today was a big day for me, errands wise. Trash had to be gathered and put outside. Then I had three baskets of wet laundry to drag to the car and bring to the shop to dry. Then I had to hit the mega supermarker that I can’t fucking stand to get several things for our family fangsgiving shindig Thursday. Which resulted in such a bad stomach I could have spent an hour in the bathroom but no, because now I am on “get a different car time’ which means yes even my stress related digestive issues come in last place.

Now the hives have started!

To make sure I didn’t get any sort of peace, the service engine soon light came on in the car!!!!

And my mechanic is still out of state on his other job, not that he’d have time to help me anyway and God knows my dad is useless. I tried to tell him last night about MAngo dying and Shady being injured and he just kept talking about how cute their stray kittens are….I have NO support system here. I am to the breaking point where I tell them all to fuck off. I can’t sleep, my stomach is upset whether I eat or not, nothing is being fixed or replaced as promised no matter how much servitude I put in, I am breaking out in bloody hives….and to add insult to injury I will go tell this to the doc nurse (next week, I think) and she will treat me with less dignity than the drive thru clerk who hands me my fries and tells me to have a nice day.

Am I stressed and hormonal and annoyed? Fuck yeah.

It doesn’t make me wrong and it sure as hell doesn’t change the bizarre physical reactions to all this anxiety and it sure as fuck does not make the people around me pay an iota of attention to my spiraling downward and when they do finally notice….they’ll just shake their heads and cluck their tongues and talk about how they knew all along I would melt down and how poor Spook deserves a better mother. And I can predict this because it’s what they’ve done and said my whole life.

It’s not an assumption or paranoia when time after time, the reaction is just the same. Sometimes, even well meaning “we love you” people are shitty.

At this juncture my only saving grace is that I have not been violent with anyone. So let’s just hope my prescription coverage doesn’t do away with mood stabilizers and I can keep convincing myself these people aren’t worth the prison time that would come with bashing them upside the head with a Z Whacker.

Lamictal may not help depression but it does a fine job of sparing ignorant people the ass beating they so richly deserve. They should thank me for taking my pills.

*No homicidal urges here, just hormones and anxiety and frustration but really…They should thank me for taking my mood stabilizer. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me from at least whipping out the verbal chainsaw and cutting down the bridge then burning it to the ground. My feelings may be extreme but they count and being discounted constantly….I really think my self control and the effectiveness of lamictal should be lauded.

A Letter To All The Bipolar Warriors


Every so often I take a look at the blogs I have written over the past four years and see which ones people view the most.  Tonight I noticed one of the most popular was “Rebuilding a Bipolar Life.”  It was written almost four years ago.  It had to do with my quest to work on my spiritual self.

Another blog that has been very popular has been “Bipolar Disorder Destroys Life and then what’s next?”  It was written a little over three years ago.  If you’ve been following my blog or Facebook page you probably know I have found my “what’s next.”

After reading the blogs and comments I’m inspired to write a letter to my fellow bipolar warriors about some of the things I’ve learned from reflecting back in time.

Dear Bipolar Warriors,

I’m not sure where you are in the journey of living with bipolar disorder.  You may be newly diagnosed and confused as heck about this illness.  You might still be struggling trying to find the right combinations of medications.  Like me, you may have experienced a significant amount of loss because of bipolar disorder.  Maybe you’re kicking it and have mastered how to live well with bipolar.  Wherever you are on the journey here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

Living with a chronic mental illness is challenging.  Okay.  That’s clearly an understatement.  There are challenges with people who are close to you understanding the illness, accepting that sometimes you’re not always going to feel well and giving you a chance to live to your potential when you are well.  There are complications with relationships.  It all gets better over time.

Some days it gets frustrating to have to fill pill boxes (I fill three weeks at a time).  But looking back I can tell you there was a time when I would sit on the edge of my bed, dump the pills in my hand and begrudge having to take them.  I would think, “I’m sick.  Why me?”  Then I would swallow them and go to bed feeling “less than.”  Fast forward over three years, it’s just part of my every day habit.  The pill boxes make it easy.  It’s a habit and I rarely ever forget to take the medications.  That’s what has been keeping me healthy.

But.  It doesn’t mean I have to like the whole process.  I don’t like having to call in the pharmacy for all my meds.  It’s a pain.  Some days I wish I didn’t have to do this, but it’s all part of managing the illness.  Without meds I have no idea where I’d be and I’m not ever going to take that chance to find out.  One could say, “Been there, done that.”  If you’re curious about that journey you can find my book  “Bipolar Disorder, My Biggest Competitor” on Amazon.

I am a strong proponent of finding the right combination of medications.  Besides my own story, I have my mother and sister’s examples and almost all the people who I have met needed medications to deal with this very tricky illness.  But it’s a bear finding the right ones.  Don’t give up.  Keep trying.  If you don’t like the doctor you are seeing, find a new one.  Learn about the medications for bipolar disorder.  Click here to find information on medications.

I can also share with you that recovery is possible and very likely if you have the knowledge, determination and access to care necessary.  But it’s also the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.  For those who don’t know, I’m an Olympic athlete and that was pretty darn challenging.  Recovery makes training for the Olympics seem easy.  And let’s not forget recovery does not mean “cured.”  It means different things to different people.  For me, it means I can use my talents and skills and contribute to my community.  It means I live a peaceful existence.  And I mange my illness to the best of my ability.

But.  There are other warriors out there who are in pain.  They’re having a frustrating time with dealing with bipolar.  Medications are causing bad side effects.  I understand.  What I can tell you from experience is don’t give up.

I’m gonna sum it all up and say what has worked for me might not work for you.  But I can tell you that you must have a desire to get well, dedication to find a successful treatment plan, discipline to stick with the treatment plan and the determination to beat this very challenging competitor.

Good luck warriors.  You are not alone.


What Condiment Shall I Have With My Bipolar Depression Sandwich?

So, wtf is with that bizarr-o title, you may ask. Well, being the antagonistic world mocking troll that I am I took note recently that two of my posts that included the word “bipolar” in the title got twice the views as my less specific titled ones. Is that because they were better written? No. It’s because we live in a trend-obsessed society of people who surf tags and titles for content as opposed to simply reading something before deciding it’s crap and of no interest to them. This hurts all TWO Of my feelings. I will never grasp a world so vapid that a post about what condiments one put on their sub sandwich for lunch that day can garner 2000 likes and yet I can write a heartfelt ode to a fallen friend and get trolling comments about how boring my writing is. So here’s your fucking condiment post with a specific topic that I probably will not stick to because….I like to troll and antagonize mindless sheeple.

(And for the record, I’m having no condiments today because I am eating leftover chicken seasoned so well, it needs nothing else for flavor,tyvm.)

Another long depression filled weekend complete with agonizing cramps and backaches and the never ending interrupted sleep cycle. We took in new kittens, and the timing is awful, but I’d agreed weeks ago when things weren’t going well and to learn they were being half mauled by the owner’s pit bull…Vex and Hex are now our family. Unfortunately, Vex is having trouble with mommy cat seperation anxiety and for three days straight has opted to wake me at 3 a.m. with crying and attempts to eat my face. Literally, gnawing on my face and nose. And this is with Godsmack doing his usual mouth nomming all during the night. One would think I could close the door, solve it, right? Oh, noooo. There is a second door that leads to the bathroom and the kid’s ripped it off the hinges years ago. It has only a curtain and since the bathroom’s main door has a 10 inch gap at the bottom, not even closing it keeps them out.

And me even thinking about turning away my kitties should tell you how exhausted, irritated, and frustrated I truly am. Normally they are a comfort but right now, everything is just piling up and there is no comfort.

Except that’s not entirely true, Godsmack seems to be liking his new role as big kitten on campus, he is patient with those adoring noobs as any mama cat. It makes him less lonely and that is good. Let him bathe their flesh raw and leave mine alone.

My kid, as ever, is a joy. And by that, I mean, she won’t cooperate on the tiniest things, fights me at every turn, refuses to eat real food but calls me a starver for denying it her 5 ice cream bars in one day. She wants to watch TV with me, but she talks through every word of it. I can’t make a call and she’s talking through, that, too. She reads my email and texts over my shoulder. I can’t sit without her being so close our elbows are touching and if I move abruptly and accidentally jar her, she calls me an abuser. And before any well meaning entity tells me ‘stop letting her get away with it’…you come spend some time with this kid and be the one who has to constantly tell her no. There is no letting her get away with it. I hang tough and it just makes the fights go on and on and still, I don’t back down and still, she keeps fighting me. I may not be at my finest now and I may not have much to give but she takes and takes and takes without returning much most days so I end up feeling like roadkill and she’s the vulture picking meat off my carcass. Not warm and fuzzy mommy enough for you?

At 3:49 a.m. today she gave me a heart attack, so to speak, by ninja creeping into my room to tell me she couldn’t get comfortable. I told her to go back to her own bed, but instead she brought the kittens in and they got to making noise and I was in pain from cramps and exhausted and I just wanted to go back to sleep cos I was supposed to make up for turkey day at the shop by being there Monday morning….I eventually had to lure the cats away with food and order her back to her bed, raging under my breath that I was either going to give away kid and cats or run away myself, anything to get more than 3 hours of bloody solid sleep a night….

I am not a monster. I am, however, being ground down to dust and it is taking a toll. During summer it wasn’t as awful because at least it wasn’t dark at 5 p.m. thus signaling even my child that it’s bedtime. Bad enough my seasonal depression makes me want to go to bed that early. Now every night once it hits 5:30 pm. she starts rioting when I refuse to tuck her in. This seasonal shit has fucked up every goddamn aspect of every goddamn thing and yes, from my overuse of swearing, you can tell I am goddamn stressed out and pissed off.

But I made it to the shop. After she went to school I went back to sleep. Wandered in here a little after eleven. Fuck it. He’s out of state indefinitely, what’s he gonna do? Yell at me on the phone? This is generally the point for the history of my life where jobs and relationships fall apart because I am falling apart and I am becoming unreliable, unfocused, screwing up little things, hating even minor social niceties for taking even more from me than I have to give.

But hey there’s a bright side. 5 days from now the curse will be over, the pain will subside, and my hormones will level out so that my insanity level will crank down a few notches. YAY. So I can handle Fangsgiving festivities which even with no drama still seem to be more stressful than heart warming good fun. Depression has really robbed me of everything joyful and good.

I know much of it is depression and hormones because a couple weeks back I took a picture of the ground covered in leaves and thought, so this is why it’s called fall, the leaves all fall and make this pretty patchwork on the ground….Now does that sound like a thought from someone who simply has a bad personality and negative attitude? Or is what I truly am inside when not being pummeled by hormones, bipolar, seasonal depression, stress, and anxiety?

I’d sure like to know if that leaf admiring girl could come out and play more often. I kind of liked her. And that, my friends, is what depression does to you. It makes your best traits seem like a whole other person you wish you could hang out with all the while dooming you to being the one trapped in darkness and hopelessness.

That is a sandwich no amount of condiments on earth could make taste better.

Prayer and Bipolar Disorder

My mother believed in the power of prayer, and thought I should do more of it. I can’t say she was wrong. She prayed for self-improvement (for God to take away her bitterness at someone) and for social issues (returning prayer to schools). I don’t know whether she ever prayed for an end to my bipolar disorder (she kept most of her praying private between her and God), but I never have. I don’t think it works that way.

So, what do I think about bipolar disorder and prayer? I think there are many things about bipolar disorder that you could pray about.

You could pray that science finds better treatments for bipolar disorder.

You could pray that you find a support system that helps you (or give thanks for the one you already have).

You could pray that you find a therapist, or a therapy, or a psychiatrist, or a medication that helps you. (Though I would recommend putting some effort into this one yourself as well as praying.)

You could pray that you have the strength to get out of bed in the morning or to sleep at night.

You could pray for understanding of what you’re going through – by another person, by an employer, by the world at large, or even by yourself.

You could pray that you not do too much harm while in the grip of mania or depression.

You could pray that you will recognize when someone is reaching out to you, and that you will have the ability to accept.

You could pray that you have the courage to reach out to someone else, and the wisdom to keep reaching.

In my opinion, what you can’t do is “pray away” the bipolar disorder. If you’ve got it, you have to find a way to live with it. If prayer helps you do that, more power to you. But, again in my opinion, prayer is not a cure for the disorder. There are some things that are meant for religion or philosophy to make better, and things that science has a better shot at.

You can point to various miraculous remissions of cancer or other diseases, or make the argument that removing demonic possession would now be called healing of mental illness. And if those give you comfort or hope, again, good for you.

St. Dymphna is the patron saint of the mentally afflicted (though personally, I think she should be the patron saint of abused children). If she, or God, or some other higher power of whatever religion or denomination or sect can lessen your suffering, go for it.

I just don’t believe that you – or I – personally will be cured of bipolar disorder by prayer.

Feel free to disagree with me.

Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: bipolar disorder, mental health, mental illness, my experiences, prayer, public perception, religion

Happy Saturday!

Or Happy Sleep-In-Until-It’s-Light-Day!!  Oh my, I had such lofty ambitions for what I was going to do last night, Friday night, and it all came down to dinner and BED!  I am TIRED on Friday nights!!  It may be psychological but I don’t know, it may be physical.  Whatever it is, I end up going to bed almost as soon as I get home on Friday nights, and I sleep a solid twelve hours.  And it feels so good!!!  I usually wake up at my usual time (3:45 am) and go Hey!  I don’t have to get up!  Yayyyy!!  and I go back to sleep.  Honestly, it’s delicious.  If there’s one thing working has given me, it’s an appreciation for the weekends.

I just made macaroni and cheese, you know, the homemade kind you bake in a pan with butter and milk and cheese and pasta?  Oh and onion!  It smells GOOD in my house.  This afternoon there’s a big family get-together to celebrate some birthdays.  My brother is in town from North Carolina along with his wife and three precious little boys, it will be great to see them.  They call me Aunt Sassy.  It will be great to see my family, but then I always do the compare/contrast between them and me and I feel like a great big fat whale and that is unpleasant.  Most of my family is uber-fit and skinny and then there’s me.  😦  I do not like being so uncomfortable in my body.  I think it’s a combination of my bipolar meds, and an overeating disorder that I have had pretty much my whole life which has now caught up to me in a big way.  I can’t seem to find my way out of this great big body.  My family loves me anyway, I wish I could practice self-love anyway.

The job has been…o.k.  I did something this week that in theory was good but in actuality had a bad consequence and I had to hustle and undo what I had done.  It was very stressful and I was so afraid that I was going to be asked not to come back.  Alas, that did not happen.  Thank God.  Although part of me wanted to be released from the job, the daily grind, the daily commute, which is a bitch.  But I really would have been up shit creek without a paddle.  I have just managed to pay my parents half of what I owe them, one thousand dollars of the two thousand they lent me for two month’s rent when I was waiting for that fucking job to start.  So I haven’t even managed to save any money yet, but I am on my way to getting my head above water.  I MUST move out of this place by the time my lease is up at the end of May, it is a shitty place but I can’t dwell on it because I’m stuck here until then.  I just need to focus on remaining continuously employed.  This is daunting.  Ok, it’s Saturday, I’m not going to think about it today.  But in general, that needs to be my focus 😉

Well y’all, I hope you had a great week.  Please let me know.  And ESPECIALLY let me know if you suffer with weight issues so I don’t feel so alone in my body prison, will ya?  Thank you for reading and PEACH OUT!

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Work, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Fat, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Interrupted Sleep In Bipolar Disorder

Not that it came as a shock, but recently in a friend’s blog (I’d link to her, my keyboard is not cooperating) she referenced how important it is for bipolar disorder patients to get good, solid sleep.

What is that, anyway? Because since my daughter was born, I can count on two hands the nights of uninterrupted sleep I’ve had and that’s WITH a sleep aid.

Last night I accomplished my goal of an early bedtime,falling off sometime after nine p.m. Only to wake every hour on the other. I am not embellishing or dramatizing. My phone is my alarm clock thus right on my headboard and every time I woke I would check the clock, thinking omg, maybe she’s late for school because I forgot to set the alarm…IMagine my chagrin to see 10:30 p.m., 11:15, 12:30, 1:15 and so on…And that’s not really the exception, it’s just the extreme form of what is regular for me. Perhaps some of it has to do with checking on our injured cat Shady but 8 years without good solid sleep is maybe what has helped bring me to the edge of breaking point.

Lack of solid sleep impacts mood, energy levels, emotional strength, mental equilibrium and that is in non bipolar people. So the toll it is taking on me is considerably larger, though I am certainly not trying to claim any special prize here on who suffers the most from lack of decent sleep. I’ve had a sleep disturbance my entire life, from age ten. Before Spook was born, for better part of two years, I had to take 300mg Seroquel and 400 mg Trazadone just to get to sleep. Down side was, I’d sleep 13 hours a day. And that got old so I cold turkey’d both of them even before I had my kid. I switched to melatonin, which is less harsh but also, loses effectiveness the more you use it and it’s not intended for indefinite use.

Nurse doc mentioned last appointment if the raise in melatonin dose didn’t help me sleep through we could explore some prescription sleep meds. THis is does not please me. INsurance does not cover stuff like Ambien or Lunesta which would mean old school anti depressants or knock out shit like Seroquel and I’m not ever going back to 13 hour comas. Life is hard, but geeze, sleeping life away is not living and it’s sure not a cure for insomnia.

I’m not sure what the answer is, but if lack of (uninterrupted)sleep does impact bipolar disorder so negatively, then I need to find a way to combat it.

I can’t get rid of my kid or cats. I can’t stop life from sucking. I can’t pretend the world isn’t about to implode. About the only thing in my control right now that I can truly do away with is the stress of the shop and being R’s little helper monkey. Because it has become apparent to me in recent weeks that I am little more than a marionette he rewards with bananas.He doesn’t give me Christmas cards or a birthday gift (his wife does, she deserves so much better than him.) He doesn’t care when my animals die or get hurt. He doesn’t listen when I reach out to him for parental advice. This is not a friendship. It’s an acquaintanceship and he just happens to trust me as much as the managers at McDonald’s trust their assistant managers. Except they could probably ask for a few days break to deal with their health issues and not get treated to a guilt inducing self esteem anhilating smackdown.

I am giving it til my kid’s christmas break in mid December and then i am done. I’ve pushed myself so far, I refuse to go any farther. At this point I am holding on because he agreed to help me buy my kid’s Christmas if I keep helping. ONce that’s done…I am taking some me time. Maybe the stomach aches will die down, I will be able to sleep better, hell, maybe at the end of the week i won’t be so mentally eviscerated i can’t even work up the energy to enjoy a meal and movie with my child.

I spend way too much time trying to please others and make amends for my past behavior before mood stabilizers. I try so hard to prove I am a better, different person than i was then. I let myself be manipulated and convinced that I am just being moody or insecure when frankly, someone who doesn’t even send you a happy birthday text really isn’t your friend. not after 20 years of knowing each other.

So let’s flip the script. Get my needs met then let the chips fall. If it destroys the alleged friendship, so be it. A friend would never drive you so far over the edge you feel the need to sign into a hospital anyway. THat’s what an employer would do and for that, I should be getting paid real wages and benefits. But if three months of not even half days has broken me…I don’t think work is in the immediate future.

TIme to reboot and heal have to be my focus for now. I owe my child, not the man child. Fuck a different car, I’ll drive my rust bucket til it collapses. It’s not worth it anymore, not when I am losing myself, my health, my mental balance, and it’s impacting my relationship with my child and ability to parent properly.

If anyone is gonna drive me into a padded room, it’s gonna be my child. I chose to bring her into this world and for better or worse, she is my responsibility, her behaviors my cross to bear.

Emotionally stunted fifty year old man children aren’t.

Mental Mush

I talked to a guy today who said his Obamacare payments are going feom $600 a month for him and his wife to $2500 a month, thanks to Trump and the Republicans going after the ACA. This is a man who worked 45 years as a firefighter, and his entire pension doesn’t add up to that new peremium for health insurance. The state is also trying to pillage the savings funds the firefighters and police worked hard to accumulate. And it just hit me how much trouble this country and its citizens are in right now.

My ability to cope is decreasing by the day.

I hear how people in their 70’s are working two jobs to get by and I am filled with self disgust that I can’t even handle what ‘little’ is on my plate, though with mental health issues, it’s not little at all. I am constantly nervous and my stomach is in knots. I have very little hope for the future, very little confidence in myself toward anything. I’m not getting better. i am disintegrating and the constant self loathing for not working or being stronger is turning me into mental mush. My brain is turning the consitency of baby food squash. Overload doesn’t begin to cover it, yet i am surrounded by people doing ten times more who can’t miss a chance to remind me how subpar i am.

(Ignore the typos, my keyboard is sticking.)

To say I am terrified of what is to come would be an understatement. It’s not normal fear, it’s bordering on hysterical nervous breakdown fear.the other night i came close to contacting the emergency number for the shrink’s office and asking to be hospitalized. But I talked myself off the ledge because i’m pms-ing and have been in pain for days, not to mention alternating between tears and rage. We took in a cat these people abandoned for two weeks then they came back, after my kid bonded with him, and insisted we had stolen it and they wanted it given to another family in the trailer park. The next day thw cat was wandering around hungry so I let Spook bring him in and feed him then, because I was trying to do the right thing and also not start a trailer park war, I told her to return him to the ‘chosen’ family.

w went out for 40 minutes and when we returned, someone had placed mango’s dead body in our yard. Run him over and just tossed him in our yard. Spook was devastated and i sent her to let them know they needed to come get him and bury him but they wouldn’t answer the door even though they were right inside making noise, lights on. I was full on rage monstr by then so I wrapped the cat in a towel and put him on their doorstep and yelled BURY THE CAT YOU HAD TO TAKE AWAY, HE’D BE ALIVE IF YOU’D LEFT HIM WITH US!

It just got worse from there because our cat Shady came crawling out from under the trailer, hind legs crushed by a car. And I shattered. I could not stop crying, was like a faucet thanks to menstrual dysphyoria and hormones. I try to be strong for my child, but that night…I was shatteed. I just knew Shady wasn’t going to make it to the morning so I could take what little christmas money I have and get her checked out….I was so close to just checking into the hospital psych bin. Sooo goddamned close. I’d juust talked to R’s friend Mark that day and his daughter had a nervous breakdown and checked herself into a ‘behavior and mental health center’ so hey, we all break, no shame despite what idgets like my dad and R say….

But my kid needed me, Shady needed me, and i held it together evcen though I was raging that we don’t have emergent pet care in this armpit town. And when she did see the vet, they chastized me for not having a credit card or more cash so they could do more than one X-ray and I just took my cat home with me, crushed and furious. She is a fighter and she did get pain pills and bandaged and splinted and all…She’
s eating, drinking, trying to get around n little jaunts… Maybe I should have had her euthanized, Idk, but hey, they wouldn’t do that either cos I didn’t have more cash.

So now I am buried nder the crushing guilt that what litle xmas money I had for my kid was spent on the cat and I’m a monster for not just putting the cat down and…My kid continues to behave more violently, i denied her a happy meal the other day and she actually kicked my seat and hit me in the head while i was driving and screamed she hoped we wrecked and die if she couldn’t have a happy meal.

For having ‘little’ on my plate it sure feels like a lot and I’m not handling it well. I don’t have much hope it will improve any either as I see psych nurse at the end of the month and I am fairly sure the wellbutrin has conked out but she doesn’t like making changes to my regime. It could be months before I can get into Dr. B.

I hat the world. There’s so much beauty but it’s being mucked up by all the hideousness of politicians and mean people ad yes, I can still be that naive and have hope that maybe mean people will just die off or reform because damn it…that delusion helps me keep going.

My brain is baby food. Life has melted it down that much. Mush. But I am out of bed and functioning and I guess that’s gotta pass as quality life. Even if I just want to curl up and die most days. Not by my own hand but just out of sheer exhaustion in every way. I need a reboot, a recharge, a damned break from so many horrible things all thrown at me at once. I need a break from the damned self loathing, too. Trying your best should not result in feeling this down on myself.

Logic tells me in a week or so once the hormonal surge has died down, I might feel less doomed. But this day, hell, this whole week…I am fairly sure we are all doomed and I just want it to be over. If that’s weakness then I am guilty.

Brave souls change hearts and minds!

cast photo

Photo: “This is My Brave” cast in Wheeling, West Virginia 

There’s a special feeling when we can be a part of something far bigger than we could ever accomplish alone.  This is my overwhelming feeling of having participated in Youth Services System and NAMI Greater Wheeling’s “This is My Brave Show,” which was held last night at the historic Capitol Theatre in Wheeling.

Audience photo

Photo:  The Experience Church Worship Team & Audience

If you aren’t familiar with “This is My Brave” let me shed some light on it for you.  It’s a national non-profit organization co-founded by the amazing Jennifer Marshall.  The purpose of the show is to allow those who live with mental health conditions (mental illness & substance use disorders) to share their stories through creative expression-poetry, original music, essay.  The intent is to impact the stigma of mental illness through story telling.

The sixteen cast members in our show inspired the audience and made a lasting impression on all those who attended.  Those who shared struggle with and persevere daily through challenges related to depression, anxiety, panic attacks, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, binge eating disorder, suicide attempts and alcoholism.  Our show had an added bonus with the Experience Church Worship Team (aka-the band), kicking off the show with their inspiring and impactful musical talents.

The audience feedback has been nothing but positive.

Many people have said the IQ on that stage was beyond impressive.  Translation – people with mental illness can be smart.  Multiple people said, “it was fascinating to see the broad range of socio-economic levels and diversity of those impacted by mental illness.  Translation – mental illness does not discriminate.   One gentleman said, “I’m not affected by mental illness and I never realized what people go through.  This show helped me understand what others deal with.  I’m so grateful to be here tonight.”

And…the overwhelming comment by numerous people, “This show is inspiring.”

This morning I received this amazing quote from one of our cast members, Mr. Bill Hogan.  Bill writes,

“I have been involved in a bunch of stuff in my almost 90 years but never have I been so “electrified” by a group or an event as I was last night.  I love the word mystery and last night the wonder of it all, that unidentifiable power that charged the people on the stage as a group and as individuals was wonderful and gave everyone in that theater, on stage and off , a sense of joyful peace.  Everything was lined up the way it is supposed to be.
I am thinking of a quote  by W.B. Yeats  “ Go forth teller of tales. And seize whatever prey your heart desires.  Have no fear. Everything exists.  And everything is
True. And the earth is but dust under our feet.”  I am truly blessed to have been fortunate enough to have been part of a great happening.”

And that my friends sums up my feelings of being a part of something greater than myself.  Being part of a movement to shed light on mental illness, one person and one story at a time.  As Jennifer Marshall says, “Storytelling saves lives!”  Indeed it does.

Jennifer Marshall and Cast Photo:  Jennifer Marshall speaking to the cast of “This is My Brave” Wheeling, West Virginia