Daily Archives: April 1, 2013

A-Z Challenge ; A is for Amazon Mental Moment.

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Great day for a mood crash

Remember all those posts about how my mood was up and level?

Ha ha ha.

Scumbag bipolar brain had other ideas for Easter Sunday. The day when I could have used all that good brain ju ju. NOOOOO. Can’t have me strong and capable.

Must disable and weaken first, then send into the lion’s den, says scumbag brain, muhahahaha.

I was told to be there at noon.

I forgot to thaw out my chicken for chicken noodles, so when I hit the snooze button until almost 7 and finally got up, I was in a full panic trying to get everything done lest I bet late and get my mom’s wrath. Which is a funny thing, cos if you’re there before they’re done, well, you’re an asshole but if you’re late when they are ready, then you’re an asshole. My mom is a losing battle all around.

Had to bathe myself and my kid. Put a pretty dress on her, found something for myself to wear that seemed presentable. (At this point, I literally do not own one pair of pants without holes in them, I am that broke.) The stress of getting dressed anymore has kicked my ass for this reason. People surely assume I am a slob but I just don’t have the money to replace my pants. I wish I did. Not my finest moment to go out with holes in my butt cheeks. My shirts used to be long enough to cover it but the thing with Wal Mart t shirts is, they shrink down two sizes than what you bought once washed.

I am prattling, damn.

My bad.

Anyway…By the time I got out the door, my mood was blackened, my anxiety on red alert. I did not want to go. Everything I was doing seemed to go haywire in some small way. (Clean dress shirt? Nooo, must splash hot noodle sauce on it…Kid looks good? Her hair resumes being a rat’s nest five seconds later…Shoes dry? Nooo, meet mr mud puddle.)

Get there…and it’s going to be two more hours before lunch because someone (my dad!) told me the wrong time.

Yay, two extra hours with my mom snipping. How did I win that karma lottery? Pee in someone’s Cheerios? Run over their puppy?

It wasn’t an hour in (with my mom taking her little shots over my kid’s hair, her dress was too big, I’m rude, et al) when my 14 year old nephew began swearing and punching himself in the head because he was grounded for aiding a friend in some vandalism. Then my sister started yelling back at him and calling him a douche, then my mom jumped in swearing….

And once again, I was sitting smack in the middle of my youth, except then it was my sister who acted like her son. She used to take swings at our parents, hide liquor bottles in the ceiling, steal cars, rob taverns…all before age 17. So when I say history is repeating itself…I kid you not.

Sitting amidst that, with my happy unaware kid suddenly becoming tense at every raised voice and telling people to calm down…I just wanted to walk out. It happens at any and all family events, which is why I dread them.

My nephew finally calmed down after my dad got there with his brood. We ate. Then I got to listen to my mom snip at me in the kitchen over dad and his gf and their kid in the dining room. She’s bossy. Your dad’s an ass. Blah blah blah.


I tried to say as little as possible. Faking smiles and pretending my head was not about to explode. My mom said something about not getting my sense of humor and I said, “That’s why I try to use it very little around you.” Thus “Niki, you’re so rude.” No, you hose beast, rude is not saying please and thank you. Sarcastic and blunt are what I am. Sorry it ruffles feathers but it beats the hell out of being a passive wimp who has welcome printed on their forehead. But what can I expect from a woman who taught me to have self confidence is conceited and arrogant? No joke, she really sees it that way. No patting yourself on the back with my mom for a job well done. No, that makes you stuck on yourself.

I fled after four hours. No doubt there was talk about how rude that was, because I didn’t move in and stay.

It was like being paroled from prison after ten years.

Then the phone started ringing and I just couldn’t deal, so I became deaf. Trying to explain a low mood and panic to an over achiever has just become pointless, he doesn’t get it, doesn’t want to. So I avoid and lie. I called him this morning. He made a snarky comment about how I have two phones and never answer either one. Which is bullshit, I answer my phones 98% of the time. He’[s the one who never returns a text or even reads them. I hate people who have a set of rules for others that don’t apply to themselves. Hypocrisy sucks.

My mood is better today,  but not by much.

My anxiety is free floating, I am half afraid to go to the shop, because I am running the risk of popping off after a stress filled 8 day period of feeling like I am being pulled in ten different directions.Something’s got to give, and it’s usually my patience which results in some sort of panic induced angry blow up I immediately regret. It’s what I call my “time bomb” phase, and I literally am ticking. I try to isolate during these times but it’s not always feasible. Which is nerve racking. You don’t want to burn any bridges, and yet when things are fueled by panic and too much stress by the time you’ve popped off, it’s too late.

I am hoping my mood will pick up, yesterday was just  a soul sucker, last week was just a pressure cooker. I survived, right? Yeah  survival is all that matters, forget quality of life or joy or ya know, wanting to be alive.

One more day of being a coherent zombie is a victory.

So I am told.

Gah (Bipolar + Ambient Anxiety =…)

Even though I’ve got a couple of really great blog ideas, I will not be expanding one of them out today. I find myself overwhelmed by anxiety… and not even my own. I’ve actually had a pretty good fix on my anxiety lately, but when my beloved spouse starts behaving in a manner that belies his anxiety and stress, it tends to wallop me. I don’t begrudge him — he is entitled to his feelings, same as I am. But even with the strength supporting another gives me, there’s only so much I can take before I’m folding under and flailing.

But then, that’s part of life with bipolar — the feelings are stronger, good and bad, even with medicine helping smooth out the roughest edges. But I’m still strongly influenced by the emotions around me, and I pride myself on not stewing in resentment over it. I did sidewise chide him that perhaps he should say… leave the house to find a few minutes of peace for himself, but I am certain it went in one ear and out the other. We are too alike in not being used to people giving a crap about how we’re feeling, as well as hunkering down and trying to make do (he’s not bipolar, just a delightfully stubborn individual with the same desire to make everything better for those he loves).

And then, of course, is the quasi-guilt for me. I feel selfish for wanting to prioritize my feelings and my needs. It’s something that’s still relatively new to me. But even with the bipolar diagnosed and hung upon me, I still don’t think that my feelings are more important than anyone elses’… even if my reactions sometimes seem to indicate otherwise. Like everything else with bipolar, it’s just another annoying-as-sin balancing act — I do need to take care of myself, ’cause me being sorted is a big problem taken care of for everyone. But I also need to help take care of everyone else… and I know I fall down on that. Or I try and I make it worse for me, and then it makes it for them, and and…

Suffices to say, it can easily develop into a vicious circle. I’m a fair bit better now at realizing I’m about to go off the deep end, and retreating to a quiet spot for a few minutes to regroup. And, hopefully, that I’ve done that and expressed my concerns will serve us all better for the rest of the day.



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