Daily Archives: May 23, 2013

If Only

If only I’d been kinder to Mom

If only I pursued my degree earlier

If only I’d kept my career with Marriott

If only I spent more time with my daughter

If only I could accept that people like me

If only I’d come out of the closet sooner

If only I’d had a good relation with Dad

If only I’d kept my weight off

If only I’d left an abusive relationship sooner

If only I’d kept my house in Scottsdale

If only I hadn’t spent my life’s savings

If only I could stop biting my nails

If only I hadn’t hurt my ex-wife

If only I had a drivers license

If only I had a car

If only I didn’t throw people away

If only I loved myself

If only I wasn’t an alcoholic

If only I had more hope

If only I wasn’t bipolar


I am absolutely flabbergasted by the difference in my moods from last week to this week.

Last week I felt almost manic, but not in the happy way, in the emotionally shaky one-step-from-tears-due-to-mooshy-feelings way.

This week, I almost feel numb. Not entirely numb, I am still very much in touch with my anger and irritation. But my mood seems more level, like I am better prepared to deal with the same stressors I had last week that sent me reeling.

Does this mean I have a mercurial personality? Or is this related to the cyclothymia and increase in Lamictal?

Furthermore, if I can go through such a thorough shift of mental space in a week, how the hell am I going to feel next week?

People think this is some sort of affectation or it’s fun. Truth is, this is living hell, when you can’t even trust yourself because your mind space is ever changing.

Whether real or part of the mood cycle, when I feel something, I FEEL it, lock, stock, and barrel. Even if I can convince myself it’s blown out of proportion, I BELIEVE what I am feeling is based in reality to some degree.

But last week I was a simpering fool full of warm fuzzy feelings and yearnings.

This week I am not quite dead inside, but…more solid. Still irked but steady emotionally. It’s so bizarre and confusing.

Like the true mental masochist that I am, I continue to go to the shop and atone for my past sins by allowing R to play on my guilt. It doesn’t make me happy but I’m just not in the mental space yet where the inevitable “fuck off” blow up is going to occur. It will come, though. He once got sick of me and dumped me. Well, this time around, I am the one sick of him while he’s begging me to stick around (because I am useful to him as a shop wench.) I don’t think he’s gonna see it coming when I do go off. He’s just that self absorbed. I listen to him bitch and moan, his inane babble, his neverending “I cope with reality by using humor” which is rarely all that funny to me. I try to talk to him about my life and I get “Hmmm…” constantly, just “Hmm.” And when I point it out, he has a mini hissy fit, “Well, since you’re going to make a big deal about it, I was thinking…”

Yeah, the blow up will come. It always does when something is fucking with my equilibrium to this degree. I’m just not there yet. Especially not when he’s telling me if he expands, he will hire me as a full time employee with a weekly paycheck. Honestly, no one else wants me, and at least the paperwork and customer service I can do well. Plus if I can maintain my current state of detached numbness…The evil you know is better than the evil you don’t…I don’t know. I am trying to keep it together. I’ve never managed it before but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

Now…I have to put  a shirt on a stuffed dog and get ready, I am taking my kid to the doctor to make sure she doesn’t need an antibiotic for this chest thing we both have going on and apparently, Nasty Puppy is sick too so she wants him dressed. I have no idea where the doctor’s office moved but I guess I will find it. Detachment is not a bad thing. Otherwise, I’d be in a mind spinning panic. Maybe this Lamictal increase is working.

My neighbors are awesome, by the way. Their 8 month old baby is crying and they’re screaming, “Shut up!” Every time I think I am the worst mom on earth, someone else comes along to make me feel like mom of the year. Gotta love the human condition.

Okay, Not *That* Great (Work is A-Okay By Me!)

I am a cheerful person — even when Bipolar had me so twisted around I was snapping at everything, I still considered myself a cheerful person. I don’t feel that it’s disingenuous in the slightest — I’m not forcing myself to feel any way different than how I feel. I do understand that lots of people see the functionality and the pleasant demeanor and assume nothing is wrong; I’ve lost count of how many times people have been genuinely surprised for me to state that I was depressed. But as many of us with Bipolar know, it’s perfectly possible to be utterly depressed and still have a positive outlook (because yanno, depression doesn’t mean sad by default!). Maybe it makes it harder for people to accept the validity of our situation, but pfft. It’s not like we owe anyone wailing and lamentations and the gnashing of our teeth to fit their stereotypes!

Perhaps I use cheer to hide the severity of my situation from myself. For example, last night? I hit a curb while driving the two miles across town because Paramore was on the USB stick in the CD player, and it spiked my anxiety severely (I like Paramore, but my brain didn’t at that particular moment). The hitting of the curb happened because the folder had a million tracks on it and I couldn’t get past it fast enough. I probably should have just turned the volume down and waited until a light, but anxiety doesn’t exactly make for logic. The car was fine when I parked up, so the noise was worse than my poor already freaked out brain was insisting upon. And yeah, the dizzy marches on, so that’s not exactly fun.

Still, what are my other options, really? I could continue to hide out at home and let my brain ‘win’. Even if I was doing well trying to relax and recoup and take care of my mental state, I am made to work. My BFFFF heatherbat has specifically commented on this to me on several occasions — it doesn’t matter what the job is, per se, I’m just happiest when I’ve got a work thing going. My longest non-working period since I started working at 16 was the six months that I couldn’t legally work here when I immigrated, and even then, I was doing what I could to get spun up on the family business so I could dive in when I legally could. Not working for too long would pretty much guarantee hitting dangerous levels of depression. So no, I do not worry about working for the sake of bills, or for fear of losing a job — working brings me pleasure and fulfillment. As long as the bills are paid, I don’t really care what I earn. :) I am not my job. My job isn’t me.

It goes without saying (though I’ll say it anyways) that that’s just what works for me. I don’t think anyone opting to stay home or unable to work are wrong or not taking care of themselves — doing what takes care of yourself, whatever it might be, is the best thing for *you*. And that’s what’s the most important thing. *nodnods*

Vaguely related mandatory share time! This post here by Mrs. Bipolarity is good reading:

The Secret to Happiness

Contentment has been my aim since I was a teenager, long before the Bipolar diagnosis. It just always seemed to me that contentment was stability, was balance. I like those things. It means all the world to me, so much better than the giddy highs that ‘must’ be balanced against devastating lows.

Anyhoos, hope everyone is having a good one!


The post Okay, Not *That* Great (Work is A-Okay By Me!) appeared first on The Scarlet B.