Monthly Archives: November 2013
There are odd times when I forget I've got bipolar and I just carry on with day to day things without even thinking about it. It's not very often that happens. It's hard to forget when you're shoving a whole load of pills down your throat every day. It's hard to forget when your life has been turned upside down. It's hard to forget when most of the time you just don't feel right. It's hard to forget when you have to be mindful of nearly everything you do in order to try and keep yourself well. Maybe it's because it's been so long since I could say I felt really "stable". Maybe it's because there hasn't been a time for months and months where I could say I've been totally symptom free. Bipolar really is shit sometimes.
I don't know why but I'm often so conscious of it. I don't mean I'm ashamed of being bipolar, I mean I'm just so conscious of how I look, how I act and how I feel. I feel like I've got an arrow pointing at me saying "look at her she's got bipolar". Ridiculous really. When I'm with people that know I've got it I can't help thinking that they are looking at what I do or say and relating it back to bipolar. I feel like they're judging me, deciding if I'm up or down, if I'm in a good mood or bad mood, if I'm normal or crazy. When I'm with people who don't know I think that they must be thinking there's something not quite right about her. She must have something wrong with her. She's obviously got some sort of mental illness. She's not normal. I worry that people are laughing at me behind my back or discussing how mad I am. Of course it's mostly me being paranoid. Of course it's just me not thinking straight....
I'm sure most people who know me, or when people first meet me they think I'm outgoing and confident. When I'm up that's true. Social situations excite me and make me even more hyped up. I thrive on interacting with other people. I need to be around people. I need to be doing things. The rest of the time it's just an act that I've perfected over the years. Sometimes the thought of being near other people makes me feel so uncomfortable.
There are very few times that I feel really at ease with myself. When I'm with my best friend, just the two of us, that's when I feel most comfortable. I still worry that she thinks I'm stupid and I'm getting on her nerves. When I'm with my other best friend, that's when I feel most safe. I still worry that he thinks I'm a pain in the backside and that he feels sorry for me. I worry that he's embarrassed about me. When I'm with the guy I have sex with (so it did happen again) that's when I feel the most alive and confident about myself. I still worry that he doesn't really like me and thinks I'm just some old slapper. When I'm with my family I think they are judging me. It's not their fault. I know there's no real reasoning behind it but I can't help thinking it. Having said that I do think people really do sometimes base their opinions on the fact I have bipolar. I guess I do act differently sometimes. I guess it is obvious if I'm high or if I'm depressed. I guess if they pick up on those things and act on them then it's not all bad if it means I get help before things get out of control.
I spend so much time worrying about what people think, yet in reality I doubt most people even give a shit. Some of the time I really don't give a shit either. If people don't like how I am tough. I'm such a contradiction. I think living alone makes you a bit more selfish, nothing to do with bipolar. I spend too much time thinking about things and analysing every little word or action. I over think things and end up coming to the most ridiculous conclusions. I can't help it.
For a huge part of my time it's a constant battle, juggling with my thoughts. Since I lost my job I have far too much time on my hands. Too much time to think about everything. Too much time to worry. Someone told me I was lucky not to have any responsibilities and be able to do whatever I like. Maybe but I don't always feel that way. It's hard enough getting through each day, even harder when there's no structure. I feel like I'm mostly floundering about wondering what to do next.
I've decided to go back to volunteering in the charity shop. I really loved it before so I'm hoping it will give me some purpose. They don't know about me being bipolar, though I'm sure they know that something's not quite right about me.
Heartbeat, erratic as drops of rain on the windows in the gloomy pre-dawn light, fingers tapping a beat on the blanket, she was unsure if they tried to follow the […]
Think about it .. Do you think the woman who.pushed her way past, or grabbed to get the last whatever.. yelled at the clerk and laid on tbe horn..knows the […]
It’s Black Friday and I did not join the frenzy of early bird shoppers, I instead headed in to work. I am thankful for my job and the opportunities to grow mentally and spiritually daily. As I’ve mentioned before, I work in an emergency room. The people I encounter are sometimes having the absolute worst day of their lives, or at least a really bad day. On days when my head hurts or I’m emotionally frazzled from the bipolar, finding empathy can be difficult. But then I go in to work, I realize my day could be much worse and I find that warmth, I find my heart and try to help make the situation better or at least more positive. I get to end my day knowing I had a direct, positive impact on someone’s life, rather than just being an observer.
My job is obviously stressful, with me seeing/hearing/smelling things I wish I never had. I make sure to decompress as compartmentalizing the feelings starts to backfire after so long. Making crafts helps me to de-stress ( if you read my blog regularly this is not at all surprising) and one project is luxurious, clever and green! The project is making my own coffee scrub. It’s a huge help in the winter for getting rid of dry skin and moisturizing. Here’s the recipe:
1 cup of coffee grounds
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup room temperature EV coconut oil
Mix coffee grounds and sugar together until well blended. Add to coconut oil and mix. Store in jar.
Coconut oil is liquid once it reaches 73 degrees, so if it is too soupy, pop the container into your fridge for a short spell. If it’s too solid, either place in bathroom while you’re showering (the steam will soften the coconut oil) or place closed container under stream of warm water for a few minutes. Take care when using in shower as the coconut oil can make your tub/shower slippery. This is a great, quick project that’s a good gift idea. It’s also great to use up those coffee grounds from your morning pot of coffee. I use it on my hands to combat the dryness of my constant handwashing and winter cold.
Have you found an interesting or clever way to reuse something that would otherwise have gone in the trash? Share your projects in the comments!
Thanskgiving was bearable, barely. It’s just always been awkward for me, surrounded by people I am supposed to relate to simply because we’re related. It doesn’t work that way. I’m the oddball of the family, and expecting them to get me is just ridiculous. But no fights broke out, that was good. I just felt like my skin was crawling off my bones. Couldn’t wait to get out. I did however amuse myself by telling my lesbian-phobic mom something. She commented that maybe one day I would find a good dad for my kid…And I said “Or she could get have two mommies, the men aren’t impressing me anymore.”
The look on her face was sooooo worth it. I’m a troll that way. Besides. My mind has become so open I’d hook up with a Monster High doll if it made me happy.(Goth chicks are kind of hot.)
Woke to a text this morning. R informing me a customer needed my assistance. I texted back reminding him that he fired me. And he said “I’m trying to help you, moron.” Which would offend most and yet it made me smile. I get honesty and I can be a moron. In all fairness though, I set the wifi network up for the customer so it made sense he would request me.
I went. I couldn’t figure it out. I freaked out. Finally got it. Left feeling pretty damn good, got the things we needed, came home.
Another text from R. I didnt hear it cos it was on vibrate so he called. The customer I helped this morning referred his brother to me with help with his computer, so we have an appointment Tuesday.
The first time I did ok. That second one, just calling to talk to a person I didnt know…That took a Xanax to work up the nerve and force down the panic attack to make the call. I don’t think anyone has a clue what it’s like to have anxiety so bad you’re paralyzed making a simple phone call. It sounds asinine, and I would probably think that, if I hadn’t spent the last 30 of my 40 years living it. It’s vicious.
I got my meds filled. I am on a Cymbalta manic high from hell right now. It’s beautiful. It’s disconcerting. It beats the fuck out of being an irritable depressed lump. My kid has had company today and I have actually been playing with them and not flying off the handle. One week back on the stuff and it’s already made a difference. Again not something anyone can understand unless they’ve been there.
And that is where the social distortion enters. I know the party line is, “Well, no one can stand you, you can’t maintain a relationship, and the common factor is you.” I don’t dispute there is much wrong with me and I can be my own worst enemy at times. But at the same time, so much of my life is spent in flux due to the ever shifting bipolar and the panic and whether the meds are working…I never know who I will be when I wake up, and people expect me to be solid and stable. No wonder it all goes to shit.I can’t manage the impossible and being expected to is ridiculous when they’ve all been warned that this is what I have to contend with. They view it as some fatal character flaw. and with that mentality, they’re the ones dooming me. Refusing to face that this is a legitimate disorder is the crippling factor and it’s done to me.
Not that I am playing victim. I am a roller coaster ride from hell. I self isolate to protect people from it, too. But no one protects me from it. No one can. How can you ever adapt to society if society won’t accommodate you? It’s a losing battle.
And I fear my mental issues are getting worse. I chastised my kid yesterday for losing the different coat someone had given her…And later realized…They hadn’t actually given her the coat yet, they’d mentioned it in a phone call. And I got it all confused. SCARY.
This morning I did something…And had no recollection of having done it a minute later.
Strange days. I’m a little scared. But who do I have to turn to aside from Bex and this blog?
Frankly there’s nothing that can be done. Take the meds and try to survive and hope it gets better. That’s my only course of action. I’m too functional to warrant a hospital stay. Apparently too dysfunctional to even maintain a friendship or unpaid internship.
Even in my insanity I do not belong anywhere.
I’d boohoo about it but instead, I think I will just listen to some really obnoxious music. That always cheers me up. And I suppose I should eat.5 pizza flavored Pringles chips apparently not filling.
I am so sick of being told about how disappointing, difficult, and what a failure I am.
Just once I wish someone would say, “In spite of how messed up she is, she is still trying so hard…”
And monkeys might fly out of my butt.
Ok, so you’ve been given a psychiatric diagnosis, and that’s a lot to digest. It’s rough on one’s ego, identity, confidence, and most likely family. So there you are, you’ve been told you’re a little off your rocker, and now you consider your options. Medicine is probably suggested first and to make matters worse you begin to learn about some of your possible options. Let’s review, shall we?
- Abilify – Because you don’t have abilities, at all, without Abilify.
- Nuvigil – Because a candle ceremony and a new lease on life are required.
- Provigil – When an amateur vigil just won’t do.
- Ambien – In franglais this means “Am” “Good”, because you weren’t before!
- Wellbutrin – Anything with the prefix “Well” speaks for itself. That should do the trick.
- Ativan – Why are we cheering on some guy named Van? Atta boy Van, way to go! I hope it works for that guy.
- Catepres – For making you catatonic.
- Lexapro – Take this if you want to be a professional Lex. What the hell does that even mean?
- Prozac – Again, another professional, only his name is Zac.
- Neurontin – Because you’re neurotic.
I could go on forever…
Happy thanksgiving to you!
I hope its filled with laughter, family, friends.
Remember to take a break to breathe. Get plenty of rest. Drink plenty of water.
Your family is there to help you, not hurt you.
I just learned that today. Thank you bay. I love you.
It’s Thanksgiving Day here in the U.S. and most families are wrapping up or have wrapped up their big holiday dinners. I had to work today, so I didn’t get to spend time with my family and had a quiet evening at home instead. I couldn’t bear to read any more of my PHTLS (pre hospital trauma training stuff) book and was honestly having some blogger’s block. I have no “green” portion for today, so I figured I’d tell you about what I’m most thankful for today:
You’ve seen this adorable little fluffball in pictures of my DIY’s. This is Fluffernutter, or Fluff for short. She’s the quintessential cat: curious, playful, manipulative and adorable. I adopted her at a very low point in my life, when I didn’t know where my life was going. I didn’t want a pet as I was having trouble even taking care of myself, let alone a living creature beyond myself. My mother’s friend found her outside her home, apparently the victim of abandonment. She asked if I wanted a cat as she couldn’t keep her and initially I said no. Then I went to go see her, and look at her- She’s so cute your head wants to implode. I took her home that same night. It hasn’t been easy. I wasn’t prepared for how playful/kittenish she was at the time. Fluff is very, very curious and sassy and it caused a lot of chewed/damaged items, lots of lost sleep and frustration. She’s a bit calmer now, and I realize God put this little furball into my life for a reason. We were both abandoned, without a real home or place in the world. Her frustrating traits serve to remind me that I have my own faults but still deserve love, just like her. She loves me and is always so happy when I come home from work. Fluff has several little quirks that I love, like the way her meows sound like she’s saying “Ma”, the fact that she comes running when I call her, and that she stops running to stretch out like she’s practicing yoga. Fluff is my second chance cat, my feline mirror. We’re both cute but frustrating, mischievous yet good-hearted, sassy but sweet. So today, as we relax in the cozy warmth of our urban farmstead, I’m especially thankful for my crazy and cute kitty roommate.