Daily Archives: March 9, 2014

On A Short Leash

Sheesh. Somebody PLEASE shoot me if I ever forget my meds again…….no wonder I was such a hot mess yesterday. I didn’t realize it until late last night when Will asked me, seemingly out of the blue, if I’d taken my pills that morning. Of course, my immediate reaction was “Why? Am I acting weird or something?” And of course, he knew perfectly well I hadn’t taken them because he monitors me at random times, and they were still sitting in the pill box in the downstairs bathroom at 10 PM.

Well, shit.

It doesn’t happen very often, although I have forgotten the morning meds on weekends several times in the past few weeks…..apparently my usual self-discipline leaves something to be desired on Saturdays and Sundays. I’m not sure why that is, but I’m going to have to figure it out because it is completely unacceptable to miss a dose at 7 AM and feel like all hell is breaking loose by lunchtime.

I suspect I’m forgetting because I’ve had to sleep in the recliner upstairs for three weeks due to the lingering effects of my bout with bronchitis, and the daytime pills live downstairs. It’s not a problem during the week because I HAVE to go down there each morning to pick out fresh clothes and do my little foo-foo things, but if I’m not going anywhere I tend to let myself go and not bother with the social graces of changing clothes or doing more than running a brush through my hair. Sometimes Will brings the pill box up to me and all is well, but it’s NOT his responsibility to remember them for me and if I forget, things are very likely to turn nasty on me.

It pisstifies me that this is so. (Pisstify = pissed + mystified.) It simply does not make sense to me that missing ONE tiny bit of antidepressant and ONE dose of mood stabilizer can play hell with my brain chemistry. Yet this morning I took them as usual and I’m fine. I don’t know why this illness keeps me on such a short leash, but it’s clear that it does and the only way to avoid the consequences of missing meds is to be 100% perfect in taking them.

That’s hard to do, even when one is as motivated to stay healthy (and is as well supervised) as I am. The best I’ve ever done was a three-month period where I never missed a single pill; not coincidentally, I was stable for much of that time. Obviously, as a medical professional, I know that the meds don’t work as well if they’re not taken regularly; as a patient, I don’t have ANY wiggle room and that befuddles me.

So now Will says he’s going back to reminding me every day and night, which is a setback for both of us because he didn’t have to for quite a while. But with spring coming on and all the unsettledness in my life, it’s a dangerous time for me to be erratic about medication. I’ve already had a few hiccups in recent weeks, so I REALLY need to get my shit together.

Thank you, Constant Reader, for coming along on this long strange trip of mine. That’s really what this blog is, a chronicle of my life with bipolar disorder, and I appreciate it that you listen when I’m actually preaching to myself, and offer your support at those times when I’m feeling lost. I may be on a short leash, but at least I have companionship on the journey. :-)

The Killing Moon

I want the sunlight to go away. Now.

I tried to stay in bed late, but it was impossible, the spouse was being totally inconsiderate, and making all kinds of noise while he got up,and didn't even close the bedroom door. He even asked me if I was having a "lie in". I said yeah. Not possible when he's up and around. I sighed after he came in again for his computer, and got up and put on my PJs.

Oh, man...

I've just been accused of not caring about any money that's been spent on me. I don't see a whole lot that was spent on me that I every asked for, in the form of things around me... I don't ask for things. I never really wanted anything I couldn't buy for myself in the first place.I was also accused of being wasteful, of caring only for myself, and my big daily medication box (of all things)! I said "I care a LOT about taking my medication, because I need it, or I don't know what will happen to me if I don't.". How is that a crime?" Or does he see that as a crime? Because he agreed to help me out with the cost of my prescriptions? Because he hates it and regrets it now? Because he may think that I'm just trying to get him to pay for stuff for me? That was never even my idea! It was his" Prior to that, this is the shit that went down:

I really don't understand how/why people/couples fight exactly, apart from me doing something terrible when I was drunk, So now that I'm soberish, I don't know if I'm really supposed to participate or what, or how. I don't know what the hell is going on when someone freaks out that I give them an honest answer when they ask me, "I'm thinking about cultivating some facial hair to show of some of my gray. At first, I think it's a joke, but then I play safe, and give a serious and honest answer. The spouse asked "What do you think?" I said,"Whatever. I don't like facial hair. It's neither pleasing to the eye, nor pleasant to the touch." I guess he was angry and hurt by it, and chose to plant a quickly growing seed of anger in his head instead of talking about it anymore. I asked him if his PJs were new. I didn't know what kind of expression I had on my face, but I was thinking that red really wasn't his color. I didn't give an opinion. They were plaid. Mainly red. He acted like I was putting him down, said, "Just keep being negative", then left the room.

He came back and sat down in the living room again, where he asked, "You gonna pay me for that mop that I bought? You don't even use it." I don't use it?! "I paid $60 for the damn thing and you don't even use it." and "You never say anything nice about the way I look". I was not that shocked but was really disgusted that he was going down this lane AGAIN - the $$$ I told him he never comments on how I look, my hair or clothes. I said I wouldn't be offended if he didn't like my haircut or clothes. I asked him if he was going to pay for the vacuum cleaner that he watched me buy just to hear what he would say. His answer was, "Well, at least that gets used." Love your logic. Notice there was no "yes" or "OK" in there. I remember buying it, thinking he might help me out. I was kind of shocked and disappointed when he didn't. That was way in the past, and I didn't let it get to me. I wasn't angry or feeling cheated out of money or something.

I said nothing for a while, and then he asked me if I'm going to pay my taxes, and that he just wants what's his." Yep. I knew he would never sign those forms with all that time on his hands to sit there and fester and think about his pile of money that he always kept his meathooks dug into. All I could say to that was that I would have to look at the forms, do it all over again and see what would happen. He mentioned again that he just wanted what was his. Then I said, "What do you want? Do you just want me to give you all my money? Would that make you happy?" The sun starts quickly setting in my head.

He also mentioned that I don't care about him, that I'm not interested in him, that I accuse him of wasting his money. He bought another Kindle, the pad, and downloaded all "Game of Thrones" books when we have them all already. I was referring to the 1st book when I strongly advised him not to waste his money on those books just for the sake of his kindle pad. He got pissed.

He also dug up an ancient story about a $500 deposit he/we lost on an apartment in a different neighborhood that I changed my mind about at the last minute because it was too many bus rides/time away from my shrink, and I was paranoid about living in the neighborhood. I had 2 Xs living in the neighborhood, and 1 X fling. There were too many tempting bars I used to spend too much time at that were still managing to stay in business. Also, the whole neighborhood was being torn down, and going through the very, very uncool gentrification process. I may or may not have paid him half of that deposit back. I don't remember, but I remember paying extra for fees here, where we ended up. I never complained, or wrote it down in my "You Owe Me" book in my head. The sky is growing darker and darker in my head.

The last stab in the back was,"You didn't marry me for love. You only married me to pay your bills." Ahem. I was living on my own, and paying all my own bills at the time he came to live with me from the UK, plus while he was working there occasionally, I paid for all his fees for the process of getting here, and he never mentioned that. Neither did I.I said "That's absolute BULLSHIT". He grabbed his computer and said, "I'm taking my bullshit into the other room." I went into the kitchen and grabbed the last grocery receipt, and transferred money over for the groceries and his stupid fucking mop. $30? I just kept thinking How fucking petty. How fucking petty... Sometimes I'd like to pistol whip him for being so fucking crazy petty. Who did he learn that from?

He came back out again, but just to make tea, and asked me if I wanted some, almost sounding like he had realized that he'd gone over the top with that shit scene. But I'm sure it was just out of guilt/manners, nothing else. He can go back into the bedroom, go online, stare at his bank account balance and squeeze every virtual penny he can. Have fun. And if I make tea, I'll only be asking him if he wants some out of courtesy as well, even if I have to deliver it to the bedroom.

So he is very sensitive, but will not admit it or talk about it with me. He has issues he will not discuss with anyone. He just keeps bottling them up, day after day, year after year. The sun is gone, the sky is black, and the full moon has risen in my head.

This guy really needs to go back to work. If anything, to get away from me. He gets bored constantly, angry, cabin fever, smokes a pack a day, takes naps (!), yet won't do shit outside when it's sunny, and he's not working. Makes no sense at all... How many times have I said it? He acts like he doesn't care about anything but money, eating, and maybe moving out of this place.

I'm not really feeling depressed at all, or sad, or angry... irritated, yes, but I got up that way. I'm trying to stay in the moment. I'm tired, and losing that hour's a bitch. I wasn't able to get outside. I have no energy, which is OK because it's Sunday, and exercise is optional. It's Zombie Day... so the spouse should be in a better mood. I am feeling some tolerable anxiety, due to the time change fucking me over.. No thanks to that dick, Benjamin Franklin, or whatever story you choose to believe. Fuck 'em all. I have a headache, it's dark in my head, and I want everything to just suddenly STOP.

Should have watched "Donnie Darko" last night, but it felt too much like a guilty pleasure you do only when no one is looking.

Why do I continue to live and breathe, and why an I still wearing this stupid woman suit?

In My Body

My neck is sore, my shoulders feel like I have been pulling a plough across a water – logged field (I have) and my legs feel like I cycled 33 miles yesterday (I did, finally.)

Cycling makes me feel good. I may favour exaggeration at times, but the opening sentence of this blog – ‘Cycling saved my life’. – was not.

My body aches all over today because yesterday I went for a ride in the countryside for the first time this year. O.K. the weather has been pretty severe for a long time, and even as an all – weather cyclist the wind and ceaseless rain have kept me from the countryside for a long time.

As reliable as always the winding lanes, the climbs, the downhill sweeps were all still there, as non – judgemental as ever. But it was a tentative ride, nonetheless. I’d planned a longer one – 50 miles near enough – but that felt too much; not distance – wise, so much as mentally. Like having too much to do, and not enough bad consequences to get the job(s) done.

As I have said before in previous editions I am a fan of physical activity (it really doesn’t have to involve padded shorts and a plastic hat) as a way of helping us get out of our brains, our minds, our heads and quieting – for a while – the terror, the guilt and the restless urge that summons the sweet swoon of eternity.

I am most certainly ‘in my body’ now. And it is nothing of the sort. The taut optic nerves behind my pupils as I try to focus, the mould prickling along my vertebrae when I sit or walk or lie, the inertia in the soles of my feet as I sit and sit and sit.

What they say I need most, I need least. What they say I need now, I need never.

What could be more ‘in the moment’ than the physical sensations of the moment? What is more actual than the aches? And all this is meant to make me feel better?


There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself-

Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.

Angels swim in it,

and the stars, in indifference also.

They are my medium.

The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.

A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.

Is there no way out of the mind?

Steps at my back spiral into a well.

There are no trees or birds in this world,

There is only sourness.

This red wall winces continually:

A red fist, opening and closing,

Two grey, papery bags -

This is what i am made of, this, and a terror

Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pietas.

On a black wall, unidentifiable birds

Swivel their heads and cry.

There is no talk of immorality among these!

Cold blanks approach us:

They move in a hurry.

Sylvia Plath (1932 – 1963)

Gender dilemma

I was born a female but have never felt female.. or male to be exact. I consider myself genderfluid, or androgynous, or just plain agendered. This really has nothing to do with mental illness, actually. But it can be frustrating at times. What does it all mean?


Genderfluid Flag

I’m a cis-female, meaning I was born a female and I generally identify as female, using female pronouns (she, her) and even though I don’t identify as female all the time, I keep it simple, and use the female pronouns as to avoid confusion.

However, genderfluid can throw things around. I never used to think that females changed their sex. For most of my life I’ve known about male cross dressers that dressed like females, and got sex changes to be females. When I was older I learned after F2M (female to male), genderfluid, genderqueer, drag kings and so on. Call me sheltered. My first step was permanent birth control: Getting my tubes tied, which I did in 2011.


Am I transitioning to a male?

Not right now.

Will I?

I don’t know.

It’s confusing when you’re stuck in the middle of the gender spectrum because a lot of people don’t believe in a gender spectrum, and think you’re either A or B. My therapist fortunately said right away that there IS a spectrum and that I don’t have to fit on A or B, ever, in my life, I can be anywhere on it, as long as I’m happy, that I’m me and I feel comfortable. Do I want testosterone (T)? Maybe. If it won’t upset my moods too much and I can stop my periods? Hell yes. I have horrible periods.


I’d have to take to my doctor about this. Gulp. I’d talk to my tdoc first. He’s pretty understanding about the gender spectrum thing. He asked which pronouns I preferred, even, without me bringing it up! I said just use female, it’s easier than the neutral (them, they, which are so impersonal, or made up by other genderqueer and fluids: ze, zan, zis, etc, which are so damn confusing, even I screw them up!)

I mean, my GP is really awesome, but its a touchy subject. My tdoc stands behind me on it, I could get him to write out a note. I think I may. Next session is Wednesday the 12th and I see my GP on the 14th for my Piportil shot. I could casually bring it up. I also have a physical on the 25th. Yearly, routine. I’ve lost 36 pounds since last years physical.


Trans* symbol

My GP and tdoc think that since I feel healthy, no light headedness, no bad blood pressure (its normal), no bad blood work (normal) the weight loss is no problem, especially since I’m admitting to it (weight loss) and not hiding it, like I would be if I were ED’d, and actually kinda frustrated I’m losing weight, and asking how to gain some back, and not getting into any eating disordered behaviour (I am not, I do not want to live that way EVER again) that I’m healthy, and there’s no need to intervene. They think its the Topamax (well, GP does, as tdoc isn’t a MD and can’t really say) and it’ll stop.


Genderbread Person

People constantly comment on the weight loss, though. Its annoying. When I was 150lbs, I was kinda miserable, because none of my old clothes fit, bra’s were super uncomfortable, I felt fat. I was overweight at 150 (I’m 5’3, barely) and the meds did that. My rubber riding boots were nearly impossible to get into, I couldn’t get into my old breeches (which are cursed, since every time I’ve ridden in them I’ve fallen off, I refuse to ride in them now!) and other whiney crap. I felt fat all the time (even though fat is not a feeling) and now people bug me about how much weight I’ve lost, when really, I’m about at my set weight. I’m actually 10lbs below it.

Nobody has really brought up an eating disorder. They saw how much I ate at all you can eat sushi last week. That hit the spot. Goddamn it was so good. I didn’t chow down as much as I wanted, but I ate a LOT. And I had dessert, too. We had a blast. I went out dressed as a boy, too.

So what do I want?


Drag King <3

I want a more non-gendered body. I don’t want periods. I don’t want breasts. I don’t want people to recognize me as female. I’ve got short hair, I chopped off my faux hawk last week. Because of the weight loss I’ve gone down to a C cup, but on my size, that’s pretty noticeable. I ordered some breast binders. I dress fairly androgynous. Some of my tattoos are girly, some aren’t. I do look young for 29, I look more like an 18 or 19 year old. My ex says “From behind, in the street, you’d think she was a 16 year old boy” but I guess I have a girlish face.. and big boobs for my size. I like my clitoris though, it brings lots of pleasure. TMI? Ah well, fuckit. 🙂 Mix clitoris with hitachi magic wand…. yea… now I’m getting TMI.



My mom knows I get called sir once in a while, that I dress like a boy every so often, but she doesn’t know how off I feel as a “young woman”. My dad would think I’m some “fucking queer” (which I am, sorry dad) and he’s all homophobic and all that jazz. He’s almost 70, so I’ll give him the generational difference. He’d never understand. My mom doesn’t care if I date a man or woman, or both at the same time. She’s supportive. I’m sure she still wants her daughter though. I don’t think I’d ever fully transition, but she is open to me having my uterus removed (I’d keep the ovaries as not to go into early menopause) and she doesn’t care how I dress, and I think she’s glad I don’t walk around dressed like a skank in tiny outfits.



She doesn’t care what I do to my hair, either. She’s seen it every length and style and colour. She said “Cool” the first time I got bored and shaved it bald. She was more angry the first time I dyed it blue when I was 15, because she told me NOT to. Then she eased up. It’s just hair. But change my gender? That’d take some getting used to.

I’m glad to have a supportive mom.

But I don’t think I’d ever go completely male. I do enjoy dressing up, being girly, once in a while. I can continue to play on the spectrum. Slowly come out to people. Go out as a boy more often. People already mix me up as a boy! dating wise, I’m queer, which means I’ll date anyone, and I’d be honest: I am female genetically.


Drag King at Pride

We have a supportive LGTBQ&everything else community in my area, which I am thankful for. I’ve met some amazing people through it. I also know an amazing M2F femme boi and an amazing genderqueer young man as well. We help each other.

There. After years, I’ve come out. Coming out as queer is much easier than coming out as genderfluid, or as some call it: genderfuck. Trust me, this isn’t something that “just came on”. It’s been going on for a long time. I never had a name for it, or support for it until a couple years ago. Then I had to sort it in my head.


Gender Spectrum

I think I’m at 7 or 8. It changes.

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You’re Just Like Me: Anonymous

This week my guest blogger is UNKNOWN. No really, I can not release any information about them because I don’t have any, but I still think its awesome that they wanted to share their story with us! Whether anonymous or not, each story is different and a much needed release in our sad covered up world of mental health. Please join me and welcoming them and tell them how brave they are to do this..

I wish more of us were like them…


So you have a mental illness.. Which one? 

I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Bipolar II with mixed features

 When were you diagnosed & how old were you?

I was first diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder when I was 17.  I am 24 now and was just diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder right at three months ago.

 How do you cope with your mental illness?

Taking my medication as prescribed every day is my first and foremost way of caring for myself.  I also created a WRAP (Wellness Recovery Action Plan) that I try to follow as closely as possible.  Sleep is a huge part of my wellness.  So are playing with my dog, tracking my symptoms through the DBSA Wellness Tracker Application, and SELF CARE.  Self care is so so so important.  Some days that means reading or knitting or baking or listening to music and some days that just means getting out of the bed and taking a shower.

 What are 3 words that you would describe how your illness makes you feel?

Unhinged.  Stigmatized.  Irritable.

 What are some ways you relax from your illness?

I like to take my dog to the dog park and talk to the people there.  None of them know about my mental illness, so it’s like a little break.  Alternatively, I really love going to the DBSA (Depression Bipolar Support Alliance) support group in my area.  Being in a room full of people who get it can be such a wonderful and powerful experience.

 What is some advice you would give to your fellow soldiers fighting this fight?

Go easy on yourself.  You didn’t choose this and it isn’t your fault.  Your illness is an explanation, not an excuse.  Take time each day to spend at least a tiny bit of time doing something you love.  You are NOT your illness.  It is a part of you, but it isn’t all of you.

 Tell us your blog or how we can keep in contact with you:



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