Daily Archives: July 8, 2014


I think the dog is afraid I’m dying.

She hasn’t left my side since I’ve been sick. She is currently planted under my computer chair, but she goes with me wherever I go (which isn’t far), stays with me when I’m lying in the recliner, and patiently waits outside the bathroom door while I’m doing what I do in there (which includes a lot of groaning because it hurts, dammit).

After three days of this, I’ve finally decided to go to Urgent Care and get it dealt with. I’m tough, but I feel like hammered shit. I look like hammered shit. I get chills in the 90-degree heat, then spike a fever. All I want to do is sleep. I slept half the morning today, then went back for more around 11 and slept till almost 2. Now it’s after 3 and I’m ready to sleep until dinner. Not that I care: I have eaten a grand total of two bowls of cereal since Saturday afternoon. It’s not that I can’t afford to lose a few pounds, but not having an appetite means something is really wrong.

I don’t remember ever having had a urinary tract infection like this. I was thinking it might be a stone, but the symptoms are all wrong. For one thing, I don’t get chills or run a fever when I have one, and the pain gets progressively worse with time. This pain isn’t good, but I can’t say it’s gotten worse; it’s just spread to my abdomen and the middle of my back. Which makes me think “kidney infection”, but of course if I could diagnose and treat myself, I wouldn’t need to go see that doctor who was more interested in my psych history than my broken toe the last time I was in there.

`yawwwwn` The recliner is calling my name again, and I can’t find a position of comfort in the computer chair anyway. ‘Night all.



The Year After

It’s been a little over a year since the events that landed me in that hell hole of a hospital. Some are really good, positive changes.  Some are very hard and painful but had to be made to preserve my sanity.  A lot of people in my life, including family members made the choice to consistently remind me that they possess no ability whatsoever to show compassion.  I truly don’t believe that realize that they came very close to losing me forever.  Perhaps they just didn’t care.  I don’t know, either way I can’t let their ignorance weigh me down any further. 

With a lot of hard work, and a lot of support from the people that do genuinely care, I am better today.  I no longer wish I wasn’t here anymore.  There are days where the struggle just seems to be far too much, and I want to give in.  The important thing is that I don’t, even if it’s just to show the people out there that believe I cannot do it, I still keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

This last month has been hard for me.  It’s been hard for me to even attempt to write.  I guess I had high hopes that my writing and my book was good enough to become something much bigger, and it would appear that is not the case, so yes I sunk into depression.  I am not beating myself up over it anymore.  Yes, I thought a 30 year old dream was finally coming through, but it isn’t, and I have to accept it. 

Adversity is around every corner, regardless of whether you are bipolar or not.  I tend to cower in fear when it strikes, but sooner or later I’ll remember why I do this, and the people that have told me that I have helped them, and I feel like just maybe I can keep going.  Am I sad?  Yes.  Am I disappointed? Yes.  Will I let this define me?  No.  You may be like me and choose to hide from the “icky” feelings, but sooner or later you are going to have to come out and face them.  Life is full of “icky” feelings, and if you spend your life afraid of processing your depression, grief, sadness, disappointment….well, you’ll be hiding forever, and really what kind of life is that? 

I guess I am just a little lost in my own head right now, and that is OK.  I just can’t set up permanent residence there.  I will come out on the other side of this devastation a better person, but it will take time, and I am OK with that. 

As far as the difference between this year and last year?  I have eliminated so much of the stress, medication, and people that helped me get to that point where I wanted to go to sleep, and if I woke up, whatever, if not….that was fine too.  It’s been a painful journey, I will not lie to you.  If you take away nothing else, just know that not one thing, not one person, not one event is worth losing your life.  If someone has a problem with you, it’s NOT your problem.  Move on, and enjoy some peace in your life.  You deserve it. 

Stigma Prevents Many From Seeking Mental Health Assistance

The Problem I frequently joke that in Los Angeles people think you have a problem if you don’t see a therapist. Joking aside, the stigma of having mental illness here is alive and thriving just like the rest of the world. Sadly, the stigma keeps many from letting their friends and family know they have […]

The post Stigma Prevents Many From Seeking Mental Health Assistance appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

The mythical magical legend of a happy medium

All I have ever wanted is  a happy medium. I don’t need to be constantly ecstatic, if I were I’d have to strangle myself.

But the extreme shifts are really wearing me down.

I was in a despondent depression for 8 months.

Enter spring, Paxil, and I feel half manic. Like a train starting to careen off the track with impulsive behaviors and too much euphoria one minute, a crippling mood crash the next.

“You cycle too fast for this to be true bipolar, it must be borderline personality disorder.”

From all my research, borderlines are generally set off by outside stressors.

I don’t have any pattern of triggers.

One minute, dandy. Next minute, kill me pleeeeease.

Oh to simply stay in between the two extremes, what a dream that would be.

Today I feel this manic electricity under my skin and in my brain, like I’ve slacked off for too long and now I need to shift into gear and get shit done.

My money is on it dying down the instant I start to do something. Because that’s how my brain works. It constantly trolls me.

I used to be grateful that I got “properly diagnosed” with a mental illness to explain all of this instability within my own head.

But all the meds and shrinks and counselors have also been utterly detrimental. I second guess myself, I analyze myself, I analyze others, everything has to be way more complicated than it is because damn it, if I am expected to change because “x,y,z,k,p,o” is wrong with me, I want some goddamn reciprocation. That’s what all this shit has gotten me in the long run. I irritate myself because I’ve been so brainwashed.

Life was simpler when I just shrugged and said, “I’m quirky and eccentric, fuck off.”

Now it’s “Oh, I’m bipolar and I am so sorry if I took my mood out on you, I will try to do better because I know what a pain it is for you to have to deal with me being ill.”


At least with quirky and eccentric I didn’t feel like such a victim who’s screwed up beyond all redemption.

Now it’s all about fitting into some textbook version with symptom a,b, c and d that last x amount of time, blah blah blah.

Fuck this shit. Give me a happy fucking medium.

I want to believe in the benefit of mental health care, I really do. I’ve seen myself with and without meds and the with is a lot more stable.

I’m just hitting the wall on my tolerance of bullshit.

Because if no antidepressant makes me drown for 8 months, and an anti depressant gives me manic euphoria, then I’m obviously not asymptomatic and I am obviously not at a happy medium. And it’s like this every single fucking time.

Becca and I were joking last night in our macabre way and she said something about not wanting to walk on a railing like I used to do ‘cos she’d fall and cripple herself. I told her, hey, at least your illness would be visible and people would have empathy.

It sucks that it’s true.

Huffington Post Article

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