Daily Archives: July 28, 2014

The Butterfly Effect

Well, it’s back to the racing thoughts thing again. I was wide awake till after 1 AM thinking of all the things that need to be done in the next few weeks, and could barely finish each thought before the next one demanded my attention. My mind is like a butterfly, flitting from one idea to another, only alighting once in a while…..and usually on something I DON’T want to think about.

There’s just too much going on in my life right now and I’m overwhelmed. I’ve got to get a job. We’re having a garage sale this weekend to (hopefully) raise enough money to keep us afloat for a little while longer while we figure out what to do. I HATE this—my house is in utter chaos, what with all these boxes of stuff to sell, and I’m already feeling claustrophobic. I still haven’t figured out how to pay rent here and save up money for a smaller place. At this point, I think we may try to stay here a little longer and keep getting rid of stuff so we don’t have to rent a storage shed when we finally do move.

So last night, my thought processes were going something like this:

 “I wonder what we should charge for the weight bench and the double bed. What are we going to do with the stuff that doesn’t sell? I wish I could shut my brain off and go to sleep. OOF! (cat using my abdomen as a launch pad) I want to have this GYN appointment over with so I can get on with my life. I don’t want to be nervous about it but I can’t help it. Thank goodness I have an appointment with Dr. A next week. He’s really gonna love THIS tale of woe—still out of work, have to move, next to no money, and female problems. I’m so afraid this will be my last visit till I can get insurance again. I haven’t seen a bill from his office since last fall—what is up with that?? I need to pee but don’t feel like getting up. I’ll just try to settle down here. What the hell was that noise?

“My back hurts. I wonder if I should keep my mother’s dishes and the ancient set of encyclopedias. Remember, everything I save, I’ll have to lug. OUCH! (another cat ran across me) Who’s gonna help us move if Mandy and Mike move up to the mountains? Haha, how do you like that bit of alliteration? Hmmm, Will is wheezing…..must’ve stirred up a lot of dust in here when he was cleaning. I need to get back out in the garage tomorrow and go through more stuff. I’ve got to wash all those clothes I’m going to sell. Oh, shit, I forgot to do the online unemployment thingie. Better do that first thing in the morning. I’ve only got about three months left, what are we going to do if I haven’t found a job before then? I never thought I’d be unemployed this long.

“I can’t even buy a break these days. Is anything ever going to go right? I feel like I’m on the edge of depression again, but my mood chart says different. Whatever……it’s situational, there’s nothing to be done about it. You know, this whole ‘grownup’ business is highly overrated, I wish I could go back 40 years and have nothing to worry about except how my hair looks and if I can get an ‘A’ in my civics class. On second thought, no I don’t. I have to go to sleep, dammit. Shut UP, brain!!!”

And that filled up the space of a whole five minutes, if that. I was awake for a long time. You get the picture.


I’m Insane…

Lyrics from an old Ratt song I’ve always related to:

“i’m off my rocker, fell out of a tree, been standing on shaking ground, there’s no helping me…I’m insane…”

And that is how I feel today. Not like tinfoil hat “save me from the aliens” insane but…Definitely in the realm of insanity.

I am suspicious and paranoid and jumpy. My mood is low, my motivation nil. I can’t wait to go crawl into my bedroom later. I need space. My kid has been on auto fire Uzi all day and I have been irritable and spazzing out because I can’t take the noise. I am not a pleasant person today. I don’t even like me. Then again, I rarely do.

Perhaps it’s time for a brain reboot. Perhaps the mood and paranoid anxiety will subside later. My entire existence is maybe and perhaps, hoping for the best, rarely getting it.

How I wish to wave a magic wand and simply have my brain chemical fire properly instead of willy nilly. Better than winning a lottery would be never having to feel this way again.

On the plus side, we’ve been watching Torchwood and shock, shock, shock, Bex is somewhat liking it after three years of mocking my every mention.

Cripes, my nose is itching. I really don’t want to see or talk to anyone. Damn my mother for instilling these asinine superstitions.

More Ratt:
“Lock me up in a padded room, chain me to the floor, I’m headed for the bottom bed and I’m ready enough for more.”

Today I am insane. Tomorrow…Who knows.

So much ass trash.

Life and stuff in general

I had my second Risperdal Consta shot and chose to have it in my arm. I was given the option “arm or bum?”. I’m never saying “arm” again, ouch, not the needle itself, but afterwards, my arm throbbed for a good hour. When I had the first shot (bum) the shot didn’t hurt at all, could hardly feel it, and there was a bit of an ache while I walked out and to my car, pretty much pain free, but damn, arm hurts.

It’s helping a lot.

I’m working on a book about ECT with my experiences in it. I’ll post a link when its published. I’m in editing mode.

Constantly Questioning ~ New Question About The Idea Of Being “Disabled”

This is another question that came to mind this morning (too much coffee mixed with Adderall 🙂 ) How much of a person’s disability are either mental disorders or developmental disorders, and how much of it is because society has told a person that they are “disabled”? This weekend I had the privilege of meeting […]

Born to be Alive

The paragraph below is from a post I wrote in June, 2008: 4 years ago when I got sober I rarely went to bars and clubs. Finally one night Maurice and I went dancing (I love to dance). During our dancing the 1979 hit came on called “Born to be Alive” by Patrick Hernandez. We […]

The post Born to be Alive appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Mental Chaos Respite

Today has not been so bad. Got up. Made scrambled eggs and sausage gravy. Which is a huuuge thing for me because I’ve been trying to do it for 30 years and just today got it truly right. See, my parents never allowed for fuck ups and learning. You either did it right the first time or you were mocked relentlessly after. I think years and years of having my mistakes, which I saw as good efforts, put down and told “You can’t do it, you’re just not good at it…” I gave up trying because if the people who love me have no faith in me, why should I have faith in myself?
But this is my second attempt at gravy in two weeks and twice, I have succeeded because I gave myself permission to fuck up. I made an honest effort. And without the stress of being told I will fail, I succeeded.
Maybe some people have amazing families who are loving and supportive. I don’t. My family, well, kind of sucks. Just today my dad was yapping about how he has $2500 in his wallet in case he punches his neighbor over their feud and needs bail money. But he constantly puts me down for living in a trailer park, for being on disability, for, well, everything. Rather than help us out, he sits and judges. I don’t expect help, mind you, but if my way of life is so unsatisfactory to him and so subpar for his granddaughter, then telling me you can afford bail money but my kid needing shoes is too expensive for you to help with.
Family is a synonym for ass trash for me.

But…aside from him bringing me down, I did okay today. bex took a nap because she maxed out at her 6 hours of steady consciousnes (ha ha, wench) and I vacuumed and did dishes and took out trash and cooked supper. Functionality is good. I wasn’t feeling it when I woke up, but I’m not really a daywalker. By the time i ran out of cigarettes, I was highly motivated to venture into the petri dish. Bex, who hadn’t been out in days, acted like she was being tortured with rats gnawing at her flesh. Yeah, sunlight and 90 degree heat are uncomfortable, but not likely fatal for an hour outing.

Now we are coasting on cake vodka shops, chasing with our choice of rita drinks, and shortly, I will make sausage gravy to put over her fried taters. Yummy late night snack.And I have not been beckoned to the shop so I may actually rest well tonight with nothing looming overhead for tomorrow.

Or it could go the other way, my brain is a traitor that way.
For now…I’m good. Not great but good. And that’s good enough for me.

Even if my loving parents spend all their time telling me nothing I do is good enough. It’s been that way since I hatched out of my egg shell, why should anything change now.

I don’t think either of them understand the concept of “nurturing”.

No wonder I don’t have a whole lot of that in my skillset. I do try, though. And I will keep trying. I am finding that allowing them to convince me I can’t do something may be what has held me back a lot of my life.

That and a brain that randomly tells me the world is out to get me and I should PANIC PANIC PANIC RETREAT HIDE AND PROTECT MYSELF FROM ATTACK.

Ass trashery.

Jack Heffron on Writing as “Hope”

“Writing is an act of hope. It is a means of carving order from chaos, of challenging beliefs and assumptions, of facing the world with eyes and heart wide open..."