Daily Archives: October 1, 2014


Have you ever walked barefoot on a tarmac road on a summer night? Make it a long, straight, flat road, with no streetlights, no moon. The road isn’t comfortable or uncomfortable, it just is what it is. No scenery to look at, because it’s dark.

My nights are walks along that road.

That’s enough of that metaphor.

Scrambled Letters, Scrambled Brain

You know you’re in for a bad night when even your most effective means for shutting down your brain doesn’t work.

I have this mental picture I use when I’m having trouble getting my mind off something unpleasant: I visualize a giant stop sign right in front of me and say STOP out loud. It usually works by distracting me and forcing my thoughts to go in another direction. However, last night was one of the worst I’ve had in a long time—I was wide awake till after one AM—and when I tried to utilize my ace-in-the-hole, the letters were all scrambled and they slid to the bottom of the stop sign in a heap.

What the hell??!

This has never happened before. With few exceptions, this has been a reliable way to divert my thoughts from the endless loop they get caught in sometimes, and I couldn’t make it work to save my soul. I tried multiple times and just could NOT unscramble the letters. Which meant going around and around with the same theme and being unable to think of something less disturbing than “I’m running out of unemployment. We’re going to be homeless in another month. I’m running out of unemployment. I can’t find a job and there are no extensions any more. Where are we going to go?”

The bitch of it is, I’m not catastrophizing here. I’ll be out of benefits by the end of this month, and there is no way we can even afford an apartment on Will’s Social Security check. Yes, I have the writing job, but that’s not going to be steady enough to keep the wolf away from the door we won’t have much longer. I don’t know what we’re going to do. There is no Plan B. I’ve always had a Plan B, but now I’m fresh out of ideas and the panic is perilously close to the surface.

So last night I lay in bed, trying to pray, trying to avoid boarding the crazy train, trying to make myself STOP, and failing utterly. Well, I’m not exactly crazy—at least not yet—but the stress level goes up exponentially with each week I go without a regular job. It’s hard to look into my husband’s eyes and not have a resolution to this crisis which threatens us both. He doesn’t deserve this. Hell, even I don’t deserve it.

But of course, I blame myself for it. Who else is there to blame? Yes, I know I can’t turn the clock back and be young again. I can’t get rid of my mental illness, even though it’s reasonably well-managed now. I can’t go back into nursing, nor can I make something out of nothing. Almost every job I’ve looked at requires the ability to multi-task and manage competing priorities, and everything is fast-paced…..and those are things I cannot handle.

Somewhere, there must be a nice little job where I can sit in a quiet office and do data entry all day. I don’t care about the pay, I don’t even care if it’s boring; I just need something that’s low-stress and that I can leave at the door when I go home. Something that keeps a roof over our heads, even though it won’t be this roof. And something that suits a scrambled brain which doesn’t know when to STOP.



You’re Just Like Me: Hypomanicmama

So you have a mental illness.. Which
Bipolar II

When were you diagnosis & how old were you?

I was diagnosed when I was 18 years old when I was a freshman in college. It was the start of many years of out of control reckless behavior.

How do you cope with your mental illness?

TAKE MY MEDS! I’m currently on Lithium, Risperedone, Latuda, Lamictal, Zoloft and Klonopin. I don’t go anywhere without my Klonopin because once I get hit with that butterfly feeling in my stomach, I know whats coming and I need to get a handle on it before it spirals out of control.

I also see my therapist 2x a week and Medication Management biweekly.

My family doesn’t understand my disorder and think I can just grow up and snap out of it so they choose to ignore it. My husband is the only person who I have to lean on which doesn’t always help me because he himself has OCD and Major Depressive Disorder.

Lots of personal pep talks to myself to get through the day.

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

irratic, angry, exhausted

What are some ways you relax from your illness?

I remove myself from everyone. I refinish furniture for fun so I will try and get into a project but it doesn’t always work. I’ve spent many hours sitting on the steps to my shop and just staring out into nothing. Everything is silent and it feels great for my brain.

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

Find support. Personally, I do not like groups. I am uncomfortable around a group of strangers that I have to talk to let alone divulge intimate information about myself. With a family that isn’t really supportive of what I am going through, I lean on my husband a lot and have one friend that I will text when I’m feeling like the poo will be hitting the fan. Sometimes, no matter how crazy your mind is going, its good to just verbalize it and get it out. Almost like letting the air out of a balloon. If you think you can keep everything in and be ok, you are wrong and something, usually a little thing will make everything fall apart.

Do you have any books, websites, writers, shows, music, etc that has helped you cope that you like to share?

There is a podcast by Stuff you should know on Bipolar disorder. It was one of the best explanations of how I feel and what I go through that I have ever heard. It was matter of fact and very objective. I send the podcast link to friends or family that are trying to understand whats going on in my life.

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


Filed under: Ranting

Unemployed, Lost & kind of loving it…

You can not understand how many times I have been unemployed, lost, and feeling like do do…

But not this time. I quit my job because I wasn’t going to work for a manager that talks shit behind my back. I’m bipolar, she just didn’t know…

Also, I hated HATED going into that job everyday. It was torturous to get up and pretend. I’m not a good pretender so it made my life really hard. Sometimes you have to worry about things like jobs, money, advancement, but for me right now it couldn’t be farther from my mind.

Right now I’m focusing on me and what the hell I want to do. My bipolar limits me to work at a conventionally setting without wanting to kill my coworkers and myself for longer than 4 months, so I have to find so,etching that is going to go along with my mind….

And the ride.

In other words, I’m okay and I’ll be okay.

How are you?

P.s. Thanks for all the Greta comments you are leaving me. Since I have no job please watch out for some crazy post… Literally.

Filed under: Ranting

Lithi-no-yum and the Downward Spiral

She lived in her head and that’s why it glowed.
Miriam Toews – A Complicated Kindness

Lithium tastes like shit. More lithium tastes like more shit. I googled to see if anyone had managed to describe it accurately, but couldn’t find anything beyond sour, salt, almost metallic. When I started on it, a friend with some experience told me, you might want to buy less food and more toilet paper for a while. That one didn’t happen till 1000mg and it happened the night I was also barfing my lungs out. I’ve hit depression harder lately, a kind of panicky one. I’ve got to grab more blood forms from the shrink’s rooms, I’ll check when my October appointment is then. Things don’t feel right, like I’m fraying at the edges.

There is good news. I did an editing job and got told I’d done a good job. With the amount of words I’ve been losing lately, I’m relieved. It was only 40 pages, got 136 pages next and then dead quiet again.

Last coupla days I’ve been side-eyeing the life hurts too much zone yet again. I keep wrapping my arms round my dogs so I remember my deal with myself. That is no threat btw, I’m just tracking everything. If I had that fantasy personal shrink I’d be nagging them to tell me how long this is supposed to last. Ah I’ll be honest, I’d be screeching for more pills.

Blah blah blah.

Being seasick at sea is not the same as being homesick at home.
Miriam Toews

This Was Inspired By A “Comment Discussion” About Music And Memory

When I was small, like about 3 or 4, my father frequently played the banjo. He was, in my little girl opinion, very good at it. Now that I am an adult and having tried the violin in school, I have to say my father is musically inclined in a major way. But, anyway, I […]

Can’t sleep.. doodle instead. Art therapy

Ugh, I’ve had insomnia since I started dexedrine. It’s put me into a bind, because I have to take Seroquel at night, and when I get up, I’m drowsy, so I take dexedrine. Even when I took myself off the dex I couldn’t sleep. At least I can function now. I’m still hypomanic, and its fun, but I really need to be on a mood stabilizer.

Medz Check

Let’s see. we switched back to Piportil depot (50mg every other week, IM) because the Consta wasn’t doing much for my psychosis. I’ve had one shot since re-starting and am much less paranoid and twitchy and stuff.

Clonazepam, 1.5mg/day. Artane, 5mg/night (for side effects from Piportil, as its a typical antipsycotic. The artane also helps me sleep). Dexedrine 10-20mg/day depending on how bad my attention or insomnia is.

I see my psychiatrist, Dr N, next Wednesday (the 8th) at his new practice. I haven’t seen him since May. He’s actually called me personally a few times. I feel spayshul.

I just turned 30. Happy birthday to me! I’ve been riding, raising the jumps slowly.

Here are my doodles. A couple zen-tangles and I forgot to upload my zen-dangle (lazy) and my name in rainbow. I’ve been doing it when I can’t sleep.



I like abstract because I can make it mean whatever I feel like. This was my “yay, I’m 30 and bored” tangle. I got a LOT of birthday wishes.


I haven’t shaded this in, but its a random zentangle. I just scribbled on the paper and filled it in. I can’t draw, this makes me look almost talented (ha ha ha!)





This I started last night and finished this morning. It’s my name (San) done in zentangle form. I only used a couple tangles.

I love zentangles. I’ve been doing them for a bit and it’s fun. It’s something I can do and make look good, without having any artistic talent (no offence anyone, but I cannot draw to save my life). It’s pretty relaxing.

So that’s what’s been doing on. I really need a mood stabilizer. My obgyn wanted to put me on bromocriptine (even though my prolactin is normal) because I don’t have a period. Haven’t had one since February. It works opposite of antipsychotics and one side effect is “hallucinations”, and well, fuck, I hallucinate enough without a med helping it. My pharmacist and I decided not to fill it.

I don’t want a fucking period anyways. I have endometriosis, and they’re hell. I had a tubal ligation in 2011 (and have only cherished it, no regrets here!) because birth control makes me batty if its hormonal and copper IUD + endo = a big fucking ball of pain. Enough about my stupid body. I lost a lot of weight. It’s hard gaining it back. I lost my period when I hit 100lbs. I’m at 107 now. I don’t have an eating disorder – it was the Topamax (who wants to bet I’ll end up back on it?) and it caused me to lose almost 60lbs in 6 months.

Oh well. I need to update more. I’m working on a schizophrenia myths article, but I’ve been lazy lately. Also working on a memoir.

Do Not Go Gentle

My father lies in the “quiet room” of the nursing home, where they bring residents who are expected to die shortly.  He is anything but quiet, crying out in voices I have never heard before, making macabre gruntings that recall hiccups but are not, waving his crippled arms–well, his right one anyway, since his left got paralyzed in the recent fall that accelerated his previously glacier-like move toward death–I am reminded constantly, mantra-like, of Dylan Thomas’ painful ode to his father’s dying.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day:

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

–Dylan Thomas

Asking for help is not something I am good at.

Ah yes, we’re here. We’re at the place where I have to ask for help and smile while doing it. I’ve been here before, but to be honest, I view myself as a capable person (under ‘normal’ circumstances) so having to … Continue reading

We can stop saying mental illness

Neurobiological disorder: An illness of the nervous system caused by genetic, metabolic, or other biological factors. Many illnesses categorized as psychiatric disorders are neurobiological, including autism, bipolar disorders, obsessive-compulsive disorders, schizophrenia, and Tourette syndrome.