Daily Archives: October 24, 2014

Time To Stop Being Afraid

I am always afraid of death. It haunts me. Yet I’ve had physicals, ekg’s and even genetic testing. I ‘should’ live to a decent age. Maybe it is time to stop being afraid and time to start living?

I want to enjoy my life. I want to explore the world, even if it is the small world that I live in. I want to try new things and stop living in fear of my anxiety. I am going to the haunted house on Monday night and I am going to invite my husband to a movie this weekend.

I am going to stop being afraid. I am going to enjoy the life I have and if something happens. I will deal with it.

Is Suicide Ideation a Big Deal?

***trigger warning*** suicide In all my years of blogging, I’ve never posted a trigger warning. I see some blogs post them every day. I think the reason I haven’t is because I’ve never written specifically about suicide ideation, or anything else about suicide as the main topic before – at least that I can recall. […]

The post Is Suicide Ideation a Big Deal? appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Waterfalls of the Freaky Kind

  Last night as I readied myself for bed, all seemed calm in the Harwood household.  Craig & I tucked our daughter Avonlea into the top of our girls’ bunk bed.  It had been a long day, and I shuffled … Continue reading

Girl Next Door

So Mom got the lot next door. What seemed was impossible might actually be possible. I’m trying to keep a positive outlook.

I didnt hasve therapy appts today but I ended up spending our entire day out of the house. Eating out but keeping on diet. So proud of myself, it’s so hard.

Shopping at Bath and Body, I’m such a girly girl. I got a full collection of Japanese Cherry Blossom which is my favorite tree. I would love to grow one!

Mom signed the papers to hold the lot next to our and now she has to put her house up for sale. It will be complicated but it will be wonderful once we move into our own home and mom moves in next door.

I’m mostly tired and cant think of much to write about.  Tomorrow will be better. I plan on painting and might have something to post.


Today was…bizarre. Started out okay enough in spite of the dreaded pre shark week cramps (which certainly explains why my emotions have been hair trigger.)

An hour into my servitude at the shop (well,I’d been to the library to do an errand for him and grabbed some books for myself, and after the high of the smell of books and the feel of crisp pages…everything else is bound to be a letdown.)
Yeah, I am the queen of run on sentences and MIA points. Hard to be clear when your brain is tangled in cobwebs 24-7. I TRY.
so, yeah…Shop. Nothing was going right for him. Again. And rather than recognize that’s pretty much the norm for others, he started acting like it was some plot aimed solely at him. He was frustrated (*I get it) and grumpy and on edge.
Oddly when I am those same things, it starts a fight. One set of rules for me, another set for him.
To my credit, I was in the hellish land of cramps strong enough to double me over and all I could do was clock watch. Tick tock. Is it time to go yet? Can I escape yet? Fuck, I’ve only been here two hours????
That mindset, on top of physical pain, pretty much renders me desolate. My inability to remember the numbers he was throwing at me to search was pissing him off because he thought I was doing it on purpose. Um. No. My short term memory, as far as numbers go, does not exist. I sometimes think it’s a byproduct of all the psych drugs,not that pharma or the docs would ever acknowledge it. Like it’s turned parts of my brains into swiss cheese.
I think the point where I really went into “get me the fuck outta here” mode was when I was on the phone with a customer who was uneasy ordering the part for his tv lest he get the wrong one and asked if we could do it. I was still on the phone with the customer and R finally blew and started to scream,and I mean scream, “Fucckkkkkk!’
And I get lectured about being professional.

It didn’t get better. I got the manual he told me he needed. I made him double check,he said it was the one…Then he got it and realized he needed one for the model number, not the chassis number. Which I pointedly asked prior to clicking the purchase button. So…more ranting from him.
I clock watched. Tried to walk off the cramps by pacing but all that did was agitate my sore back and aching muscles. I was miserable and he wouldn’t have noticed, or cared,had I been on fire. I am not dramatizing. He really is that self absorbed and oblivious.
I was never so glad to flee that scene.

Of course, had to stop at a couple of stores after fetching my kid. Then got stuck waiting on a school bus letting off a child who apparently moves slower than a turtle. Irate didn’t begin to cover it because I’d been outside my bubble too long and my nerves were raw.

Coming home and chilling out helped. Until the phone rang, company appeared, right as we were about to eat supper. So I get the nervousness, the crankiness from having our routine upset, and the joy of Dr. Evil’s Mini Me living in my uterus and wrapping his fists around my ovaries and squeezing at odd intervals.
I’m pretty sure I don’t have simple PMS. This sounds more like that menstrual dysphoric disorder.
Throw in bipolar and anxiety…
instant train wreck.

It’s happening whether I like it or not. Getting colder, my motivation is nil, I am either freezing cold or flushed then cold again. I don’t want to get up even after hitting snooze six times. i look forward to facing the day as much as one would when facing a firing squad.
I think what is killing me more than the moods, depression and anxiety…is the inability to focus and concentrate. This has been going on too damned long and the stupid shrinks always say,this med will help with that…
It never does. I can’t watch a damn ninety minute movie. My thoughts swirl, I’m juggling then different thought bubbles in my head…I can’t shut it off without alcohol or a sleeping pill and the pills have such bad hangovers, I’d rather gargle razor blades than take them.

This weekend will be recharge time,gearing up for Halloween week. I will NOT be taking her to the school’s Monster Bash. Because while the kids gather in the gym in their costumes for fun and entertainment…the parents have to attend “parent academy”. Um…I don’t do crowds. I especially don’t like the idea of taking my kid to something and being forced to ditch her rather than be able to enjoy the time with her. Guess that makes me selfish.
I think I will just take her to some safe trick or treating and a few houses on Halloween night.
I’m falling short here, but I am trying, even if every fibre of my being aches and is overwhelmed and sore and exhausted.

Now…having spewed this barely coherent completely off topic rant… my back is killing me and I really just want to lay flat on my back on the bed with Juju purring on me.

And I also need to start thinking about how to make the tail for my kid’s devil costume.
She’s got the horns built in ;)

Breast Cancer Behind Bars by Sue Allen

Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA:

This post opened my eyes and my heart to a horror that I didn’t know existed, and that no one should ever have to endure. Please reblog!

Originally posted on Ruth Jacobs:

Guest post by Sue Allen

Photo credit: USAG Vicenza, Flickr

Photo credit: USAG Vicenza, Flickr

It’s October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The world is pink. We race for the cure. We stand up to cancer. We support our loved ones battling or surviving the disease, but there is one population we never mention: women with breast cancer behind bars.

Imagine the feel of shackles on your ankles. Hard, cold steel does just what it’s supposed to do. It cuts into your ankles and restricts your movements to baby steps. Even when you are very careful, you wind up with blisters or ankles rubbed raw. The weight alone drags you down.

Now imagine handcuffs. They too are designed to restrict and they can chaff and cut, especially if the guard who cuffs you is having a bad day. His bad day becomes yours.

It’s two o’clock in the morning and the halls of the jail are…

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