Daily Archives: January 13, 2015

Asking For Help

I am dealing with some major depression and upset right now.  I feel very overwhelmed by what is going on.  I have been having a terrible toothache for over a month, and I finally got in to see a dentist.  The tooth problem is under a bridge, and the treatment cost is astronomical – $5,200!!!!  None of it is covered by my insurance.  I am just sick about this.  Of course, I can’t afford this.  I tried applying for credit to pay for it over time and was turned down.  I don’t know where to turn or what to do.  If I were to have the bridge and tooth removed, I’d basically have no molars left in the bottom of my mouth.  I know this is gross and nobody’s concern but my own but I really just don’t know what to do.  This is one of those times where I just want to give up.  There’s no fairy godmother to help me out here.

I started a GoFundMe page in hopes that some of my friends could help me.  Here is the link:  gofundme.com/k51ayc

I am embarassed to ask for help but I don’t know what to say other than I am desperate.  If you have any ideas, please share.  Thanks.

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Depressed, Bipolar Disorder, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Fidget, Fidget

Today my mood is better which is a good thing because I am so fucking bored. I am beginning to wish that I drove. There is nothing to walk to near way I am. It’s like the middle of no where. The lake is pretty but it’s frozen and I don’t know how to skate.

When we get into our house there are a few things in biking distance and a lot more thing being built that I will be able to walk to. Plus I’ll have my stuff so I won’t be bored to death. I’ve been drawing a little but I really want to paint. I’m tired of not having access or ability to do the things that bring me happiness.

It’s day in and day out of TV. I can’t even seem to get into reading. The floor is disgusting so I can’t do yoga. ARGHHH!
At least being pissed because I’m bored is better than being pissed for no reason.

Again this is also really lonely. I’ve been talking to hubby on AIM, tried to get a hold of my BFF but she has a lot going on in her life so I only get to talk to her a bit here and there. I’m just glad she is in my life. Wish we lived closer.

She reminds me that life is worth living, even if you are bored senseless.

Suicide Prevention for Our Military and Veterans

Support our wounded warriors. Support the The Clay Hunt Suicide Prevention for American Veterans (SAV) Act. Call your Senators today. Thank you. To learn more about the life and death of Clay Hunt, watch this 60 Minutes episode in honor of him … Continue reading


In reply to the WordPress Daily Prompt Jan.13, 2015 Image Search Pick a random word and do Google image search on it. Check out the eleventh picture it brings up. Write about whatever that image brings to mind. __________________________________________________________________________   I love the word innards, not only for the guttural sound I feel compelled to make as I say it,… Read more →


There was a pressure, as well, or I felt there to be a pressure, to assuage the anxiety of others. A slight measure of sadness was fine, but it was better to leaven it a bit with laughter or reassurance, or by changing the subject.
Kay Reid Jameson – Nothing Was The Same

(Bob Dylan – Desolation Row)

On Monday, when I saw my psychiatrist, I said, “and by the way, fuck mindfulness,” and she laughed. I’ve always been too present, too much in the now, too much in my head. I’ve been consciously ignoring self help gurus etc who preach it for many years now. She said, “it might sound like a strange thing to say, but you actually need something superficial.” Totally. Last year I learned how to get out of my head in healthier ways, I ain’t giving that up. I probably think half as much as I did before that. Hectic.


(Bill and Ted, the hipster version of Wayne and Garth.)

The conversation stalls. I nibble my caramelized vermicelli . He advises me to find God again, or go into psychoanalysis; I give a start at the comparison. He’s interested in my case, he explains; he seems to think I’m in a bad way. I’m alone, much too alone; it isn’t natural, according to him. Michel Houellebecq – Whatever

When I was 14, I sloped off to the school library whenever I could. Despite my truly vile childhood, I managed to be pretentious and intellectually arrogant and so I started reading Dostoevsky. The first one I read was The Idiot. To be honest, I don’t think I liked it much, I think I was just impressed with myself for ignoring the sunshine (literally and figuratively) and getting into it. A while after that I was claiming Gogol and Turgenev as my favourite authors.


It’s difficult to be a moody goth nihilist under the blazing African sun, and ultimately downright ludicrous.

Until I was 13, I wrote hate and help stuff on wooden things (furniture, mostly), as if my message would reach someone who would save me. I did it in symbols before I learned to write.

When I was 12, I heard Depeche Mode’s Blasphemous Rumours and couldn’t believe my thrilled and fearful ex-catholic ears. It took me a while to convince myself I that I wouldn’t go to hell for liking it.

When I was 11, I pretended to be a Roman Briton – I blame thank Rosemary Sutcliffe and my mother for that. I’ve been a daydreamer forever.

I very rarely write (or even think) about my childhood. I don’t intend to do much of it in future either. One of the sweetest defining moments of my life was my psychiatrist telling me to ditch the past. But now that I don’t dream anymore and writing is harder, I need to claim/reclaim shards of myself.

Oh ffs, I’m not merely mawkish, I’m the whole freaking mawk. And I feel rather peeled. I’m going to publish this post before I get the mutters and delete it.


The Fragility Of Mindset

I am forever amazed by how sensitive my mindset is when it comes to unexpected deviations. I had a set plan for the day (go to the shop, watch the clock, be miserable because I get tired of being a captive audience for one man’s ego.)
Then the school calls, twenty mins after I drop her off, declaring she has a fever and has to come home. BUT she has begged them not to make her come home.
I come off as a monster. All I did after receiving the truancy threat was tell her she couldn’t miss more school or they were gonna put me in jail. It wasn’t meant to put terror into her. It was meant to weed out her dramatic flair where she gets a hangnail and thinks she needs an ambulance.
I took her temp this morning. Tenth of a degree too high. Told her if truly was sick, she could stay home, in bed, all day. She didn’t like that idea. (I need a new thermometer, I guess.)
So she goes to school with her dramatics and I get a call and end up feeling like a bloody monster of a mom.

That’s all it took. One deviation in routine and a massive guilt trip and…
Enter anxiety.
Is the school gonna assume I am an abusive monster and have me investigated?
What was that sound outside?
Is this ache in my chest a pulled muscle or a stroke?
Will she be okay to return to school tomorrow now that Tylenol has brought her fever down and she is bouncing off walls normal?
Am I evil for thinking of sending her back?
omg,omg,omg. Panic monster rampages.
And the mood while not low, certainly has a dent or two in it.
Because deviation had happened.
What happened to me to make me such a dysfunctional freakazoid? Why am I so sensitive to little changes in plans and routines?
Why is my anxiety metastatic?

Mindset is delicate.
It’s not personality. It’s anxiety. I have to be in some semblance of control and when that is taken away by one tiny deviation…My nerves gallop off into the stratosphere.
I just don’t know how to fix it.
I’ve done all the professionals’ “tried and true” mind fuck stuff. I’ve gone off the reservation with chakra therapy and hypnosis, ffs. To no avail.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
I’d make an excellent case study. The DSM could get some new disorders to add to the manual.

They wouldn’t be able to fix me though.
I prefer not to think of myself as broken.
Mental illness isn’t fixable.
I am bent. It makes me less functional as designed but not without merit and not in need of repair or recycling.

Meh. Self pep talks suck.

I want my decent mindset back.

But life is deviation and this is forever going to be my plight unless they miraculously figure out mental illness and how to correct it.

Even if they did, we’d never know.
Shrinks and pharma make way too much money off the mentally ill.

Back to Supernatural. That show always cheers me up.
I’m fifty shades of fucked up.
At least 25 of those shades are quite adorable.
The other 25…
Well, I am a work in progress.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

You’re Just Like Me: SomberScribbler

So, you have a Mental Illness?…Which One? Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) with secondary diagnoses of borderline personality (BPD) and obsessive personality disorders (OPD) When you were diagnosed, what age where you? Where were you in your life? Diagnosed with MDD at 21 by GP. I was in my last year of undergrad. Found out the …

another effing linkdump

If you’re in the mood for another memoir, here’s Fat, Drunk and Bipolar – I haven’t read it, let me know what it’s like if you do. I might be the only person on earth who isn’t amused by the title btw.

Memoir of a bipolar student – My Body is a Book of Rules by Elissa Washuta (I haven’t read that one either).

And there’s Resilience by Jessie Close (Glenn’s sister). She’s bipolar I, rapid cycling & psychotic & mixed features.

Mental illness is a charnel house from which nobody escapes unscathed.
Roger Cohen – The Battle to Belong

Latest addition to my manic depressive playlist is Daniel Johnston – I Had Lost My Mind – yeah you do know who he is, not only is he bipolar, he also did the cartoon for Kurt’s alien/hi how are you tshirt.


Allegedly manic depressive, try some Byron – if you’re an emo poet and haven’t read him, prepare to loathe yourself a little more.

In 2003, Anna Schuleit’s Bloom addressed the lack of flowers in psychiatric wards. Gorgeous.


Van Damme has come a long way since the first Kickboxer. He was divorced four times, charged with spousal abuse, and addicted to cocaine before his diagnosis of “rapid-cycling bipolar.” He now has the disorder under control. Van Damme explained: “You just have to take a little salt [the drug sodium valproate], and since I’m doing that it’s, like, BOOM! In one week, I felt it kick in. All the commotion around me, all the water around me, moving left and right around me, became like a lake.”

“It’s slippery slope, sometimes you don’t think you need any meds at all, and you forget your meds. Then all of a sudden, you get on a real ride.”
Michael Douglas re Catherine Zeta Jones

Working Through Bipolar

I just had the pleasure of reading the first page of a brand new blog by long-time commenter 4gazpacho where she has begun blogging about bipolar disorder. When she first came here to comment, she said she was a blogger and reviewed books on her blog but was wondering about branching out and writing about bipolar.  I am so glad to see she has taken that step and begun to tell her story.  Stop by and visit http://www.workingthroughbipolar.wordpress.com.

As for me, it’s after 9:30 and I just woke up for the second time.  I think I am definitely falling out of the manic episode. That’s a good thing.  But hopefully I won’t fall into a depressive one in the process.  We’re keeping tabs on everything so I should be safe and catch anything before it starts.

I’ve taken a reading-through-the-Bible-in-a-year challenge using The One-Year Bible.  I’m where Isaac has just taken Rebekah to wife in the Old Testament and just finished the Sermon on the mount in the New Testament. I did read the Bible through a devotional book last year but this is the first time I have seriously taken on reading the Bible itself in a long, long time.  I’m reading The New Living Translation, which makes it almost like reading a novel.  I don’t think it skips verses, but it seems there aren’t nearly as many boring parts as when I last tried to read the Old Testament.  I am looking forward to what God has in store for me reading his word seriously this year.  Pray for me to know God in a new way during this journey,

this is the daze of my life

Here’s a good thing – it’s cool and rainy, fantastic after yesterday’s scorching sun. Here’s a bad thing – my mood. If you scroll down past my whining, there are some sublime songs.


“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.” Henry David Thoreau (Walden)

The above gets misquoted a lot, the original is a lot deeper than the misquotes. It fits me very well. Yesterday my psychiatrist kept saying “we will get it right,” and when I looked back at her my eyes felt dead.

Those motivational stigma-busters … it gets better, you’ve got this … what a load of horseshit. It might, I might, but there’s no guarantee. I can see the benefits of a positive leap of faith, but only ‘through a glass darkly’. If I took a leap of faith I’d probably land up with Cotard’s Syndrome.



I think we light beacons against the dark, the way we have since we found fire. And that’s brave and good. Humanity has an immense capacity for bravery and goodness that we frequently forget by paying too much attention to the media and not enough to the realities we can touch. Some days I feel like a peevish crow, a doomsayer or the oracle of Delphi or something.

Now your statues are standing and pouring sweat. They shiver with dread. The black blood drips from the highest rooftops. They have seen the necessity of evil. Get out, get out of my sanctum and drown your spirits in woe. (Oracle of Delphi)

My sense of humour is my saving grace. It isn’t even always gallows humour, although I wouldn’t hesitate to use it at the gallows.


Excuse me while I throw myself a pity party.

Writing here feels like lancing a boil some days. I’ve never had a boil, but if I said ‘squeezing a blocked pore’ you might be grossed out. Instead of writing terribly self indulgent poetry, I write dreadfully self indulgent prose. So adolescent.


Here is some proof that my taste in music isn’t limited to sad boy ballads (although it mostly is):
massive attack – teardrop
moby – why does my heart feel so bad?
charlotte gainsbourg – hey joe (jimi hendrix cover, yes she’s serge’s kid)
vanessa paradis – joe le taxi (johnny depp’s ex at age 14)
mc solaar – nouveau western
ismael lo & marianne faithful – without blame
anam cara – little wing (jimi hendrix cover)
minnie driver – hungry heart (bruce springsteen cover)
tanya donelly & dylan in the movies – lovecats (the cure cover)
belle & sebastian – dear catastrophe waitress
beautiful south – don’t fear the reaper (blue öyster cult cover)