Daily Archives: February 12, 2016

The Destruction Of Life By Anxiety and Panic

Today sucked. I was only in the dish four and a half  hours, hanging out with R at the shop while my kid had a playdate at grandma’s…I figured I’d spent basically six days home, venturing out only for the short jaunts to take my kid to school and pick her up…I had restorative time. I should have been chomping at the bit to get out of the house and behave like a “normal” person.

Instead, I woke with a sense of foreboding and every bone in my body told me to cancel any outings. I didn’t. Mainly because Spook is home from school and no way in hell would the yappy creature let me get away with flaking out on a playdate at Grandma’s. It took forever to get motivated. I put on clothes I didn’t sleep in, skipping the bra as usual. It occurred to me I haven’t bathed in days. I feel scummy. I feel ashamed. I feel…


The first thing I was assigned to do by R was fetch smokes, a bag of cat food for the shop strays, then pick up a pizza for lunch. Simple enough, right?

It took only five minutes in traffic and hearing the horn of a fire truck to send me into a tailspin. Just the sound of the siren terrifies me. I mean, I’ve already been in one fire, surely I’ve met fate’s cruel quota,right? Panic gives zero fucks. I wrestled for a good five minutes with the pounding heart and racing thoughts. Should I run home, make sure it’s not my place burning? I came sooo close to doing it..Because while all our shit can be replaced, I would never forgive myself if my cats were killed and it was because I didn’t run home to check…

I finally forced myself to say fuck it and went to get the pizza. Just going through the narrow drive thru had me feeling like I was going to hit something. Everything was moving so fast. I thought I’d drown it all out by playing my music loud. Then I hit a bumpy patch of road and went into instant melt down panic cos I was convinced I had a flat tire….

By the time I got out of the dish, I never wanted to go back again. My stomach was doing its pretzel gut thing. I had to eat because I’d done the lithium lottery and lost…So I ate pepperoni pizza and….four hours of gastric agony on top of the low mood and insane anxiety and paranoia. Then R stood over my shoulder looking at everything I typed.

Out of sorts doesn’t begin to cover it.

The kicker was being sent back into the dish for a pop and…I totally melted down in traffic. I started swearing, sweating, I felt like the walls were closing in on me…Two cars damn near hit me. I wanted out of that busy spot and yet my brain was too panic paralyzed to choose a direction to go.


I was so glad to leave. Unfortunately by the time I got to mom’s to pick up my kid, I had gone weak kneed, trembling, light headed, and  my  mom asked why my hands were shaking so bad. Then my nephew asked the same. Then my sister. If I were borderline diabetic or something I could utter something about low blood sugar. Instead I am stuck with “anxiety” and rather than empathy, I get bullshit like, “Oh, grow up, what do you have to be stressed out about?”

I wanted to pop in and out, quick like a bunny. But everyone wanted to see my war wounds from yesterday’s tussle with a pit bull that went after my cat. (“My ex trained her to kill cats, she’s just doing what she was taught.” There are no bad animals, there are just stupid humans.) My nephew thinks I’m pretty bad ass for getting bitten up protecting my cat. I’ve had better ideas than jumping in between a terrified snarling cat and a dog hell bent on eating said cat. Voodoo never should have been outside. He sneaked past Spook. Of course, I had to rescue him. Personally, I am very uncomfortable with a pit bull so strong it breaks free of its owner frequently. Too many kids in this trailer park being put in danger by that dog.

Thankfully the dizzy spell or whatever has passed, once I got home and took a xanax. I could have taken one earlier, I carry a few in a pill case, but…I just keep getting all these fuckwad voices telling me to “buck up” and “don’t rely on a pill to fix your weak personality.”

I am safe in my bubble. Spook is watching youtube on the anti-phone. All my kitties are safe.

I am drained. My stomach is finally settling down but, wow, when I get a stress stomach ache, I sure don’t half ass it. I could gold metal in internalizing stress even while externalizing the panic.

I really do not want to more dish time but Mrs R invited us over so Spook can have a playdate with their grandkids and I couldn’t really say no. Spook hasn’t seen L in months and they love each other so much…I figure if I can fake it for two hours, I’ll be golden. And tomorrow night Spook is with my mom so I can recover then. Ha. Having to recover from four and a half hours in the dish.


This. I can’t eat in a restaurant, I can’t go to a concert, I can’t brave a mall, drive in a big town. I can’t even go on a date.

And when on rare occasion the anxiety is tamed down…I get to juggle all the ups and downs and med failures of bipolar depression.

This shit is destroying my life. Hell, half the time I wonder , what life?

I try to push myself, power through it, and it still ravages and wrecks everything in its path. Adding insult to injury is the fact that society as well as my own family, has no empathy or support for my mental conditions. Prior to last year, I was dealing with it all on my own. Until I worked up the nerve to start replying to comments and visiting other blogs.

I have found an amazing support community here on wordpress and I am grateful for each one of you. <3

In real life, I feel very alone in my mental health battles.

Here on wordpress…I feel like I am talking to people who understand where I am coming from because they too struggle with what we are told are “imaginary problems”. Knowing I could come home after the day from hell and post this blog filled me with great relief. Not because of likes. Not because of stats. I’m not a numbers person.

But if I get even one comment from someone who says  “I thought I was the only one who felt that way, thanks for posting this!”…It’s worth it to me. And even if all you have to say is “right on” or joke about zombie brains and hot sauce..Please do. Nothing is inane when connecting with others who “get” your struggles.

So now that the Xanax has kicked in  and we have two hours before Spook’s playdate…I am gonna shut off my brain for a few minutes and steel myself. Socializing should never feel like a hardship and yet with my anxiety….it is grueling.

Anxiety and panic are not harmless.

They are destructive. They wreak havoc on everything around you. Your ability to hold a job, be a parent, function as an adult, enjoy life…Anxiety stomps in like King Kong and smashes everything with a giant foot so you can spend a good deal of time coughing up the dust of destruction.

You rebuilt. Over and Over.

Over and Over, King Kong anxiety returns.

We are far stronger than any “mundane” for most of them would crumble if they had to rebuild and watch it all get smashed, over and over and over.

We are badasses.

Anyone tries to say otherwise, the pegacorn will stab them with his horn.



img_1173This is a speech ascribed to Pope Francis, my friend posted it on her FB page. Is it Pope Francis? I don’t know, but whether it is or not, the message is incredibly beautiful and clear! It’s poetic, yet illustrative of how to be happy and loving. I’m so glad I saw this and read it, thank you Cata for posting it!  I’d like to dedicate this to all my friends and family :-)

“You can have flaws, be anxious and live irritated sometimes, but don’t forget that your life is the largest company in the world. Only you can prevent that it goes in decline. There are many who appreciate you, admire and love you. I’d like to remember that being happy is not having a sky without storms, path without accidents, work without fatigue, relationships without disappointments. Being happy is finding strength in forgiveness, hope in the battles, security at the stage of fear, love in the disagreements.
Being happy is not only enhance the smile, but also reflect on the sadness. It’s not only to commemorate the success, but to learn lessons in the failures.
It’s not only to learn how to have joy with applause, but to have joy in anonymity. Being happy is to recognize that it is worthwhile to live life, despite all the challenges, misunderstandings and periods of crisis. Being happy is not an inevitability of fate, but a conquest for he who knows how to travel to the inside of his own being. Being happy is to stop being victims of the problems and become an actor of one’s own story. It is to cross deserts outside of if, but to be able to find an oasis in the recesses of our soul. It is to thank god every morning for the miracle of life.
Being happy is not to be afraid of one’s own feelings, it is to know how to talk of himself. It is to have the courage to hear a “no”. It is to have security to receive criticism, even if it is unfair. It is to kiss the children, to pamper the parents, have poetic moments with friends, even though they hurt us. Being happy is let the live creature free, cheerful and simple, that lives in each and every one of us. It is to have the maturity to say ‘I was wrong’. Is to have the audacity to say ‘forgive me’. It is to have sensitivity to express ‘I need you’.
It is to have the capacity to say ‘I love you’. That your life becomes a garden of opportunities to be happy… That in your springs be mistress of the joy. That in your winters be friends of wisdom.
And that when you’re wrong on the way, you start all over again, because then you will be more passionate about the perfect life!
Use the tears to irrigate the tolerance. Use the losses to refine patience. Use the failures to sculpt serenity. Use the pain to store the pleasure. Use the obstacles to open the windows of intelligence.
Never give up…. Never give up on the people you love. Never give up on being happy, because life is an incredible show!

Seeking Guest Bloggers

I need some guest bloggers. I’ve had only a few guests write articles for me and I’d like to change that. I don’t expect it to be only about bipolar disorder – it can be most any type of article related to mental health. Hell, I’d be happy to entertain the idea that it be […]

The post Seeking Guest Bloggers appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

(No) Need to Apologize

While reading The Happiness Trap I came across the following sentence: “If I am with a client who tells me that he intends to go and kill himself, I naturally feel a surge of anxiety.”  It made me think of Sadie.  She has asked me in the past how I think she (and other providers) would […]

Back in the Saddle

Be What You AreSlowly, slowly, I’m remembering how to ride this horse.

I’m not getting quite so unglued about being unglued.  I finally got a little space between me and the overwhelming hysteria that seemed to be my first reaction to anything out of the ordinary.

The lead minister at our Unitarian church leaves for a six month sabbatical next week, and I burst into flames of abandonment.  Finding out my drill bits were all broken or worn to useless nubbins, made me want to throw my drill, my project, and myself into the dumpster. When the motor on my humidifier started gargling, I unplugged it and cried at the kitchen sink until the cats came to see what was trapped in the garbage disposal.

What happened to my problem-solving skills?  What happened to the List Maker? The Abstract/Sequential Thinker? The ability to just take a breath?

I could see that I’d circled around to Crazy Town again, but forgot how to navigate the emotional dust storm.

Until I relaxed into it.

I found the metaphorical saloon and waited out the storm.

When the illness rages, it’s best for me to just hunker down, shift to self-soothing activities like playing with my pretty ribbons, and stop trying to push against the gale and grit.  It’s awful, that waiting, when the voice in my head tells me I’m worthless, useless, broken.  That voice knows exactly where all the cracks are in my defenses, all the old buttons to push.  It’s scheming, sneaky bastard.

So, I forced myself to set aside the paperwork for my rent recertification, and dealing with the bed and breakfast in California that cancelled my reservation, and finding a new source of pretty ribbons since mine dried up.  I remembered to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and “think about them tomorrow,” because the storm will pass, and my brain will come back from the privy, and we’ll slap off the dust and tumbleweeds and be on our way.

Kids on Horses

I don’t remember ever riding a horse, but I don’t trust that non-remembering.  With a nephew and an ex-brother-in-law both doing the rodeo circuit, I must have sat a horse at least once.  What I hear from riders is that it takes muscle, and until you build that muscle, your ass hurts.  So, I’m in the Aching Ass phase of relearning how to ride this bipolar bronc.  Great.

At least I’m in the saddle.

[Submission]: The Gift of a blog by Jocelyn Fryer

I once had a job, after I’d completed my masters in English Literature, and jumped at the first paycheck offered me… As a high school English teacher. But I grew […]

Zumba, hyper mode?

I accidentally recorded my Zumba class in time lapse mode! Haha, it looks really funny.. It was a lot of fun, can’t wait to do it again!