Daily Archives: April 19, 2016

“Venture City”

So today is the day we’ve been working towards for the  Classroom City project in my youngest child’s gifted class.  She is selling “sea charms”–bits of clay with either shell imprints or round gems  pressed into the  clay.  We installed her storefront last night and this morning I attended the opening ceremonies and took pictures of her “business” and others of her friends’ businesses.  81 children in her grade are participating.  That’s a lot of kids to organize and get creative with. So Kudos to her teachers for doing all the heavy lifting on their end.

This year is the third year we’ve done Venture City, and I was so hoping they wouldn’t still be doing it by the time Rachel got to fifth grade.  But they are and so we participated to be best of our ability. My youngest’s storefront is a lawnmower box from Bob’ s office with the bottom cut out and set up on one end.   She painted it sea and sand colors with bright orange and hot pink accents.  Black lettering and trim.  Most of her help came from her sisters who had done it before and I was left to make suggestions and ideas rather than doing any actual work.  Which is exactly how I wanted it.  Less stress for me.

But after tomorrow we’re finished and can coast the rest of the year with classes and other things to do. So nice to be finished with it.

Otherwise it’s been an easy day–doing laundry, going to the grocery store, and  Candy and Christy come and clean.  I’ll do more laundry this afternoon and cook supper too.Nothing too complicated for right now.  (I remember when that would have been a complicated day.  Not that long ago, either.). But I’m better now and just hope I can keep the stability going through the end of the school year and the start of summer. I’m looking forward to my new class this summer in 20th Century Drama and my class this fall in Forms of Nonfiction.

Hope everyone has a good rest of the week.


Two More Huffpost Blog Posts!! 😊😊



Questioning My Bipolar Diagnosis

Last week I shared that my pdoc has on my file that I have schizoaffective disorder. It was a surprise to me and I haven’t talked with him about it because he’s out sick. It was the doctor on call who mentioned it. After this news, I discussed it with my therapist, who was equally […]

The post Questioning My Bipolar Diagnosis appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Sanity Deprived

Two nights in a row, sleep doesn’t come. Ran out of melatonin. Decided to tough it out Sunday. Of course, my kid woke up, climbed in my bed, and started yammering. Not conducive to sleep. I was up til after 2. It’s not even the lack of sleep that gets me. It’s the hours of waiting for sleep to come, wanting it so desperately and yet…nada.

Last night I was wiped out from cramps and the fact that shark week just debilitates me so I was in bed praying for sleep at 8:30. Nope. By midnight, I was reduced to taking a 15 mg Restoril from my stash. Then it took two hours to kick in, all the while my brain swirled, fearful I’d oversleep and make my kid late for school. I had to wake up many times to pee, because the lithium thirst is driving me to drink half a gallon of water a day. Then of course were the uber pleasant allergy attacks that start with a cough, a sneeze, then a full on coughing fit and a runny nose…

It was a suck ass night. Morning came too early. My kid, even though she slept through, decided today was the ideal day to be a butthead. She screamed at me, told me she hated me, because I didn’t have what she wanted for breakfast. Nothing but attitude. I docked her allowance a dollar before we even got out the door. She’d down from five bucks to a dollar.

I thought for sure once I dropped her off I’d fall into bed, depleted, and go back to sleep. That’s not happening, in spite of how tired and in pain I am in. The brain just rushes round on its hamster wheel, tormenting, torturing, highlighting every failing, every mistake, every conflict.

I’d told Spook Sunday night that she wasn’t having company Monday. I mean, those devil girls were here four straight days for three plus hours a day, I was sick of hearing them. I told them when they came knocking and my kid went spaztic. She punched my arm and then started snarling and swinging at me some more. Which means she gets no company again tonight, and in the ultimate punishment for her, my sadness is palpable…no sleepover with grandma again this week. Not that my kid ever draws a parallel between bad behavior and consequences. She just keeps doing the same old stuff. And of course, according to my mother, it all has to be because god forbid I should try to teach the child to take responsibility for her bad behavior.

My dad called me last night to inform me of the shindig at mom’s Sunday. Yeah, the one I “missed” by putting my phone on vibrate and avoiding a confrontation with my mother because even though my kid had acted out and needed to be grounded…my devil mother would have guilted me, cussed me, and just made problems. So apparently this shindig for the idget not related to us was this big cookout. Even my mom’s uber crippled roommate who couldn’t even join everyone in the living room for Xmas or Easter came out of her room and cooked for unrelated idget. What those people see in that mousy thing is beyond me. It’s not just me, either, dad and his crew see it. They stopped by to change the oil in the car they got mom and I guess unrelated idget pulled up with my sister and a bunch of food and ORDERED my brother to carry the stuff in.

UM< WHAT? He doesn’t live there. He isn’t related to her. Who the fuck does she think she is? And  here is my brother packing things in, while the “men” who live there do nothing but stay inside and play video games.

Tis a mystery why I don’t want my kid around that bullshit any more than she has to be.

Sad that of the biggest threats to her well being are the very people we’re related to. Just fucking sad.

So I am feeling sanity deprived because the shit around me never changes. Everyone gets to remain an asshole and I am the villain but no one can figure out my avoidance. It’s basic self defense. And keeping my kid from learning their ignorant ways.

I terrified myself last night. It wasn’t a huge deal, I was running low on sleep, high on hormones and cramps…I laid back while Spook was playing beside me…and I nodded off. It wasn’t but a minute because the same scene was unfolding on my show, but still…It scared the fuck out of me. It’s never happened before.

Lately I have been having a lot of trouble driving. Some of it is the death trap running like shit. Some  of it is my brain. I get to stop signs and I can’t decide whether to go or not. What if the car stalls? Do I have enough time to get across? Is it even my turn? I just get frozen and can’t make a decision.

I found some papers last night that somehow worked their way under the chair pad. My kid won something last month, a lunch at a local bank for her good behavior at school. And I completely missed it. Plus I missed the picture day thing. I’m just…

Struggling. I don’t want to say falling apart because then they could come in like storm troopers and take my kid away. They could give her to my family, neither of which faction is cool with me, or worse, her donor. NO. I have to keep duct taping myself back together.  I thought my doctor was supportive but this two month lag between appointments, especially after coming off such a high dose of Cymbalta then falling into the depression gutter as I have…and all he did was raise my lithium, which I am sure is making me sick…

I’m gonna need a lot of duct tape.

Tired Puppy


We had a big day today and both of us are beat.  However, if you look at the above photo you will see two squiggly lines.  The red one on the right points to Atina’s “squirrel.”  She has to have it in order to sleep.

The blue line on the left points to my foot.  She is using it for a pillow.  This means that I cannot move, or else I will wake up Sleeping Beauty and then what would happen?

What I want to know is why I get all excited about some new Bipolar management strategy that’s working, and immediately get rid of one of my drugs.  I do that frequently, and frequently pay the price.

For instance, I just started Clonidine for my blood pressure, and it has the side effect of relaxation.  I was getting over-sedated from the benzos I take plus the Clonidine, so I decided to start weaning on the benzos because I hate them anyway.

So after a couple of nights of half doses, last night I skipped the lorazepam entirely.

All well and good, I fell asleep just fine.  But it turns out the Clonidine has a very short duration of action, so I found myself irritability awake and looking for someone to kill at 4:30 in the morning.  Well, the only person I found at that time of the a.m. was me, so I lay in bed till it got light, and then I remembered that someone did me the favor of stealing all my camp furniture yesterday.  Kill!  Kill!!  But I had to wait till the office opened, so I guzzled coffee and planned my angle of attack.

It didn’t work any better than the last time I got robbed in that particular campground, which unfortunately has many advantages, which is why I stay there a lot. 

Last time, someone stole my one good pair of chinos and six pairs of blue Smartwool socks, only a couple of years old.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  That was the find of a lifetime, Smartwool socks in the most lovely shade of blue.  I guess somebody else thought that too.

I told the incredibly rude cunt bitch fuckhead office person about it, and she just sneered at me, so I asked to see the manager, who was very nice and promised to look into it for me but I doubt she will.

I don’t know why, but the office staff all treat me like I have leprosy even though I’ve been paying to stay there intermittently since February.  I stay there when it’s really cold so I can plug in my little electric heater instead of using the propane furnace, which makes these unholy clicking noises all night.  I don’t think I do anything weirder than any of the other weird campers.  I don’t even allow myself to go around having a running conversation with myself like I normally do.  I think they’re all afraid of my dog, who wouldn’t even bite them unless they threatened me, which is one of the reasons I have her.  The other reason is that she’s sweet, sweet, sweet.  Maybe I’m creepy without knowing it.  Oh well, I’m paying them, and all they have to do is take my money, so I get to be myself.  But I miss my camp furniture and socks.

Tonight I’m in a way over my head expensive and chic campground that is far too near Sedona, which is why.  That’s OK though, because tomorrow I’m off to the Mogollon Rim.  I’ll explain more about that later.  I can’t look down to write anymore tonight.  My neck is killing me. 

Realizations and “Ah-Ha!” Moments

same heart

It seems that every-so-often, my heart and mind shift gears, and I realize that there are these things that I thought, these ideas that I had, have had for years, that are as incorrect as can be.  I’m surprised, I’m sad, secretly, I’m relieved.

I can remember the first time I was told to “not sweat the small stuff.”  It was my dad that said it, and he was quoting this book someone had given him for Christmas, and that was the book’s title.  I didn’t buy in.  It was a fine concept, as long as it was just a thought or a concept and not something I would actually be expected to implement into my life.  I think I was around the age of ten or so, and I was already a world-class worrier.  Dad went on to say that it was *almost* all “small stuff.”  This really didn’t vibe with my pre-teen self.

don-t-sweat-the-small-stuff-quotes-gzfa8jjpTo me, everything was important.  Every feeling, every tear, every perceived slight, judgmental look, backhanded comment.  To be more clear, what other people THOUGHT of me, was in no way “small stuff.”  To be fair, it wasn’t necessarily what other people thought or did or said, it was what I (often wrongly) thought that other people thought of me.  And so it went, pre-teen to 20’s Rosa to late 20’s Rosa to current Rosa.  I cared far too much of what other people thought.

That has changed.  Dramatically.  Within the last six weeks, dramatically and, to link in the general idea of this post — I have also come to lower my expectations of other people.  In not caring quite so much what others thought, I found a freedom in releasing other people to be horrible and terrible and, in some cases, simply not as perfect as I had previously thought they were.  I have come to understand that I cannot hold other people to the standards I try (and fail) to hold myself to — they are impossibly high.

The next step of the journey, of course, is to stop beating myself up for not being perfect, for not getting the results out of a project that I want, for not having children, or keeping a perfect house, or being able to handle any little bit of garbage that the world has to throw at me on any given day.

Processed with VSCOcam with x4 preset

From now on, I cut up my journey into bite-sized pieces, and while I will tackle what the world has coming toward me with gusto, I most certainly will do my best to not spend much, if any time dwelling on how I just don’t measure up.  I have plans, and I have written thoughts about those plans, and my plans have plans.  There are a lot of plans, and I vow not to be too hard on myself when a plan doesn’t come through, as I had envisioned.

love-processThe beauty of the art I make is in the process, not in the final product. These new tiny bits of information that I learn and adopt as my own on any given day, they are part of my process, and more than anything at this time in my life, I absolutely LOVE the process, and I will let all of those negative thoughts settle upon the leaves moving down the stream of my consciousness, and wave to them as they float away.


Filed under: Collection of Thoughts Tagged: anxiety, beauty in the process, Bipolar, changes, DBT, depression, Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, don't sweat the small stuff, mental health recovery, mental illness, mental-health, process, self-compassion, worry


I’m starting to have some interest in things again. I play about 5 MMORPG’s and have had no want or need to go into them at all for the past few months. Now I’m starting to feel it a little bit again.  It’s nice to feel something about something that isn’t super sad or boring sounding.

Today I am in an okay mood. Not super up but definitely an improvement.  Gotta take each not depressed day as best as I can, even if I am not up for much I guess.