Daily Archives: June 14, 2016

Teeter-totters (and Other Terrifying Situations)

First grade can be hard.  There are spelling lists, letters that you somehow have to make into words, numbers that add together to make other numbers, and then also one of the trickiest situations of all: teeter-totters.

I remember my favorite game on teeter-totters:  I would sit right on the fulcrum (a word I did not learn until much later), and I would work really hard to balance.  Inevitably, the teeter-totter would start to lean one way or the other, and I would have to readjust to try to get the board to balance in a perfectly straight line.  When I finally got the board to balance, then the tricky part really began:  DO. NOT. MOVE.  The slightest movement would tip the teeter-totter, and then my moment of perfect balance would be over.  I didn’t move.  I yelled at my friends not to touch the teeter-totter.  I yelled at butterflies not to fly too close and throw off my balance with the wind of their wings.  Basically, I needed the world to stop for a minute because I FINALLY GOT THAT FRICKIN THING TO BALANCE.

That’s how my life feels at the moment.  I’ve spent months trying to get my life into balance, and I finally feel good about where I am.  The problem is summer break.  I think I’m the only teacher in the history of humanity that is scared of summer break.  I don’t want to mess up all of my routines.  I don’t want hours of spare time to sit around and think.  Thinking is not usually my friend.


Perhaps it will all be fine.  Maybe I’ll be able to make some new routines and still keep to my general sleep and exercise schedule.  Historically, though, summers look completely different and quite unpredictable week by week.  Summers, generally, are tricky for me.  It’s like the fat kid from my first grade class is running towards my balanced teeter-totter, planning to jump on it, and I want to say, “GET AWAY FROM HERE, FAT KID!”  But the fat kid keeps running.  Now I’m going to have to readjust the whole thing to consider the fat kid factor.  Which begs the question – can I even balance with the fat kid, or is he just going to muck everything up?!

One of my friends described having bipolar disorder like being on a trampoline.  People who have a normal range of emotions are jumping on one of those cute little exercise trampolines used in eighties exercise videos.  They jump not too high, not too low.  People with bipolar disorder are jumping on one of those crazy high-bouncing trampolines that require you to have a harness and be strapped in with bungee ropes because you’re about to scrape the clouds when you jump.  It sends us incredibly high, but also so incredibly low.  I don’t want to be on that trampoline.  It’s like this year finally allowed me the opportunity to buy one of those cutie small trampolines, and now I’m hugging it close and saying, “Don’t put me back on the big trampoline!  I like this one!  I look good in neon colors, leggings, and puffy headbands!  Let me stay in the eighties exercise video!”

Life has a way of not letting people stay in one place very long.  The only constant we can expect is change, but change doesn’t have to be scary.

Except, obviously, THAT IT IS SCARY.  I’ve faced a lot scarier things than summer break, though.  I can handle a few changes of routine without bouncing off the trampoline.  I think.

Bring it on, fat kid.  I’m gonna rock my leggings and balance this thing called summer.

The Orlando Tragedy

The following is from a Facebook post by my husband, Maurice Driving home from a beautiful weekend excursion in the San Bernardino mountains with my husband and my amazing church, I was feeling on top of the world. As we drove down the mountain and entered back in to cellular reception area, Brad’s phone started […]

The post The Orlando Tragedy appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Blue flame

Slowly moving.   Sensually gliding.  I’m engrossed.  So just dance! Your blue is- So intriguing So misleading.  Your heat  I can’t touch.  I can’t have.  I can’t hurt.  Oh to embrace you!  Oh to feel your freedom.  Just to be!

You Might Think…

Morgue hasn’t blogged in days, things must be going GREAT!

Normally an absence of more than 2 days means I am doing okay or I am down the rabbit hole.

Then there are also times like this, where I’m stuck down that hole, clinging to crumbling soil walls while it keeps crumbling.

Sounds so dramatic. Really just more mundane monotony.

Week 4 of my kid home 24-7. She’s been okay but then she got a splinter and we’ve gone to war. She won’t let me near her to remove it, thrashes, lashes, and screams. I’ve tried every approach (Including my dad’s ever popular “bust her ass”, meaning I swatted her butt, to no avail so what’s the point???). Last night I actually got her sat down, went to look at the splinter and before I could even touch her, she swung at me and drove the safety pin into my hand.

So she’s grounded. No allowance. No water park trip with the devil girls. And still, she won’t let me just yank the splinter. Yes, it seems ridiculous. I am a very large woman with anger issues, I should be able to take a sixty pound girl, right? I sat next to her yesterday and she started thrashing and screaming out the open window as if she were being tortured. It’s my word against hers so of course, I backed down. Her friend came by and I even  tried to get Spook to listen to A. No go. My child is psychotic, I swear. I can’t control her.

No that I ever could. Last time she had a splinter it was the same way. Had to wait for a family get together and my brother and I had to hold her down while stepmonster used the tweezers to pull the splinter, all the while Spook thrashed and screamed and my mom went bonkers that we were killing the kid and that fed Spook’s drama llama…

I’m fucking sick of this kid’s bullshit. I am sick of everyone having the fucking answer, as if I just sit on the sidelines doing my nails. Fuck you all, every single one of you. Until you are in my shoes, dealing with a kid who loves you as much as she hates you, a kid who for all purposes has no empathy and is a sociopath…

Oh, right, the child psych said not to use terms like that. I am the problem.

I’m not the one causing this drama over a fucking splinter in my hand.

Oh, fuck, I’ve gone crazy from the heat and become one of *those* mommy bloggers where everything, good or bad, is about my kid.

Nope. She would like that.

I woke up furious Saturday morning, it ruined even yard sales. That’s when it reminded me…ahh, shark week is coming. I’m rarely that pissed off for no reason, no matter who I am dealing with.

It’s been ninety plus degrees every day for a week now. In a tin trailer with no air…High humidity…Yeah, I am miserable. I don’t get invited to the water park. I did, however, stand out in the rain (first rain in 3 weeks) Sunday. It was wonderful. Now we are facing another week of nineties and it just drains me and makes me crankier.

Oopps. I was in a hurry to take my meds before I forgot, I can feel lithium nausea coming on. Yay.

Insurance company called last night. They are STILL, two weeks after the fact, refusing to cover the Metadate the doc prescribed. Told me I’ll need to sign a release for more info they need from the doctor. I told them I would try to pay cash, leave this fucking bullshit out of the equation. Ha…I didn’t realize even generics were that fucking pricy.

I guess the bottom line is…I am frustrated. The depression is not better. My kid makes me never want to be awake. Or is that the depression?

Prozac’s conking out on me. Again.

Am I making the least bit of sense? I don’t care. I needed to vent but I had to force it so it doesn’t matter if I sound stupid. Just gotta get this crap out of my head before it implodes.

Life seems pretty fucking pointless right now. I am worse off for money than I have ever been. Thanks a lot, “child support will solve all your problems” jackasses. Nope. Now it all goes on food yet my income is considered raised so I am expected to pay for everything else instead of my sliding scale I had. No, I don’t expect everything for free. I do, however, expect to maintain the status quo I’d had and now…I am worse off. I mean, way worse off.

I feel like a whiner. Yet I am so pissed off and frustrated and on the edge, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.

I hate me right now. I am so full of hormonal anger. It wasn’t there a week ago.

My kid just keeps mouthing me then playing victim,not a big fan of hers right now.

Two of my cats have vanished.

Oh, in my epic stupidity…The cat we call Feet, that I was told was male when it came to live here so I didn’t question it…Turns out it’s a female who just dropped six kittens on my step. One didn’t make it.

Just when is enough, enough? I get the car thing solved (except for ridding myself of the death trap, which oddly, is still sitting three weeks after R blamed me always driving it for him not being able to fix it. He hasn’t touched it once.) and now I’ve got half a dozen new problems.

To say I am not coping well is an understatement.

Okay. Nausea is getting bad. Need to figure that out. Stupid lithium, just has to work really well yet still has to have ass trash side effects.

I’m tapping out before sweat drips on the keyboard and shorts everything out.

I fucking hate summer.

Self love and motherhood musings

Since my last little episode, I’ve recovered quite nicely. Relatively speaking of course.  I’ve taken a few showers. Yesterday I even made myself breakfast. Boom.     Caring for myself is so much effort when I’m depressed. Sometimes loving myself is one of the most difficult things to manage to do. I think it’s rooted […]

My fortunate meeting with Dr. Goodmood

Every morning he would welcome me into his office with those same hopeful eyes.

Another Bad Day

Today is the year anniversary of my best friends death. She was the most amazing person. She always made me want to be another person. I miss her so much. So fucking much. I wish she was here to kick my ass. I only had one friend and now she is gone.

I woke up sad. The last couple of days I have been dragging my ass out of bed when I wake up after staying there for way longer than I should. I looked around my house and didn’t want to do a thing. I curled up on the couch and read Facebook.

I miss my weed right now. It makes me numb, instead I’ve been crying. I mean I have reasons and then the additional depression but I don’t want to feel sad feelings.

How can I be happy? It’s a valid question I have no answer to!