Daily Archives: September 13, 2016


Fighting the obsessions again.  THis is so maddening. I thought I was over this,  Enough already, I think. When is it ever going to stop?

I can’t write, I can’t think, I can’t stay awake, I can’t accomplish ANYTHING on my class, with all this going through my head.  I can’t get away from it.    I can’t talk to anyone about it; it is just so frustrating. I tried to get in to my counselor and should see her tomorrow but that doesn’t help right now.

I;m going to try to finish my reading and pick my topic for discussion, then write up my discussion. Anything to get all of this calmed down in my head.





May Ulla be in Heaven and bipolar rot in hell

This club to which I , which we belong, this damned bipolar disorder club… this club of which I wish I’d never heard, this hateful, painful, sickening, useless, dangerous, life robbing, hour sucking, tortuous club, someone open the doors and let me out. 

There is a theory that bipolar, depression, schizophrenia, the terrific trio, exist as a side effect of high intelligence. That highly intelligent people can have siblings with these diseases and that evolution just keeps these illnesses around because the very intelligent people have an evolutionary advantage in survival. So we are just the collateral damage of high intelligence. Yes we are highly intelligent, but our moods are dysregulated as a result. So we go into the blackest of depressions and end our lives. Fuck you bipolar! May you rot in hell. 

And my friend Ulla, affectionately known to all of us as Blah of https://theblahpolar.wordpress.com , I do so much hope you are in heaven and at peace. 

Seize The Moment

I am so sick of the way mania is glamorized. Thanks to Hollywood’s portrayal, bipolar has become synonymous with little more than excess energy, hypersexuality, followed by rapid speech, screaming, then crying.

Let’s talk about bipolar 2. Ya know, the one where yeah, you have manic bouts, but mostly…You have depression interrupted rarely and briefly by stability and high functionality. Not glamorous. Not interesting. Certainly not worthy of portrayal in tv and movies.

But it’s real and I live it. I hate it.

Over the weekend, I did fuck all. I was in mourning for Blah, in all fairness. My soul just felt devoid of desire to do anything. I went with it rather than fight it and feel like an even bigger loser.

Yesterday…I was a whirlwind of activity on the homefront. I cleaned out cabinets, I sprayed for bugs, I did laundry, I scrubbed out cat boxes, I swept, mopped, vacuumed. I did it in increments, of course, as that is the only way I can seem to stay focused and finish things. But I got shit done. I felt good about it. I even got a shower. Put on make up. I was neither happy nor sad. I was just LIVING.

I would be perfectly happy if all days were like that. I don’t need happy. I need to live.

With bipolar 2, that’s often not the case. Often, you are treading water.

I look around now, seeing the aftermath of two years without a truly effective anti depressant…I see all the stuff I let go. I made ten times more work for myself by not being functional but I will swear on a stack of Bibles…it was not by choice. It wasn’t apathy or laziness. Depression is real. It’s disabling. And while others live with family, spouses,etc so they have help to pick up the slack during their down time…I have no one. I have a home that would probably be better off burnt to the ground because I have let things go so long.

Am I ashamed? Of course.

All I can do is try to get caught up WHEN my brain cooperates.

Today is not that day. I have been productive in other ways today. I even worked up the audacity to call the donor, at his work, to ask if he has dental coverage for Spook. I can’t wait to hear how that simple exchange becomes a drama in his retelling. I found her a dentist, got her an appointment. I got her an eye dr appt and scheduled mine the same day since I haven’t had an exam in 2 years. I haven’t done much else but I did so much yesterday, I am only going to flog myself mildly. With bipolar 2, some days you’re ten feet tall and bulletproof and other days, you just kinda duck down to avoid the bullets. I am avoiding bullets today.

I hate how “seize the moment” my disorder is. My old therapist used to tell me to go with those days but other days…set that one small goal, reach it, then *allow* yourself to be depressed/anxious/etc without judgment or guilt.

Now there’s something ALL mental health professionals need to be teaching everyone with a mental health issue. DON’T JUDGE YOURSELF. No, that is not the same as not holding yourself accountable. Of course, we are accountable. But we are also operating from a disadvantage thus we need to allow ourselves that concession.

Maybe later I will “spring” into action and get some shit done. Maybe not. I did more yesterday than I’d done in some time so I’m gonna relish that small victory rather than beating myself up for not being a dynamo today.

Now I wanna post a couple of warm fuzzy pics and I will shut up. First is my Spook, in her Shopkins dress, bought by the awesome *kindness* fairy.


Second is a kitty pic, but first, I wanna explain his name. Yeah, okay, it’s a tribute since he died, but mainly…I named this kitten Lemmy Kilmister because he was the runt of the litter, born with an eye infection, and the kids gave all the attention to the healthy ones. I figured he was gonna need a badass name.

lemmySEE? Just because you start out small and sickly…You can still be a rock star!


What If?

Have you seen the 1998 movie Sliding Doors? In the movie, Gwyneth’s Paltrow’s character, Helen, rushes to catch a train in London. It is at that moment that the movie splits in two parallel universes. One story follows Helen’s life as it would be if she reached the train. The other story follows Helen’s life, as it would be if…

The post What If? appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

Why Did Fentanyl Maker Insys Give $500K to Defeat Legalization? | Leafly


Courting Joy


Joy must be courted.

Shy, elusive, hesitant,

she shrinks from brash grasping.

The desperate and the howling miss her timid whispers.

Joy cannot be commanded or held fast.

She slips into the quiet space

opened for her by breath

and surrender.

Joy must be wooed

with  no expectation of relief or transformation.

She comes in small ways

and in small acts;

a moment of forgetting,

lost time in the act of creation,

a companion’s purr.

And though our instinct is to clutch at her

to keep from drowning,

we must let go,

and allow her to hold us

in her own way.

Eye Corners

Someone doesn't like what he's seen

Someone doesn’t like what he’s seen

Some short fiction for you

My ophthalmologist is worried. So is the lass at Spectaculars, and one of the lads on my darts team. And the DVLA. Or they would be, if I told them.

I’m not going to. I can’t do my job if I can’t drive, and anyway, it’s only a learner’s permit. They don’t need to know, do they? They’re already uptight about the pills – the ones that make me drowsy. The ones I stopped taking, three months’ ago.

I didn’t go into details at Spectaculars. In fact, given the dodgy pair of specs they sold me last time – the ones that fell off my face whilst I was walking across the North Bridge, to a darts match at the Three Horse Shoes – I wasn’t going to say anything at all.

But there’s this lass who works there. Emily, she’s called. She’s been working there since before I bought those dodgy specs, and I’ve been finding reasons to pop in, and talk to her, ever since.

I’m working up to asking her out. Well, I was, up to when I started seeing the shadows.

They’re not actually that creepy, you know. Simon on my darts team – he, and the ophthalmologist, are the only ones I told – that was the first thing he asked.

You ever seen them in the library? Simon asked. Simon is a big Doctor Who fan, and is totally obsessed with River Song, and the actress who plays her.

"As if those Leopard People weren't bad enough," the Doctor sighed.

Doctor who?

I’m not a big Doctor Who fan, but I do like to read, as does Simon. The rest of the team are great darts players, but I’ve never seen them reading anything more complicated than page 3 of the Sun.

The shadows aren’t creepy, I told Si.

I didn’t tell Si that they’re unnerving. Simon’s a great one for semantics, so he would have picked me up on that: the difference between “creepy,” and “unnerving”.

To me, “creepy” means disgusting, or disturbing: like a dream about UKIP, or an unexpected brown envelope on your mat, or a neighbour who always plays the same Rammstein song, at the same time – say, 3 am – every single night. Or day, as Simon – ever the pedant – would say.

I’m going to stop, now. Because those shadows, in the corners of my eyes? They’re getting closer. Closer than they’ve ever been before. And, this time, they’ve brought their mates. And their cousins. And their mothers-in-law.

It’s unnerving.

Unnerved of Doncaster

Unnerved of Doncaster

If you enjoyed this story, please buy an e-book of “Koi Carpe Diem: Five Tales of Paws, Claws, and Mystery”, featuring Inspector Thwaite and Sgt. Jake, or contact me for a signed paperback, featuring artwork by Tom Brown. For more on Jake and Thwaite’s adventures in Ohio, click here.

The sequel collection, “A Yorkshireman in Ohio”, is out soon, initially in an e-book, then in print, as well.

Tagged: A Yorkshireman in Ohio, Books, cats, Doctor Who, fiction, Koi Carpe Diem, short stories, short story collection, writing

Chaos, Confusion & Wonderment

I often wonder about myself. And even more often I have doubts about myself. When push comes to shove I have to ask others to help me define my reality. I spin round and round like a top on a table. It’s not joy I am feeling but chaos. Intervention is typically required. Could be a gentle prompt, like breathe, or a more serious proposition such as please take some klonopin to help yourself calm down. Mostly I oblige, but, if I’m honest, I can also be a little resentful.
So in my wonderment I ask my husband if I’m a people pleaser. He replies I’m a people worrier. We laugh gingerly both knowing he is right. My heart is big and wide. I’m a helper inside and out. Seems perfect I landed in social services. It was and it is. Until it isn’t. I’m burning out. Burning up. My energy stores are depleting. As a person with bipolar disorder, I really cannot afford to give energy away. I am finding helping and caring about others is becoming a blurred line. I care about my work. I care about the people I serve. But it has to end somewhere. I am giving myself away. When my defenses are down I am subject to psychosis in both depression and mania.
Delusions tip toe around my mind. I begin to think my boss is avoiding me. No longer wants to provide support to me. She secretly wants me to fail. She is discriminating against me. She is pushing me out. I have no allies. Im not part of the team. Never mind I have been there for 17 years and she barely 2 years. Never mind I know more than she does and could be an asset. The bottom line is she wants me gone. She has the ear of those that can make it happen.
I begin to worry about the people, the clients w developmental disabilities, who need my help in creating resources for them. I begin to worry about the people I am guiding in the process of developing such precious resources. Am I letting them down? Am I not working hard enough? Do I not play well with others anymore? Everything is blurry. I am so very tired. Confused. Worried.
Where in all this do I consider I am okay. Doing the best I can. Care, but not too much. Give, but leave some for myself. Unblur.
Truth is…..I don’t know. I’ll keep asking my husband questions of wonderment and hope somewhere along the way I’ll stumble upon answers.

Another Beautiful Life Extinguished

My friend Blahpolar at https://theblahpolar.wordpress.com/  is gone. She had unremitting depression, she tried everything even ECT, but nothing worked. She fought against this god awful illness bravely and courageously. Like a real warrior. I thought she was coming out of it when she started commenting on my posts again in her witty and intelligent way. But no, she took her own life because she couldn’t stand the pain of this unrelenting depression. Her name was Ulla. Ulla, I will miss you. I will miss your intelligence and your razor sharp wit. I will miss you being in this world. I wish I could have done something to help. Damn this fucking illness. Damn this disease that makes it impossible to live. Another one of us gone, another one couldn’t handle the damnable pain that this devilish disease inflicts upon us. I am devastated. I don’t know quite what to do. Cry? What’s that going to do? Wail? Bring her back? If only! For anyone who thinks this is not a serious illness, this illustrates just how deadly serious it can be. Oh god, I really don’t know what I’m going to do. Not suicide, no, not that ever. But what am I going to do? How do you cope with over and over again?

Let me tell you one thing, I just wish I’d never heard of this infernal disease, not ever. 

May you rest in peace now, my dear friend Blahpolar aka Ulla. 


Today I have spent most of my day upstairs watching my typical TV shows and just trying to maintain a sense of normality.

I still feel emotionally like shit. I feel physically shitty too.. it sucks. Things just suck right now. Trying so hard not to give up and just stay in my bed. It’s hard though.

Life is hard.