Daily Archives: October 21, 2016


I just realized that with my middle one having a doctor appointment at 2 p.m. in Jackson, I don’t know if I’ll get home in time to catch the y9ungest one off the bus. SO I will need to check her out early then check out the middle one and take them both to the doctor.  Joy.

So I did tutoring this morning.  That went well.  We talked about the reading assignment and about how to write her next paper.     So we will see how she does.  I have stayed busy afterwards checking everything on the computer and doing what all I need to do.

I need to swap laundry around when I get home and get to the grocery store as well. Hopefully I can get to that before I have to get everyone picked up for the appointment.

I’m glad it’s kind of a runaround day.  I’ve been sitting alone on the house for too long. I need to get out more often but don’t know  how to arrange all that.  I don’t want to just be going 9ut to eat all the time.

But I will get it all done.  I’m certain of that,


This Is Your Life

The day got off to a bad start when I realised Smalls hadn’t done her morning poo. Mothers around the world will understand the anxiety of a missing poo. You know it’s there. You know it’s coming. You know it will arrive at the least convenient time – bigger and badder than ever.

After lengthy negotiations with Master D on what toys he could bring, pants he could wear and snacks he could have I optimistically checked Small’s nappy for the third time that hour (no poo) and proceeded to the vehicle where I spent approximately 5 hours strapping the kids into the car. I left the pram and opted for the baby carrier because, quite frankly, life is too short to spend wrestling prams into cars.

Image result for you know you're a parent when

About the time we pulled into the car park Master D gleefully informed me that he ”smelled a stink”.


Somehow in the chaos of releasing both children and retrieving the mother load  of stuff I had somehow found it necessary to bring,  I neglected to close the car doors (that’s right people, doors, plural. Clearly my cognitive function is impaired). Off we went on our merry way and I casually pressed the keys to lock the car. Alarms. Smalls now not only antisocially pungent but borderline hysterical. Cops happened to be patrolling the area and had some sort of Pavlovian response to the sound. A sheepish trek back to close the doors. Wondered if it is even worth going out.

I finally arrived at the café, 20 minutes late, like some kind of Sherpa, laden with a bag containing half of Babies R Us and a smelly child strapped to my chest (#pramregrets). Immediately I had to source a toilet with change table facilities. The missing poo was found. The missing poo could potentially be utilised as a biological weapon.

Coffee was a little more relaxing. In between Smalls insisting on coming out of the baby carrier and being held while intermittently screaming, and Master D’s verbal diarrhoea and constant requirement for cuddles, I managed to talk to other mothers who were having similar dilemmas. Mum’s need other Mum’s. Or we would probably die out. True story.

Feeling encouraged and grossly optimistic I then decided to go grocery shopping, which is always risky business with two small children. Best case scenario you have completed a task in triple the time it takes to do alone. Worst case scenario you’re being sectioned in the dairy aisle, rocking back and forth while your kids hold you hostage with cheese sticks.

Let me tell you though, Master D took the title of favourite child that fateful day. He was an absolute pleasure, not least, I imagine, to highlight how bad his sister was being. It turned out that Smalls did not want to go shopping, or apparently, do life in general. She screamed and thrashed so ferociously that patrons looked on in alarm, all the while with Master D stating the obvious very loudly “She is very MAD Mummy! Her face is getting redder and redder Mummy! But I’m being VERY good Mummy”. I actually started laughing at one point because what can you do? Fifteen year old check out chick was unimpressed. I paid the money and made a hasty exit (well, as hasty as you can with a five year old who could win an award for ‘worlds slowest walk’).

After coming home and doing fifty million loads of washing (are there people who live in this house that I don’t know about?!), prepping dinner and debating on whether it was an acceptable hour to open a bottle of wine I received a text from Hubster to say he was running late. Consider divorce, returning early to work, and running away to Fiji simultaneously.

Finally Hubster rescued me, the kids were in bed, the dishes were done, and I was holding a glass of wine. I stood in the doorway of their bedroom, and my heart dissolved. I suddenly wanted to wake them up just so I could hold them (don’t worry, I restrained myself). I thanked my lucky stars that I was blessed with two such beautiful souls, and recognised how lucky I was to be able to stay at home with them, and how I need to treasure this time before going back to work.

This is my life. It’s hard. It’s wonderful. It’s tiring. It’s rewarding. The same as for every other mother out there.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dear Future Manic Self

This is Part 5 in a 5-Part Series: 
"When the World is Too Bright: An Intensive View of Mania from On the Ground"

(Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4 Here)

Dear Future Manic Krystal,

Mania and you go together like peanut butter and jelly. After five manias in nine years, it seems pretty inevitable. And this is okay. You have learned how to cope and manage with the episodes. You have a system in place. You have the support, encouragement, and help of loved ones. You are not alone, Darling.

So don’t fear future manic episodes. Yes, an episode can be a bit scary because you don’t know how high you’ll get or how destructive it will be. But, Baby, you’ve lived through this before. Let me remind you. Five. Times. 2007. 2013. 2014. 2015. 2016. If you’ve noticed, the last four years have been particularly challenging for you with multiple manias and hospitalizations. But guess what? This mania, you managed without the hospital. This is the first time you have ever accomplished this. This, Baby, is progress. You are learning and growing and maturing in how you handle and manage the mania.

Just relish this for a moment: you are manic but you are not in the hospital. That is huge! Even your therapist recognized it in your last session. You have managed by coordinating care with your psychiatrist, your therapist, and IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). You have recognized, yet again, how important your psychotropic drugs are to your mental and mood stability. Some people can manage without medicine. You are not one of those people. And that’s okay! Really. It is. Everyone is an individual so why wouldn’t their needs be individualized, too?

I think you charged about $5,000. But even that is progress. Let’s celebrate every milestone. Considering that in the past you have charged upwards of $10,000 at a time, $5,000 isn’t toobad. Keep it in perspective. Do not beat yourself up. Despite the high balances, your credit score is over 740. Just recognize that spending sprees come with the territory. In the future though, please give your credit cards to your accountability partner.

Despite the spending, the mania is not an all-bad experience. During your fourth mania (2015), you incorporated two businesses. During this, your fifth mania (2016), you managed to make one of the businesses into something beautiful. You turned the life coaching company you incorporated into a wellness coaching company. While manic, you wrote three curricula for the company, planned a strategic and targeted audience to market to, met with a small business mentor, solicited feedback from your friends and social media contacts via a Google Form survey, and worked with an incredible graphic designer to create a company-specific logo and forthcoming website. In short, you got a lot done. And it’s great work. The creativity and productivity worked in your favor. Yeah, you barely slept and you literally worked around the clock but you created something permanent and important.

Lastly, the mania is not a curse. I know you used to feel like your diagnosis was a source of suffering. But, Darling, do not take such a negative view of the mania. You do not suffer from bipolar disorder; you live with bipolar disorder. You happen to get manic more than you get depressed. Thus, your default mood is slightly more elevated than the average person. That is okay. You are you. Relish in your uniqueness. Bipolar, and mania in particular, have granted you some amazing gifts. Appreciate them. Gifts such as being able to tell your story through blogging, connecting with an international readership, meeting incredible women of color in your social media support group, starting a memoir, and choosing to re-learn to speak Spanish.

Be proactive; choose how you see the cup. Is it half full or half empty? Your outlook on life actually shapes your experiences of life. To live with bipolar disorder is not the worst thing. Always remember that, Darling.


Your current hypomanic/manic self (2016)

Noon at Ray’s

Time plus two hours and thirty minutes.

Current time: 1:41 pm

Reason, readability, speedily, hurriedly

Free wi-fi for one hour for being T-Mobile customer. Whoo-hoo!!

Baby I could be your man.

National Geographic. Scientific American. Kindle Seveneves. Kindle Ted Chiang short story.

Noon at Ray’s

Time plus two hours and thirty minutes.

Current time: 1:41 pm

Reason, readability, speedily, hurriedly

Free wi-fi for one hour for being T-Mobile customer. Whoo-hoo!!

Baby I could be your man.

National Geographic. Scientific American. Kindle Seveneves. Kindle Ted Chiang short story.



Fluid – Aqua

Nick Cave by Bleddyn Butcher Oct 2012
And then we called upon the Author to explain

America's lost somewhere inside of Littleton
Eleven million children are on Ritalin
That's way I don't rhyme for the sake of riddlin'
False media, we don't need it, do we?
Pilgrims, Slaves, Indian, Mexican
It looks real fucked up for your next of kin
That's why I don't rhyme for the sake of riddlin'
False media

All this talk is getting me down (work that more)
Nothing's making sense in my brain (work that right side left side)
I'm moving words in coarse of today (more that more)
Trying hard to fix through the pain (inside outside left side work the floor)
I'm waiting to the thought that we came (inside outside up top down with more)
Only to discover I'm aged (work that inside outside)
And blow a quart of love in your frame (work that more)
And watch things drop down (work that right side left side more that more)
And watch things drop down (inside outside left side work the floor)
And watch things drop down (inside outside up top down with more)
And watch things drop down


Back in the Saddle

Just thought I would share a quick mini post from my phone. I know I didn’t post at all this week, it has been a bad week, bad month really.  So this is the news. I just took a trazadone, lithium, and klonopin. The same concoction I was on before I quit the meds.  I […]

Let There Be Light

My light box arrived the other day. I’ve been looking forward to getting it because I want to prevent the winter depression altogether, rather than wait till it hits me like a ton of crap. The weather has been really dreary this fall and ordinarily I’d be in a funk already, but with any luck this contraption will be the answer to a perennial problem.

I was a bit concerned that my new HappyLight (great name!)  would be broken by the time I got it—this happened to someone I know—but it was so well protected by cardboard, styrofoam, and bubble wrap that an orangutan could have done jumping jacks on it and not harmed it. Needless to say, getting it out of its cocoon was a challenge, and by the time I peeled off the last layer of insulation I was worn out! Then there were no instructions for putting it together, which annoyed me as I am NOT good at mechanical things, but it turned out to be pretty simple.  I sat down on the sofa and gazed at the thing for a little while, wondering where I was going to put it (something I probably should have considered before I bought it) and imagining what it would be like to sit in front of the device every single morning for the next six months.

And then, because I like to play with new toys, I turned the HappyLight on. It hit my eyes like a flash of lightning. HELLO! Was it ever bright! I’ve been under tanning lights that were duller than this. I didn’t even look directly into it (the directions caution against doing this) but it was almost overwhelming. I even got a minor headache after sitting in front of the light for about ten minutes.

Nevertheless, I finally figured out what I was going to do with it and cleared off a table in my room. I placed the light box on it and turned it on again. Yes, I could live with this. It was right next to Will’s old chair, and I could be comfortable while playing on my phone and soaking up the artificial sunshine. Next morning I got up a little earlier than usual and plopped into the recliner, then turned on my HappyLight. I’d read that you should start out with 15 minutes and then work your way up to 30 minutes; I hoped the headache wouldn’t recur so I limited myself to that time while perusing the book Winter Blues, which had come with the HappyLight.

This morning I decided to go for the 30 minutes. It was funny because the Dish Network guy was working on my receiver as I sat in front of the light, just as if it was the most natural thing in the world. So far I haven’t noticed any effect, but as the book says, it can take as few as two days or as long as several weeks. The only danger in using a light is that some bipolar patients may become hypo/manic…but I know exactly what to do if that occurs, so I’m not too worried about it. (And who couldn’t use a little dose of hypo on these damp, gloomy days?) I’m not taking the HappyLight on vacation though; I’ll be getting plenty of real sunshine during the cruise. It’s only three weeks away!