Daily Archives: February 20, 2017

Train, Train, Go Away

I had a strange, but not at all uncommon experience driving my car this afternoon. I was stopped at the train-tracks today. I was second in line, and therefore saw the gates coming down. The car in front of me decided he didn’t want to wait and drove around the downed gates before the train […]

All That Glitters

Daily Prompt – Glitter I am not one to cling to symbols or possessions. I have always maintained that it is the little things that get to my heart. But, when Hubby selected that ring over the one we were … Continue reading

Venom Zero

And all of yesterday’s menstrual dysphoria induced venom has receded for another 3 weeks.

Today I am battling inertia and panxiety. The neighbors took my kid to the park (she went with another friend yesterday) and while I do need the break and the beautiful (for February) weather is great for the kids…I experience a huge amount of anxiety when my kid is “out there”.

Irrational or helicopter mom, I don’t know.

Two Xanax have taken an edge off, but not much.

I did force myself up to do dishes and wash a couple loads of laundry. The  unfolded mountain remains on the sofa and I give zero fucks. Annoying but hardly earth shattering.

I even made myself some iced tea, after days of not even having the energy to do that.

At odds with my kid again. She’s being the follower/chameleon and driving me bonkers. Yesterday we sat together and ate celery with peanut butter. Today she asks for some with lunch, I give it to her, the devil girls show up, declare they don’t like it, and suddenly my kid finds it disgusting and must throw it away.

I get wanting to fit in, to an extent, but, really? Guess that’s why popular people are popular, they are willing to be what others want and need whereas I am surly and stubborn and true to myself. Sorry, veggie heads, I love animals, but if you think I am turning down a cheeseburger just to appease your standards and be your friend…Nope.

I was going to apologize for yesterday’s really nasty rant but I don’t think I will. There is so much more idiocy on the net to be offended by rather than my menstrual  I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING vent. I never set out to offend anyone and in hindsight…I could just unsubscribe or close a tab when faced with technical manual three sentence posts rather than rail like an asshole.

If only the Twitter mentality weren’t in my face on every damned webpage.

I even braved a Twitter feed for my favorite  comic, The Oatmeal, and  dear god…the things people say, the critiquing, the bickering…I am so glad not to participate in such infantile behavior. Why follow a feed if your only goal is to demean their work and bicker with others? The world has become like a giant hellish high school full of bullies.

Only ever on wordpress do I truly feel safe and occasionally, a troll or two invade that. Least I don’t get bent as I used to. Learning to use categories and tags helped weed out the nasty trolls.

Ha ha, yes, pot, kettle, black, me calling someone else nasty after yesterday’s rant.

My venom was spewed only on my blog, not shared on social media, no promoted, and full of self awareness “I am an asshole” statements.

True nasty trolls do it just because putting others down makes them feel good.

In other words…Bullies.

But yeah…Zero true venom today except for those truly deserving, like bullies of all ages.

I am starting to wonder if my meds are conking out again. Normally being on 12 pills a day takes the edge off the PMS and anxiety. Now I am like raging either way. No no no, not the medi go round again. NOOOOOOOO.

Anyway, that is where things are in Morgueland today.

Now I think the wind just ripped my front door off the hinges so I must go fetch it. One more thing that won’t be fixed, just like the furnace going out again.

Even without PMS and mental illness, don’t I at some point get valid feelings of frustration because so little ever goes right?

Ha, Validation. Put on my PJ’s, I am dreaming. Life is about invalidation. My own family taught me that and thank pegacorn I have internet trolls to remind me how right they were.


Right here! Right Now!

I’m really trying to be more open, honest and communicative w my husband. I start a new job in 58 days. My mind is almost constantly hurling obsessions and worries around on spin cycle. You see I have been at my current job for 17 years. 4 years ago I made the decision to switch positions within my same company..a promotion. I started in my new role on February 1st 2013. I was hospitalized April 5th after I stood on a bridge for several hours on the verge of jumping. By May, I was experiencing psychosis for the first time in my life and another round in the hospital. By June, I had a diagnosis of Bipolar I w psychotic features. To be fair, I was already being treated for major depression for several years. Delusions, hallucinations, serious suicide attempt, severe manic episode, and probably 7-8 hospitalizations later, here I am, getting ready to start a brand new job at a brand new company.
I can’t stop thinking about this tragic timeline. The safety net in that scenario was my 13 years of being a pretty damn good employee and a union. But now, I arrive w no years of service, on probation, no union. My anxiety is having a field day.
So, yesterday I unveiled my concerns. Recounted my initial descent into bipolar disorder. My husband suggested he has also been thinking about this. To which I was glad because my memory is terrible. Reaching back into history is difficult for me, especially if trying to attach it to a date. He remembered me to be drinking at this time. Did I mention I’m also an alcoholic? I didn’t think I was, but have a few relapses under my belt since my rehab stint in 2007. I honestly can’t keep it all straight. I went w his assumption alcohol was involved and therefore I was unstable and susceptible to such a breakdown. It was highly likely.
I agonized much of the night. Pushed my brain to walk back in time to 2013. I recalled going to depression in sobriety meetings. I was positive I was not imbibing at this time. I could also remember being present and able to learn things. A sign I wasn’t hungover. While this is good news, not only being able to remember something, that I was sober, but maybe it’s not. That “instability” my husband was referring to wasn’t there. Does that mean it was the stress of the new job alone was the culprit?
The wheels on this bus are going to begin to fall off if I don’t get ahold of my mind. Its a new day. Its a new year. I’ve grown. I’ve learned. I’m trying to be more open, honest and communicative…with myself…and others. Awareness is good. Reality checks are helpful. But, having some FAITH IN MYSELF is paramount.
I look down to see where my feet are. Right here. Right now. Not in 2013 and not 58 days from now.


I like to think I live in the Alps, at the summit of the Col du Galibier (2,645 metres). I don’t, but the gradient on the hill that leads to where I live, can feel like that at times. It begins with a steep ‘kick’ at the bottom and includes a couple of ‘blind’ turns as I heave myself towards home. All in all, my best guesstimate is that the average gradient on my homeward hill is around 25%. Before we bought our house back in 2007 I practised riding it. If I couldn’t manage it would mean I would be pretty much strapped in up there relying on 2 buses an hour.

Image result for road sign showing steep gradient

I’m not really complaining. The climb – which I make nearly every day – gives me a sense of achievement every time I ride it. It provides reassurance because it proves to me that I have the resources, physical and mental, that I can ride it, whatever the weather.

Yesterday I donned my lycra for the first time in about 6 months and rode out into the countryside. Rolling hills with some pretty steep climbs, that I have neglected for so long. My legs were anxious, my chest was apprehensive. Would I have to get off and push after all this time? It had been so long that I took a wrong turn on the way back. But I turned round and found the right route. My curiosity emerged once more and I took a short detour along a lane I had passed many time.

I planned to go out again today, but the fog outside my window and inside my head, kept me away. But I have proved to myself that I still have those hills in my legs, even after all this time. I’ll go out again later this week. Maybe after my appointment with my psychiatrist in a few days’ time.

There’s another steep gradient in my life, a mental one.

It’s been over a month now that my mood has slipped down a very steep slope. One of the mood – rater scales on the internet is called Moodscope.com. It’s a way of tracking your moods and identifying triggers that help and hinder how you’re feeling. I first started using it back in the winter of 2010 when my psychiatrist told me that what I suffer from was not unipolar depression, but manic depression. Over the years I have used it, sometimes regularly, every day for months at a time. Or, like now, I’ve gone back to it after about 9 months. Over the past month or so I’ve been monitoring my mood daily and the numbers are not good. I should be floating around the 60 – 80% range. Instead, it’s been the 20 – 40% zone. I’m working reduced hours and still not feeling the benefit.

Maya Angelou’s determination is too much for me right now. All I’m hoping for is that someday soon ‘like air I’ll rise.’

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.


Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.


Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.


Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?


Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.


You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.


Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?


Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.


Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Maya Angelou (1928 – 2014)




Well, I had a sobering experience last night at church.  I realized that the further I get into remission, the less I tend to rely on God and try to live in my own power.  That’s a notion I need to give up forever.  I KNOW I can’t trust myself, especially since I have bipolar disorder.   My animal mind is diseased by bipolar and unreliable.  I MUST remember to rely on God and his word and direction.  Or I will wind up back in the hospital again.  Or worse, back in sin and pain all over again.

I turned in my workshop piece for next week.  It’s what I hope to send to Creative Nonfiction for their call for submissions about starting over.  SO I’ll get it workshopped, rewrite it for my final paper, and get more feedback from my professor before I send it in.  Hopefully it will all work well together and I will get into the journal finally.

We’re supposed to be getting a new air conditioner installed today–just waiting on the guys to show up for it.  I was hoping they’d be here by now because we hoped to go out to lunch with Bob today since the kids are off.  But we will see what happens.

Hope everyone has a good Monday and a good rest of the week.