Sleep, Pills & Money

3:57 a.m. I’m awake. Clearly. Not sleepy, just tired. Two different things for me. Two different meanings. I’m getting more and more pissed off about it, too. Here’s why.

Racing thoughts ~

“I can’t remember where I first saw that actor. Where did I see him?”

“I can’t remember who sings this song that is going through my mind!”

“I should have done so many things differently. Maybe my son wouldn’t have suffered as much.”

“I gotta get the car to a shop. The brakes sound bad.”

Obsessive Thoughts ~

“Damn, I really want my haircut now. Do I have money for it? I need to get the phone and look at my checking account. Do I have the money on a credit card? I will look at my credit card balances and available credit now. God, I want my hair trimmed. It’s bothering me. Maybe I have cash tucked away! It’s so hot when my hair is longer. I really, really want my hair cut. Now.”

~ So, why am I awake? Because the medication I couldn’t take tonight… you know the one – helps anxiety, paranoia, racing thoughts, obsessive thoughts, insomnia – that one. Well, it costs  $10 for one pill. I take two every night. See my expensive problem? So, I didn’t have even one of the pills at bedtime.

I have social security disability for three different medical issues. And right now I’m in the donut hole, which is the equivalent of a really high deductible with other insurance companies. So, Medicare doesn’t pay for my medication right now. It is so very wrong.

“Man! I wonder how much it will cost to get the brakes repaired!”

Anyway, what was I talking about?

Oh, missing medication…

Without it, I can also become manic, and act horribly towards my family by yelling at them. I might hallucinate. I might have such rage, it’s dangerous, worthy of calling the cops. Yep, that’s really fair, huh?

“Crap, who sang that blasted song?”

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“God, I really want my hair cut…”

This.

This. Just this.

~~~~~

So, revisiting this entry approximately three hours later.

I’m just going to add that I feel so low and alone. That’s why I’ve not written much lately. However, I’m trying to log something because this is one of the worst things about Bipolar. Thinking you’re as low and alone as possible, but no, there is still somehow a way to dive lower.

You know, it’s not a dive, as just said above. It’s drowning. With heavy stones in your pockets. Drowning.

I’m not even sure how to describe it. The best I can do now is just write what I can when I can.

Sitting in Quiet, Thinking of Carrie Fisher

I am sitting here in my bedroom in absolute quiet and stillness. It’s lovely.

Usually, I have a problem with silence, because it quickly becomes a cluster of anxiety, worries and fears. This, tonight, has been nice.

I would also like to share that I saw Carrie Fisher’s last magazine cover for Star Wars: Last Jedi, coming to theaters Christmas of 2017, I believe.

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I wanted to give her a shout-out and yell thank you for her books and efforts towards breaking through mental health stigma.

Then, I would flip her off, because she loved giving people the bird, too.

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Then, I would wish her well, wherever she is, in peace… no more meds, no more ECT treatments, no more Bipolar. A place where she is her funny, brilliant, beautiful soul.

Thank you, Carrie.