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.

 

 

Flying and Hiding

In the eternal and internal struggle of Fight vs Flight…today, I went the way of the birds and flew.

I drove to My Hiding Place, stayed there awhile, and now home at 6:30 under blankets. Have also become physically ill, as I tend to do when having gone through a difficult situation. Fibromyalgia flare-ups and much more.

So. Tired.

A beautiful place to hide, though, even when it’s about to rain.

Prayer for UK & Love

So…I was gonna write about feeling somewhat down.

Then, I saw and read of the tragedy in Manchester, and instead I hugged my son and prayed. Prayers for victims, family of victims and lost members being searched for, prayers for the singing artist, prayers for first responders and medical staff, prayers for Manchester, UK.

Gonna mention some blessings in my life for which I’m thankful. A husband who is a chaplain for a hospice, a son who makes me laugh, a mom who can make me giggle, an orange tabby who loves snuggling & playing fetch, the trees outside, three cardinal families this year, unexpected cards in the mail from friends, and books.

Again, just thank you, Lord, and please be with Manchester, and help our world know more love, more You.

 

Days Lost

So yeah, I lost a couple of days. Little to no memories.

I remember last week starting to feel anxious and paranoid Wednesday or Thursday. I know Friday my family and I went to dinner and a movie. There was one thing that triggered me apparently, and it was just a simple joking around and playing around kind of thing with my son accidentally hitting the car window with his arm. I jolted. Like lightning struck my brain and every nerve ending was ablaze. I don’t know what happened exactly but I went somewhere. In my mind kind of somewhere. I can’t tell you where, but I have some guesses. There are periods of time in my past that involve abuse. Anyway, during the one hour drive home, I had totally changed.

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When I got home I was ranting and raving and at one point started throwing things. I remember starting to yell a little bit and from there I do not know. Apparently I cleaned up my mess, and apologized, and went to bed, rather I tried to go to bed. I didn’t get any sleep that was restful, helpful or beneficial. In fact, I woke up incredibly anxious and paranoid after five or ten minute sleep bouts. I cried. I was convinced someone was trying to kill my cat.

Finally after several PRN meds, I fell asleep for a few hours.

I felt certain we were on a trip to the nearest mental health hospital on Saturday. However, I managed to make it through, while staying home. I took medicine and slept as best I could. I was just trying to rest and survive. It was just that drowsy, medicated, exhausting & trying to calm down kind of day.  Horrible. I don’t remember anything that I did, or my family did. Don’t recall eating. Think I missed my nightly meds. God only knows, truly, as well as people who are subject to these kinds of situations and issues. If you’re not one of them, there’s no way for you to understand how lucky you are.

This is now 10 o’clock-ish on Sunday night and just now starting to feel back to my healthy and better self. We will see what tomorrow brings. That is always a fear, because I don’t know if tomorrow will find joy and productivity, or if for some reason I experience what I’ve had the last couple days. I never know.

Never. Know.

I pray tomorrow finds me even better.

That’s always the prayer. Always the hope.