Sick and Tired and Sick and Tired and

6.12.19

I’m very sick.

I’m very tired.

I’m very sick and tired.

I wish for physical pain relief.

I wish for emotional pain relief.

It is all unrelenting. And while I don’t have any suicidal plans, I must say that sometimes I wonder to myself if it would be nice to sleep for about 30 years. I mean the kind of quick snap of your fingers that allows you to be gone while having surgery. Then, I would awake for a bit of time with family and friends, and then head on out one night in my sleep.

Worst Thing You Have Dealt With Because You Are Mentally Ill

Question. What’s the worst experience you’ve had with another person because you have Bipolar Disorder or any mental illness? What form of stigma? Was it from a friend, family, co-worker, etc? Was it a hurtful remark, someone undeserving being promoted over you at work? Was it due to ignorance or just plain gossip or even cruelty? Have you moved passed it? How did you stand up for yourself? Did you? And if you managed forgiveness, how?

Stigma-1a-healthyplace

 

Bipolar and Headaches

6.6.19 blog

A study of comorbidity of bipolar and headaches & yep, yep, I figured they were running buddies. I hate the headaches I have like right now when I’m clearly on the edge of hypomania and highly irritable and agitated.

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Good study. Good article.

The Bipolar Spectrum in Migraine, Cluster and Chronic Tension Headache

 

(Image credit: Google images)

Irritated Rant

6.6.19 blog entry

This is a weird one. Not weird so much as contradictory. What am I getting at exactly? Well, I’m full of contradictions tonight, a bunch of greys in a black and white world. I’m an introvert. I’m an extrovert when I have to be for the work I’m trying to do, or when I’m hypomanic. What a bitch of a situation. I want to be around people. I want to interact with people. However!! However… I get so tired of people and their stupid shit really quick.

Maybe I’m losing my patience as I get older. Maybe it’s being easily overly stimulated by excess, loud noise. Maybe it’s lack of tolerance for crap in general. Maybe it’s trying over and over to push that extroverted self forward to help others, promote the blog, submit witty and what I hope are insightful articles on various websites for publishing, and putting together what I think are nice decorations to sell. Maybe it’s just all that goes into that and often feeling like I’m spinning my wheels.ย I’m telling you what, my f**king head is pounding.

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I was doing fine, but then I began interacting with people tonight, and real quick I was like, nope no more. Can people stop treating me like a child, despite the fact that I’m acting like one right now? See the problem there? I seek out the interaction but when it gets rolling, sometimes it’s too much. I know. I know I’m acting like a child. Most of the time I don’t, so cut me a break. Constructive criticism has always been a welcomed thing for me, but when it becomes consistent from people over and over, it feels more like nitpicking.

This is one of those times when I know this is just my emotions fiddling with my brain and tomorrow or a day or two later, I’ll look at this and be embarrassed by how much I’m whining here. Nevertheless, Bipolar does toss my emotions all around, so I guess this is part of it. An ugly part. A part where I want people to be my friend and care about me and be concerned, yet I don’t want them to wear me out. Some people are harder to deal with than others. That’s just life. Most of the time I’m better at doing that. Tonight, I’m not. Tonight, I’m a two year old. Actually, that is a bad comparison as the two year old would have much better manners and a better hold of themselves for Pete’s sake!

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I have a massive ass headache, and I’m pissed at the world that I want to love me dearly.

I know, I’m a pain in the ass. I’m also ill. Any other of you guys with Bipolar go through this silly mess from time to time? Or maybe you have a loved one who has this dreaded disease? Do they go through this?

Sorry. Rant over.

Running Running Running

6.4.19 blog entry

I am doing something that I’ve come to understand as the only means I can do what I need to do in life. What is it I’m doing? I’m on the go, go, go! Move your ass mode! ๐Ÿƒโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿณย Writing, chores, cooking… stuff that piles up when you have days during which you can do nothing.

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Hypomanic, trying to steer clear of full-blown mania. I have family watching to tell me if I’m rocketing out of the stratosphere ๐Ÿš€and letting me know it’s time for PRN meds.

For now, I’m good, but coming down hurts. It hurts mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. It’s true that my mental health affects my physical health affects my mental health affects my physical health. ๐Ÿ”

Here’s the deal though, when I’m physically and mentally down for at least half of my days, if not more, then those days that rarely come along when I can just dial it up to 11, I have to do so. It’s the only way I survive and keep my household flowing and family taken care of, even though it’s also breaking me down at a faster rate. Do I need a better plan? Yes. I’m not a fool. However, I haven’t found anything else that works, and I’ve tried for decades, even with help from doctors and therapists.

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Feel free to comment on how you make it work if you’d like. I always welcome respectful comments and conversations with me and among you guys if you wish to talk to one another. Love to you all. โœŒ๐ŸŽ—

Real Psychologist Reviews Mental Illness In Movies

5.29.19 blog entry

This psychologist’s review of various forms of mental illness in film is quite interesting. The specialist is watching clips of movies and discussing how accurate they are in depicting disorders and diseases such as Bipolar Disorder and Autism. Do give it a watch as we round out May – Mental Health Awareness Month.

(credit: BuzzFeedVideo)

Want To Be Done

5.24.19 blog entry

So, I’m gonna be honest with you guys. I always remind others to reach out for help. Here I am now doing just that. I’m feeling overwhelmed and in pain.

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I feel like my work won’t be published… sort of a “why would that website I’m so interested in want to print what I have to say?” Or, “why would anyone want to buy any decoration I made?”

And I’m so fracking tired of hurting so much, everywhere. I mean seriously, all the physical pain is just eating away at me and causing me to miss out on life.

I feel like a fraud. As happens in life, there have been some unforeseen circumstances that are causing some financial struggles. If we don’t get a hold of it quickly, we will drown.

And I’m frustrated… no, furious… that I can’t help my family.

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I just want it over and done. I don’t want to be on this earth anymore.

Take a Look at This Thought-Provoking Video by Luke Alexander

5.22.19 blog entry

I decided to share this. I think this post is quite thought-provoking. It’s about romanticizing mental illness on social media and where lines should be drawn. I do not agree with everything he says, but as I said, it got me thinking. I’m curious what you guys think, whether you have a Mental Illness or not.

I will call Trigger Warning for one part of this youtube post. The host himself tells you exactly when he begins discussing self-harm and suicide and what point to jump ahead to if you want to skip that part. It’s only a couple of minutes in a 14:19 minute youtube video.

Shows such as 13 Reasons Why, memes and drawings and art work about various MI are shown and discussed, in regards to what is self-expression vs. romanticizing things that are actually quite difficult. Luke Alexander, the host of the channel and this video, has been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, so he brings some understanding to the table immediately.

And let’s not forget, May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Talk to one another. Reach out for help. Ask questions. We must eradicate mental health stigma and misunderstandings – I know I always say that, but it’s because it’s fact. Love to you all and take care.

 

(credit: YouTube video post: Luke Alexander channel)

(photos: Google Images)

Invisible Illness and Stigma

5.12.19 blog entry

So, as we know, May is Mental Health Awareness Month. I’ve been thinking about stigma. How to eradicate it. The answer must be imparting knowledge; teaching.

The area where I’ve seen the most ignorance across the board, and have personally experienced, is to do with medication. I hear that psych meds are poison and unnecessary. I have heard the following.

Just go outside.

Just lighten up.

Meditate.

Get in shape.

Granted, all of that helps, but Bipolar Disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. It is a direct result from something wrong in your brain. If you have something wrong with an organ in your body, you treat it.

My own family has called me a pill-popper and told me I’m weak. Please. You do this for 20 years, and then talk to me about what is weakness and what is strength.

Invisible illnesses can sometimes be the most difficult to understand or grasp, I suppose. A person has an appendectomy and people bring them food for a week. A person goes through a depressive cycle and people might say stop moping, and they certainly don’t bring meals.

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So, I will just wrap up by saying people with Bipolar, with mental illnesses, with invisible chronic illnesses, are incredibly strong and brave. We’re also empathetic because we know suffering. I assure you, if I could exercise my way right on out of this, if it was that easy, well…I wouldn’t even have a blog because I would be cured.

We are fighters.

We are creative.

We are dreamers.

We are helpers.

We are intelligent.

The emotional reactions – good and bad – that we have are multiplied by ten.

Through it all, we have careers, raise children, help others, and have the foresight to know to give our husbands our medications during a particularly bad week, so that we don’t swallow them all. That’s not weakness. That kind of strength requires a raw vulnerability. It’s not easy.

If you have someone in your life dealing with MI or any other invisible disease, just reach out and speak to them. Ask how they are, and tell them you want to understand more. I bet when they are able, they will help educate you.โœŒ๐Ÿ™๐ŸŽ—

 

(๐Ÿ“ธ: kgun9)

Chipping Away at MH Stigma๐ŸŽ—

5.8.19 blog entry

What are some of the worst things you’ve heard or experienced that made you feel awful for having a chronic and/or mental illnesses? I’m interested to hear from people with diseases such as depression, anxiety, autism, bipolar and schizophrenia to name a few.

I mean, just check out this chart below. Certainly got my blood boiling.

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I’ve experienced the misuse of terms.

“This weather is so Bipolar!”

“When she’s on her period, she’s mental.”

And don’t even get me going on people talking down to me about med use. People in my family even, for Pete’s sake.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Let’s try to educate ourselves and others, comfort and care for ourselves and each other, and try to chip away at the stigma of the ignorant. (Not stupid. Ignorant. Uneducated. Two different things.)

Creation

5.8.19 ~ blog entry

Creation is beautiful. From the moment you first have an idea of something you want to create, to seeing it all the way through to its completion, it is an extraordinary process.

Think on this for a bit. In one moment, there’s nothing there, and in the next moment, there is existence. Poof, an origin.

Creation can be cathartic. One moment you’re flustered with writer’s block, and finally the sentence that feels right is typed on the page. You’re on your way. In the middle of the night, you can go to the refrigerator for a water and glance at the craft table and think to yourself that the yellows and oranges should be the predominant colors on the wreath. An hour later, you notice you never made it back to your bedroom, and you never drank the water, but the gorgeous wreath is now complete and ready to be hung in the living room or sold at next month’s summer festival.

Whatever it is that is your jamย  – whether it be writing, making table centerpieces, cooking, singing, drawing, painting, photography, posting encouraging videos, fostering animals until they’re adopted – you are creating. Creating something of love and motivation and kindnesses to others. There was once nothing where there now resides something.

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That something, along with the smile that graced your face while you constructed it, is a thing of beauty. Let’s face it, we need more smiling and beauty in the world. I’m not going to get all sappy and tell you to stop and smell the roses, except wait, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Please stop and smell the roses. Please stop and look at the things you do well and feel the pride you deserve. Please stop and look at the things in your life that you created and smile. Then, go do more of it.

 

(image: barbaraannyoder)

Help Regarding Mental Health Issues

5.6.19 blog entry ~

 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month.

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Please reach out for help if you or a loved one need it. There is assistance if you have, or suspect, a Mental Illness, or if you’re a family member or friend who needs support and education. Often times, loved ones don’t think they should ask for help, or do not even know it’s offered.

https://www.nami.org/Find-Support

https://www.dbsalliance.org/support/chapters-and-support-groups/find-a-support-group/

Understanding what MI is and having others to talk to who are experiencing the same can do wonders. Knowing you are not alone can give you hope when you think there is none.

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Let’s take care of ourselves and one another with dignity, respect and love.

 

(Images: Google Images)

Anxiety, a Paralytic

5.4.19 ~ blog entry about anxiety

Sometimes, others can explain it better than yourself, particularly if you’re almost paralyzed by anxiety, which is what I have been the last few days.

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May is the month to discuss mental illness / mental health issues. If you can comment on what helps you out of deep, dark anxiety pits, please do so.

We want to eradicate mental illness stigma, so sharing here or on social media platforms is encouraged and appreciated. As ever, please reach out if you need help.

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(๐Ÿ“ธ: aliexpress)

It Is Easy, The End

4.28.19 blog entry ~

What I’m about to say is a basic truth, even if it’s not always easy. I almost began this entry saying it can be difficult to write regarding certain issues if those issues include your family, because I want to honor their privacy as well. But here’s the bottom line.

Do you.

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You do you.

Take care of you. Prioritize yourself. Tell others when you need help. It is not selfish. It’s not a clichรฉ; it’s the truth. If you are not taking care of yourself, you cannot help others.

The End.

Image Credit: Google Images

Grrr

4.25.19 ~ Grrr

I’m gonna have a chocolate or two. ๐Ÿฌ It’s been a trying day.

What do you guys do when you’ve had enough for the day?

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Some days are just frustrating and grrr’ish. I’ve hit my grrr level for the day, Lol! ๐Ÿ˜† Gonna escape and listen to a book. ๐ŸŽง๐Ÿ“š

How about you?

 

๐Ÿ“ธ: Dray-Gon deviantart

Do You Feel As Though You Have Helped

4.23.19 blog entry ~

Question: Do any of you reading, any who have mental health issues or chronically ill physical ailments, do you feel as though you’ve helped someone else suffering with something similar? Do you feel you’veย  been encouraging? That you’ve helped others?

If so, how? How did you help comfort them? Reach them? Maybe even talk them down off of that proverbial ledge?

Just a thought that passed through my mind, so I thought I’d reach out and ask.

 

if you need help blog

Take care of and love yourself and others.

Photo Credit: Google Images

My Easter, How About Yours

4.22.19 blog entry ~ Easter

Hey, guys. How are we? Holidays can be full of varying emotions. Everyone make it through okay? Anyone need to talk?

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I messed up. I did a lot of physical household chores, and then computer help for my mom, stuff like that. Did this Friday and Saturday. I was feeling hypomanic, so I took advantage of the energy and got stuff done, but Sunday morning, I couldn’t attend Easter services, and that bummed me. I was physically hurting too much, and in the three days prior, combined total I had four hours sleep. However, we watched The Passion of the Christ at home, and I sobbed. We prayed. I managed to make Easter lunch – pasta. Lol.

Today, I’m trying not to fall into full-on dysphoric mania. I’ve been quite close, because I feel so much rage and want to smash something. Therefore, I purposefully tried slowing myself down with calming strategies and PRN anxiety meds. I’m pleased to report everyone in my home still has their heads intact. Yay for small miracles.

I will mention, I tried connecting with my supposed best friend of years and my sister, and neither replied. Again. Just give up, Jen! They didn’t care when I was in the hospital, or when I sent them images of my son’s graduation photos, which hurt me dearly. (Especially the latter.) I’ve tried so many times, but they flat ignore me. I want to send them each a message. However, I do not want to send something in this mood and possibly later regret it. So, I’ll reassess later. Maybe have a friend read it before I send it. Sometimes though, I feel like this is the mood in which I’m most honest and not trying to sugarcoat things and make the necessary excuses for them.

So yeah, I had a lovely Easter with my family, and I even went to a shop in town on Saturday and picked up a few comics on sale and talked to the owners about the SA Comic Con. That was really cool.

But I will have to eventually send the two ladies I was talking about a letter listing my hurt feelings but offering forgiveness and wishing well being, just so that I can gain the closure I need. Closure and the act of letting go can be cathartic.

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Maybe I could write the letters and not send them.

Overall, I’m good.

Off subject, you guys gonna see Avengers Endgame this weekend?

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Love you all. Take care. โœŒ

 

๐Ÿ“ธ: Google images

Back Home

4.18.19 blog entry ~ Back Home

So, I’m feeling some better. I have a bit more energy, and I feel…well, I almost feel…like things are more manageable. That is definitely not something I believed a day or two ago. I guess going to the hospital with symptoms mirroring heart issues and being admitted to the hospital, coupled with the likes of nitro and potassium, would rock me to my core. My own dad died of his third heart attack at the age of 44, after all. I’m 42. And his dad died of the same issue at age 47. So, I went, I saw, and was stuck with tons of needles, underwent many tests, and lived to tell the tale. My heart is healthy. I’m stunned. Based on family history and medications alone, never mind our poor diet since I’m not able to cook all the time. But hey, a win is a win!

healthy-heart

 

I’m home now, but I am still experiencing the same pain. That part makes me angry.

I’m tired of physical and mental ailments. “Sick and Tired” – perfect description. Just gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other, I suppose.

A friend told me I’m an inspiration to her because, “You keep going, love.” Eh. To which I replied that I just continue breathing because of these sorts of invisible life support machines that won’t let me go. A large part of me still believes that, but I’m starting to come back round and count my blessings. Tonight, I even enjoyed watching and smelling rain and freshly cut grass. That was a nice Reset Button, if you will. I’ve been listening to my favorite playlists via Amazon Music – performers such as Halsey, Bruce Springsteen and Billie Eilish, and watching whatculture on youtube. I just love that channel with its discussion of films, comic books and gaming. And heck, I’m writing this, and I’ve chosen a new book to read. Those are good indicators of my better moods. Anything like that, as well as creating craft dรฉcor and reading/writing poetry are significant and usually mean good things, even if my poetry reads as “dark.”

Anyway, I’m managing. How are you guys? Anything new? Anything you need or want to share?

Take care of yourself, and when you can, each other.

 

(photo credit: guysandgoodhealth)

I Might Have Punched Him

4.10.19 blog entry

dissociation-drawings_csp11822791

So, I have internet access again. I’m outta food, though. I mean, my son has food, so no worries there. I’m in tremendous pain. Congestion in my chest, I guess, and maybe a little anxiety, too. Additionally, my right side and wrap around to right muscle in my upper and middle back is making it hard to breathe. I think I will see the doctor soon, and I’m having some sort of something that might need my psychiatrist’s input. Some sort of weird lucid dream/dissociation crossover thing.

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Weird thing, last night after a spell of it, I journaled that I just wished these problems could take the form of a person so I might punch him/her. And today, we wake to my husband having a black eye. So….. ๐Ÿ˜ถ

Anyway, I’m choosing to be vulnerable here to share what this disease encompasses and creates sometimes, and also to simply explain where I’ve been. I’ll attach a photo of myself because I’ve always said this blog will show the good, bad and all the crap and shades of gray in between.

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I’m better than I sound, and my husband knows about this. There’s a plan in place. I’ll update soon and hopefully share that I’m feeling better. Take care of yourselves and each other, as always. โœŒ๐Ÿ’›

At Least I Have the Marvel Tickets

So, I really jacked things up! I somehow have managed not to pay my internet bill, but… wait for it… I do have 4- 3D IMAX Avengers Endgame tickets purchased!

How did I do this, you may wonder.

Very simply, I wrote it down in my calendar incorrectly and thought I would pay it on the 5th when in reality, it was late as of the 3rd. Grrr. I called the service provider, and they wouldn’t extend it. Grrr. I’ll be looking for a new provider. Two days! They wouldn’t do a two day extension, but I digress.

So, tomorrow, which is Thursday the 4th, I’m not going to have any internet service but I will be back Friday. It’s really quite ridiculous!

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However, it led me to think, how many of the rest of you deal with memory issues, and organizational issues, and just sometimes spacing out and getting things jacked up issues? If so, why do you think that is? โœŒโ˜ฎ

3:33 a.m.

Okay, so I don’t sleep well at night. Started in early teen years – tried everything – routines and meds, believe me. Even if I do manage to fall asleep at a normal time, I wake. Almost every single night, I look at the clock at 3:33 a.m.

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(image credit: infinityexplorers)

I decided to look up the time 3:33 after seeing it again a few minutes ago. I Googled a question asking if there’s any significance to always seeing triple threes in the early hours.

Here’s what I found in the first hit.

https://willowsoul.com/blogs/numbers/4-reasons-why-you-are-seeing-333-the-meaning-of-333

I guess this is just a random post, not much about Bipolar, except for insomnia and jacked up sleeping patterns. โœŒโ˜ฎ

March 30th World Bipolar Day

“The life expectancy of patients with bipolar disorder is reduced by about 10 years, likely due to medical comorbidity, high suicide rates and adverse lifestyles.”

Attaching the entire article below for reading. Share any feedback you wish. Opening up discussion.

https://blogs.biomedcentral.com/on-medicine/2019/03/27/world-bipolar-day-controversies-bipolar-disorder/

 

Anyway

3.26.19 blog entry

Ugh. This won’t be a happy entry. Not a long one, either. Just feeling like such a loser and battling the whole, “why bother.” Feel like such an absolute, utter waste of space. Just really don’t think I can do anything more than breathe. I don’t feel like I can help my family or myself. I feel so alone. I fake it throughout the days just to cry at night. Anyway…..

Social Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder YouTube Link

3.19.19 blog entry

I stumbled upon some things Hannah Blum has to say about Bipolar Disorder and Social Anxiety. Please take a quick 3.5 minutes to hear as she shares her experiences and stories. This is motivating, and I will definitely check out more on HealthyPlace.

 

A Lot of Lemonade

3.19.19 – A Lot of Lemonade

I’ve been sitting here for a while now with my thoughts, and I’ve not quite figured out how to say what I want…what I *need* to say. So, I’m thinking I’m just gonna say it, and if anyone reading knows my mom, so be it.

I feel as though I’ve never been enough for my mom, and certainly feel she’s never really been proud of me. She did not attend my sporting events. She did not help me with Senior Year expenses or go shopping with me to find my prom dress. I’m 42 years old, by the way, so there is plenty of missed opportunities. (Wait, 42..when did that happen? Different blog post.)

Anyway, my mother has never been overly affectionate with me, and she’s not one to give compliments, say any ‘atta girls, give praise, and she doesn’t seem to recognize when someone goes above and beyond in order to help her.

Now, I’m using the correct terminology by saying things like, “I feel…” but it’s not just me that notices this. I will say that this only exists in our relationship, not in her relationship with my son. That’s important to mention because she lives with us and has to be taken care of after her last back surgery, and she gets along with my son beautifully, constantly thanking him, heaping on the praise and love. She hugs him. She tells him she loves him. The two of them have had a close bond since he was born.

So, one thing led to another, and I sat down to have a conversation with my mom today. Now, I’ve touched on this before with her…several times actually, but I’ve never just put all the cards on the table and asked her to please do the same. I told her I feel like…no, that’s not an accurate description…I told her I *know* I’ve never been good enough, done well enough, and that I feel unloved. I asked her if she has *ever* been proud of me. Again, 42 years worth of material there.

She stared at me and chewed her food – the dinner I had just cooked even though I’m disabled just like her. She said that there are things she’s proud of but couldn’t think of any at the time. Guessing she could make what she thought was a valid point, she asked if I could list things that I loved about my son, things that made me proud. I spoke for at least 10 minutes about him until I realized we had gotten off course.

Now listen to me. Don’t throw at me that she was taken off guard, blah, blah. As I said, some things led to this conversation, and she could tell it was coming today, and also recall that I explained we’ve had similar discussions in the past.

Look, even my son sees how she treats him better than me. Treats my husband better than me. Treats the caretaker who helps us get her showered better than me. She actually talks and laughs with this lady for half an hour or so, which is a big deal for Mom. The caretaker that we’ve known three months. She’s here maybe an hour, twice a week.

I’ll share something terrible with you. Sometimes, in what I guess is a dark corner of my heart, I think to myself that Dad died when I was 15, and he and I did everything together. He would often praise me and was affectionate. Even though they divorced when I was two years old and only seeing Dad every other weekend and six weeks in summer, my relationship with Dad was filled with such love, joy, comfort and a sense of well-being. Mom is not affectionate. She doesn’t even say good night, just disappears. Well, let me amend that. She says good night to my son.

Anyway, sometimes I wonder if I had to lose a parent, ‘why my dad who loved me?’ I feel terrible even thinking it. I told you it was bad.

It’s not me wishing my mom passed away instead of my dad. It’s me missing Dad, and it’s me wishing Mom could be proud of me. It’s really a little girl wanting her momma’s love, I guess.

What the heck does any of this have to do with Bipolar? Mostly, that I want to share that though it hurts, I put the pain to good use. I am certain to shower my son in even more love. I am sure to constantly tell him he’s done a good job, and we always joke and laugh with one another. We hug good night and pray for each other. He too has Bipolar and we help lift the other when we’re down low.

Plus, it’s my blog. I can write what I want…LOL! No, seriously, sometimes it’s good for us, healthy even, to vent.

So, am I squeezing lemons into lemonade, here? Am I endeavoring to be a better mom because I feel I don’t have a mother that communicates with me? A mom that doesn’t love me? Yes, perhaps I am doing just that.

lemon lemonade

And you know what, I like lemonade. A lot.

 

(Image credit: cartoondealer)

The Opposite – a story

2.21.19

The Opposite

Story by @jenm_curry – possible trigger

I imagine a few at the service. A service sprinkled with an occasional photo of her looking happy.

Looking.

I imagine a couple of kind words; maybe a story or two. I imagine a child in anguish, wondering why more people weren’t in attendance, and then the sadness that will overcome his face when he realizes she was alone, followed by a brief moment of terror on his face. After all, what if this is his fate down the line, he thinks. I imagine a couple of acquaintances, or someones who knew someone else.

They might take a few minutes after they’ve left the service and are back home changing clothes, readying themselves for dinners with families and friends wondering to themselves, what did people do to her.

The reality being quite the opposite really.

Because in fact, it’s all about what people did not do.

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(Photo credit: Google images)

Black Mirror – Crocodile and Why the Heck It Reminds Me a Bit of My Bipolar

2.19.19

Crocodile

So, I have often tried to figure out why it is that certain stories and their characters resonate with me. I have found that even though the show Black Mirror on Netflix is about technology and some pretty damn serious repercussions, it could be in our very near future. I have found that there are characters in most episodes I truly seem to care about whether they acted in a positive or negative fashion. After all, so often, we act like the humans we are, and frig things up pretty badly.

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So, I took a look at Season 4, Episode 3, Crocodile.

Hold up. Let me just say that what I mainly want to do with this entry is just talk about why I like the show. In general, this particular series is a winner for me, even if not for the characters, because I identify with some of the emotions that really screw up Mia’s life, and those around her. Crappy decisions, actions and living with the consequences. Ugh. I’m not really critiquing the show. I’m certainly not saying that Black Mirror is about Bipolar, but I see parallels.

It makes me feel. It makes me contemplate. It makes me slap my palm to my forehand because I want better for these people, just as I have in my own life. I’m just a person who likes to watch TV and films, listen to music, and sometimes it reminds me, “Hey, you like what you’re hearing or seeing because it reminds you of something about yourself.”

So, as I said, I checked out Crocodile again, with lead character, Mia. When the episode starts, we are 15 years in the past, and Mia and boyfriend accidentally hit a young man riding a bicycle after they had been out all night clubbing, full of drinking and cocaine. The rider is dead, so instead of calling the police, they throw his body and bike into a nearby freezing river. Flash forward to current day. Mia is successful as an architect, with a nice husband and son. She travels to the city one weekend to give a speech at a forum. The boyfriend from all those years ago has shown up at her hotel room with news. He has decided to turn himself in; only it won’t be just himself he turns in because everyone, by law, will now have their memories extracted through a small sensor applied to their forehead while a device projects the memory visually for on-lookers, in order to see exactly what happened, all in efforts of divulging the truth. In effect,ย  memories can and are being harnessed. Well, poor ole Mia has to go and kill the ex-boyfriend; she has a son and husband, but he refuses to stand down. Now, unfortunately in the mix of killing this guy, there was a small accident outside on the street while she’s cleaning up her mess in the hotel room. Now, an insurance adjuster begins work on the claim of the person hit, but only slightly injured on the street, and low and behold, by looking through a series of people’s memories of the accident, Mia is seen. Facial recognition is done, and a very sweet, kind, soon to be killed insurance adjuster sets out to get Mia’s visual memory in order to close the claim. Unfortunately, once Mia is hooked up, the adjuster also sees Mia has gone all Patrick Bateman, American Psycho on her ex, and now the adjuster, her husband and her toddler must be eliminated. Had there been anything visual depicting the demise of the toddler, I wouldn’t have watched, and actually, this is all quite watchable. Black Mirror manages to do that, but it leaves you with lots going through your mind and a bunch of raw emotions. Anyway, back to Mia, it looks like at the end that maybe something good can still come from all of this when she’s watching her son sing in a school play. However, Mia didn’t realize that next to the toddler’s crib lived his pet gerbil, and there again, all CSU had to do was attach the censor to see everything that gerbil saw. And so in file the police, and we know that in mere moments, Mia will be arrested. (I do wonder if part of her won’t be relieved, as all throughout these murders she feels to be necessary, she violently vomits and cries.)

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You might ask what I relate to in this. Have I thrown someone into a freezing river? Of course not.

Not yet. ๐Ÿ˜‰

My first thought went to the title and the probable correlation to crocodile tears. I mean, I think it’s a safe bet most people might think it a possibility that that’s why it’s called Crocodile. I was wondering about Mia – if her tears were real throughout this nightmare of a scenario, or if they were, in fact, crocodile tears, and I wonder that often myself, even when I’m in the middle of crying them. Over the years, somehow something has developed, most likely a defense mechanism, where I can cry, but not really feel emotion attached to those tears. The program’s events unfold due in large part to her bad decisions with drinking and a bit of drugs, which is something that often times you will hear people with Bipolar discuss. We self-medicate, especially before we even are diagnosed and know that we have the freakin disorder. And it can really wreck our lives and the lives of those around us.

But the overall driving force as I see it in this particular episode is Mia not wanting to lose her family, with her son specifically mentioned, and I have one son who I have feared losing in the past, so that immediately reached out and grabbed hold of me. It seems to take her very little time to decide to take the life of a toddler later in the show; however, and I don’t know if that in my opinion is more of a statement on a mother wanting to do anything she can to stay with her child, or a statement saying that society has basically lost its ever-loving mind and sense of decency, even if you fear losing your loved ones. Probably both.

What I am saying is this. The predominant theme and what truly reached out to me and grabbed me… what I really related to with Mia… is that she has this history and current day issue of bringing alcohol into the situation and making things worse by not thinking things through (I mean, of course she’s gonna get caught! how will that affect her family? allow these people to live!) and with making very hasty decisions, with lack of attention to detail (that gerbil again) with not slowing down and just taking a damn breath, with an ever-dwindling moral compass, and most importantly allowing her fear to dominate and dictate, she has ruined everything for herself and her family.

Like, it was gonna be ruined, but on say a 1-10 Scale, maybe a 5 kind of ruined if she just would’ve fessed up about the bicycle boy 15 years earlier (she wasn’t even driving) versus the rating of 11 now on the 1-10 scale because, after all, she’s killed like, everybody.

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Exhale.

Anyway, being overly emotional can destroy lives, and it can destroy relationships. It can destroy goals, and it can create a tremendous amount of upset and upheaval and that’s where it got me, because I have done that. I am 100% certain that just due to the nature of the beast, I’ll do it again. Then, that ending, when we think maybe just hopefully despite all this carnage, at least if Mia can be happy with her family, maybe there’s some sort of something resembling good still possible. Ah, but the lyrics. Listen carefully. She hears her son singing, “we could have been anything that we wanted to be” and later, “the decision was ours” all while police officers were filing into the back of the school looking to arrest Mia.

I have to say even though she did all she did, my heart went out to her, because I know just how far south things can go, and how fast they can do it… that’s often what Bipolar is, and does, to me. I can see both sides, even if I don’t want to be able to do so.

“It’s a blessing and a curse.” – Adrian Monk from Monk. But that’s a different show.

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Still. True that, Adrian. True that.

 

(Photo credits: Google Images)

Black Mirror Episodes Rated

2.19.19

Have you guys watched Black Mirror on Netflix? I fell in love with the mostly bleak (that’s putting it mildly) and dark show, that had a few episodes sprinkled in that ended happily. I think this show is very entertaining, but I also think it’s pertinent as hell because, as shown in this series, we already have a lot of the technology that can cause serious problems, and if we don’t have it now, it’s just beyond our reach, and the idea of exploring whether or not we *should follow through with these advances of which we’re capable is intriguing to me.

I also see a lot of mental health issues to discuss in these episodes. Really, off the top of my head, I can’t think of one episode that doesn’t dive into the human psyche. Think: Arkangel, Be Right Back and White Bear!

So, I’m saying Black Mirror is a smash-up of human psyche, tech advancements and the Twilight Zone? Yes. Yes, I am.

Anyway, attached here is a YouTube clip ranking the 20 episodes. I agree for the most part; however, I think the Metalhead episode is easily the best, hands freakin down!

In future entries, I’m going to try to dig into a few of my favs and share where my head is with each, but I can’t promise. I’m in a sort of survival mode right now, so sometimes writing sounds good; sometimes not so much.

If you watch Black Mirror, what do you think of my ramblings and the ranking piece below? I would love to hear.

Obviously if you watch – spoiler alert!

YouTube Mind

2.18.19

Lately, I’ve done nothing. Well, I’ve survived.

I mean seriously, I’ve been watching YouTube clips with people explaining movie endings, or the top ten most secretive, yet oh so fantastic, horror films on Netflix. Ugh.

I’ve not written. I’ve not created. I don’t know that I’ve had an original thought.

But, thus far, I have survived. Maybe that’s enough for now. โœŒ

What Makes a Psychopath

I am recommending an interesting documentary that I watched on Netflix.

“What Makes a Psychopath”

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It is about psychopathy – how to’s in early detection, backgrounds and upbringings, various treatment methods, etc. Some subjects are young and in juvenile facilities; some older and in prison. Details of their crimes are discussed. I did not find it problematic, but I’ll throw out this could be a *trigger. If you are able to watch this doc, just shy of an hour, you’ll learn that you probably do know, or have known, a psychopath. You’ll learn about the 20 Trait Scale used in diagnosis. You’ll learn about upsetting and tragic childhoods. You’ll learn of one test using an MRI and photos, proving psychopaths have 7% less grey matter in the limbic structure than does a non-psychopath. You will hear of a test in its infancy about seratonin drugs coupled with shocks the subjects were willing to inflict on other subjects, as well as being introduced to a juvenile facility working with teens who are showing lack of empathy and how a rewards system aids in anti-ricidivism.

I learned a lot, and it’s important and worth the time.

I hope you enjoy, and if you watch it, please comment below.

*Disclaimer, I’m not saying those of us with Bipolar or any MI is a psychopath. I just found this terribly interesting. Anything to do with the mind and brain fascinates me.*

 

Wicked Whisper (possible trigger)

This is one of those posts. The is honesty. This is transparency. This is terribly sad. This is triggering. This is heartbreaking. This is episodic.

This is not my end.

This is an absolute for me when I’m so utterly low, depressed and anxious.

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I’m furious with how much I hurt; how often I’m in pain and its intensity. I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed with having to continue in pain every single day, especially when considering how rapidly my body is breaking down, and knowing it will only get worse, according to doctors, but more reliably my experience.

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I’m starting to hear that faint voice again. I hate her. She’s very much the sexy seductress. I’ve heard her before. I’ll hear her again. She’s whispering to me, trying to manipulate me.

And so, I give my husband all of my medications for him to hide and protect in case she becomes wholly and completely convincing. That way I go to sleep knowing that tomorrow I will not swallow all those pills. ๐Ÿ’Š๐Ÿ’Š๐Ÿ’Šย And that takes a lot of strength right now because I really want out. A lot of strength. ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ’ช

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Preventative measures and plans are important for those with any mental health issues during times they experience crippling despair. If you don’t have a plan, I recommend working with your providers, family and friends to put one together and to use while you still have your senses about you. For example, I give my husband my meds. I know to speak to my therapist straight away. We can make an appointment with my psychiatrist if need be. We even know which mental health facility I would be checked into if things became too far out of control. I’m held accountable to family and friends.

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(MY3 Suicide Prevention)

I urge you to consider putting together a Safety Plan in order to spare both you or your friends and family members a devastating loss.

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GONE

Just laying on this bed.
Thinking all sorts of things.
What I could have said.
Now it’s too late.
Like molded bread.

Just want to disappear.
Drag myself right outta here.
Hop in the car, slam the door.
Driving faster and faster,
Pedal to the floor.

Where am I going?
Exactly what is the plan?
Drive till I’m outta gas?
Change my identity in a flash?
Careful to throw every part of me in the trash.

By the time somebody figures out
That I’m gone without a doubt
Gone without a trace
Remembering tears streaming down my face
Too late for you with your clumsy embrace.
Gone, hoping to find a happy place.

By @jenm_curry – 2019

(Twitter & IG accts – @jenm_curry )

BP 1 and 2 Visual

Easy to read and understand core differences between Bipolar 1 and Bipolar 2. Any other questions about Bipolar, let me know. I’ll try to answer. Plus, the #bipolaruninvitedblog family might have helpful feedback. โœŒ

 

*It was pointed out to me that psychosis is not listed. Perhaps because psychosis only occurs in some with Bipolar? I’m super lucky (insert sarcasm here) to be BP 1 with Psychosis. Many can be BP 1 and not experience psychosis.*

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Dear Ruiner

(A sort of Letter to the Editor, if you will.)

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Dear Ruiner,

I’m aching tonight. I’m tempted to beg of you to cut me some slack. Please, just a break? You’ve had hold of my knees for years. Grinding, little pebbles in my knees. Pain while walking with insides made of gravel.

A while later, you grabbed the ankles. Crack. Super to shop in the shoe departments, and find shoes I like. Gotta buy double, though. Why? Because some days I wear a Size 8, and other days, when my ankles are especially painful and swollen, I upgrade to the same shoes except in a Size 9. On especially fun days, one foot requires the 8 and the other the 9. When I look down, I think of circus clowns. The ones with the sad faces. I’ve always hated clowns. They look demented.

Not so long ago, I began hearing noises come from my shoulders. Crunch. Choosing a blouse in the closet and removing it from the hanger, the pain is not only intense in my shoulders, but added to it?ย  The action, the movement, to slide the garment off the hanger shoots burning pain down my arms as if lightning had struck my neck and was sending electric currents through my wrists.

And now you attack my hands. Deform. Was it not enough when Fibro-Fog began snatching words here and there and stealing memories? Now you must also charge a hefty price in order to be able to type and share my thoughts, my stories. What a thing to do to a writer. I awake groaning for help. My husband grabs the Vicks or a prescription gel to apply to my hands. We then get the gloves on my hands and wrap them in a heating pad.

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All of that has caused many nights full of tears. All of that has made me sometimes want to hide under blankets all day and cry. I will admit, a few times I’ve almost lost faith, or questioned why this is allowed.

But, we need to clear a few things up, you and I. Let me tell you something. You will not ruin me. You will try, and you will continue to cause me much agony, and I fully believe it will be far, far worse before it is ever better. But you see, I have something you do not. I know where you reside, Ruiner. I know the one you call Master. I know of the darkness and despair. Here is something wonderful that I know. Your black void and even this place is not my home. Earth, this world, it’s not my home. My home is full of light and love. I will feel no pain. I will bask in peace and praise my Savior. I will spend time worshiping, singing, dancing, kneeling – all things you’re robbing me of right now. I’ll get through this, your vile acts against my body and mind, but ultimately, I’ll go on to my true home. My time here is but a blip. I will go on to meet the Creator, and you will remain a slave to something evil and perverse, forever enduring that same pain you inflict upon me.

Go on and give it your best shot!

You. Lose.

Jesus. Wins.

Not Even One

I’m so lonely. I’ve been in this quaint, picturesque, small town for almost three years now.

I do not have one friend.

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It’s not as if in the area back where we lived most of our lives I had dozens of friends I went out with, but I certainly had more than where I am now.

With my physical limitations, being a caretaker to my mom, a parent to a Bipolar teen and wife of a hospice chaplain, I cannot make plans and confidently, consistently meet penciled in dates because I hurt so badly one way or another. Back home, if I had to cancel, the people around me knew me and the situations well enough and understood. We just rescheduled. I don’t have that luxury here. I am just so, so lonely. Like crying buckets of tears alone kind of lonely, and I’ve no clue how to better my situation.

Hope you guys are doing well. Thanks for being part of the #bipolaruninvitedblog family. Take care of yourselves and each other when and how you’re able. โœŒโค๐ŸŒน

White Light

Warmth washing over me, inside me. What is this? I’m no longer of the world I know, but I’m somewhere; I exist. Here, there is no more pain. No more screeching headaches. No more manipulative, lying, obsessive thoughts. No more lying voices. No more roller coasters, though I must say as a child, I loved them. No one tells you that adult roller coasters are an entirely different organism than those you ride as kids.

No more bad. Only a fluidity; a new ability to glide instead of limp and stumble. Instead of plotting my way along, one knee giving more than the other; one hip higher than the other, cock-eyed, bones rubbing against one another, pain searing throughout.

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There are voices here too, but not the usual voices that plague me. Not the voices telling me that I’m not worth it. I’m suddenly feeling that I’m golden. No more telling me I can’t do it. Oh, I certainly can do it now. Go ahead, give me a thing to do. Ask me to display an unforgettable feat. Because right now, I can, and I want to show the world. I want to show family. I want to show friends. I want to say look, “Are you sorry for calling me pill-popper behind my back? Have you any idea the damage you did with that? The heap of scrap and garbage I felt like?”

More voices. I look, hoping I’m in the right place. The spirits I sense here are the ones with smiles and something akin to fairy dust that flies and bounces around in the air as they move. There are songs; must be similar to the sirens and what the men, proud of their ships, would hear just before their destruction and demise. I’m not going that direction, where I can only imagine how dark it is. How dank. How frightening. I wonder about that place. Are they all punished in the same way, or does each have to live their individual hell every day? Customized terror and punishment, I imagine.

Does that mean I will have a customized heaven? I’m going. I’ve been tired. I’m floating away. I’m listening to the voices urging me along, telling me happiness is about to engulf and transform me. I see the angelic white light. This is the stuff of Sunday School classes. And I know now, I’ve made it. My proverbial thorn in the side is about to be removed and healed. Removed by God himself. I finally unclench my fist, and let go in sweet surrender.

EPILOGUE: The character above who you’ve come to know is Nameless, and she had it all wrong. I’m here to tell you about Nameless because she cannot tell you the rest of her story. You see, Nameless had been in the hospital for quite a while, complaining of hearing voices, feeling extreme anxiety and having frequent, severe headaches. So, the doctors in the facility agreed and decided upon a miracle procedure to help Nameless. Ice pick lobotomy. The nurses with their caring, nurturing voices, all dressed in gleaming white, retrieved Nameless from her room and told her how much better she would feel from that point forward. That she was lucky; that many of the other residents didn’t have the privilege of making their way down the long, white hallway with the magical door at its end.

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Nameless doesn’t recall much now, and she can speak even less, but if she could, she would tell the other patients not to go down the white hallway. That down there, they will project an ice pick into your eye socket. Nameless would tell them her headaches are worse now, that she has permanently black eyes that never recovered, and that she can’t remember her husband or recognize her grandkids. That she can no longer crochet. However, Nameless can’t even speak now.

The truth is, Nameless thought she was going to heaven, but instead came out having barely survived the depths of hell, only to live in that hell everyday, parked in a wheelchair in front of a window with a view of a parking lot while drooling, and utterly terrified of what resides along the other hallways.

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Sever

Looking through old photos.

Dreadful, miserable, intolerable, draining, exhausting, depleting, frightening, life-sucking.

All of these words describe my Bipolar occurrences and my chronic illness/pain issues.

What else do these words describe? Reactions to me when I seek help. What’s worse, I experience this in my own home.

Yes, I’m sure I become a lot to listen to because there’s a lot going on; and honestly, I wouldn’t want to listen to me, either. However, I would like to think I would respond on some sort of meaningful level rather than receive a quick platitude and then watch the person I’m talking to go right back to looking at that phone.

I know I would behave differently than what I receive sometimes because I help my son with his issues of Bipolar and anxiety. Yes, he can be a lot. It can be hard, but it’s just what you do.

I don’t get why…..

I guess I don’t even know what else to say.

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I will sign off and look at faded, slightly torn photos and wonder if eventually they will tear and sever in two.