Ghosted

Ghosted ~ May 8, 2020

I don’t think the term “ghosted” is an accurate description for those unfortunate times when someone you love just cuts you off. Not for me anyway.

Family members – I’m certain I’ve wronged them. I accept this. I apologize for this. I own this. I’m equally certain they’ve wronged me. Yet, my apology and attempts at the most minimal of contact are ignored. And most of the time, I can accept that because I have hope that later down the line, maybe, just maybe we can forgive and get to know each other again.

A friend of 30 years, however… A friend who felt more like a sister than anyone else. The person I thought knew me more intimately than any other person on Earth… That friend who decided to ghost me and cease all communication with no explanation over a year ago, the loss of that relationship haunts me the most. The thing about loved ones suddenly no longer talking to you, no longer wondering about your days… your life, no longer caring about you, is heartbreaking and tragic.

ghosted blog

(photo credit: bing images)

It’s tragic in the way that death is tragic. You don’t know the last time you’re seeing that person that it will, in fact, be the last. You don’t know to count the blessings of every moment of that last time spent together. You cannot go back and say things you wish you could have said… would have said. You can’t go back and do everything just right so that you don’t question yourself a thousand times in the future… Did I say this correctly? Did I not respond in the way I should have? Did I mishear something? Did I accidentally ignore something that should have been addressed? What did I do wrong? What did I miss? If only I could go back.

So no, for me the term “ghosted” is not correct. I miss my friend. I question and blame myself, even if I don’t necessarily deserve it. It’s haunting.

I am not ghosted. I am haunted.

(For more interesting content, check out my latest YouTube video upload:)

Saying Hi To New Followers

1.8.20

Hey, guys & gals. Just wanted to say I’ve noticed some new followers as of late, and I want to say welcome and thanks for stopping by and checking out this blog. I’m busy as of late because I’m trying my hand at starting a YouTube channel. It’s been quite cathartic, actually. Anyway, please feel free to drop a line or several, and let me know about you. My primary goal with the blog and the YT channel is to create a community where we can learn and don’t feel isolated and alone. Thanks, guys. Looking forward to hearing from you.

welcome pic blog

(image credit: bing images)

 

 

MH in 2020 and Memories

I wrote this on FB a little over three years ago. While the last Star Wars film featuring Carrie Fisher is out at the theaters, and going into 2020 and trying to focus on taking better care of my mental health, I’m reposting this here and discussing it and her books on my YouTube channel. Let’s have a healthy, beautiful year.

“Carrie Fisher died today on December 27, 2016. She died a Bipolar Sufferer and Survivor, due to a cardiac event. And that tears at my soul. I can actually hear it ripping apart and shredding.

When I was 15 years old, days away from turning 16 actually, my father died of a cardiac event.

I’ve talked with people in my family, and some believe he also suffered with Bipolar Disorder. (By the way it is a Disease, not a disorder. Ask someone who has it. They can tell you why.)

I don’t know if my dad had Bipolar Disorder, but I think he did. I believe I can remember him self-medicating, though he probably didn’t know why he was doing it. And I know he died from said “cardiac event.” He had survived two prior heart attacks which he called “spells,” and the third heart attack is the one that got him. He was playing baseball, and the doctor said he was dead before he hit the pitcher’s mound, as he fell.

I often wonder if he was internally tired and distressed, and just in need of peace. I have no other explanation for why he would not have gone to the hospital, or why he canceled the ambulances heading toward him for the first two heart attacks.

He was a guy who could make you laugh, and he was charming.

But looking back, even though I was 15 years old, I think I knew him well enough and recall enough to know that there was unhappiness and uneasiness there. And something that plagued him. I wonder if he didn’t want to feel peace, and was therefore overly passive.

The psychiatrists call that “passively suicidal.” I remember one time in one of the mental hospitals I’ve frequented that they would not stop labeling a patient as passively suicidal when she had taken eight Xanax in order to try to sleep. People, she was Tired. She told them she was tired. She told them she needed sleep. She needed respite. She needed peace for a couple hours. She absolutely was not passively suicidal. She just needed to sleep. We don’t always sleep all that much, those of us with Bipolar. That’s why I’m writing this at 2:50 in the morning. That’s why an hour ago, so very upset by Carrie Fisher’s passing and the questions and feelings that it brought up inside me, I had to get up and do a 20-minute hard work out to get some manic rage out of my system.

Miss Fisher’s death has infuriated me as much as saddened me. I believe her unchecked self-medicating drug use before a proper diagnosis, and then later prescription drug use for the Bipolar (because yes, they help us mentally and emotionally, but they take their toll, and with most, it is not even understood why or how they work) and her need for ECT treatments, led to a physically weakened heart that caused her eventual cardiac arrest. I’ve begun research online, and doctors are already floating this theory about the cause of her death. And in efforts to be transparent and maybe reach someone through all of this, I too self-medicated in high school for a time. Alcohol and Cocaine.

This I know for certain, whether it was the direct or indirect cause of her death, I can tell you that her heart was both physically and emotionally scarred. I can tell you that her heart was both physically and emotionally affected and altered forever. I can tell you that she had to take one day at a time for not only her sobriety, but also to survive Bipolar. We often have to take it daily, and sometimes even on the hour every hour in order to survive. I am not talking about being happy or finding joy in the day. Of course, that is the goal. I am talking about days of just surviving.

So usually, I make more sense when I write. I have a better flow and fluidity to what I am saying. There are several thoughts coming from every direction in this writing because that’s what mania feels like. And I’m in that kind of a stage.

Because she was not only Princess Leia. She was so much more of an advocate for those of us that die a little bit each day because of this horrendous thing we have. Followed later by weeks or months, sometimes years, of stability and the ability to enjoy life. And then boom, we’re back down. The boom is pretty ugly.

Mostly I just want to know why my dad had to die of a “cardiac event” when my sister was 4 years old, loved, and cannot remember him. And I want to know if he had Bipolar and was hurting, struggling inside, in secret.

In Silence.

Silence is a difficult thing. I have family and friends who know of my disorder and occasionally read things like this that I share, and they have never even asked questions about what this thing is, or what I feel… what makes it worse, and what makes it better. There’s just so much Damn Silence. And assumption. And Judgement.

I want Carrie Fisher to have never known ECT treatments and what that does to a body, what it takes from you. I want her to never have had the need and experience in order to be a fantastic and appreciated Mental Health Advocate.

I wish she was just Princess Leia.

At least I know that like Leia, she fought, and fell, and gained ground, and always moved forward with Hope.

Bipolar is a struggle for me every day. And every day, I have to start again, build and construct a foundation for that day to find some joy, or at least survival.

Carrie Fisher taught me that every day, there can indeed be A New Hope.”

(Image Credit: amazon)

I Made A Cute Christmas Tree As A Way To Cope YouTube Video

December 12, 2019 ~

Hey guys! I’m feeling so much better. I made a cute Christmas Tree to get outta my funk. In my latest YouTube video I discuss various coping strategies that help me. I would love it if you guys would check it out. It’s nice to put a face with the name, or blog name, as it were.

How are you doing? How is the holiday season treating you? Holidays can be difficult for some. Wishing you all well.

 

Kitty Cat Sleep Elsewhere

Monday, 12.2.19 blog entry

Does it really have to be like this?

My pain management doctor’s office had not been sending me invoices (address screw up) and allowing my outstanding balance to grow. Exponentially! Even though I see the doctor at least once a month and pay a $45 specialist copay, they never told that this balance existed. So, about a week and a half ago, I’m supposed to go in for a procedure, and I’m told on the phone I cannot until I pay my balance. Why they didn’t call before then, I don’t know. Anyway, having no clue what kind of number I was about to hear, I was like, “sure, no problem, how much?” They responded with $665!!! And even though at first they told me I had to pay half of it in order to schedule the procedure and receive medication refills, now today when I call them to pay, they say a new office policy has taken effect. I must now pay all of it, then I can schedule my procedures and a follow up visit and receive prescriptions. They also said from this point forward, every time one pays the copay, if there’s any outstanding balance from past visits that the insurance didn’t cover, one will have to pay that amount at that time. I thanked them for that last bit and said it was a fabulous idea and that every other doctor I’ve ever seen does that so that this does not happen. I admit, I’m sure I had a sarcastic tone. So, it’s there horrendous policy and poor attempts at addressing the issue and communication in general that allowed this balance to become what it is in the first place, and they’ve told me this is happening to many patients, yet they offer no payment plan to help these patients out, knowing when it’s all paid off, the new policy will be in effect. What sort of twisted fuckery is this?! Sorry, but that’s what it is. I don’t know many people who have a free $665 sitting around to slap down, but I need to see my doctor so badly for wrist and shoulder injections. We have our car set to be repaired on December 30th, and I don’t know which one I’m paying first.

My son put it to me quite simply. “Which is more important.” To which I told him that it depended on which point of view you take.

I’m furious. I’m livid. I’m honestly without words, which isn’t so swell for a blog writer, but hey, I’m calling a spade a spade.

Meanwhile, I’m having problems with my psychiatric meds. The psychiatrist told me I could increase the dosage on one med if I needed to – not gonna go into it because my wrist is hurting typing this, and I need to get moving – but the point is that I did. Now, when I’m calling requesting an earlier refill, the front desk rep is not understanding what I’m saying in trying to explain to her why it needs to be refilled early. She said even if the doctor does refill it, I have to pay an extra fee for refilling said med before seeing him again. Nope. Ain’t happening, honey. So, I gotta stay on that.

And then, for extra fun, we had to put some stop payments on some items in my mom’s checking account. I took care of it last Wednesday. She got paid Friday. Today, we woke up to $0 in her account!!!! Yes, since Friday, she’s had $1,500, now we wake to $0 because the items we placed the stop payments on (plus other auto pay bills) went through. And, we had deposited some of our money into her account as well because right now, all monies are being pooled together what with the holidays and car repair, etc. So, they will give us our money back, but it could take up to 10 business days as it must go through claims. WHAT????!!!!

Ridiculous. So, I’m making and selling Christmas decorations despite my wrist and shoulder pain. (Also, selling new and gently used clothes, books, etc, on online garage sales through FaceBook – whatever I can to make money to make ends meet until we get our money refunded.) My son was nice enough to pay for my mom’s copay for a doctor she saw today. We have a few groceries. Electric bill isn’t due for another week. We’ll make it. I’ll figure it out as I always do.

But really… should hard working people who pay their taxes and meet their responsibilities, people who are disabled, should it be this hard for them to receive care?

I just wanna smash something. So, I advised the cat to sleep elsewhere. LOL. Kidding. Gotta laugh or you’ll cry.

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Whoa That Came Out Of Nowhere

10.15.19 blog entry

So, this is a vulnerable but honest and important entry. It’s necessary to discuss this part of Bipolar.

My mood has not been consistent for a while now, but it hasn’t been too terrible as far as extremes. I’m functioning. I’m not always thrilled about it. Sometimes I move too fast and say something I regret, or I exacerbate my fibromyalgia and physically hurt more than normal, but I’m functioning.

Then, boom!

Two nights ago, some serious mania and psychosis set in, full on with hallucinations of someone who was not really there, and then (and this is the part I’m afraid to share but will…) I really wanted to score some cocaine and have enough for a few days. I’ve not done cocaine in over two decades, and I never have a desire to do so. Yet, there it was. Of course, I have no money and more importantly, don’t know anyone who does or sells cocaine. I mean, obviously. Why would I? I used the drug when I was 16 years old for a six month time span relatively soon after my dad’s sudden, unexpected death. My home environment at the time was terrible. Mom always depressed in bed or gone to work, leaving me with a drunken step-father who… and I kid you not… we later found out was a murderer.

blog cocaine

(Image Credit: flickr)

Look, I’m not trying to say I should have ever done drugs, but I am providing some context for the situation.

Anyway, as I was actually physically itching for it, it occurred to me I could crush some of my pain pills and snort them. Now, thank goodness I didn’t totally lose the plot. I spoke to a friend for a while, and gave my meds to my husband. And I took care of the hallucination in the short hallway from our room to our bathroom by simply turning on the light. I took two PRN meds I’m allowed to take per my doctor (PRN meds to help sedate and even things out for issues just like this) and took a couple of Melatonin and fell asleep (finally!) around 6 or 7 a.m. and slept a good, long while. I woke and everything was back to normal. Whatever Bipolar-normal is… sigh.

I think maybe one thing that led to it is my sleeping cycle has become so much worse. Luckily, I was able to secure an appointment with my psychiatrist next week, and I’ll relay all of this, and we’ll work on preventing this from happening again because it was as if a whole new person had taken over my body.

But that’s the trouble with Bipolar. Does that shit to you sometimes. I hate it.