Autoimmune

The Truth

10.11.19 Blog Entry

So, I was going to write an entry about things that help lift my spirits when I’m low, or things that help calm me when I’m anxious.

Hell, here is the list.

So, there are some youtubers I’m enjoying watching – commentary with a sarcastic humor (not sarcastic mean, sarcastic funny). Anyway, a couple are James Marriott and Ryland Adams. Rich Lux beauty influencer and commentary. And that fan! LOL! Also, a few channels about music/films/tv are Whatculture, Watchmojo, Looper, and some who post celebrity and artist videos the Zach Sang Show. I also watch animal rescue channels like Hope for Paws and donate $5 when I can.

But none of that is distracting/helping me.

Of course, I’m happy to see Steven working and being so motivated. Proud of him. I’ve cuddled with the cat. Trying to enjoy conversation with Kirk and mom.

Nope.

I began a subscription to skillshare.com and am taking a couple of classes on it. One is about how to start a YT channel and the other is about drawing birds. But that’s not inspiring right now.

Marvel movies, sci fi and fantasy magazines, even audiobooks are not doing it for me.

Sometimes I can distract myself for an hour or so playing Spades or Scrabble. Has it been working? You guessed it – no.

Music is the one thing that might be helping a bit to finally sleep. I’ve had so much joint pain the last several nights. I lie there and try to sleep and just moan and cry in pain despite the medication to help it and melatonin even sometimes so I can sleep. It’s at that point, if I’ve had to take a crap-ton of meds that I might fall asleep listening to some fav music, but for a long, long time now, we’re talking fall asleep around 5 a.m., and it’s certainly not a restful few hours of sleep thereafter. Nothing restorative.

I’ll be honest. I’m pissed. And on top of all of that, our finances are in shambles. I think we’re gonna have to move. This is EXACTLY why I never unpacked and decorated. Didn’t want to believe this house could really be mine, and I was right. I’m just gonna throw everything away. My husband has an important job in ministry, but it does not pay well, and I’m disabled. So, keeping it real, we’re not gonna retire someday and have a nice house. So, why keep my shit. I’m just gonna toss it. And I’ve got to figure out a way to work despite my disabilities.

I just wanna go home.

It’s probably not good that I say that because years ago when I first had my manic psychotic break, until I was diagnosed and properly medicated and seeing a therapist, I would freak out and have spells and they always started with, “I wanna go home.” I don’t know where that is because I had never lived in a nice house/home/situation until I had my son, so don’t bother wondering or asking. I’m so tired.

I really hope you guys are feeling better than me. Didn’t intend to be a downer, but this blog is supposed to show all sides of my life with Bipolar Disorder. I could have written about things that sometimes help me feel better and cope better, but today, those things are lies. And I’m finished lying. Here’s even more honesty, if my son didn’t live with us, had his own life elsewhere, I would probably tell my husband I need to go to a mental behavioral hospital.

Fuck.

Maybe I can figure a way out to attend a support group (no charge and multiple people like yourself talking and sharing) or therapy. I think my therapist was charging $50 per session. She doesn’t do insurance (who can blame her, it’s a nightmare), so if I can prove our financial situation is even worse now, maybe I could see her a couple of times a month at $40 a pop. Supposed to be the best country in the world, right?

Yet my constant medical issues continue to drag us down and not allow for a bit better of a life. Even my son is starting to get it. He had to go to the ER. Now, even with insurance, and I was so surprised by his response to a $700 bill. He said, “But I was sick, and my insurance paid some of it. Why are they trying to put me in debt already just because I was sick.” From the mouth of babes, huh? I provided no satisfactory reason to him. He also has asked me so many times, “Why are so many Vietnam vets in our town homeless… there’s a vet hospital here.”

Wow. Umm.

Explained that the best I could. Is it any wonder I’m tired and wouldn’t mind if I just kept on sleeping. Is it any wonder I wanna go to this “home” that I mention when things are slipping out from under me. Losing the plot, I fear. I’m gonna go listen to some music and make myself sketch. Or maybe read from the Fantasy & Science Fiction Extended Edition. Damn it! It’s just gone past 3 a.m.

How are y’all?

Oh What a Difference

11.28.18 blog entry ~ Oh What a Difference

Twenty-four hours ago I thought I would get nothing accomplished today and just prayed I would be able to get out of bed this morning. I was dealing with depression, anxiety and paranoia was trying to set up shop in my mind. Today, a totally different person. This version got things done, got above and beyond bonus type stuff done and feels well.

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With Bipolar, I always know what goes up must come down and all that jazz. I know 24 hours can make all the difference, and oh, what a difference…problem being that it cuts both ways.

I get done what I can on the good days and take the win.

Take care of yourselves and each other. ✌💛🙏💙

 

(Photo credit: Google images Health Magazine)

Honest- Know That Upfront

Honesty, letting you know up front that’s what you’re about to read.

Been sick. Can’t kick it.

MRI said early onset demyelination. That could be linked to two autoimmune disorders I already have, or early detection of MS.

My best friend isn’t talking to me anymore, and I’ve no idea why. It hurts. Badly. Maybe… maybe I’m just too much sadness, sickness, brokenness, cancerous … maybe it’s emotionally too much for her. Maybe she’s afraid my life is infectious.

I mean, yeah, I’ve got issues, but I’ve been there for her for years.

Decades.

I don’t get it. And I have a lot of beauty in my life. And you know what? I think I do a damn good job of sharing that, too.

It’s not just her. Family is crappy towards me as well, but my best friend of 25+ years hurts wayyyy more than judgemental in-laws.

sick-of-it

Just sick and tired right now.

Taking a Beating

Received some concerning news regarding my MRI. Will update once I’ve digested a bit more. In the meantime, sharing a poem I wrote. If people like it, maybe I’ll share more. Love & Peace. Let’s take care of ourselves and each other. ✌💛🙏

ONCOMING TIDE by @JENM_CURRY 2018

Sitting by the phone
Waiting for a call
From family or a friend
But again, nothing at all.

Staring out the window
Maybe I’ll see a friend’s car
But truth is, they’re not that interested
When things start to fall apart.

See, it’s easier to deal with fun me
The one not rotting inside and out
Easier to go along pretending
Hiding things they’ll never know about.

Sitting in the dark
Hoping for a text
Nothing coming through, though
Except what medically happens next.
(And the doctor, he says more tests.)

Look, as far back as I can remember
Ages four, five, maybe six
Been told I was over-reacting
Hypochondriac, crazy chick!

Family calls me pill-popper
Accused of emptying bank accounts
Not even true. But so what?
That’s not what life is all about.

More and more by myself
Husband works, kid in school
Always dreamt of being something grand
What a misguided, loser, failure, fool.

People say count your blessings
Agreed, and I’ve done that quite a lot
But people continue to disappear
Who I thought were friends are not.

Looking forward to the day
Without weighing best methods of suicide
Days filled with my Savior and no pain
Somewhere on the other side.
(I’ll watch for you in the oncoming tide.)

*photo cred from deviantart by diogomoura*

 

 

A Pic Says It Best

Nothing can describe it more accurately than a simple photo.

When Bipolar Depression and Fibromyalgia are kicking your a**.

(Honestly trying to look my best with these supportive pillows, heating pads, ice, Voltaren gel, and no care or energy to comb my hair today. Though, I did manage to drive my son to youth group at church. That’s big on a day like this.)

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Every Day

Every. Single. Day. ~ (Trigger Warning)

So, here’s one.

When I wake in the morning, our dog has to go out, not only to do his business, but also to play and run. It makes me smile. He’s fun, and I also love watching the birds and hearing their songs. Fresh air. Watering the lawn. Stuff like that. Then, I also love watching a cooking show, at least one each day, sometimes more. Fascinates me, all they can come up with and demonstrate. I will listen to music or read a book, and I’ll do some adult coloring. Fun stuff. And I feel good in those moments. I truly do. I do stretches and light exercise. I take my meds for Bipolar (and other mental health acronyms) as well as Fibromyalgia and other auto-immune mess. Meds AND vitamins and supplements.

And just as easily as all of that delight comes each day, so does the internal voice in the quieter moments…the one that says, “just swallow all the pills and you’ll be done with it.”

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And honest to God, if it wasn’t for my family and a few friends who would be upset, I’d chug them now instead of writing this.

I think there is a common misconception that a person is suicidal and goes to the nut-hut (as I jokingly, lovingly call it – hey, I’ve been three times, I’ll call it what I want)…where was I? Oh yeah. I think folks think a person gets help and is no longer suicidal, and I know that’s how it is for some. That’s a good deal. I also know there are many like me who are chronically suicidal, even if unseen on the surface.

Understand this, there is a real reason to be suicidal, it just doesn’t always make itself known to those of you without mental health issues because it’s so well hidden. I have years of practice hiding that. If you could see inside of me – my soul, my brain, you’d be horrified. It is quite possible to have a good day and be suicidal.

So, what is my point? Not a lot, really. Just saying that, at least for me, it’s always there. Chug the pills. Find the gun. Car on, garage door shut. Blah, blah. Daily, I tell the instinct, the inner voice, no. But, I often wonder if one day that voice will win.

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