when it rains, it pours TRUTH

it’s been quite a long time since I have updated you guys. If you are someone with bipolar or someone who suffers with depression you can understand why I have not posted in a month. I have been going through a lot. My family has as well, but mostly I’m going to be speaking about myself… my part. It’s just been a month of depression due to being out of meds for two weeks and then playing catch up and trying to mentally level back out after getting the meds back. But then on top of that there’s been a lot of physical pain and a lot of spiritual, mental health as well as physical health issues. Financial issues too.

lately the circumstances of my life seem keen to prove to me the legitimacy of the saying, “when it rains, it pours.”

one of the biggest issues – my pain management doctor’s office called me yesterday before my appointment to let me know that I had a $665 balance with them and that they would not see me until I have that paid… in full. At which point I asked does that mean no medication refills as well to which they replied, yes. They claim they have been sending bills to my address (I have not received a bill) but my main question was… if I’ve been a client of yours for 3 1/2 years, why in the world would you know that I would pay my bills and then just decide to stop all the sudden and not pay the $665. And when I was checking in for my appointments (almost monthly) why didn’t anyone ever flag me and let me know my outstanding balance was/is building up. So, I’m furious and angry and upset and just so downtrodden and worried and sad about that. I wanna scream and cry all at once. one reason I’ve not written many blog entries lately is due to the pain in my hand. I was supposed to receive an injection for it yesterday, but then I got that call.

as for the issues my husband and i are facing, we did have a date night a couple of days ago. had dessert at ihop and started some interesting and fun conversations using “conversation starters for couples.” it’s from gary chapman, and i love the devotional he did with his wife. we have had a few pitfalls already since deciding to stay together and work it out. in particular, there was a decision he made solely without discussing it with me, and it cost us a significant amount of money we just don’t have right now. he also lied to me. nothing huge, what kids would call little white lies (or is that grandparents who say that) and the white lie was done because he was fearful it would make me think I should go through with the separation. i get that fear, but now is absolutely not the time to lie to me. but we talked and sorted through it. and as soon as we are financially able to see a therapist, we will. i guess the the point is, we’re working on communication.

we’re doing a different thanksgiving this year for a few reasons. we’re going to have two or three papa murphy’s take and bake pizzas and their garlic cheese bread, as well as birthday cake and ice cream for my mom. we will do that wednesday, then hit a movie or two on Thanksgiving. what about you guys that celebrate? what are your plans?

do y’all do black friday sales? me – only online!

(image credit: LJworld.com)

Time Perception

Time moves differently in heaven and hell. I’ve heard that in science fiction stories and have seen it on cable shows such as American Horror Story. I believe it and wholeheartedly agree.

When manic, my mind races so fast that I feel as though an hour is packed into a single minute. What is more dreadful, I find, is the perception of time during a depressive state. I have just come out of a depressed dip that only lasted a few days, but upon emerging back into the world, I thought I had been down for weeks.

(Getty Images)

Luckily, I saw my doctor last week and was given some advice to help my sleeping issues, which I truly believe caused a lot of the mess I experienced. That depression was coupled with an intense amount of anxiety, and the two together kept me down, asleep for the last few days, partly because my mental state knocked me down so badly that I became physically ill as well.

Surviving the bouts of depression and anxiety feels as though it takes years because of how intense those feelings are and time truly moves slower and faster all at the same time. I’m glad I’m getting better and hope it continues.

How are you guys?

Do you experience time warps and skews?

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.

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?

A L O N E and i do not understand why

Why don’t people want to be in my life, I wonder. God, I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I just want to die. It’s the truth. Lots of people, especially with mental illness do, but I’m just sharing about it. Here’s my truth.

I have a loving husband who works so hard and lots of hours.

I have a mom who is disabled and we don’t always get along so well.

I have a beautiful, talented son who is doing what he shouold be doing, which is growing and living and moving on.

I have sisters who will not speak to me. Not for years.

I had a best friend of decades stop speaking to me last year, and I still have no idea why.

I have one long distance friend. We are very close. But I don’t see her. And she and I don’t talk nearly as much as we used to.

I have another very good friend who I talk to a few times a week, and sometimes I see her when passing through my hometown.

I have a few supportive, lovely, online friends who understand Bipolar.

Beyond this, I’m alone. And I’m very lonely.

And of course I know I have God. But I want people, too. I want phone calls and hugs and interaction. There are so many people I’ve tried to befriend. I genuinely care for these people, and I truly don’t think they give a toss about me.

It’s getting bad. I’m feeling so low. Considering my old ways of self-harm. Feeling desperate, and there are moments of feeling suicidal.

This is not all to do with Bipolar, but it certainly doesn’t help.

Why am I sharing this? To be accountable, on the record, and in order not to do something bad to myself.

Thanks to you few who truly care. I know who you are.

Only Took One Scene

8.26.19 blog entry

Hey, guys. How are you? Please comment below. I sincerely wonder and care about you, and I would love to cultivate some friendships, and I always want this to be a place where people can reach out for help. ✌🤝💛

If you know me in real life or have been a long time online friend, you know I think a lot about nature vs nurture. I’m not obsessed with it, but I’m close. I think if we could figure out a few key things such as emotional/sexual trauma, physical trauma, and if we could map brains to locate the gene (misfiring of synapses…whatever brains do) to find that kink that predisposes us so that we’ve ticked off all the boxes and ding! ding! ding! we develop Bipolar Disorder (or whatever MI plagues you), maybe we could kick Bipolar’s ass. If we could find the correct connection. Crack the flippin’ code.

All of that being said in order for you to understand I think about it a lot. My writing isn’t all that technical tonight because I was forced to take a pain pill. My knee pain… I couldn’t stand it anymore. So, hopefully you follow this BS I’m putting out there. If you don’t, please don’t give up on me. Read some entries before and after.

So, what got me thinking about this for the 500th time is something I saw in a movie. It involved a young girl, maybe 10 years old, and her dad. He was telling her a nighttime story, totally making it up. They laughed and also had a bit of a serious talk. It looked lovely. As we watched the movie, I paused it and told my husband that I wasn’t told bedtime stories, nor were books read to me. Not with my mom. I lived with her 90% of the time, especially when she moved me over four hours away from my own dad.

Anyway, I didn’t have the picturesque house with the cute fence, a dog, conversations about what I learned in school that day, no happy “please pass the potatoes” moments during dinner. Dinner was filled with yelling and screaming. Often dishes were broken. Sometimes, when Vodka was involved, things got worse. I had to stop decorating for Christmas because my step-father would destroy the decorations. I had a cat I adored. Step-dad didn’t like cats. Kept scaring her, and she ran away. My step-father did give me a dog, it’s true, but within a month it was his dog.

So, when I saw this scene in the movie, I told my husband that I felt robbed.

However, I then recalled having the best talks with my dad when I visited him. Funny, encouraging, inspiring, sad… just something real, and definitely love.

My mom hates that my dad treated me better than he did her. I only have her story to go by as to their lives together. They divorced when I was two years old. I don’t remember them together. And yes, I saw him treat my step-mother badly sometimes, but he and she worked it out. My dad was good to my sisters and myself. I guess sometimes you can be a better parent than spouse, especially when dealing with MI. And to be fair, I didn’t live with him, but I loved him and our relationship. My mother recently told me she wishes my dad would’ve lived longer so I could see his true nature. There are so many things wrong with that. F**k you.

He died when I was 15 years old, my sister 14 years old, and the baby sister had just turned 4 years old. He died of a heart attack playing baseball with his church league. And something broke inside us that day. Sadly, my two younger sisters would sustain even more painful losses, and though we rarely communicate, I think of them often, and I pray for them. My step-mother as well.

I reckon I’m babbling. But that scene in that movie brought out so many things. Then, once I experienced the entire movie – wow! Extraordinary film written and directed by Casey Affleck. He also stars in it. “Light of My Life.” Check it out.

Thanks for listening. I’m sure you’ve all been there. Something you see or hear or even touch brings back a ton of memories. Or maybe they’re just right there under the surface begging to escape. I felt better after crying, and I feel even better after typing this up. Maybe if I did this more often, I wouldn’t be as ill. Hard to say.

So my thoughts on nature vs nurture. Both. Both can suck it up and combine with being “predisposed,” and here come the mental illness.

But we’ll get through it. Love and light to you all. 💜☮

(📸 credit: Google images)

Extremely Depressed

8.2.19 blog entry

I’ve been having trouble writing lately.

20190802_0224511436700056169712416.jpg

I am so depressed. There is no reason I ‘should’ be. Nothing newly bad or upsetting has popped up. Things are status quo. Even a few big, fun things on the horizon. Doesn’t matter though. I can barely get up. I’m sleeping a lot. I am starting to feel that paranoia biting at me.

20190802_0224176429357350206201693.jpg

Just gotta keep trying.