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.

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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.

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Just gotta keep trying.

A Better Day

7.15.19 blog entry

Better 🌞

Today has been a better day. I wish that I could tell you it’s because of something special I did. Something specific. However, I have done the same thing today as I do every other day, which is trying to do my strengthening exercising and cardio for the sometimes crippling, and most of the time debilitating, fibromyalgia.

Emotionally and mentally I’ve done better today – again I don’t know why. I didn’t read anything special. I didn’t create anything special. I didn’t listen to anything special, or even watch anything special. The best I can remember I was actually in a trance yesterday, and every once in awhile come to and wonder what I had been sitting and doing. I’m not saying I dissociated. I’m simply saying that I totally checked out. Is it possible that that’s what I needed?

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Did I need to just check out more often – give myself that permission – and take care of myself emotionally, mentally and physically!? I don’t know maybe it just all boils down to the damn chemicals just like it always has and always will with Bipolar Disorder. I don’t know.

I do know that I’m thankful that I feel a little bit better this evening. And I know that I’m about to do some drawing and listen to some music, and hopefully continue to enjoy my evening before I fall asleep.

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I hope that all of you guys reading this are doing well and/or getting better. Love and light to you all.🙏✌

Continuing To Try

6.25.19 blog entry

Just a quick note, I’m hurting everywhere. Pain is so, so intense I’ve considered the ER. Fibro flare-up. Arthritis flare-up. Thus, I’m not sleeping, which makes things worse, and I hurt more. So, I’m anxious and depressed about all of the above. However, I looked over the editorial comments I was given for an article I submitted to an online publication last week, and though I am scared shitless to fail again, I changed some things and resubmitted. So, at least I tried, and I know I did the right thing because my son is super proud of me for doing so.

faith

Anyway, as I said, brief tonight, but I just wanted to say I’ve not given up on any front, and I continue to try. Good luck to all you fine folks as well. 🌱✌🍀

(📸:allaboutseniors.org)