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

Common Denominator

11.26.18 blog entry Common Denominator

I’m not sure why. I have spent hours upon hours in days among days trying to figure it out. My mom once told me not to bother wasting time like that because after all, is the person or persons I’m thinking about even giving me a second thought. Possibly, but even so, they definitely don’t waste time on me with a third thought. And I’m actually not blaming all these people I’ve lost in my life because there have been LOTS, and what is the common denominator? Or rather, whom? Answer is simple. Me. I equal common denominator.

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I think I feel too intensely and describe too deeply and possibly even make others feel guilty about being overwhelmed with and by me. So, now they’re gone. Friends. Family. Even a first middle school aged boy that I liked – and who I believe liked me – even he and his wife won’t accept my friend request on Facebook. Really? And a friend of years has totally quit me. A friend since middle school and who was there for all the important wonderful new stuff, as well as the rough times, and vice versa.

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I think it’s the Bipolar and the intensity that comes along with it. Even though I’d never wish it on my worst enemy, I have often thought that if people could spend a week inside my mind, my body, they could sorta understand. But I can’t do that, obviously, so people seem to continue slipping away instead. I even fear the folks I have left will soon be gone. I’ve deleted my meetup groups. I don’t have it in me to make new friends, only to lose them. Damn. I’m exhausted. Just so tired of it. Actually, I’m just plain sad. Sad and broken hearted. ๐Ÿ’”

Thinking About Dad

I’ve been thinking about Dad.

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For years, I’ve heard friends talking about their dads attending their high school graduation and walking the brides down the aisle. I’ve listened to stories about how much dads love their grandchildren.

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This and so much more wasn’t in the cards for me, as I was only 15 years old when he died.

On top of that, I heard some disturbing things about him after his death, which I now question. Not certain I believe what I heard based upon the source and that person’s past. Or maybe I just want and need to believe that person lied to me.

So, I’m left with a lot of questions. I was also thinking about what I did in the days, weeks and months after he died. How did I cope? Because I know I certainly didn’t cry much. Had I, I think I would have never stopped. So, I threw myself into sports and listened to a ton of music. One song I repeated over and over was Cold November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. I could probably sing you every lyric from memory. Like right now, if you’d so wish.

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So yeah, anyway, where am I going with this?ย Well, it’s more of a rambling tonight, I guess. I did realize a connection between my 15 year old self and my 42 year old self. Both of us turn(ed) to music and physical activity (even though mine is limited now due to health conditions). And I suppose that’s a good way of coping. And I’m learning to forgive, as well as asking to be forgiven. I find it a shame that so often it’s easier to forgive once the person has passed away.

Thanks for listening. Take care of yourselves and each other. โœŒ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ’›

Hug your Dad. ๐Ÿ’™

Cathartic, I Guess

October 25, 2018 Blog Entry ~

Just bawled for 20 mins.

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Sobbed for family lost. Wept due to worries about friends. Cried because of unrelenting physical pain. Then, just let loose because of everything already mentioned and so much more. I wailed. You know what? I actually feel better. Going to listen to my @Halsey mix playlist and sleep…I hope.

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Here’s to all of us who keep putting one foot in front of the other and try to do some good along the way. Share love.

#cryingisnotweak #cryingiscleansing #cathartic #endurance #strength #love #forgiveness #blessed #bipolaruninvitedblog @ Kerrville, Texas

Shout Out

Blog entry ~ 10.7.18

Sincere and honest shout-outs, thanks and love sent to those of you who involve yourself in my life, and allow me to be a part of yours. No matter the distance, the circumstances or the past. No matter if you are also depressed or anxious.

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You, like me, care enough to check in with a friend or family member. This is one of the most important and loving things we can do for each other.

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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. โœŒ๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ™

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*