Wicked Whisper (possible trigger)

This is one of those posts. The is honesty. This is transparency. This is terribly sad. This is triggering. This is heartbreaking. This is episodic.

This is not my end.

This is an absolute for me when I’m so utterly low, depressed and anxious.

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I’m furious with how much I hurt; how often I’m in pain and its intensity. I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed with having to continue in pain every single day, especially when considering how rapidly my body is breaking down, and knowing it will only get worse, according to doctors, but more reliably my experience.

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I’m starting to hear that faint voice again. I hate her. She’s very much the sexy seductress. I’ve heard her before. I’ll hear her again. She’s whispering to me, trying to manipulate me.

And so, I give my husband all of my medications for him to hide and protect in case she becomes wholly and completely convincing. That way I go to sleep knowing that tomorrow I will not swallow all those pills. 💊💊💊 And that takes a lot of strength right now because I really want out. A lot of strength. 💪💪💪

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Preventative measures and plans are important for those with any mental health issues during times they experience crippling despair. If you don’t have a plan, I recommend working with your providers, family and friends to put one together and to use while you still have your senses about you. For example, I give my husband my meds. I know to speak to my therapist straight away. We can make an appointment with my psychiatrist if need be. We even know which mental health facility I would be checked into if things became too far out of control. I’m held accountable to family and friends.

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(MY3 Suicide Prevention)

I urge you to consider putting together a Safety Plan in order to spare both you or your friends and family members a devastating loss.

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Oh How Quickly I Forgot

So, some of my psych meds ran out a week earlier than my scheduled follow up. (Still not sure how that happened.) On top of that, I’ve been significantly ill. Now, I’m experiencing days reminiscent of the past. The Bipolar-Unmedicated kinda life, and my freakin’ gosh. I had forgotten just how awful that is!

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Bipolar can be a deceptive (sorry, not sorry) bitch and lie to you, telling you that you were great before meds.

Lying torment of a disease, it is.

Two Sons

Two Sons ~ 9.10.18 ~ blog entry

I have two sons.

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One who loves me, treats me adoringly, helps me in any way he can, is creative, helps his friends, extends kindness to *misfits* at school, and is all around loveable.

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I have another son who has black eyes, misreads and misunderstands things you say, becomes loud, belligerent and cruel, and is not only emotionally abusive, but physically abusive as well.

Unfortunately, both of my sons live in ONE human body. He has Bipolar, and he faces these awful hardships brought with it.

Even sadder, he inherited this from me.

Between our two human bodies, reside four people. I’m glad that we are strong enough to know that when it all settles, we love each other very much and are trying our best.

But my gosh, what a heartbreaking challenge. Within two days, each of us have expressed wanting to be done with Bipolar, done with this world. (I didn’t say that in front of him, of course.)

However, imagine your child coming to you and saying that he feels so awful and hopeless, that mom better take his medication into her room for the night because he is considering swallowing all of them.

So, tomorrow we set out for more help. On this day in particular, World Suicide Prevention Day, I found it important to share our story.

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Love yourselves and each other. Take care of yourselves and each other. 🎗🙏💛✌

Margot Kidder – What Is Known

MARGOT KIDDER, WHAT IS KNOWN ~ 5.14.18

I took a hit today, and the mental health community took a blow.

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As I write down these few thoughts late on Monday night, May 14, 2018, doctors and family officially say Margot Kidder’s cause of death is unknown.

 

Here are things we do know.

We know she was THE Lois Lane. Huge thanks to her for that alone.

When later in life she had a manic breakdown and her Bipolar Disorder became known to any and everyone, she learned what she could about her “disorder” (that’s bulls**t, it’s a disease, but I digress) and how to go about feeling better.

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What is known is that she became an advocate for those around her with mental health issues, particularly Bipolar, and it paved the way to help those of us also unfortunately suffering with Bipolar, like myself and my son.

What is known is that her work will live on, and that I owe her thanks, just as I did with Carrie Fisher.

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What is known is the medication that most of us have to take to survive this cruel disorder is a difficult journey, to say the very least. From the decision to trying meds and surviving side effects, adverse reactions, or hospitalizations, all the way to finding the right combo. (I would not even dare tell you how many meds I have to take to survive. It’s in the double digits. That includes supplements, as well. So many people say it doesn’t have to be that way, and if you believe that, or better yet you live it, I’m glad you’re not faced with the whole ugly mess.) It is incredible to note that Margot had two extremely public breakdowns, one of which included her disappearance for four days and an attempted rape. In 2007, she said she hadn’t had a manic episode in 11 years thanks to orthomolecular treatment (nutritional supplementation), which most quality specialists who care for their patients will discuss with him/her and try if it seems one is a good candidate. (I’m on Depakote, by the way. #TeamJen 😣)

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What is known is that Ms. Kidder was active in the women’s movement, as well as the peace movement. Whether you’re a #metoo believer or not, support the #Dreamers or any other work she did, the attention she drew, the things she said, the slander thrown at her, all of that helped you. Helped us.

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Never forget who came before us and the work they did so that we can voice our opinions.

Look, Bipolar didn’t kill her, but this I can say with zero doubt; this I know. It certainly did not help. There is evidence that each time we experience Bipolar episodes, gray matter is destroyed. Meds, well we talked about that. ECT treatments. 😧

What I want to say is, thank you, Margot Kidder, for all you did to help me as a woman with Bipolar Disorder in 2018.

I once read that you said the scene in the first Superman movie when you and The Man of Steel flew high above the gorgeous, lit city, it was a close depiction to what it feels like flying high in a manic episode.

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I know that you’re flying and free now, and I’m so happy there won’t be a crash at the end of this one.

Just a Day

I saw my psychiatrist yesterday, and there has been a bit of a med tweak. We’ll see if it helps with what I’m calling a bit of a cognitive fog. One thing I really appreciate about this doctor is how he listens and how he doesn’t want to pump me full of meds, doesn’t think that just meds alone are the answer, and is willing and actually aiming to have as little medication use as possible.

I also ordered my favorite essential oils, both calming and energizing, and ordered some cream that helps with nerve pain, fibromyalgia, arthritis, and the like. That could really impact my life, knocking pain levels down from 8 to 6 or 5, even.

Payday is this upcoming Friday, as is Thor: Ragnarok! So thrilled. IMAX 2D with recliners for seats, and free posters, tickets bought, baby! Have heard great things about this one, and I just love Loki. (Wish Magneto would make a guest appearance, but hey, can’t win them all! Loki is definitely a win!!)

I got to see my dear friend this past weekend and play with her young daughter and her dolls and all things sparkly. I’ll see her again in a few weeks to attend a function another friend is throwing. That will be nice, too, introducing everyone to each other.

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Payday, I’ll also be able to join the gym that will offer the warm pool, arthritic classes, nutritionist and physical therapy massages.

Trying to be good, as they say, do what can help me, as well as my family.

Now, this past weekend I was supposed to attend my sister’s baby shower. There’s a lot of history there. Technically, she’s my half-sister, but she and I have hardly ever had much to do with one another, and that’s due to a whole slew of reasons, some understandable and some not. Some were my wrong-doings, some hers/theirs. Anyway, we had been reconnecting and doing well, and then she and my step-family (sister, mother, etc) suffered a horrific loss of a family member, all too young and early and unnecessary. I cannot fathom their pain. I pray for them nightly. However, at that point, even though I tried, she and I fell out of touch. Well, really and truly, she just flat would not reply to me. About anything. Good stuff. Bad stuff. Questions. Attempts to check in to see how she/they were doing. Silly things. Nothing warranted a response, which I guess is indeed truly a response, even if it makes me sad.

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My Dad. Sometimes, I wish he were alive just so I could slap the shit out of him. Just messes around with the lives of those around him, and up and dies and totally bails, leaving us to wade through unimaginable amounts of crap trying to make sense of it all and come out smelling somewhat okay, even if it’s not exactly the scent of roses. Keep in mind, I know what I just typed is not rational. Emotional as hell, though. It’s how I feel. Often. I have hope I will have relationships with these ladies and their families in the future, but there is that saying about the best indicator of the future being past behavior and actions…or something close to that. I butchered it, but it fits this situation, this family, if anyone besides me even wants to call it that, or hope for that anymore.

You get the point.

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Anyway, I’m trying, which is the best I can do some days. I’m gonna have a sandwich and some Halloween candy and maybe color or watch some tv. And I mean, for Heaven’s sake, people were killed in a terrorist attack today in New York when I was there just a few weeks ago. Things could always be worse. So much worse. And there are always reasons for me to be happy and beyond thankful, which I am, but I think I’m allowed confusion and anger sometimes, too. Anyway, this entry has had no real rhyme or reason. Simply a person with Bipolar logging their last day or two, as I set out to do with this blog.

Peace.