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.
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.
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.”
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.