Secret Storm

I’m drowning, will you save me? But what if I don’t want to be saved? Will you still try to save me? Today I feel like death, but a week, two weeks from now, I may not feel this way. That is the problem with this ‘disease’. It makes the mind believe things that I wouldn’t normally believe.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do. There is just too much pain I’m going through. Every word I say may be true, so please forgive while I try to silence a voice or two.

I feel like I can’t breathe again. This new medicine I’m on has my mind twisted. It’s been 2 weeks now and I should be feeling better according those who prescribed the pills, but they forget there are the few like me that experience the opposite effects and turn suicidal and homicidal in the first few weeks. If I can convince myself to stay on the medicine for more than a month or two things should start to smooth out as my body adjust to the medicine. Then I fear it will be just like in the past, I will stop taking the medicine and will have to go through all the withdraw emotions. At my age, I don’t think I can do that again.

I don’t know why, but when I’m medicated I’m reminded of every little painful moment from my past. Memories flood my mind and stomp around stirring up so much dust, I feel like I just can’t breathe. Right now, I’m staring face to face with extreme depression, fatigue, suicidal thoughts, impulsivity, risky behavior, and complete feelings of emptiness. Pain lances throughout my body. It hurt before, but never this bad. Tears spring to my eyes for no reason at all. I don’t want to be a part of this world.

I glanced around. The woods were mostly silent, with a few birds chattering in the distance. I inhaled the clean, pine tree air and relished in the calmness of the moment. Hunting season was long over and it was too chilly for camping. I doubted anyone would stumble upon the clearing, or hear her screams for mercy.

She flinched away from my words and touch. Clenching her eyelids tighter together, the heathen’s sobs became more audible and distraught. Her body began shaking uncontrollably, most likely due to a mixture of shock and terror.

“Hush, I’m helping you.” I tried to explain. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I have to kill you. This is the task that the voices have assigned to me. I dare not refuse what they have to say.”

This will make tomorrow a clearer day to see.

Tell me to stop

Tell me to stop.
I probably won’t listen, but still tell me anyway.
Slap me. Hit me. Kick me to the ground.
Tell me to stop!
Put the cuffs on. Arrest me. Put me in jail.
I still don’t think that will make me stop.
Even if I hit the ground face first,
I would get back up and run right into the lion’s den.  
Sorry, I’m trying to get this all up out of my head.
But the voices are shouting again,
And we are not getting along.
You think I’m crazy? You really have no idea.
Tell me all the reasons why it’s wrong,
And I’ll tell you this is the only hell I understand.
I don’t think I’ll ever changed my ways.
Tell me to stop.

My emotions are slamming me into the ground tonight.
Homicidal and suicidal thoughts consume my mind.
But acting on those thoughts take more energy than I’m willing to put forth. 
Tell me to stop.

Impulsive Acts

I sometimes act impulsively because it gives me immediate relief from my emotional pain.

I want to write about what happened to me on Wednesday the 7th, and say that was what caused me to dip into this out of control spiral, that I feel I have fallen into. But I’m not sure that would be the truth. I think it began several days before, but this time I just didn’t recognize the signs.   

Most of the time I come off as seemly ‘normal’. But then there are the times, especially when I’m under stress, that I can no longer hide behind my mask of sanity. I will completely lose all contact with reality, and during this time, I am unable to predict even my own behavior. I will feel rage instead of annoyance, and at other times I will turn that rage on myself.

After days of swinging back and forth on a giant swing, that holds mania at the peak and major depression going backwards, I’ve started thinking of unusually ways to regulate how I’m feeling. If I can’t regulate how I feel, I will shut down completely. At this moment, that is where I am at.

I want to cut myself deep enough that a part of me can be removed, then I can throw that part of me away, and hope something new will grow in its place. I wish it was that simple. With a effortless twist of shinny blade, all my defaults, errors, mistakes, could then be thrown into the garbage. 

Today I'm a Different Person?

I started this blog on December 31, 2005 with a plan in mind. Like a lot of other people I thought about the variety of ways that I could improve my life in the coming new year. Making a resolution is easy. The hard part is following through with that promise made from deep conviction.

A part of me was determined to find the peace that legal drugs had failed to help me discover. So, I wrote out a promise to myself to try something different, to walk down a different path than the one I had been on for the past 20 plus years. Since the age of 18, I had been on some sort of legal drugs, off and on every few months for my psychiatric disorders.

Just a few months before I started this blog, I quit taking the lithium that the psychiatrist had  prescribed for my bi-polar disorder. I hated the way it made me feel nothing. No highs, no lows, just blank wondering around most of the time. When the drugs finally left my body, I felt alive...on top of the world! I wanted to keep that feeling alive for as long as possible. I rode that roller-coaster to the highest possible point and tossed my hands up as I rode it down to the bottom. The hard part was crawling my way back up to the top, feeling like I was pulling the roller-coaster carts behind me.

For 20 years when this ride occurred I would seek the help of whatever quack doctor my insurance would pay for, and take whatever type of drug was offered until my mood stabilized. I never learned how to deal with the highs and lows without using medication. I let whatever the latest pill was, take care of my problems. Problem was, it never took care of the problem. The pills only made it all easier to deal with.

With all this in mind, I started blogging with the determination for the first time in 20 years to ride the roller-coaster without any type of psychiatric drugs. I have to say, it has been an incredible fucking ride! Sometimes I take a sharp left, but then things correct themselves and I’m again going the right way. I have days when things are just not clear, but other days I’m so high up, I can see for miles.

At the end of this year I will have been on here, and off of psychiatric drugs for 5 years. I feel like a completely different person than I was 5 years ago. I’ve learned how to deal with some of my ‘strange’ behaviors, and I’m sure I’ve have a lot more to work on. But I’m doing it on my own terms. Some (law enforcement) may think I still need to be on medication, and maybe they are right, but I just don’t see the same picture right now.

I jump right in. Sometimes without looking.

I’ll do what I have to do, even if it means just simply sitting in front of the police department watching them, and knowing that it’s fucking with their head wondering what I’m doing.

I’m just trying to feel some sort of control. Trying to figure out my own way to stabilize my mood, without using psychiatric drugs.

Life is short, forgive sooner and always keep smiling.

Playing Tag with Satan

Today I fucking love being bi-polar!

All the flowers are gone, so I won't be going out at 3am to pick some strangers flowers, it's too damn cold outside. I'm going to stay in my house and drive myself nuts obsessing over making sure everything is just right for Christmas... Thank you Santa for giving me what I ask for.

Let's put some music on and get some shit done!
Give a new meaning to ho ho ho!
List me as naughty twice.

When We Forget the Past, We Are Dommed to Repeat It

Gritting my teeth.... If I didn’t I would probably bite someone’s head off.

I’ve been in this ‘pissed off at the world’ kind of mood for several days now, and I feel an overwhelming need to get away from everybody and everything. Even if it’s just a few yards, I need some sort of distance. I’ve been extremely edgy, yelling about the things that are not in their place, about how unclean everything is around me, just yelling about everyday stressful things that take place.

When I get like this, I have to write. I do most of my writing at home on my computer, or in my bedroom in one of the various notebooks where I keep most of my more serious thoughts. But every now and then, I escape to one of the local parks. Mostly because I enjoy the feeling of being around the trees, smelling the fresh air, and being able to feel alone with my thoughts for a little while.

There is one park that I mostly tend to lurk around, which is fine during the daytime, but at night this causes a problem with local law enforcement. So, again I started studying/stalking them a little recently to discover a pattern in their activities. This then allows me to spend my time relaxing in my own way at the park during the times I feel the need. It has worked several times without a problem, but every now and then I lose myself into some deep thoughts when writing and get caught. Luckily Officer R was in a good mood this time and let me off with a polite warning. Thanks.

Being bi-polar is very rough. It can lead you down roads you normally would be to frightened to travel, and you find yourself doing things that later leave you wondering what the fuck you were thinking. Such as thinking about cutting myself deep enough to need stitches. But I don’t want anyone to find out, so instead I’ve been inflicting small injuries where others can’t see, or won’t really question what happened. It was just something to shock my mind out of feeling unpredictable, and to slow the racing thoughts. Sometimes that is not enough. Here is where the police come into the picture.

Where I sit at the park, I can see where they are in the distance. I‘ve even done this at other parks in different towns. When I get to the level where I want to do extreme cutting, I go park where they are within a short distance. ( Q-Trip is sometimes a good place to park:) ) Then instead of cutting, I write. From past experiences I know if law enforcement were to view my ‘accident’ they might try to lock me up somewhere. Locking me up actually makes things worse, because the moment I’m left alone, I will cut myself deep. It’s like a part of me says it’s okay now to cut, because if you cut too deep someone will be there to help you. Later is when it messes with my mind.

I’m still finishing up the rest of my thoughts that I wrote the other night, so I’ll post it a little later.

My Mental War Rages On

I want to let go of the pain and let others have it.

I need a vacation or someway to get away from everybody and every stimulant. I feel blank. I can’t concentrate, I feel hopeless, helpless, you know, all the things that come along with having depression. I hate this part of being bi-polar, far worse than having the mania. I felt it coming at the beginning of the week and tried to head it off by doing activities that would lead my mind to other places, but it failed to work. Here it is the end of the week and feelings still linger around like a lost, starving puppy trying to find a home.

I went out a couple nights ago, driving around in my circles, letting the wind blow across my face, just so I could feel something more comfortable. Plus, I also have writers block going on, so getting away from others seems to sometimes help relax my mind. Problem is late at night it’s hard to find a place that is away from everybody, but still a legal place to sit in the stillness of the night air, to gather my thoughts.

I somehow thought I could get away with sitting at one of the local parks after 11p.m. I honestly believed I had until midnight, but the local PD let me know differently. At least they were nice when telling me the parks closed at 11pm, which disturbed my thoughts a little. It made my mind scatter towards reasons like, ‘why was he so nice to me?’ or ‘did he know why I was really there?’

After driving around in my circles for a little while, I settled like a old hound dog, at the end of a newly built road that would eventually led to new housing. I rolled down my car windows and enjoyed the fresh scent of the night air, drifting across the open field in front of me. I took several deep breaths, in an attempt to clear some of the clutter from my mind. But the more I thought about my daily struggles, and the struggles I would continue to have for many more years to come, the more I wanted it all to come to an end.

I let the darkness crept into my mind, and begin eating away any rational thought that might still be floating around in my head. I picked up one of the many sharp objects, I keep within reach at all times, and held the smooth metal in my right hand. Cutting for me, has always been a way to keep me from doing something even more stupid than simply laying open my skin.

I sat in the darkness with only a small light that illuminated one of my many spiral notebooks, and wrote 8 pages without looking up or letting go of the blade. The only thing that finally brought me out of thought, was the sound of sirens coming my direction. I watched a rescue unit, with lights flashing, fly past, followed by someone else with there lights going. I figured law enforcement would soon follow and one of them would surely see me sitting in the darkness. Instead of having to deal with them, or letting them see the small amount of blood that dripped from my arm, I started my car and began to leave the area. Problem was there was only one way out.

He didn’t hit his lights, but drove near my car window and told me he was just checking who was back there. He let me know that it was okay for me to park there and write if I wanted to, and to have a good night. Then he drove off in the direction the rescue unit went. Again my mind went to questions like before, ‘why was he so nice?’, ‘what did he really want?’ I didn’t want to take the chance on him or another officer returning, so I sat for only a few more minutes before I headed back to the staleness of home.

Since that night, all I’ve done is mostly sleep. I slept 12 hours, Wednesday and Thursday night, thinking that would help elevate some of the homicidal/suicidal thoughts from wrapping tightly around my throat and choking out what little life that remains. The bad days have to pass soon. I don’t want to go as far as loading the weapon, and then standing over them as they sleep, debating if I will pull the trigger or not.

When You See My Face I Hope it Gives You Hell!!

Right now, I’m drinking. Not only am I drinking, but I’m a little fucking drunk. Hey! It’s legal! I would drink some more, but I’m out, and I’m damn straight not rolling to the store for more. Plus, all I can get at this time of the day is the 3-point piss water. Nasty shit...bout time to make a trip to Kansas!!

Also, Officer Asshole would love to bust me for that one, and tonight would not be a good night for that type of encounter. I’m in this fucked up mood where I feel like I want to slice the heads off every stupid motherfucker I meet. I could cuss someone out in about 3 seconds flat, which would probably led to a tasering now days. I'm just in a pissed off at the world kind of mood.

Maybe it’s because I’m not sleeping much. I only got about 4 hours last night. I take forever to fall asleep, then I wake up early and can’t seem to close my eyes again. That’s mostly why I’m drinking tonight. I’m hoping the alcohol will help me sleep a little longer. If I do get up early, I’m just going to get out and maybe go for a long walk at some park...maybe Chandler again.

I’ve slowed up on taking the Phentermine, thinking maybe that’s what is making my insomnia worse, but I don’t think that’s the problem. I’ve gone through this in the past when I wasn’t taken the phentermine, still I have to try something to stop the increasingly louder ringing in the my ears that I experience when I haven‘t slept much.

I also did a little research and found out I’m experiencing what is called a Mixed state. It’s when symptoms of mania and depression meet and collide, which can be very dangerous the way I understand it all. I guess it is, because when I’m just depressed I don’t have the desire or energy to force myself out of bed long enough to bathe, let only have the energy to kill myself. All I do is eat and eat everything sweet, until I fall asleep. With the mania, I’m too busy doing a thousand things to sit still long enough to think about dieing. Roll the two together, and I could be in serious trouble. The mania gives me just enough energy to carry out the plans of my depressed mind.

I’ve been thinking about getting on some sort of medication again, but that means calling my OHCA insurance and finding out what doctor I can see; fight with them on the phone for 30 minutes or more, until I‘m ready to just cut my wrist instead. Then I have to call the doctors office, and hope like hell they are not crazy than me; make the appointment; for probably a month or more from now; (which by then I might feel different or I’ve already killed myself); force myself out of the house to go; sit in the waiting room for an hour at least; sit maybe 5 minutes before some motherfucker thinks he immediately knows my diagnosis; get on some fucked up pill that might make it all worse. It’s all guess work.

Okay, this shit is making me lose my buzz. Fuck all you motherfuckers who don’t like the way I am. Want to do something about it...then you call my insurance company, you set up the appointment, you come pick me up and make sure I arrive at every appointment, then you bring me back home and let me be. Yeah, that’s what I thought. You give a fuck as much as I do. I’ve got to get off here before I start letting my true feelings show.

Pain is delicious
Reminds me that I’m real.
Pain organizes me
Defines the boundaries of where I end
And the world begins.

Secretly Suicidal

Mental Illness creates its own vibrant, colorful reality, which is so convincing sometimes, that it is hard to figure out exactly what is real and what is not.

Things have gotten harder to recall the older I get, because my memory seems to be a casualty of my manic depression. When I’m manic, all I remember is the moment, but when I’m depressed, all I remember is the pain. The surrounding details are lost. Hopefully telling my stories is what will keep me alive, even when death is in its most seductive pose.

People always mean well, but they don’t understand that when you’re seriously depressed suicidal ideation can be the only thing that keeps you alive. Just knowing that there’s a way out- even if it’s bloody, permanent - it makes the pain almost bearable for one more day.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the urge to die. Death just sounds like a vacation to me. A place to escape the brutal emotional rollercoaster I'm riding alone. To be somewhere else at times, is what my mind craves. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I’m thrilled to tears to be alive and have what I have. Because I know there are many others who suffer far more than I do, yet continue their quest to live each day to the fullest. At times, I believe the world is wasted on me, and that, I think, is reason enough to die.

This past week I’ve felt like I had a monster living inside of me. I think I’ve been rapid recycling. For awhile I savored every smell, lingered over every sensation, and marveled at every creature comfort. But then the inevitable happens, my brain chemistry shifted and my mood plunged back down to despair. I believe I deserve to suffer, and crave the suffocation black nothingness.

Attempting suicide or serious cutting usually jump starts my brain chemistry. Problem is if I cut myself too deep, that means a trip to the ER, with lots of questions, so I won’t seek assistance. Years ago I was scolded by a doctor for being an ‘attention seeker’ and a nuisance. He was so unsympathetic that he refused to give me anesthesia while stitching up my self-inflicted wound. I was dismissed as someone who was wasting their time and I was not deserving of the same care as other injured people

It was never about the attention- I was just trying to relieve some of the emotional feelings, and I went too far. When I cut, I feel focused, appropriately punished, and a bit more in control of myself. I might even be smiling afterwards, because at that moment, I’m feeling more sane than I’ve ever been in my life. So, I will continue in secret. This wound I know how to heal.
________________

My manic phase got me in trouble again last week. It sent me around and around the corner at least 3 times the posted speed limit, and sooner or later I knew some cop would be waiting for me on the other side, eagerly jingling his handcuffs. Luckily I wasn't arrested, but I do have to make an appearance in Sand Springs Court. Since this post is getting long, I'll finish writing about it tomorrow.

This is as Normal as I Get

A person sent me an email the other day after they spent a little time on my site, and asked why I wasn’t currently taking medication for my bipolar disorder. He also said maybe I should be willing to try some of the newer meds that are out there. The thing is, I have tried many of the anti-psychotics out there. Too many to name each one.

All that I have tried over the years, leave me with some type of fucked up side effect, that is worse than living with the wild rides.

Here are what some of the atypical anti-psychotics can cause:

Metabolic Syndrome, increased risk for cardiovascular disease
Major Weight Gain (we're talking 50+ pounds in a fairly short time here)
Akasthisia (uncontrolled restlessness--feeling like you're jumping out of your skin)
Tardive Dyskinesia (irreversible, involuntary, dyskinetic movements)
Neuroleptic Malignant Syndrome (potentially fatal inability of body to regulate core temperature)
Diabetes
Loss of sexual orgasm.

Seroquel (another atypical) induced diabetes, massive weight gain (>100lbs) and metabolic syndrome in me. Abilify caused akasthisia and eye twitching.

And this is just a few of the problems I experienced while using these drugs. Now on the other hand, there is marijuana. Marijuana causes you to have the munchies, but other than that, there are no other fucked up side effects to worry about. When I’m having a really bad day dealing with my bi-polar disorder I want to smoke. And I don’t have to worry about involuntary body movements, or gaining 100 more fucking pounds. Their ‘wonderful’ drugs caused more problems than any street drug I have ever used. That’s why in the past 6 years I have refused their way to ‘cure’ me. I chose not to feel normal, if that is the price I have to pay. I’ll just smoke, and try to feel as close to normal as I can get.

This is what works for me. Some might still find peace in using the anti-psychotics, it is just not my choice. Use what works for you.

Before the storm

Before the storm starts, and I’m not talking about the black clouds and dark sky outside, I’m talking about my moods, I’m going to try and write something. Mostly because I can’t get my mind to shut the hell up and the best way that I have found to accomplish this is to post something online.

I’m going through a manic phase at the very moment, but I don’t how long it will last. For the past several days I have been rapid recycling, which means my moods are going from extreme highs to extreme lows in a short amount of time. It’s not the regular I’m sad because... My dog ran away, or even someone died...it’s far worse, and has no reason to why it happens. Then there is the other side where I’m happy, full of energy, but the weird part is I will burst out laughing or smile to myself after just recalling a memory. At least the laughing is a pleasant thing to go through.

Now instead of hating everything, I have started liking things too much. I have a thousand ideas running through my head, but no time to write them down, because I also need to paint the cabinets again, sweep down all the cobwebs from the ceilings in the house, pull the weeds from my flower bed, re-arrange things in my kitchen, etc. Etc....What I really fucking hate is that this will sometimes only last a day or two for me then it’s right back into the shit hole of depression, then nothing will get done and I want to tell the entire world to go to hell again.

Stress Release thought for the day....

Procrastination is stressful. Whatever you want to do tomorrow, do today; whatever you want to do today, do it now.

Last walk before the rain

If only I had known
I would have walked a different path.
I’m staring at things I can’t touch.
I just can’t stay out of trouble.

This life just hasn’t turned out to be what I thought it would be.
I haven’t seen the sunshine in three damn days.
I’m wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.
It’ll never be the way it use to be.

I get tried of listen to the sound of my tears.
I’m always in the dark.
Every step I take is painful.
I’m like a little child who misses her teddy bear.

Feeling out of Control

I feel so out of control. Almost homicidal, suicidal, as if the pieces of me that have been a whole suddenly aren't and are off on their own, doing their own things, popping in and out like a radio station almost too far away to pick up clearly and reliably.

I hate this feeling of not being entirely in control of my reactions to things. I could go back to a psychiatrist, but how many can a person see, how many meds can a person try and still be in trouble? if insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over, but each time expecting different results, then isn't it insane to go to another doctor? Is it irresponsible not to go if it never works? And if it never works, is this what I have to look forward to, this increasingly fragmented blob of reactions I can't predict or control?

For now I have decided to self medicate.

In a Manic State of Mine

I've found myself to be quite the insomniac over the past couple of weeks. I can't sleep. Rather, I can't fall asleep. I found out that there are different types of insomnia, primary and secondary, and also that there are degrees and levels of both, like the insomnia you have when you can't fall asleep as opposed to the insomnia you have when you can't stay asleep.

Insomniac's can lose sleep just thinking about the fact that they won't be sleeping. I do this every night. The pressure is on to fall asleep and what's going through your mind is "Am I going to fall asleep? Am I going to lie awake for hours listening to the clock ticking away? Maybe if I roll over, or if I sleep on my side, or if I don't think about sleep..." It could go on all night, and sometimes does. It's excruciating.

I hear my own voice as the voice of another.

Today has been a good day. I don’t know why it has been a good day. Nothing particularly exciting or great has happened but I just feel good. Which is good, if not a little unnerving.

I have a feeling I might be going slightly more hyper then usual, but I don’t care. My work productivity is up, my mood is up and my don’t care attitude is back.

***************

Shades of the Rainbow

Her eyes were glib in all shades of emotion,
laid naked for those who would care.
The dark muses and wisest seers tainted her shadows
illuminated her spirit and touched her with rainbow displays
of laughter and easy tears.

Yet no one came to cry,
remaining instead
smug in their own foolishness,
sensing the enormous truth that lay hidden from their view.
Fearing her countenance.
Rejecting her projections.

They thought that the laughter opening in her eyes
was not emotion, technically,
but an illusion presented unto them.
Although they knew that she wanted to appear vulnerable,
their eyes held different illusions
and they did not want to indulge her.

So they abandoned her,
pitifully, to the lie that lurked
within the holes of her tears,
that became distorted through her blurry eyes
until she was secure in the colors of her rainbow.

Feeling Manic

One hundred things are running through my head...I’m thinking faster than my fingers can type. In the past when I got this way I had to take Adderall to help slow me down, but I threw all my pills away, so this time I’m going to let it do it’s own thing. Fuck all the side effects...that shit made me sleepy all the time anyway. I don’t need no stinking sleep...there’s too much shit I want to get done. But more than anything I want to get out of the hell out of the damn house. Let’s go for a long drive, and find a place where I can see how fast my car will go. If I wasn’t so fucking old and fat I would go sky diving...damn that sounds like a lot of fun. How about a little game of tag with law enforcement...maybe I’ll just fuck with some online...I can’t go to jail when I’m in this state...somebody, probably me, is going to get their ass whipped if I fuck with them right now. Still, it could be a lot of fun.

I shook the worm and their hook. Get butt naked please.

Tonight I’m going to do a little drinking, will maybe a lot...I want to finish a couple of bottles I have had for several weeks now. I haven’t had but a couple of hours of sleep, so maybe that will help me sleep. But if I sleep I won’t be able to enjoy finally fucking feeling good. Sometimes it will only last for a few days before I crash again. I’m going to do all I can before I crash and things get left undone.


Spinning dizzy out of control, bouncing, jumping wanting to let go.

Nothing to gain, nothing to lose.
Only a Trojan horse.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Trunk is rattling.
Take a deep breath and inhale.
Let’s put our ass into it.

Killing Myself

I think I finally figured it all out...I’m locked up in a prison or mental hospital and the people in charge are punishing me by making me live this life.

Only thought about killing myself a half-dozen times or so today, and never really seriously. Sad, but that constitutes a pretty good, successful day for a lot of people like me. I find myself feeling hopeless, yet feeling strangely content just being alone. Actually I don’t really feel hopeless so much as I have grimly accepted my fate. Whether this is true or merely delusional thinking resulting from depression…time will tell. Sometimes I think it is a little of both.

My moods cycle rapidly, and it never ceases to amaze me how fast, and how completely, my moods can change throughout the day. I can go from being very agitated with suicidal ideation, to having a calm, peaceful time of reflection.

Nature really is a calming force for me. It always has been. Ever since childhood, I would escape to the woods to find some peace of mind. Aside from the prospect of getting bitten by a snake, or becoming forever lost, neither of which has happened to me…yet… the outdoors has always been soothing to my soul. Once again, it is no cure, but it is a tonic, that makes life a lot more tolerable…and sometimes even quite enjoyable.

During periods of agitation today, I experienced a familiar phenomenon…sort of a persistence of negative thought and emotion. Like if I have a negative interaction with someone, no matter how slight… I just can’t let it go…it lingers in my mind and plays itself over and over. I relive it again and again, feeling the same anger, fear, or annoyance that I did in the original experience. This also happens with things that happened years or even decades ago, too. It is like I never forget any negative, painful thing that happens to me. Sometimes, embarrassing, shameful memories come up, and my whole body convulses and tenses for a moment in response…as if I am trying to shake it off. Often I grimace and clench my teeth. I hide it pretty well in public, but sometimes I can’t.

Just some of the really annoying and fucked up shit I go through on a daily basis. Used to it now…but it doesn’t make it any more pleasant.

I have been blogging for a couple of years now, and I see how effective it is for charting ones moods and mood cycles. I have always resisted charting my moods, because I just didn’t really want to know. Somebody said that “an unexamined life isn’t worth living.” But some things are better just left in the dark…at least until we are good and ready to deal with them.

I took a Clonazepam today, which I have not done for a long time. I rarely take any kind of tranquilizer or anti-psychotic, but it probably wouldn’t hurt if I utilized that tool a little more than I do. I have tried Zyprexa which made me feel like a zombie with Ball-bearings for eyes, geodon which made me fall asleep anywhere, anytime, risperadal which worked great but destroyed any and all sexual desire, and seroquel, which was the best med I ever took, at least in small doses, but I had a muscle spasm in my chest so painful that I passed out and ended up in the hospital. And the list goes on and on. I am kind of freaked out about meds in general. I am probably way under-medicated, but I have a tenuous balance, and a tenuous balance is better than things getting worse with the wrong medication(s). I know this may sound irresponsible, and maybe it is, but like I have said in previous posts…I became a human guinea pig for about eight years, and that was enough for me. I have thought about looking into some newer type of pills again, but fear of the side effects...such as gaining more weight, keeps me away from the drug store. I just don’t know if I have the energy, faith, and confidence in meds right now to undergo that whole process of trying a new med.

God Ripped an Arm Off My Teddy Bear

After a few drinks and a couple extra pills, I finally slept last night. Fourteen solid, deep, uninterrupted hours of dreaming. I didn’t really want to get up, but my mind finally focused on the fact the I hadn’t gotten up this morning, (the first time in 11 years) to make sure the boys got off to school okay. Other than every light in the house being on, everything was okay...they made it to school on their own without needing me.

Relaxing a little I had a bowl of cereal and then laid back down in bed to watch TV. I couldn’t really focus on what was on because I kept thinking about the dream that I had last night. I was trying to escape from a building that was like a jail, but I guess more of a place to hold someone...still like jail. I was strapped down to a small cot in the middle of a room where the wall, floor, and ceiling were all painted black. Someone or something came into the room and pulled at the straps holding me down, releasing me. I began to quickly run, (faster than I ever could in real life), jumping, dodging, weaving my way down a long hallway, until I was outside.

I’ve had dreams like this many times in the past...each one only slightly different from the other. This time I decided to see what I could found out about my dream. I looked it up in the Encyclopedia of 20,000 Dreams, and found some information that was quite interesting. It says that breaking free from jail, confinement, cages, ropes, or shackles may point to a desire for release from a situation, such as a job that is causing stress. The elation surrounding dreams of leaving jail may suggest feelings about a new opportunity in our life. However, if no joy accompanies the liberation, this could suggest anxiety about the challenges that lie ahead. Breaking out of jail on the other hand testifies to a determination to create your own chances and give free reign to talents that have too long been repressed. Alternatively, if you have been depressed recently, break-out dreams could suggest the need to seek serious help, as the dream may signify a yearning for the ultimate release---death. Interesting.

Time for a break the boys are home...

My son told me when he got home from school at 3:40 that he turned off my alarm because he thought I needed the sleep, and he was big enough to get up on his own.
Maybe they just don’t need me anymore.

I can’t seem to wake up today. Its nothing like the past 3 weeks where I was only getting 3 or 4 hours of sleep. Now all I feel like doing is hiding in a dark room with nothing on but the dull light from the TV to light the room. I don’t feel like cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, taking a shower, or even standing for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Thank goodness in the throws of mania, last week I spent several hours cleaning cabinets, wiping walls down, dusting, vacuuming ceilings, moving furniture around to try and find a new look, so nothing it extremely dirty.

Hopefully I crawl out of this shit hole of depression before everything becomes so nasty that I feel the only way to get rid of the decay is to burn it all. I hate things that are dirty or nasty. That’s one of the reason I can’t stand being locked down...prison wasn’t so bad...but the county jail is nasty. There are two many germs everywhere, and I start freaking out, thinking I’m going to catch something. My OCD becomes so extreme, that it then turns into a panic attack, then it turns into what happened the last time I was in jail...I cut myself. Not to die, but just to escape the feeling as if something is crawling all over my body.

Time for a nap...this computer is boring me.

Being Bi-Polar

Being Bi-Polar is like being two completely different people. The highs and lows can sometimes be quite a rollercoaster ride, so to help myself out I made this list.


Bipolar supplies that we need. You know...the must haves that we keep around ICORMS (in chase of radical mood swings).

I think that we should do a service here and make a list of necessary items and keep them in Two Boxes...one for mania and one for that shithole of depression.

For example...
Supplies to be put in The Manic Box

1. Patent office number....for those really fantastic, foil-proof, “gonna-make-us-rich and the world a better place” inventions and innovations. Don’t you hate it when in a moment of absolute manic genius, you are struck by a brilliant idea for something, only to lose it when you “come down”? Keeping the government patent office’s phone number on speed dial could mean the difference in being the next great Edison or losing the idea when the roller coaster hits stop.

2. Loud music. MP3, CD player, or your own rock goddess voice. This is a definite must have. Buy an extra and store it in The Box.

3. Memo recorder...the most thought provoking, earth shattering ideas come to us while manic. We need to record them.

4. Map...when else do we get the wild hair up our butt to travel to unknown places. And, we surely have to know how to get there. Plus, we may need to find a place to hide from those dreary, boring people who are harping at us to call our psych doc or therapist.

5. Phone numbers of all your friends that you have ever had since grade school. Face it...we like to chat quite a bit when manic and can run through several dozen conversations with various people in a short time. We don’t want to run out of listeners. So, while you are thinking about it, now, get out your phone books, address books , year books, etc. and write those numbers down.

6.Art supplies, camera, cookbooks, etc. NOBODY is more creative than a person in the throws of manic highs. We can paint, write, take photos, cook gourmet’ meals and do EVERYTHING else better than ANYBODY else.

7. Large sunglasses...our eyes tend to turn very red after not sleeping for days on end. Don’t want to get pulled over by a cop only to have him see your very bloodshot eyes. Artificial tear drops would be handy, too.

8. A note telling us not to do stupid things, like fuck with the police, go out drinking alone, trying to drive a 100 miles an hour down the highway, or spending more money than we really should.


That’s a few ideas for The Manic Box. Add some of your own if you like.


Ideas for The Shithole Depression Box

1. Loud music...the blues or any song that makes reference to depression. Sad country songs really do the trick.

2.A television...just to stare blankly at.

3.Blanket….for laying under while staring blankly at the television.

4. Kleenex...for obvious reasons.

5.Photos...pictures of all the people who have hurt us or done us wrong at some point in our life. Try to get large photos. You might want to sit them in a chair and refresh their memories of what horrible people they are. Also can be used as rage outlet by smashing, spitting on, pissing on, etc. Go ahead!!!!!! Don’t be afraid to show your mean granny your other cheeks and let her kiss them.

6.Ambien, Ativan, Valium or any other med that you will put you into a sleep or immobile stage. Why give a tinker’s damn about what’s going on in the world? It’s gonna explode any day now anyway. I want to be asleep when that happens. Plus, I want to sleep thru all the damn people pestering me to “buck up”, “go to church”, “get out”, “look at the bright side”...exactly the crap that I don’t want to hear.

7. Ear plugs...for the same reasons as #6.

8. Memo recorder...record all the stuff that you want to say to the people who have made your life a living hell. Let it out and use words like “fuck you”, “you’re a bug-fucking asshat, “you make Amy Winehouse look like Kelly Ripka”, etc. RECORD IT ALL! If you don’t feel enough energy now, you can use those phrases when you are manic again.

9. Deodorant...for the days that we can’t get out of bed to bathe.

Our boxes are not complete. I’m sure that there is more to add. Help me!
Hey, just a thought? Is this beginning to sound like a brilliant idea? Where’s that patent number?