Do you really read what I write?

If not, it’s okay.  I’m not here to become famous, or to be found as some brilliant writer.  I come here to get all the negative crap off my mind.  I don’t expect anyone to absorb it, but maybe lend an ear, a piece of advice, that sort of thing.  I’ve never in my life been so vulnerable as I am right now, as it’s ALL out there.  For the world to read and judge.  But I don’t care, because it’s not in my head any longer.  Well, maybe in the very back of my mind, but definitely not in the forefront.  So, if you do read my blog, I thank you.  If you simply click the like button as a courtesy or sympathy like, please don’t feel that’s necessary.  It’s like even WP has turned into one big popularity contest.  I’m not into fame and fortune.  I’m just into being me, making new friends and getting through some really trying times.  I’ve lost friends and family over this stupid fucking diagnosis.  Crazy.  That’s what everyone calls me.  And yet, I haven’t done one single thing that could be called crazy.  Maybe stayed in an extremely toxic marriage for far too long, but that’s about it.  They call me crazy because they want to see me beat up and defeated.  Not going to happen.  I know I’m not crazy.  I’m different.  I’m an individual at the brink of embracing my individuality.  You don’t like it?  Call me crazy and then go suck it.  Your words can no longer hurt me.  Like I said… live a day in my head and I bet you won’t last an hour.  You’d be pushing 911 for all kinds of help wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, where I’ve got it all figured out.  I know when a panic attack is starting, how to get through it and how to fight the PTSD and the severe depression.  Hell, if I gave you my head for an hour, you’d probably kill yourself, hence making me so much more mentally in check than all of you who insist on calling me crazy,  So, again, suck it.  I’ve got this.  You’ve got name calling.  What are we? 5?  Grow up people.  Your words don’t effect me, but maybe you’ll say them to someone else who might not be as mentally strong as I am.  How are you going to feel if YOUR WORDS cause them to take their own life?  Think before you speak you ignorant idiots.

For those of you who do read… I wish you all the best.

~Crazy no more!!!!


My Bipolar episode is…

G.O.N.E. for now anyway.  I hate when it returns, as it gives me no advanced warning.  But, with the help of a low dose med and a great support system, I feel like I can finally function like a normal human being again.  I’m not locked up in a cage in my mind, and I’m actually contemplating learning how to draw/sketch/paint.  So, it looks like I’ve reached the end of yet another tunnel.  Thank God that’s over.

Well, SOMETHING happened…

I sat outside and had a 3 hour conversation with my boyfriend last night, and it was during this conversation that something changed.  I confessed that I didn’t like me and didn’t see or understand how someone else could.  My boyfriend is a man of few words, but last night, he listed off several reasons as to why he loves me; sex being at the bottom of the list.  I’d be lying if I said a tiny piece of me was convinced he was only in this relationship for the sex.  He assured me last night that this is not the case.

I also told him that I’m always hyper and my body movements whether walking or talking reflect the movements of the rapid thoughts racing through my brain.  Instead of calling me crazy, he came up with an idea.  When we go out now, and he sees me walking fast or talking excitedly, he’s going to slow me down.  This way, I can get a better grip on the racing thoughts.  It feels like I fell in love all over again.

Today, I went to pick up the new meds (20mg of Latuda) and didn’t really feel the need to take them.  I did though.  Just in case this is just  temporary high due to our talk, or the euphoric high that comes with bipolar.  Regardless, I need some kind of back up plan, and so far so good.  I’m not allergic to it!  That’s a plus.  No swelling of the tongue, or any other body parts.  So, for today, life is good.  I cannot tell you all how much I appreciate your support.  I feel like I can better relate to all of you, because you KNOW exactly how I feel, where as those closest to me only know by what I tell them.  So, thank you all for being my cheering section.  It is very much appreciated.  I think I’m going to go back to my original blog and try to writing again, only positive stuff this time.

Two Choices… Coin toss?

So, I make my monthly med visit with my psychiatrist today, and since she doesn’t take my insurance, and I’m paying cash for the visit, I have to be as blunt as possible, as quickly as possible. Bottom line?  I’m stuck.  Bipolar disorder is supposed to be one extreme to the other with no in between.  I don’t want to be on medication, but I don’t want to feel like this either.  I am stuck in this depression that I just can’t get myself out of.  So, she offers me two choices, as she can clearly see I’m getting worse and worse by the day.  1.  I start a new, very low dose of a mood stabilizer. If I stay in the place my brain is currently residing, the next thought pattern I will be stuck in is suicide.  I definitely don’t want to get there.  Or… 2.  I voluntarily admit myself into the hospital I once went to years ago, where I know they will automatically give me a mood stabilizer as soon as I sign their “Guest Book.”  I’ve opted for the mood stabilizer, as I don’t have anyone to watch my son while I’m away for a week or two.  So, fucking shoot me.  I tried.  I tried as hard as I could to get through this without relying on ANY meds whatsoever.  I’m now spending my days on the couch crying for no reason, and feeling absolutely worthless.  I give up.  I need help.  Some people are disgusted by the though that I would resort to such measures (filling my body with poison) but, those people haven’t even considered what it might be like to live an hour in my fucking head.  I hate myself.  I don’t believe I’m capable of being loved.  I’ve expressed these things, and still, resorting to medication is comparable to fucking the devil himself.  Well, thanks for the support.  Thanks for lending me an ear.  Thanks for making me feel like absolute shit when I need YOUR strength the most.  I will begin this new medicine tomorrow, and I’m curious to see how vastly different my posts become once my mood is stable.  I am not crazy.  I am making a reasonable decision based on the fact that I can no longer go on feeling like I do while being a good mother.  So, hate me, hate my decisions.  Whatever.

I hate Bipolar…It’s freaking awesome!

This has definitely been a bipolar month. I was down for quite a bit, then angry, and now here comes the euphoric happiness. I so badly wish there was a magic pill that would keep me in the same mood for the majority of the time, but since I’m allergic to everything, I’ll pass, and just keep on keeping on. It’s tough… probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. The mood swings come without any warning, and the anxiety that accompanies it certainly doesn’t help. Panic for absolutely no reason. People in my house, doctor appointments, karate, school meetings… it is all so overwhelming when all I want to do is be left alone. I snap at those I love, yet they continue to stand by me. I lash out for no reason, and they just take it. I want someone to fight back. I’m actually looking for a fight! But…they all know this, and they all step back and give me space and time to cool off. God… I don’t know that I could live with me, if I was them. I give them all a lot of credit as I know I’m not a day in the park to be around sometimes. I guess the good times outweigh the bad. That’s why they’re still here. Because they know this anger is temporary and soon we will be happy again.

Who I am versus who I’d like to be

It has been said that everyone has anxiety.  That’s why I felt normal growing up.  I thought everyone felt the same way I did.  I just couldn’t understand how they maintained their composure, and I was constantly running to the bathroom.  So, as an adult, I now watch my friends go out, whether to dinner or the grocery store, without any hesitation.  I wonder what that feels like…  I see pictures posted on Facebook of groups of people going out, spending time together, either at someone’s house or out some place and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious.  I’d love to be a part of that group, but being an introvert with all these mental issues certainly isn’t helping the situation.  I’ve come to realize that I can only handle socialization in tiny bits.  That’s why I don’t normally invite people over.  How exactly do you invite someone to your house and then after a short while say “Okay…I’ve had enough.  You have to leave.”?  It’s so much easier to just be here alone.  So many people take their mental health for granted.  I can bet my life that if all of those people who have called me crazy had to last one day in my head, they wouldn’t make it past the first hour.  It’s not that I’m not comfortable in my own skin…I’m not comfortable in my head!  All the things I’m constantly saying to myself without realization.  The constant tornado ripping apart anything that even comes close to a normal thought.  I know…positive affirmations.  And I know they work.  But when you fuck everything up so much, it’s kind of hard to convince yourself that you’re a good person.  That you have any value; that you actually mean something to someone.

I have resorted to inspirational reading.  My head might not be in the right place most of the time, but I want my soul to be.  I can feel myself evolving because I’ve changed my perception.  However, changing your perception when you’re having a bipolar episode is extremely hard to do.  So, for today, I truly wonder what normal feels like.  To wake up and not secretly, desperately yearn for a Xanax the moment you open your eyes.  To hold a steady job where you aren’t constantly taking a break to get through a panic attack; to just get in your car and go somewhere without any hesitation.  I cannot look ahead on the calendar.  If I know I have an appointment coming up, whether for myself or my son, I’m on edge until the day arrives.  Once it’s over, I could sleep for a week.  So tell me…  What DOES it feel like to be normal?  To be able to do all of the above and then some without anxiety as your shadow?  Without the fear of just having to get away take over without any notice; without panicking about upcoming appointments…  What does it feel like to be normal?

And… it starts.

So, my neighbor comes over and asks if I have quarters she can borrow so she can do laundry.  Of course I do.  I give her the quarters but she sits… with her 3 year old.  Then she comes up with this brilliant idea that I go shopping with her.  She just has to get a few things.  Will I please, please, please go to the store with her?  What part of “I DON’T LIKE TO LEAVE MY HOUSE!” is so hard to comprehend?  Knowing she’s going to bug me until I say yes, my anxiety has spiked, I already feel sick, and I don’t think I’ll be able to produce anything worth reading today.  Why????  Why does this shit have to happen to ME?  Why was I the chosen one to be blessed with all of these freaking issues??  Why can’t people understand that I just want to be left alone, in my own comfort zone, away from the monsters of the world?  And in the meantime, I’ve still yet to find a doctor who will accept my insurance, making things progressively worse.  So, I guess the question is… how in the world can I be optimistic when there is a tornado whipping through my head?  I can’t form a single coherent thought, as my mind is overcome with this pending trip.  I trust her.  She’s a very good friend and has been for a long time.  I know that if I say I have to go; I have to get out of this store, she’ll leave.  So, why all this totally unnecessary  panic?  I just don’t get it.  I have sworn off Xanax during the day and I’m getting through each minute on my own.  It freaking SUCKS!!  And NOW, since the anxiety is sitting nice and comfy in my brain, I can feel my stomach bubbling, which ultimately means I’m going to be physically ill for the remainder of the afternoon.  So… I guess this is crazy.  Welcome to my  head.