DUDE! WHEN I WAS A KID …

An oldie but one worthy of a re-post.

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This one’s written to Mothers because I am a Mother and that’s where my knowledge lies – but it is just as true for a Father when you replace some of “activities”.

Your child’s fondest memories when he/she is grown will NOT be how perfectly tidy his mother kept the house.

Women worry so much about how their home is kept.  I get it.  I like a clean house too.  In fact I have OCD aka Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  One of my major “ticks” was cleanliness – as in spotless and organization – as in don’t you dare put that one cm off from where I said it needed to be or I’ll go berserk!

I am a lot better about that now … I still have my OCD ticks even with medication, but hanging onto the obsessive cleaning was not an option once I had my child.

Society spends…

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I made it to 2018! And Yeap, I’m Still Bipolar.

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And here we are, starting off another year.  Last year I was reminded that being bipolar doesn’t go away just because you are happy.

Yes it is much harder to deal with if you are unhappy, but happiness does not cure me of being bipolar.  In a way this was a harder lesson than any before.  It’s been years since I’ve been truly happy in all aspects of life, so every time my chemical balance shifted in a way that I sunk into depression it was easy to “blame” my unhappiness or the parts of my life that left me unfulfilled.

I’m not saying 2017 was a perfect year.  I had life trials to endure and defeat.  I was still adapting to being a single mother of a teenage boy as well as helping him adapt to the changes and realizations that me becoming a single mother brought into his life.

I also had to learn to trust again – trust that I was deserving and “good enough” to be part of another’s life.  The end of 2016 gifted me by bringing a wonderful man into my life and for the first time since I ended my 21 year marriage, I was interested in allowing another to enrich my life via a personal relationship.

So, yes, 2017 had its challenges, but overall, it was a great year.  What’s my point?  As I mentioned above, that despite all the good, I still found myself stumbling, having depressive episodes and struggling to come out of the dark.  I was still indeed, bipolar.

It was super easy to credit my depressed episodes to the circumstances in my life up until this last year.  A year when there truly weren’t any circumstances to blame.  I have a wonderful son and family, I have a fantastic (more than fantastic, more than amazing, no words can describe) man romantically in my life, I have a job that I enjoy with a respectable employer that treats me well, a few true friends; essentially, my basic needs are met and then some.  Yet I still found myself struggling with depression.

Well, duh, you dumbass, you are an individual living with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that brings severe high and low moods and changes in sleep, energy, thinking, and behavior.  Yes, circumstances can influence the intensity of such a disorder, but is not the cause.

That was my hardest pill to swallow during the past year.  That despite all the wonder I have in my life, I can still find myself feeling low and hopeless.  (Yes I realize I am mostly addressing the depression side of bipolar, but let’s be real, most of us don’t mind being manic.  At least not until after mania has passed and we are picking up the pieces of anything we managed to shatter during the episode.)

It wasn’t easy to accept, and it took me almost the entire year to get there, but I do accept it.  Partially because I was shown that it’s okay if I am not perfect, I am still loveable even during my imperfect phases; that despite what experience had taught me in the past, not everyone will just turn a blind eye or walk away and leave you to struggle.  And as a result of that, my bits of sanity kicked in and I remembered that being bipolar makes me who I am!  Not just the sad, hopeless depressed parts, but all of me and who I am – my compassion for others, my creativity, my sense of humor, etc.  And when I can step back and look objectively at the entire picture, I like who I am struggles and all.

So here’s to being bipolar!  And here’s to a fantastic upcoming year for us all!!!

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Drifting through…
No certainty,
No comfort,
No guarantees.

There’s a hollow spot within.
One I am unsure how to fill.

Drifting through…
Afraid of my next move,
Terrified to show all my needs,
Fearful that no one will care.

Chin up,
Forced smile,

Put on the façade that I am not struggling…

I’ve gotten so good at pretending that I am strong.
I’ve got this,
I’m good,
I’m independent.

Really I just need to feel like I can rely on someone…

Someone to see my sadness,
Someone to take the time,
Someone to notice my struggle
And help protect me from it all.

And yet pride keeps me from opening up,
From showing others what I’m really dealing with.

Too afraid of being let down like so many times before,
Uncertain if anyone really wants all of me and my struggles,
Little faith in the fact that anyone could.

I make light of it all to others,
And sit alone and cry.

Wishing…
Wanting…
Struggling emotionally…

Feeling uncertain and unworthy.

Exposing

Overwhelming urges suppressed,
Held captive by wavering confidence.
Fear whispering of rejection.

Like a genie in a bottle,
My love for you hides,
Waiting for your wishes.

Bottled up ambitions,
Aloof dispositions,
Reserved expressions…

You deserve more.

I’m learning to believe,
Absorbing that you’re here by choice.
Accepting that you’re safe.

Slowly opening the door,
Showing what I harbor within;
All the love and light I hold for you.

I timidly open up to reveal all of my heart.

Trembling with the fear that I don’t deserve-
Quaking with the pleasure that results from-
All of the wonder that is you.

Chemical Clutter

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The core has become an untidy heap,

Tangled in thought and obsession.

Dragging me down this familiar path

That leads to nowhere but depression.

Throwing up blockades of rational thought,

Still nothing stops the scheduled train.

Disorder hijacking my thoughts once more;

Weighing me down with emotional pain.

All the unlikely possibilities suffocate me,

Panic stakes another claim on my heart,

And thieves from me my free breath.

Now it is either balance or fall apart.

Over concerned with possibilities

Fabricated within my own mind.

Nailed to the cross by my own self,

Lost in a place no one will find.

Repetitive cycles keep twisting my brain,

Recurrently contorting my life perspective.

I can counsel myself to no advantage,

Once again, chemicals ignore my directive.

~Sandserene

Is that Charlie Brown’s Parents I hear?

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Back here again – everything to say but no words to say it with.  More honestly, no fucks to give whether or not anyone knows how I feel.  I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted and no matter how many times I say it, no one TRULY hears me!

No I don’t mean that in a poor me way.  I just get to a point where it seems such a waste of my time and energy to even interact with most living beings.  I have zero faith that even a person I deem intelligent can understand what I’m trying to say in some cases.

That leads us back to the fact that most people talk to be heard, not truly because they want you to listen and respond.  Sometimes that’s all good.  And sometimes you have to realize walking in a circle gets you nowhere, accept that you cannot change it and move forward.  Seriously, some days I feel like I’m trapped in a room with several record players in which the records are all skipping- why?  Because people love to hear themselves complain – I guess it makes them feel empowered.

I get that we all need to vent, but at some point, if you find yourself venting on repeat, you need to make some decisions.  Decide to change it, if you cannot change it, decide to engage your super bubble armor and not let it fucking get to you.  Because once you’ve gone beyond venting for the release of a bit of pressure, for the purpose of moving forward (PAST WHAT YOU ARE BITCHING ABOUT), then you are just as much of the issue as whatever you are venting about.  Not only that, but you are regurgitating your negative feelings about it again and again and it’s landing all over the people that care enough to listen to you.
Just like anything, if you use your credits up on repeats and trivial bullshit, where will you turn when you truly need that ear?

Many people feel comfortable talking to me.  I consider that an honor and am glad to be there for people.  But if you keep putting the same fucking ingredients into your cake batter and ask me why your cake still tastes like shit eventually I’m going to smash you in the face with your cake.  Or if you keep feeding me the same bite of cake over and over and asking me if it tastes different, I’m probably going to stab you in the eye with the fork you are serving me the bite of cake with.

Oh then I’ll be the bad guy because I had to get harsh and real due to the fact that people are so self-involved even when they seek out another for comfort, they ignore what the reward is yet keep asking for a reward.  I am a patient person most of the time, but once I’m full all my gracefulness flies out the window and I will tell you straight up that you are being a little bitch or I’ll just walk the fuck away and make myself less available.

I have my own life issues – I’m a single mom of a teenager with a full time job that fights to keep her bipolar disorder in balance day to day.  I LOVE to be there for people I care about, but I can only handle so much.  If you don’t hear my subtle advice and I see no signs of improvement or no steps toward resolution or acceptance, I’m eventually not going to be able to retain the SHUT THE FUCK UP from spewing out in some form.

Seriously folks, there’s a fine line between venting and beating a dead horse.

Holding it Together

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Today I was going to talk about when I woke and felt on another plane of existence.  One where there weren’t a million voices chattering in my head at me and that time felt like it was moving slow.  It dawned on me as I drove to work that this is probably that elusive beast people call normal or level.  I was kind of excited to be there and realize what it was while I was there.

However, yes, unfortunately there is a however, I arrived at work and all that normal peaceful shit flew right out the window.  Between having two days of work to sort and handle after having a day off, having several advisors be in need of my assistance, and teen parenting/dealing with the other parent kicking in full gear before 10 a.m. all that “normal” has pulled a disappearing act.

Instead, today, I will say that the levelness was nice for the hour it lasted.   And that I am grateful for starting out that way, because if I had started out on a tipped scale, all the aforementioned tasks would have spiked me harder than it did.

So now I’m in a state of heightened anxiety and slightly manic.

But I’m handling it like a champ; a speed-talking, moving at the speed-of-light champ, but a champ nonetheless.

I have a feeling I will be exhausted tonight!

Woohoo, let’s give two cheers for being on high speed crazy but still holding it all together!!!

Dear, Anxiety – you’re still an asshole.

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Within the silent shadowy tomb protected by my psyche,
Uncertainty grows.
It’s not time to analyze and paralyze, yet it feeds nonetheless,
Like a ravenous vulture…

Sucking up little morsels of anxiety and doubt-
Mushrooming them into catastrophic conclusions.

Oozing its septicity from its tiny cell,
It infects the core of me and sets my thoughts afire.
I sing it soothing words, hoping to calm the beast.
Still it attaches to stray thoughts and amplifies itself.
It feels like my heart is being pulled into my stomach.

I breathe and reassure myself that this is all purposeless,
There are no actions to take.

Yet it festers and pesters and fails to slow.
Bringing with it impairment…
Or is its presence simultaneous to them?

No evidence – no solution.
Restraint fails.
Paranoia grows.
Why not, add it to the pile,
It’s not like we need elbow room in here anyway.

Go ahead, weave your webs,
Plant your seeds of doubt.
Take my breath and balance.

I’ll just adapt and survive…
And in the end,
Remind you that you’re still an asshole.

 

 

Well I’m not depressed but … WTF am I exactly?

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The depressed me is quiet (well quiet for me that is) and doesn’t bother to express much.  It’s just easier that way, I don’t have the energy in me to discuss anything with anyone let alone try to explain things when they are not understood (which is more often than I like).

But what am I now that I’m not depressed?  It is definitely not full blown manic, and it certainly is not level.

I feel like it could be slight mania, then I still tend to have quick shifts to short lasting deflation which accompanies the bursts of energy.

Maybe it’s what is referred to as a ‘mixed state’???

All I know is…

– I have a lot of energy, but zero energy.  I literally feel like I could burst from energy that is clogged inside, yet I don’t have any giddy up/energy to go above and beyond or be proactive.
-I can be moved to over-the-top giddiness with a simple thought and want to squeal in joy and jump around like a spastic toddler but that energy can exhibit itself as over-the-top irritation which makes me want to throw things and growl whatever frustrations are applicable at the time.
-Then there is the “comedic” part.  Oh damn does this part think I am so fucking funny.  That’s it, I think it’s so funny, everyone else seems to think it’s insensitive, violent, maybe even a little psycho to have such thoughts, let alone speak them out loud.

I also know that…

-Half of me wants to just blow everything/one off and not give a damn and half of me wants to shake a bitch and say WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU while the third half (yes I did just say I have 3 halves – and maybe I do) still wants to sit down and cry or “dissolve”.

-Half of me wants to sleep an indefinite slumber and the other half wants to stay up all night long sucking in all the entertainment and information I can get my hands on.

-I have all the answers/perfect responses/know exactly what I’d say to whom; but wait; I have none of the audacity it would take to follow through with those thoughts.
-I have all the best ideas and solutions yet don’t care enough to do shit about it.  (And let’s be real, I think they are all the best but chances are they could be as loony as Bugs Bunny.)

I could go on for hours with examples but I don’t want to.  My point is I am exactly one half combined with the extreme opposite of that half all crammed into one little fleshy shell.

Half of me is proud and loving it, the other half wishing this shit would just fucking stop even though it is better than depression.

This mixed state, or whatever it is requires far too much thinking.  But I suppose I should be grateful it is not full blown mania which can cause earth shattering devastation in my life and I won’t slow down long enough to see it until it’s too late.

Some days I just wish I didn’t have to analyze my brain so much just to keep things in check.

Then I remind myself, analyzing and keeping in check is much preferred to what happens if I am un-medicated and running wild.