Acceptance (Originally published on 12.15.08)

As I’ve previously mentioned, I have struggled with the idea that I am bipolar. Well, not the idea, rather the fact that I am. But recently my therapist said something to me that cleared my head and actually made me accept the fact that I do, in fact, have a mental disorder (I hate saying disease). I was talking about my parents and was comparing my mom to my dad and she stopped me and said “Don’t do the bipolar thing and make your dad the good guy and your mother the bad guy.” AHHHHH HA! A professional’s offhand remark popped the bubble of denial floating around in my head. I didn’t truly understand what being bipolar was until she said that. We don’t just FEEL in extremes; we also THINK in extremes. Some of you that read Ms Alice’s blog will notice that I am using pretty much everything that I said in one of my comments there but I think that it’s necessary that I should explain how I feel and what I’ve discovered.

I have finally figured out what meds do. They don't reprogram our brain. We will still THINK in extremes. They just help us not FEEL in extremes. We have to refrain from letting our brains go to just one side of things and throwing ourselves to the completely opposite side; which is frustrating, daunting and exhausting. We need to stop using the terms always and never because those words imply that there is no middle ground. But my belief is that we are strong enough to take it. Because we are bipolar (not the royal we, the we referring to the people that are bipolar and read this blog) have far more compassion than most people because we understand what it is be in the extreme. We understand actions that seem unintelligible to others. Part of me likes to think that being bipolar makes us stronger than other people. Not weaker; that when we find that balance, we are brilliant.

Recently I have been cornered by people that I thought cared about me and had them spit venom in my face about taking meds, about this being a “choice”. I have finally reached the point where I can look them straight in the eye and say

“Fuck. You.”

Really. Fuck them. Fuck their opinions and lack of compassion or intelligence to acknowledge that some people are just programmed differently. Sometimes I compare being bipolar to being dyslexic. A good friend of mine has that disorder and she gets so frustrated because people believe having dyslexia just means you mix up words. It's so much more than that. It's like bipolar in the sense that our filters are broken. It takes us a bit longer to process certain things and we mostly live in a more confusing place than others. Some of these people are ignorant and hide behind religion because they need to believe that SOMETHING will make us magically and immediately better. That it's not a chemical mishap in our brain. They'd rather assume it's the “devil” trying to get a hold of us. I have washed my hands of any organized religion. How can a god that is supposed to be based on love pick and choose those who are “worthy” of being saved? Why does is matter if two men or two woman fall in love? You love people for what’s inside, a “soul” if you will. The outward appearance means NOTHING. If religion says it's our souls that live on doesn't that mean that our “earthly bodies” don't matter? So the fact that it’s two men in love or two woman in love means NOTHING because it’s the inside that counts.

OHHHH look, a discrepancy.

A friend of mine was sent an article that basically said that being bipolar was a CHOICE. I believe that the sender should a) be punched in the face (is she would let me know where they live and I will deliver the blow myself, for real) b) immediately be cut out of her life or c) be told that because they are so ignorant, that from this moment forth anything they say to her will be immediately discounted. I believe this goes for everyone. If someone that you consider a friend truly believes that this is a choice…. they really can’t be put in the category of a friend. I understand that it is INCREDIBLY hard for people that don’t have this disorder to truly understand what it’s like. They want to blame the person and pass it off as them just being moody, or a flake when they just can’t get out of bed to attend an event with them. That’s why I write this blog. I want to help people understand what it’s like. I am aware that it makes some people uncomfortable and if that’s the case just don’t talk about the disorder with the person. that has it. Don’t try and come up with excuses as to why they feel that way. It’s okay to not be able to really handle stuff that is considered “heavy” because sometimes it truly gets burdening and frustrating because you feel that you can’t help them therefore you feel helpless. Really, ask them to not talk about it if you must but when you see that they are struggling, all they need is a hug and comforting words letting them know that even though you don’t understand it, you’re there for them. Also, truly ponder how that person acts. Do you really think that they would choose to react the way they do? Really? To have people think they’re slightly addled in the brain and be a drama queen?

While I do have AMAZING friends I still do break down and rock back and forth asking why. Why is this happening to me? Why won't it stop? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't the horrible racing thoughts stop? The only thing that gets me through most of these attacks is knowing that is WILL pass; that this is a temporary extreme that will normalize. I think of my friends, of laughter, of the smell of clean laundry, of lying content on the grass on sunny days. I try and force myself to think of anything that seems beautiful to me and when the wave breaks and I'm able to breathe again, I force myself to acknowledge that I am stronger because I have survived it. I have beaten the Jabberwocky again. I have not submitted. Instead I am taking up my vorpal blade and saying

“Bring it bitch”

I sincerely hope and believe that we ARE strong enough to defeat it. It will just take practice and patience in understanding that we are the only ones that can change the way we think – meds just help the physical aspects. There is no chemical that can go into our heads and over ride harmful thinking. If there was, everyone would finally understand how beautiful life is.

I am bipolar, and I am going to try my damnedest to stop denying it.

4 comments:

alice said...

Amen to that, sister. I'm glad you pulled this over to your blog, because it's a good post. I have been having such the same intense wrestling match with my thoughts about bipolar disorder. It's like a massive mind-fuck to think about it, because it IS all in our heads. And it's real. I am not going to stop trying to figure out if there is a CURE for this. It seems to me that there are similarities between bipolar people. Traumatic childhoods, or some traumatizing event. A serious lack of self worth that has come from said trauma. A lack of support...It's confusing and mind-bending. And the people who say it aren't real can, yes, FUCK OFF. Even if one day it turns out that I did make this all up, that I chose this for kicks, because BEING BIPOLAR IS SO MUCH FUN (not), I have no way of even being able to comprehend that RIGHT NOW. Right now, I am spinning out of control and I need help. That's where I'm at. And the people who think I should be able to sit in my room and pray to make it go away, or meditate it right out of my chakras, or karma karate chop it.. those people are nuts.

Hang in there girl, we're gonna get through this. I'm glad we have our wee group of supporters here who get it.

Paddym22 said...

Heather

You got it.....its all about extremes and it is how we learn to manage these extremes is the key

The Bipolar Drunk said...

Brilliant. Seriously, I couldn't have put it better myself-- especially your comments about meds and having a "choice" in being bipolar.

Your comments on the meds are almost exactly what I tell other people how it feels to be on mood stabilizers (in my case, lithium): it doesn't make you stop feeling, it makes those feelings less extreme-- and therefore, easier to handle. My creativity is still the same, my same cynical sense of humor is still there, only now I'm able to make them work for me, instead of against me.

It also took my family a while to accept that what is wrong with me is, in fact, a disorder like many others, and not some lifestyle "choice". I didn't "choose" to cut myself when I'm distressed. I didn't "choose" to blow through $20,000 that I didn't have because I felt like it. I didn't "choose" to get six speeding tickets in twelve months because I wanted to lose my license. My bipolar disorder cost me many relationships (including one marriage), but I have gained a lot more since I've come to terms with it.

I'm very glad I found this blog (through alice-- thanks, I owe you one!). It's always good to find kindred spirits in this effed-up world. I look forward to reading more in the future!

NerdOneirik said...

Mr Paddym22, where have you gone to???

And yeah, lets hope we learn to manage them... I'm tired of being on Mount Everest only to plummet to the bottom of Lake Asal.

Meh.

Balance (Originally published on 12.11.08)

I think I am beginning to understand part of the reason bipolar people are so different from the greater part of society. When we feel an emotion, we feel it to the extreme. We can’t just feel a small part of it. It actually becomes quite primal. We revert to a state where emotion is the only thing that envelops us and logic withers away. If you look into our eyes when we’re having a panic attack or just breaking down, you’ll find a look akin to a frightened animal - we revert back to our “lizard brain” or the “id”. Everything we feel is all encompassing. Nothing else really matters at that given moment. Then the super ego kicks in with anxiety riding on it's shirt tails. We need to find the ego. We need to find a balance. People just don’t understand that. They just figure that we’re being overly dramatic.

I so wish that was the case.

It has been so incredibly hard for me to accept that this is real. That bipolar is actually a very real disorder or (the most dreaded d word) a disease. There really is no way to go into the brain, study the chemical make up of it and have the Doctor tell you “Um yeah, you are genuinely fucked up.” My whole life I was told that this was normal so I wrapped a cord around my emotions until they built up and snapped it. When I lost that control I had been so carefully honing, I, in all honestly, freaked the fucked out. I had learned to control every aspect of my life for fear of that happening and to hide as much as I could. So much so that when people would will me to “take a chance” or “let go” I just couldn’t. I was terrified of the consequences, because I don’t do things halfway. I live in extremes. That’s what this disorder is all about. We are trying to learn what the elusive “middle ground” is. It’s almost impossible for us to comprehend. I wish that I could just shove someone inside my head and have them understand.

The hardest part about all of this was deciding whether or not I should go on meds. So many people were telling me not to but my mental state was rapidly deteriorating to a point where I almost walked out in front of a speeding car. I know I repeat a lot of things in my blog. It’s because I honestly can’t remember if I typed it or not. My thoughts constantly loop. It’s a circle I need to learn how to break out of.

I haven’t posted on here in awhile because when I came back to San Fran I was greeted with an e-mail from my estranged mother. I have not responded yet, nor will I until I talk to my therapist. My first reaction was pure rage. No amount of medication could stop the feeling from flowing through me. When I got home I used my bare hands to dismantle a metal cross she had given me years before while my roommate looked on, worry etched upon her face. It felt so good to twist and contort the metal until it broke apart in my hands. The entire time I felt like it was her words that I was breaking apart; destroying the emotions the letter had evoked. After all the pieces had been pried apart, I noticed the blood on my hands. My roommate hurried to her room for band aids and I just sat and stared at them. My blood, her blood that runs through my veins had destroyed a symbol of a belief that she hides behind. That so many people hide behind.

That cross carried a certain symbolism with it.

Right before I began peaking on a molli with a friend of mine, the cross fell to the floor. This immediately sent my mind spiraling in to a terrifying direction and I began having an internal panic attack. I thought that I was going to die because the falling cross meant that “god” was no longer with me. My friend who was with me had no notion of what was going on in my head. When I finally hit the point of no return, my head went silent and I just FELT. I believe this was the first string I plucked that led me to slowly pull the wool mask off my face. After that experience I began seeing who I was, who I had become. I couldn’t go back to my comforting ignorance that I lived in for so long. I still can’t. I am disgusted with what I find facing me in the mirror. I am disgusted with my lack of courage to step outside what is comfortable. I detest the fact that I value myself so little that I will sleep with the gilded boys who want nothing more than a fuck. But after they get what they want, they curl up next to me and I feel wanted. But really, I’m just there. There is no attachment or acknowledgment that I am anything special.

Destroying that cross marks another fork in my road that I have turned upon. I will no longer let the beliefs of others come before my own. I will stop listening to people that tell me I must do something a certain way or in a certain order. I will stop my mind from whispering poison in my ear about how it’s too late to truly get into anything that interests me. That I need to be taught everything a certain way. That’s not how life is. You learn from experience. Nothing else. I will not hide behind a symbol or a religion that restricts me or other people. The god that the bible speaks of or any other text does not exist to me. The only thing I will follow is my belief of being nice and that love is the most important thing to believe in. I am still struggling with the idea that I will one day find it. Part of me longs for it now; another part is too terrified to comprehend the actions that must come with it. That I have to cast aside my masks, I have to believe someone when they say they love me. That I have to let go and believe that someone else will catch me. That love isn’t all me, it isn’t all them, that love is a place in the middle. That love is a balance.

I will find a middle ground. I have to. I refuse to live like this any longer.

1 comment:

alice said...

Heather. Very lucid and powerful post. Typing on iPhone will write more later but you nailed it; the very thoughts I've been running through my head all the way down to the mom reaction. We need to talk.

xo yes, your friend, alice ( hahaha )

I Want My Family Back (Originally published on 11.30.08)

So I started this blog with the intent of being completely honest. Well here's the most raw entry yet.

I want my family back. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to see the forest green walls of my kitchen and worry about the numerous candles my mother would always have burning. I want to talk to my dad in front of our fire place while my mom puts the finishing touches on dinner at 9pm. I want to decorate Christmas cookies while laughing hysterically at my mothers nonsensical replies to my dads questions due to her inability to really hear anything he says. I want to play with our pug buster and marvel at how many things he could run into while chasing me. I want to giggle with my dad while my mother tries to sing Christmas carols but since she's tone deaf the dog would howl. I want to drive to my sisters house while blasting music and sing along. I want to have laughing fits with her at her ability to ALWAYS lose her pipe.

I want my family back.

I hate alcohol. I hate oxycotin. I HATE IT. I hate it so much it burns. How can something be legal that destroys so much. Why? Why? Why?

I want my dad to tell awkward jokes when he notices I'm down. I even want to see my mother's dramatic gestures while she tells a story. I want my family back. I'm tired of hiding it. I'm tired of shutting down when people ask each other what presents they're going to get their family. I'm tired of people's pitying stares when they abruptly sidestep the conversation away from family issues. I'm tired of being jealous of peoples ability to really talk with their mothers.

I know it could be much worse. I know it could be. I understand this. But it hurts. I know I have friends. Wonderful friends. But I feel so very alone. At the end of the day most of them have someone to curl up to or a parent to offer comforting words. I read books with happy endings because that's the only thing that remains in my head as I drift of to sleep. I want to make amends with my parents before I lose them to death or illness. I want to talk to them but I don't know how. They haven't even tried to contact me. Why? What did I do that was so horrible? I defended myself. I offered support to a fake illness my mother produced while I've suffered in silence while ALWAYS comforting them. What did I do? Why can't they try? Why do I always have to be the one to extend the olive branch? They're twice my age and I am their child. Why can't they comfort me? Why? Why do I still feel like the little girl that was always separate from everyone. My sister said that I did it on purpose, that no one pushed me out. But wouldn't a parent be concerned if their child would hide during family functions?

Even though there was a great deal of pain inflicted to EVERYONE in my family, I still want them back. I want that unconditional love that is supposed to come from your parents. I know my parents love me in their own way. So why can't they reach out to me? Why couldn't they call me and ask how my Easter was? Or my birthday? Or my thanksgiving?

I know it could be worse. But honestly, I don't care. I want my family back.

3 comments:

T. said...

Maybe they feel you dont want to talk to them? I think you should give them a call and tell them how you feel and say "I want my family back". It never hurts to try!

+/- said...

I'd like to remind you, your mother is on a mental vacation and probably doesn't remember much, but your dad did email you. He didn't forget you.

Sweetie, things change in life. Sometimes even heartfelt traditions. It's a shame, but sometimes you have to decide to make new traditions. Even if it's just being around the friends you love.

I'm actually trying to figure that out for myself now. Especially since we're still thinking about Portland as an option. This weekend will help with that decision. But we don't do the same things we used to. And I miss it. But I try to make up for it in similar ways.

I know it's hard, but maybe just call to say hi. If you want, you can try in the car with me. We could even practice. It's about a 10 hour drive, and i have a power inverter for the car, so you can recharge your phone.

chelsea said...

sigh. i can both relate, and totally not relate to this. glad you're writing again. I'm crap right now. total crap.

Tired, So Very, Very Tired (Originally published on 11.25.08)

I’ll be honest; I really don’t feel like posting. I’ve kinda hit rock bottom over the last couple of days and have sunk into a depression which included 4 panic attacks in 4 days. To say I’m exhausted is an understatement. I had an emergency Dr’s appointment and we’re upping the meds and I have to take a sedative so I can stop panicking for no reason. I keep trying to convince myself that I’m not really bipolar, that I lied to the Dr in order to have a label instead of just being weak. I don’t know anymore. I really don’t. I’m tired yet I can’t sleep. The sedative wipes out all the racing thoughts but it also only allows me to do one thing at a time very, very slowly which is not at all what I’m used to. I hate it but I secretly love it because I really don’t think I can handle another attack. Yesterday I had to stay home from work because I just couldn’t bring myself to leave my room. I also had one of the worst bloody noses I’ve had in years. When I went to see the Dr, I asked him if he really thought I was bipolar. He said that I exhibit the symptoms and that I should give myself a break. He thinks these attacks were due to my panic disorder and not the bipolar. My memory is shit lately and it is beyond frustrating. I think I’m also going to give up drinking because I’m finding that I like it more and more. It quiets the evil voice that criticizes everything I do.

Where is Heather? Where did she go? I really don’t know anymore. My friends tell me that I’m amazing but it’s so baffling because I really don’t understand how. All of my energy is spend trying to keep it together so the only thing on the forefront of my mind is me. I won’t commit suicide or anything like that. But I have been thinking about the oblivion and if it would be better. I just want these feelings to stop. I want to be me again. I want to be happy. I don’t want to have to strain a smile on my face and lie when people ask me how I am. I want to be able to have an interest in SOMETHING. I want to write or draw. But I just sit in my room and stare. For hours. I should also be working right now but I can’t bring myself to make the calls I need to, to test a store when I have no fucking idea how to. Meh. I just want to sleep these feelings away. I just want to hibernate and hope that when I wake up, I’ll be ok again. I’m afraid I’m losing my strength. That the little voice that encourages me is fading away because it’s tired of always have to remind me that life is worth it. That this will end, that I will be happy and find someone to share it with when I’m ready. That one day, I will truly be loved and be able to accept it. But right now. I’m just tired. So very, very tired.

*I'm too tired to edit this so beware of typos galore.

2 comments:

Paddym22 said...

Ah God, looks like you are in the midst of a rotten depression. Thankfuly you posted as I was worried where you were these past few days. Things will change, nothing stays the same remember that. In time you will feel better. I know that is no consolation at the moment as you battle with your demons, but you are not alone, trust me. I know Chelsea is also thinking of you, she is a very good person too. I know the oblivion feeling all too well but it is not a solution, it is a dangerous trap. I am glad you got a sedative to get you through the really rough panic patches as they are horrifically painful. You are on a rollercoaster ride at the moment, hang on tight, dont be scared, it WILL pass. Your perception of things is not what it should be at the moment and everything seems enormously difficult but remember that is just how your mind sees it, it is not REAL. Nobody wants to hurt you, everybody wants you to be well. Time, sweetheart, time is what will get you through and remember once you balance out you wont feel half as bad. I cant offer any quick fix solutions just silly words which probably dont make much sense but I am thinking of you. When I am depressed which is very often I take time out and focus on doing small things and leave out anything major, I make no decisions, I try and eat a little every now and then. If I cannot sleep which is quite usual for me I get out of bed and amuse myself with small things that I like, like now I am reading your blog and it is 4.30am here in Amsterdam because I cannot sleep. It is very dark, quiet and I have the Radio on low in the background with the BBC worldservice for company. There is a single soul around to talk to so I am talking to you and I dont feel so alone. Hold on tight, focus on the good things about you and there are many and in a while you will balance out. Fondest love and strength...........

+/- said...

where's this "should" coming from? you have these preset rules in your head: what you should be like if you're bipolar, what you should be doing instead of doing nothing in your room.

"should" implies a deadline, like a due date, or time line. you're an adult now, and you can set your own timeline.

as for work, well, you're crazy, so you have a reason.

you've always had ups and downs. this is a low, and probably more than you've experienced in the past. but you are strong. even if you don't feel like it.

and Heather: It's OK to be weak sometimes.

Update (Originally published on 11.21.08)

It’s ok now. It’s passed. In fact it’s hard to remember feeling like that at all. It’s so fucked up to go through something like that and then suddenly get chipper again and be like “Oh yeah, I’m fine, totally normal.” HA!

Meh.

Why do my brain and I have to fight? Why can’t we just get along?

*cue the Youngbloods song - Get Together*

3 comments:

chelsea said...

Serious. Glad you're through the tunnel. Hope you found that pill.

Paddym22 said...

God dont we all go through it, the important thing to try to hold onto, hard as it is, is that this state of mind will pass. Then when you return to a safer ground you think "What was that all about" Then you wonder when will the next attack be. anyway glad you are safe and can enjoy the moment of normalcy.

Paddym22 said...

Hope you are ok, I trust as you ahvent blogged you are in a good place for the moment

I Can't Hide It. Should I Hide It? (Originally published on 11.21.08)

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t control them at all. They’re racing, racing, racing. I forgot my pill, I forgot my pill that calms me down. I took my medication this morning but it’s not working. Why is it not working? I can’t type fast enough. I won’t let myself make typos.

12341231234123412341234

Is there a God? I broke down last night and was rocking back and forth like I used to. I was begging anyone to listen to me but I hid from my roommate. I always hide, always hide. I hide everything. I have to. No one can know. I forgot my pill. I forgot my pill. I can’t cry. Not here. Not at work. I can’t let my boss see me break down. No one can know, no one can know. But that doesn’t make sense does it? You know, you’re reading this. Why am I posting this? Am I doing it for attention? Is this all for attention? But why wouldn’t I know? Why would I be so confused? Why can’t I control my brain? Am I pretending? Have I gotten caught up in one of my characters? Have I lost myself? I don’t remember taking my pill out of my bag. I can type but why can’t I calm down? I can’t do this here. I can’t I can’t. Should I post this without typos? Should I post this at all? Why do I post anything? My ramblings are inane. What’s going on with my memory? Why can’t I remember anything? How can I correct my spelling? Why is this happening? What was my trigger? Is it because I read a book where the mother is loving and caring and there? Is that why? Is it my mother? Why is this happening now. I wish I had my pill, then this would stop. Oh god am I going crazy? I don’t want you to worry, I won’t do something stupid. I can’t. I’m strong enough I have to be strong enough. But if I was strong why would this happen? Is it all in my head? What’s normal? Does everyone go through this? Am I really bipolar? Are these just racing thoughts that I don’t want to control? Am I doing this on purpose? Is this normal? How could I be so stupid to take my pill out of my bag. Why does what anyone think matter? Why do I ping people? Why do I assume I know what they’re thinking? I feel like they’re judging me. Everyone is judging me. I’m ugly, they’re laughing at me. My hair, they’re laughing at me. Am I pretending I’m something I’m not? Is this fake? Last night I called my sister but she didn’t pick up, she never picks up. If I really am freaking out like this how can I type? Is it helping? Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t know. Why is this happening now? I was doing ok, I was doing ok. Am I faking it? Why wouldn’t I know, why wouldn’t I stop. Am I having an anxiety attack? Am I panicking? I don’t know, I don’t know. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t I won’t. Don’t call me I’ll cry. I can’t cry. I have to hide it. I have to hide it. Should I go home and get my pill? Will my boss be able to tell? I was late, so late. I couldn’t get out of bed. I am so disgusting. My throat is closing up. I need to breath I need to breath. Why won’t these thoughts stop? Is it because I’m a terrible person? How can I type? Is it fake, am I faking it? I don’t know. How could I be so stupid. Do I need a pill? Does it really work. I’m rocking back and forth. He isn’t here. Should I post this? Will people think I’m crazy? Is it to prove something? Is this real? Is this real? I think it’s stopping. I think it’s stopping. I think the voice stopped. Why am I not strong enough to stop it? Why am I so weak? I hide it, I hide everything. Maybe I’m tired of hiding. I’m filled to the brim and overflowing. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop it. Is this why I push people away? I can’t let them see me like this. Should I up my medication? Should I be on medication? Am I really bipolar or am I faking it? Does everyone have these moments? Why do I care what everyone thinks? I have to hide it I have to hide it. It’s not like I have it bad. My co-workers dad died yesterday. I have it easy I shouldn’t be like this. Am I begging for pity? Why am I freaking out when my life is ok? Why am I so selfish? I want to scratch my arms. I want to focus on something. I won’t I won’t. Then people will ask. I can’t hide it I can’t hide it. Why is this happening to me? I can’t cry, I can’t cry. Maybe if I let go this will stop. Not like let go of life. I can’t do that, I won’t do that. I mean let go and just let the thoughts race instead of fighting it. Or would that lead me to do something stupid? I can’t typo, I can’t typo. It’s coming in waves now. I calm down then it starts but less intense. Is it ending? Should I post this? Should I keep hiding it? Am I really hiding it or can everyone see? Does everyone pity me? Do they like me or are they being nice. I wish I had my pill. Does that make me weak? Am I weak? Why can’t I just stop this on my own? Is it all in my head? Am I just not strong enough? I think it’s done, I think it’s done. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can hide this. I have to. I have to. Should I post this? Would you think I’m mad? Am I mad? Should I let someone see what happens to me? Rhymes, I wish I could always speak in rhymes. They’re calming, there calming. If I post this, will it drive people away? Should I be honest? Will this ruin my chances of him ever liking me? Why does it matter? I shouldn’t ever be in a relationship. I can’t do it. I’m crazy. It wouldn’t be fair. Why does it matter, why does it matter? Don’t call me, I’ll cry. I can’t cry. Why do I want someone here? Do I? Can I let them see me like this? This happened once before in front of people but I had a pill. How the fuck could I forget my pill? Do I like feeling like this? Am I just a masochist? Do I do this because it’s familiar? Do I like it? Am I pretending I’m crazy? It’s like there’s a scared animal in my chest. Panicking in a cage. I feel it beating in on my chest. Let me out, let me out. Am I confining it? Should I let it out? Will I be free then? Can I be free? Will this ever stop? Is this forever? I. Can’t. Cry. I’m going to post this before I think about it too much. I can’t think about it too much. Am I mad? Should I re-read it? No no. You tell me, is this normal? Am I just weak? Am I just being dramatic? Am I looking for attention? I don’t mean to. I swear I don’t mean to. Do I? How can I write this then? How can I format it? Am I faking? I don’t know I don’t know. I’m shaking now. Should I post this? Am I looking for attention? Or do I want people to see? I'm sorry. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I have to be fine. I'm sorry. So sorry. Something is wrong. He’s here. Have to hide it.

4 comments:

chelsea said...

Hey hey sister, holy hell that was intense to read. I swear, the most interesting thing about me starting my blog, and then meeting you and Pat and our other bipolar buddies is that even though I still feel completely alone when I'm Down The Rabbit Hole like that, I have you guys now, who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, GET what is going on inside my head when I'm like Down There. Girl, those thoughts have gone through my head almost word for word. Minus the pill and a few other things that were unique to you and your own situation. But I understand completely that feeling of wondering if you're just faking it, if it's really real, how could you be typing like this, etc. Reading that post was really intense for me, which confirms that Yes, it is real. Real on the inside. Maybe to anyone walking by, you just looked like an intensely typing girl. I often wonder when I'm halfway pulling it together on the outside and crumbling on the inside what I must look like to a random observer. I think about that when I'm losing my mind, like, can they tell this is happening in here? They can't. They don't have any clue. I feel for you, and I'm glad you came out of it. I find that sometimes all that fast typing can just at least give an outlet. Especially if you are at work and can't cry. I'm glad you wrote it out, and I think it is brave and wonderful that you shared. People need to know what it's like. You are not crazy, I mean look at you now. You probably have no memory of what you even typed. I have been there SO MANY TIMES. And now, you're just basically "normal" again. Bipolar s confusing, confounding, and totally mysterious. And it sucks. And I get the part where you wonder if you LIKE being like this. I often ask myself that same question when I'm chillin with the Jabberwocky. It is certainly something familiar, isn't it. I wish I knew what our subconscious was trying to do when it takes over like that. Dood. I think it might do you a world of good to find a person who would be willing to hold you while you cry. It sounds like you've got a lot stored up inside that could use some getting out.

Take care, Heather. You are beautiful. God doesn't make junk.

T. said...

Heather, what do you think would happen if people found out about you? Most people that know you already do and we all still love you!!!!!!!! For the people who dont know about your "issiue" WHO GIVES A FUCK if they found out!!!!!!!I promis the world will not come to an end, your not crazy, i have had mind racing thoughts like that before.Your a good person who just falls off her wagen every now and then......and guess what? SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE!!!I also hope you know you can call me anytime you want at any time of the day, I promis you i'm the last person that would freak out on you. Unless your head can spilt into 2 and an alian pops out, then i will freak out!

Paddym22 said...

Heather, my apologies I missed this blog and feel awfully guilty not being there for you. What an awful nightmare experience. You are not alone and never far from my thoughts.

With respect and love

Pat

+/- said...

I'm not sure if I've ever typed this to you before, but it might make it easier to revisit later, for you:
There's a certain "comfort" we all find with the... common, the familiar. It's like people that get in abusive relationships: They're familair. They don't necessarily LIKE to get the shit beaten out of them, but to them, that's what "love" is. I remember feeling GUILTY when I was happy before. I've had bouts with.. depression? I don't know. I was never diagnosed with anything really. But one thing I can tell you, you are strong. To open yourself like that to anyone or everyone is very brave, and I know it took a lot out of you to not delete it.

And like "T" said, we all know, and we all still love you. And really, if it "bothers" someone, who cares? Do they matter in the long run? Will he be forgotten months down the road? Or the hurtful words will stay. I know they will. The hurt stays better than the good. And that's a shame.

Questions About Confidence (Originally published on 11.20.2008)

Ok, so this has been bugging the hell out of me and I must ask for your feedback because I’d like to see different viewpoints on this subject.

Self confidence.

This has always been an elusive trait for me. I can’t quite seem to grasp it. I used to be painfully shy but some people that know me now would never assume that. When I’m introduced to new people or when I enter a party, depending on my mood, I either immediately begin a conversation with whoever is closest or shrink into the wall thereby becoming a flower.

Is self confidence just a front? Is it something that you have to practice and then maybe you’ll eventually believe it? If I pretend to be confident wouldn’t that make me a phony? Wouldn’t that make me a fake? You see I really, really, REALLY despise myself. I have never once wanted to be me; I have always wanted to be someone else. My envy of people comfortable in their own skin has actually lead to the termination of friendships. I get frustrated that they can love themselves while I’ve broken mirrors due to my self resentment. They get fed up by my constant self deprecating comments and inability to believe them when they compliment me. I don’t know how much of this is from being bipolar or from being raised by people that also hated who they were. I used to cover up the mirrors in my room and my mother would just laugh at me and think I was being ridiculous instead of really being concerned as to why her 18 year old daughter can’t stand to look in the mirror. Up until recently, I only had one mirror in my room and eventually a good friend got me a full length one for my birthday just so I could see what my outfits actually looked like.

I don’t even trust my own brain to make a decision so I usually base my decisions on other people’s words. I can not even begin to describe how many relationships were ruined this way. I am so wishy washy that it disgusts me. I can’t make up my own mind so I greedily suck in the ideas of others. Maybe I’m scared to just be myself because I could get rejected so easily. I’m a people pleaser; I always put everyone else’s needs in front of my own. I’m getting a tad better at actually sticking to my beliefs but I feel so inadequate when people ask me to back up what I believe or ask me where I got the source from some fact. My memory has become so horrendous that I only catch snippets of things. Perhaps I should just stop relaying things at all. But then I would just crawl in to my shell once more and close it.

People say I’m too hard on myself. Yeah, I’m aware of that. I don’t know how to stop it. People get so disgruntled at my inability to change. I DON’T KNOW HOW! So does it just take practice? If I feign self love will that make me love myself?

Sometimes I do think that I’m ok. I look over my list of accomplishments and feel a bit proud that I’ve made it on my own with almost no support from my family or a man. Sometimes I think I’m strong but then that horrid little voice kicks in and assures me that I am not strong, that I am weak because I can’t let a man in and love me. That I hide everything until it festers then explodes. That I am a waste of space that I am a coward because I can’t just be myself, that it’s too late to start anything new, that I’m lazy and everyone secretly snickers at me behind my back, that I’m selfish and a phony. Etc, etc.

Oh what a vorpal tongue it has.

So I ask you, what is self confidence? Is it a front? Is it something to practice? Or do you genuinely have to love yourself? If that’s the case…. I feel I’m fucked.

5 comments:

chelsea said...

Hey Heather! I totally get where you're coming from on this self confidence stuff. I think that it is one part bipolar, one part your upbringing, and one part, yes, lack of practice.

I recommend: http://tut.com sign up for the Notes from the Universe. Surprisingly helpful to receive a daily note about how awesome you are, sent with love from your creator. Sounds corny, but these notes have helped me for a year to learn to feel better about myself.

Do that first. Then, every day, check your email and read that note, and (you have a powerful imagination: use it) pretend that it is REAL.

Second: When you receive a compliment of ANY KIND, do this: Just say Thank You. I know that this is the HARDEST thing to do sometimes, and might make you feel extremely squirrely and awkward, but just do it. Just practice saying Thank You. That's it, that's all, no explanations about why this person who likes your shoes is on crack because you only paid eight bucks fro them at Target when clearly, she is rocking a sweet pair of Jimmy Choos. Just. Say. Thank You. And smile.

One of the hardest things to do when you can barely even like yourself is to let anyone else love you. It's definitely a wall we put up to deter the impending possibility that the someone who is trying to love you will soon find out that there is something WRONG with you. I have a habit of sabotaging good relationships with great guys in favor of total jerks. My sick reasoning, I know, is that the good guys deserve better, and the jerks, well the jerks deserve a physcho like me.

Anyhoo, this has now become a novel. But you can build it up, by practicing basic good manners - just say thank you- and by getting those notes every day. Also, what is it you see in the mirror that you find so offensive? The outside of you, or the inside?

Post a picture of yourself, and let us tell you what we think!

I already know that you are one fab & talented gal, who is simply wrestling with a wicked, wicked, yes VORPAL TONGUED Jabberwocky.
That doesn't make you unlovable. That makes you tough and strong and capable of a lot more than "regular" people.

Bert the wonder hog! said...

the only mirror I have in my room is a little 6"^2 one, but thats because I'm a hobo!

And I dont know, I think confidence can be practiced. Also studies have shown that self confidence isnt always neccesary. There are a lot of self loathing people that have accomplished amazing things (hemmingway, poe, and thompson for example.)
But I think it does have a big effect on happyness.

Not trying to pick on you, but your insecurities sometimes make it rather hard to be your friend. I think you know that. I dont know how it works in general, but I know for me I just had to think about myself differently. Of course its different for everyone and Im not trying to say it would be easy for you, but I think it is like a skill you can learn.

I know you want to be happier than you are, and self confidence is part of that. It is possible and you can do it. I know you can.

Paddym22 said...

I used to be annonyingly self confident and now I am just of puddle of self doubt and hatred. I look ok, its not my looks that have escaped me. It is the power of the untamed mined usually in a depressed state that and I think it is a lot to do with leant behaviour( we spell certain words differently in Europe Colour - color, centre - center, theatre - theater)My experience with learnt behviour stems from years of peer abuse and bullying so I know my confidence in a public setting is very poor. However in previous jobs I was a very confident individual and did well because people knew nothing about me and I was dealing with situations that had nothing to do with my early life. However now I am a mish mash of all the self's (doubt, hate etc.) How to come out of it, I dont know....I thik the first step is to differentiate which elements of the lack of confidence comes from ie. early psychological traumas etc. and more presently cleaning up the mess after your mood swings out of control. My therapist keeps saying to me "its not your fault, forgive yourself" But I didnt do anything to me I reply.......tough call. To me to go to the vegetable market and ask for a kilo of courgettes at the moment takes up as much of my self confidence that Obama will need on January 20th to deliver the inaugural addresss.

+/- said...

I think you need to level the playing field a little here Heath-bar. Chelsea is a god damn genius by the way. I love those tips.

You need to remember that everyone has something they are insecure about. I'm sure there is something that oh.. Keira Knightly (sp?) doesn't like about herself. I think there is a difference between "self confidence" and well... the opposite of "self loathing". I believe, even if one loathes oneself, they may still be confident.
I asked Elfie about this the other day, do I seem confident? Is there really a difference between "self-confidence" and just exuding confidence? I'd generalize and say I don't feel confident about 60% of the time, yet to others, I seem very confident.

I think part of confidence is being sure about things. Being able to tell someone without a doubt, some inane statistic, quote the source, or whatever. I think it's easier to feel smart that way, as well.

There is definitely a correlation of feeling smart, and self-confidence. And looks don't have anything to do with it. You know it looks more "confident" to sit- or stand-up straight, rather than slouch. There's a way to carry yourself with confidence, and you've always pulled that off well, even if you don't FEEL it.

And, who the hell cares if you fake confidence? Who's going to know? Fake it and see, what's the worst that's gonna happen? (In case the answer here isn't obvious, it's: NOTHING! because no one will know just how uncomfortable you are unless you tell them!)

And, follow Chelsea's advise. Please.