A Surge of Words

I've been meaning to write this blog for awhile. It's written quite clearly in my brain but when I try to encourage my hands to write or type they lazily concede but miss a majority of what I'm trying to convey. Then I get frustrated and just stop. Sometimes I regret splitting my blog and creating a separate one that deals with my mental issues because I've accepted that it's a part of me. But my brain has always liked to put things in compartments which I refined via therapy because that was the best coping mechanism. I've also created different versions of myself. In a way they're masks to hide the mess that is the core of me. But they're beginning to crack. Mainly because that core has become messier, bigger, and more confused.

I've tried to ask myself why I write this so that it's open to the public. The main reason I started this blog was the hope that someone who thought like me would stumble upon it and realize they're not alone. That other people struggle with… existence isn't the right word but it's close. It's not that I want to die or anything but I feel like the world is a round peg and my brain is square. It just doesn't fit. So I have to just kinda rest on the hole but never really fit in it. Reading Kay Redfield Jamison's "An Unquiet Mind" changed my life. Yes, it sounds cheesy but the relief of knowing that someone else felt like this was overwhelming. It's also why I adore Fiona Apple's music. Her manic voice and lyrics say things that I sometimes can't.

Another reason was that I wanted someone I knew to find it and see a side of me that I don't really show. I am much better at writing how I feel rather then expressing it. There are many reasons for this. Being told as a child that I was just being dramatic or that I was being weak is part of it. I'm also worried that I will scare them. I have a handle on my disorder a majority of the time, but when I don't… I understand it's terrifying to view. I grew up watching my mother fade away because she didn't take care of her disorder. People want to help but they can't if the person doesn't want help. Or they don't understand. Which is their right. It's unfair to expect someone to understand my actions when in the throes of a manic or depressed state. They don't understand that I can't just stop. And that is not their fault. But that doesn't stop it from hurting sometimes. I wish I could explain how it actually HURTS. My emotions hurt my brain, not in a physical sense but  in an overwhelming rush of emotion that threatens to sweep my consciousness away. It makes me vulnerable which I LOATHE. I also don't want pity or sympathy. I don't want someone to cry with my while I cry. I need someone to stay solid and stable while I can't. Otherwise I'll brush my feelings aside to deal with later, alone, while I comfort them. Not being able to control your own brain is fucking terrifying and frustrating.

But now the dam I built to help control my disorder is beginning to break. I know it's being agitated mainly by my job. Which leads one to say "Why don't you just find a new one?" That question makes my breathe hitch and heart pound. I know a little bit about a lot of things. But I'm not proficient in one solid subject. I created my job. The tasks I do are of my creation. Or used to be. I've had shit piled on top of me to the point of suffocation. And I've yet to receive a "good job" or a raise. My work load has tripled and there has been no positive reinforcement (ahhh Skinner, always right) which leads to apathy about improving or keeping up. What's the point? I wish that I could leave this field all together and be a bartender or teach myself self-discipline so I could write one of the thousands of stories that live in my head.

"Just do it then."

Therein lies the problem. Stability is something that I need in order to keep my brain in check. Especially financial stability. I have medication I need, Dr visits to approve the medication, and rent to pay. I have a studio now and the thought of moving back in with roommates makes my eyes prickle. My place is my home, my solace. A place where I can retreat to and not worry about hiding any aspect of myself. Hence why I don't do well when someone is in my space too long. I've been thinking about going off medication but recently I haven't been doing well. If the medication is my buoy, I'd be drowning without it. There is never a time where I am thinking about just one thing. There are always other thoughts bouncing around and I have to try and catch just one while the others bump into me.

So I write as a way to dump my overthrow. And right now I'm beginning to choke on words that need to escape. So time to start writing again. So this is a look inside my brain. Maybe it will intrigue you, maybe it will scare you, but if you've read this entry in it's entirety, then I needn't fear I'm being vain or stupid writing this. Because you read it, so clearly there is an interest some where.

The End Is the Beginning Is the End

Hello all. Life has changed dramatically and I found myself involved more in the external than the internal. This is both good and bad. I was going to take this blog down as I don't really see a need for it currently. My Bipolar Disorder has become fully integrated into my life so I don't really feel the need to separate it from my other blog. I originally created this because I was in the throes of accepting that my life needed to change and that I would never be the same. I needed a place to lash out and share my struggles in the hope that if anyone else felt the same way that they would know they are not alone.

But I won't take the blog down as it's existence reminds me of how lucky I am. I just found out a person who used to read my blog died. He always had nothing but kind words and I do hope he's found peace.

I may still write in here from time to time if the dark clouds that I usually keep at bay roll in unexpectedly. I do hope that this means that the posts will be few and far between as I'd like to write more in my other blog.

To those that have followed me and encouraged me, thank you so much. Your words have helped me get through some of the darkest times in my life.

I hope that things have gotten better for you too. Life is full of ups and downs. You just need to remember that there is always an UP from a down.

*hugs*

Medication Change

I’ve cut back on my Lamictal by 50mg so now I’m at 200mg. I waited awhile to write this to see if there would be any changes. I think there has been… I really can’t tell because I can’t seem to remember if I felt better before. I have been in a shifty mood as of late. Some dark thought cross my mind but then light ones chase them away.

Sometimes.

I feel that I am losing interest in… everything really. I’m discovering that there are VERY few movies I enjoy and I haven’t been in to new music for months. There is a voice in my head that’s screaming at me to practice my fiddle but there seems to be a masochistic side of me that just won’t let me. I’ll distract myself or try and go online to watch/read something mind numbing. I haven’t written any sort of creative writing in months and… I’m just… meh. Honestly I have never really enjoyed my job but I get paid well enough to try to. I don’t do nearly as much as I should… Also, this photography class has turned out to be a HUGE disappointment. I have a teacher that just DOESN’T CARE. He just name drops and digresses to the point of absurdity. The other teacher (for the lab) seems to care enough but… I don’t edit my photos in adobe lightroom because I already edit them in GIMP. The only thing I needed lightroom for was to print contact sheets but now I just found a program online that lets me do it for free. This now makes this 3 hour lab time POINTLESS.

Anyway, I think that these could just be “normal” bad days. I honestly don’t know what a “normal” bad day is like sooo… I still have dangerous thoughts that wander to the forefront of my mind but I’m able to think about them with a safe amount of detachment. I also think that I know the cause of the general lack of interest. My whole life I’ve only ever wanted to be loved. I never, ever thought a man would ever love me. Late last year I had a huge spiral downward where I just gave myself away to any boy. This was actually a symptom of bipolar disorder but I was unaware of that and just thought I was searching for a positive emotion. That all ended when I got medicated and got my life straightened out. As soon as everything seemed to line up and start going well I met a man who changed my life. I had found love. Unconditional love. He knows all about my crazy and what could happen and has seen little fits of it and he still loves me. We moved in together in August and everything is still going wonderfully. I don’t doubt that he loves me and that’s… very strange. I’ve never let myself grow this attached to someone because I seem to have the uncanny ability to lose people. But I know that loves me and that the only thing that could take him away is … le death. That terrifies me because I can’t control that.

Meh.

Speaking of control, my craving to have it has gotten WAY out of control. I’ll leave that for another post so that will FORCE me to update my blog more often…

*shuffles feet*

Ah ha… lol

For those reading this, I hope all is well. :)

Balance

I’ve noticed that when mentally ill people “get better” they stop writing in their blogs. I’m not sure why because I think that’s the most important time to write. You’re showing people that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I can assure you that will not happen to this blog. I have a mental disorder. I will never think the same way most people do. I will have to keep my brain in check for the rest of my life and I want to share that.

Why?

Many reasons. I thought I started writing this blog for me; to get things out of my head. But I realize now I really wanted people to read it. I wanted someone to see what I was going through and say “Me too!” I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just me. That’s the biggest thing with mental illness is that you feel alone, sometimes ashamed, and really just want someone to understand what is going on in your head. I found a community by writing this blog. I found other people that are going through the same thing and trying to help one another. For so long I thought I was weak for not being able to control my actions and my thoughts. I thought that I was just lazy and incompetent. But it’s because my brain is wired differently. But I don’t use my disorder as a scapegoat. I will take responsibility for my actions and I will always strive to be aware of the consequences, hence the “getting better”. I still have my days, my moments where my impulses control me but I recognize them now. Most of the time I am able to take a step back and ask myself if I’m making a good decision. But it’s exhausting. Keeping yourself in check is fatiguing. I can’t describe what it’s like in my head just like I can’t imagine what it would be like in the head of someone that can just be. To control your brain and not have it control you.

I write because I want to help people that are going through what I did. I don’t want them to feel alone, I don’t want them to think they’re weak and hate themselves. I’m honestly very lucky to be alive and I attribute it to being stubborn. I had suicidal thoughts take up residence in my head for a very long time but I refused to put anyone through that. Though I admit in my darkest times I just wanted the pain to stop and I wasn’t really thinking about anything else but getting through it. I have this disorder for life. It will not go away, it can not be cured. It can be controlled through medication and determination but it will always be there. Think of it like a scab that will never heal. It can still get agitated and infected and lead to serious problems if you don’t take care of it. But you will always need to take care of it.

It sounds daunting and sometimes it is but I can’t describe how happy I am right now. I have never felt this good, never. I am stable and oh how I relish it. I honestly never thought this would happen. Ever. But for anyone that’s reading this and going through a dark time IT.WILL.GET.BETTER you can get here too. I honestly know how that is inconceivable right now. But please, please, don’t give up. I’ve been there, I truly have.

I’m not saying that you need medication to get better. There are other methods. But please try. Being bipolar sucks because most of the time you firmly believe that nothing is wrong with you; that your personality is extreme. I won’t deny that I miss the highs. GOD I miss the highs. I miss being able to write until dawn and still function at work. I miss the overwhelming happiness that would randomly surge through my body. I miss being a ball of energy that could party every night. But I know that the highs were not worth what the lows did to me. The lows were all consuming and so very painful. I don’t miss being curled up in a ball begging my brain to stop, stop the racing thoughts, stop the voices that would tear me apart, that would convince me that I am weak and worthless, that I will never be loved.

I have the elusive balance that I never thought I’d find. I have a healthy relationship in which I know that I am loved. I have the reins of my brain again. But I know that it’s only because I fight for it. I can’t ever give up. I will never give up.

They Get It.

I'm not ashamed to say that this made me tear up a bit. This is the best ad for mental health advocacy I've ever seen. Plus it just helps to know that there are other people dealing with it and frustrated at peoples lack of education on what the mental health condition does. Like one guy's response in the video when a woman said that she wouldn't want to live next to some one with a history of mental health problems because she had children. He replied with "Why? I'm pretty sure we don't eat babies."

I'm spamming the shit out of this video because it's amazing. If it evokes a strong reaction in you like it did me, join me in spreading the word yo. People don't get that mental disorders do kill. Only instead of your body dying, your brain is telling you to kill your body. Schizophrenia actually propels significant loss of gray matter in the brain.

As I've said time and time again, mental illness is real, mental illness can be treated, mental illness should never be overlooked, and it's NOT a choice.

So there. lol


*EDIT*
I found another!!!

Wow. Cancer was easier to deal with than depression. Holy fuck.

Death

Everyone mistakes the Death Tarot card. It doesn't mean a physical death. It means the closing of old doors and the opening of new.

Also known as change, which, consequently, is just as fearsome as death for some.

It seems this city is a catalyst for it. Just when you think you have things figured out, BAM, the puzzle is once more taken apart. Sometimes it’s for the better, sometimes for the worse. For me, it has been amazing. I have found someone I love wholeheartedly and who loves me equally as much. I’m moving into a new place this Friday. I am kicking ass at work. I have met some amazing people that have shown me true friendship I have seen the true colors of people that I thought were friends.

But I can honestly say that my life right now is awesome and I do hope that stay in this comfort zone for awhile.

Ze zone:

• Being mentally healthy.
• Waking up next to someone I love.
• Being surrounded by the most amazing friends.
• Having a job that treats me well and surrounds me with more amazing people
• Knowing who I am.
• Knowing that while I may have to rely on a pill to keep my brain healthy, I AM healthy.
• Knowing how incredibly lucky I am

I’ve been through really, really, really dark times but no matter how bad it was I knew that it could be worse.

So, yay I say to the Death card. And I also tip my hat to it in thanks.

Also... I really shouldn't write this but... to certain someone, if you're reading this, move on.

Owning Up to My Feelings

Uh… ok, perhaps I was a bit overzealous when I said I would update three times a week. I believe I’ll start with a goal of once a week and go from there. Things have been ok on the brain front but I’ve started taking Adderall only twice a week as my “come down” is hellacious. I’ve broken down a couple of times in front of le boy which leads to humiliation at my lack of control.

Yesssssss, I am aware that I should not be afraid of showing my emotions but it’s hard to undo years of training.

Also, my need to control everything around me is becoming quite bothersome. I’ve taken to making lists not only for me, but for le boy as well. Additionally I’ve been trying quite hard not to freak the fuck out on my roommates. At this point I am pretty convinced that I am the only one that cleans. The stress of having to deal with disgusting remnants of other peoples meals in order to just make room in the kitchen so that I may cook is inspiring some very violent thoughts. Le boy and I are moving in together (hopefully) by September 1st and quite honestly I am extremely excited to have my own kitchen. The move will prove to be interesting as I have decided to take three classes this for the fall semester. I always have the option of dropping but I hope that it won’t come to that. I’ll be taking English, intermediate HTML, and intro photography. I have a bit of a vain thought that perhaps I will do well in photography as I think I have a good eye but then again, this is my point of view. I’ll only be going to campus 3 times a week as the HTML class is online. I am some what confidant that will leave enough time in the rest of the week for homework.

Onward ho to the catalyst for this blog; an event has occurred that caused a couple of heartstrings to snap and fray. I’ve refrained from writing about this because I needed time to collect my thoughts and I think I’ve finally pieced them together into a comprehensive mosaic of sorts. A good friend of mine has seemingly decided to cut ties with me. This is a rather HUGE blow as she was the only one there for me during some dark brain times. Feelings that are associated with this whole situation: devastation, rage, confusion, hurt and…. an almost feeling of relief. Not because I wanted our friendship to end but it provided a clear picture of what our friendship had become. We had been growing apart more and more due to different life paths and distance. I find the reason for the friendship ending saddening and so very trifle. I told her how I felt about some of her actions and how they left me hurt. Her initial response was understanding but then a couple of messages on facebook made it clear that something had provoked a 180 on her mind.

This whole situation has thrown me for a loop due to the root being me saying how I felt. I am finally able to convey how I feel. Since this is new, people do not expect a backbone that ceases the apologies that used to accompany my words. I thought I lost a friendship in the past due to it and now this. If anyone has followed my blog for a bit you’ll recall an event at the end of last year where I kicked a good friend out of my house. I told her how I felt and it was seemingly dismissed and our friendship had waned. YET we still remained in contact. Ties weren’t severed completely even though I had let some serious pus out of my increasingly irritated heart wound.

Here is what sends me spinning. I completely opened up and (we’ll call the girl that I kicked out B and the friend that is dismissing me J) pointed out numerous things that B had done that hurt me and she still wanted to remain my friend. I said 2 things to J and now our friendship is seeming cut. There may have been more factors for her reaction but I am unaware of them.

But I am now going to allow my indignation to speak. There is no fairness in this. J has pointed out COUNTLESS things that I was doing that she was uncomfortable with or thought were immature. I say two things that she was doing that hurt me and suddenly I’m the bad guy. How is that fair? How is it fair to deny me the right to say how I feel? Even if it appeared to come out of nowhere how is it reasonable to dismiss an entire friendship? I always try and see every problem from every point of view but in this case… I just can’t. How is saying what I feel so horrific? I didn’t betray her, I didn’t harm anyone she loved, I didn’t spew noxious lies about her. All I did was say how I felt. It cuts deeply as it took a lot of courage on my part to do this. People that have tried to comfort me stumble over words and if nothing can be grasped they utter the ambiguous phrase “Perhaps you’re better off.”

I refuse to believe this and would rather not hear these words even though it is only meant to try and help. I had been adopted into a family that became my own and now I am shunned for saying how I felt.

Tears alone do not provide relief or even begin to express how I feel.

The part that provokes rage is if a friend told me what I passed on to her, I would be mortified, shocked and eager to prove that I did value them and was shamefaced for even making them feel that way. I would go on to try and explain that I was clueless that my actions warranted these feelings but I would try and understand them. Everyone interprets things differently and if I am unaware of causing discomfort I would like it pointed out to me.

Admitting or even typing this is incredibly hard as J might even stumble across this post but… I think that I am owed an apology as I have apologized countless times for inciting these feelings. But her words have cut deep and I don’t believe I should provide the band aid. I have a sinking feeling that if she does read this it will increase her anger and that saddens me as that is not my motive. This is my blog, my story and this is a chapter in it.
I dearly hope this chapter isn’t ending and that it’s only a space between paragraphs.

But I will stick to what I said as it was how I feel. These feelings are mine therefore I will own up to them and for once I am firm in this belief. If this causes an end to this friendship it will honestly break off a part of my heart. But I will still carry a fondness for the memories and an unwavering appreciation for all that she and her family have done for me. I won’t allow a bitter taste to muddle what was and I dearly hope that she won’t either.