This Bites…..

I am experiencing that horrible fate that at times overcomes even the most prolific of writers: Writers Block. Its like having a mixed episode with words. The words want to come, they are the most motivated words in the world, but they are also the least motivated words in the world, preferring to laze around in my head while some fictional muscle bound guy feeds them peeled grapes a la Cleopatra. If you had that going for you, would you want to jump out of the warmth of my head onto the coldness of the computer screen? I wouldn’t. I’d stay with the muscle bound grape feeder. And, no, I have gone off the deep end. I did that years ago. I am not even sure what the shallow end looks like.

Writer’s Block

However, in all seriousness, this is just as bad as living in mixed episode world. The words are stuck in my head. They would like to get to their proper home in the WordPress servers, but they lack motivation. They are the most manic and the most depressed little words in the world. Maybe I am having a psychotic break? Nope, that can’t be it, because I know I am not psychotic which rules out psychosis.

Oh, this is worse than manic depression! How can you say that, I hear people saying? Nothing could be worse than severe mental disruption. This, to me, is worse. I have been writing since I was 12 years old. I am now nearing 44 years of age. That’s 32 years of writing about anything and everything. And, now, I get the dreaded Writer’s Block during the Holiday season when I am generally most prolific. I do not like the Holidays for as many reasons as other people who do not like the Holidays.

Arrgghhh! This has to stop. Writing is my release. It is my way of getting my head out of my head (I know that doesn’t seem to make sense, but it works in my world.) So, my head is stuck inside itself which means I am thinking. Generally, when I think, I have to write down what I am thinking so it doesn’t disturb the delicate balance of mixed episode world. If I tilt the world a little to the left, I can go into major depression. I do not like that space. If I tilt to the right, I can go into manic world. I do not like that space either (well, maybe for a day or two, but we all know that mania sticks around longer than that.) Must maintain balance in the world of my head at all costs. I have to be able to walk the tightrope that is the continuous mixed episode. It is the only “normal” that I know. I will not get through the Holidays if this blockage continues.

I have already lost my mind to several psychiatric diagnoses, have to take medication just to get out of the house, have to take medication to make my brain focus, medication for mood stabilization, and one more for depression. Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane, and won’t cause addiction (the anti-anxiety medication, and the one to keep me focused), or cause unwanted side effects like weight gain (mood stabilizers). Writing has always been my constant, my rock when my ocean acts up and the waves stop their gentle rocking, and I get weird. Not that I am not already weird. That was established in grade school. This is a totally different kind of weird. This is an emotional weird, and it is an unpleasant place to be; very uncomfortable, and there aren’t any pillows in this space. There are so many things I need to get out of my head, and I can’t. My brain is stuck in neutral. Hmmphh……

 

Absence

I know I haven’t been blogging much over the past month or so, but, I just haven’t had anything to write about. Which is odd for me. I did write a 4 page thesis in my journal about my fear of my doctors’ retiring, people passing away before me, and how I could rationalize suicide so as not to be left alone with only myself to look after me. I do not always do a great job of that.

I did have the pleasure of taking the MMPI (Minnesota Multi-phasic Personality Inventory), and it confirmed that I am nearly equally as depressed as I am manic. So, that was nothing new. My paranoia score was quite high, but this little diagnostic tool can be quite accurate if you report honestly. Apparently, I am having a hard time trusting people. I think it is that my chemical riddled brain is finally starting to process how abusive my marriage really was. Leave it to me to marry a guy who really couldn’t show emotion or attach himself to a person and has a rather banal addiction to internet porn. It is interesting, though that since I have been divorced my level of “self-worth” has ridden. Probably because I am not trying to be something that I am not. My anxiety level is higher than normal, but I chalk that up to being a slave to public transportation. Would explain the paranoia too. You would believe how many men will stop to offer me a ride. I mean, really? These guys really think I am going to get into a stranger’s vehicle. No, I value my life and personal safety too much to do something that erratic. You feel really exposed sitting on the side of a street waiting for a bus that may not come for 45 minutes especially when you are female even if you are 5’10” tall, and could probably take a potential creep down. See, paranoid.

Another blogger posed a very interesting question in his last post. He stated that many people with manic depression consider it to be part of who they are, and if there were a “magic” pill that could fix everything, would you take it? I do not consider Bipolar to be part of who I am, fundamentally. I believe that it is something that I have. It is estimated that somewhere around 3% of the population have this disorder to varying degrees. It is gender neutral and can afflict males and females equally. Hence, I am not the only person who “suffers” with this affliction. I have always been moody, and generally depressed. I had my first major depressive episode when I was about 12. I had my first nuclear meltdown when I was 30. I was diagnosed with Bipolar I with Psychotic tendencies, Panic Disorder with and with out Agoraphobia, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. But, I have always been anxious and a bit high strung. This is the personality that I am used to. If there were a magic pill that could take all that away, who and what would I be? People live productive lives with this disorder all the time. Just Google “famous people with Bipolar”. You’d be surprised who also has this disorder, and hide it quite well. I hide it quite well. Most people just think I am weird. 

I guess my biggest fear about a pill that could fix everything right now is that it would also change my personality which I have grown quite fond of, even if no one else is a big fan. I do not know how I feel about that idea. I mean, getting rid of the paranoia, the anxiety, the fear, and the constant mixed state so quickly might trigger something else. It’s like my father explained to me once; for each medication you take, it locks like a key into the neuroreceptors that it was designed to fit. This opens up other receptors kind of like doors. One medication closes a door, but opens new ones. The scientists do not know how most of these medications really work in the brain. A magic pill could be like the genie in the bottle. It opens, you make your wishes and hope they were the right ones. So, in response, I would have to really consider what a “magic” pill would do before I took it. Mostly, I would be afraid that it would so fundamentally change my brain chemistry that I would no longer be who I consider myself to be, and would end all of the traits that make up who I am aside from the Bipolar disorder. Your basic nature is a combination of genetics and your environment. I do not know I feel about messing with the brain at the genetic level. That freaks me out a little bit. 

In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, “…And that’s all I have to say about that..”.

I Seem To Be More Agitated Than I Thought (Damn Mixed Episode) ~ Warning: Profanity

So, I have been experiencing the dreaded “mixed” episode for about a month now. This one has been particularly bad. The last one I had that even comes close was 8 years ago. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you cannot medicate yourself out of it the same way that you can a psychotic or manic episode. Depressive episodes are a category all their own. I would gladly give a body part for this to go away. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you are stuck between mania and depression. Your sleep habits change, your eating habits change, your whole structured life is ruined; this helps the mania, but does little for the depression.

I am freaking annoyed and pissed off at people for no other reason than that they cannot seem to understand that I am trying as hard as I can just to survive this. Another one of my little tells that let me know where I am on the Richter scale: Am I listening to Alice in Chains? And…….wait for it……wait for it…….the answer is yes. My absolute all-time favorite I am pissed off at the world so I am going to listen to songs that are as angry as I am. Yes, I realize this is childish. But, so is contemplating the amount of medication I have at my disposal. No, I am not suicidal, so do not get your panties in a bunch. I am just exceedingly tired of feeling like this. I am tired of presenting the happy face to the world. I am tired of pretending that I am not really that sick so people will leave me alone, I am just tired. What a cliche ~ I am sick and tired. Except it is true. I am sick. I am tired. It takes a lot energy to appear as if you are in remission (because it never really goes away, now, does it?) or at least to appear to be functioning, and that you do not mind that everything about your life is fucked.

Yeah, I can pretty cheerfully say, “Oh, I really do not mind having no car in a city where public transportation is a joke” or “No, I don’t mind hauling 50 pounds of food on foot one mile to my apartment” and “No, I really don’t mind living on $6.00 an hour”. I can easily and believably say all this bullshit, because that is what it is. Bullshit comes easy to me. If I can make the head of Children’s Psychiatric services at the University Hospital here believe that I am okay and that I don’t need to see him anymore, and then turn around two weeks later and try to kill myself (I was 16, and it was my first serious attempt), then I can make anybody believe anything. This guy was supposed to be a professional. I also had convinced that I didn’t do drugs as I sat stoned in his office. Am I that good, or was he just that stupid?I think, personally, he was just that stupid, because I sure as hell am not that good. 

And, I am tired and absolutely sick of people telling me I need to get a car, and a job. Well, people, if I had a normal fucking brain like the rest of the sheep on this planet who want nothing more than a 9 to 5 job, a house, 2.5 kids, and a dog, then maybe I wouldn’t get fired from every job I have ever held. I have been fired from a Temp agency. How the fuck do you accomplish that? How many people do you know that have been fired not just from the temp assignment, but from the agency itself? I mean, that takes skill. Serious skill.

How many people can honestly believe that I do not want to work? I have taken to talking to myself just to keep myself from going absolutely insane as opposed to the semi-sane state that I am currently in. Why can’t people see that? What is it that makes the people in my life so fucking blind that they can’t see that I am pretending to be well? I am not well. I am manic, I am depressed. Come on people, I don’t sense things the same way you do. My perception of emotion is fucked up. I don’t just have a bad day, I have bad years. I don’t have good days. I rise to heights that would scare tightrope walkers and I spend weeks there. And, somebody wants to employ that combination? What the fuck planet are you from? I do not even want to live that combination, but here I am, living it as successfully as I know how. Fuck you all…….get back to me when I am well…..or maybe when you are not operating under some delusion that I am just like everyone else. Everyone else does not see the world through a chemical cocktail designed to keep you as level as possible. Everyone else does not have wild, unpredictable mood swings. Everyone else is not addicted to anti-anxiety drugs that you take just to get through the day without having some form of panic attack. Everyone else is not on anti-psychotics that are supposed to keep you grounded to this planet, and wreak havoc on your body.

Come on, you fucking normal people, try to get a clue about the different people in this world and your life. I am sick of fucking “normal” people telling me what to do. Just because I look “normal” with my painted nails, made-up face, straightened hair, and well thought out clothing choices does not mean that I am anywhere near freaking “normal”. I am just a well-groomed freak. I am a well-groomed waste of space. But, at least I am well-groomed. That’s not even funny. Talk to me about being “normal” when the voices in my head have stopped talking, and my moods are not on a see-saw. I do not even know where I am going to be on the scale from moment to moment, let alone for my whole life. Yeah, I am fucking employable. At least, I don’t have any more monkeys on my back. That may be the only healthy thing about me right now. Please get a clue, step outside for a minute and realize that I am pretending to be okay. I am most definitely not okay. Far from it.  But, I will be. I always am. Because I have to be. I apparently have no choice.

 

Lost And Confused

From confusion comes opportunity. (Photo credit: wasabicube)

 

 

So, I am not feeling particularly bad about divorcing my ex-husband right now. In fact, we belong to the same Buddhist community and he introduced to this form of Buddhism. Our community is divided across the city into smaller groups or Districts. I am now and have been the Women’s District leader for the group he had practiced with since moving here about 8 years ago. Upon the divorce, he made the choice (thank the powers that be) to move to another District because I sure was not going to give up my group because of him, although I did try for other reasons. But, I was shot down. So, at any rate, for the past month or so, I have been in and out of a fairly intense mixed episode. I cry at the drop of a pin, I am manic as all hell with the motivation of a seriously depressed person. It’s cool. Fucking rocks (pardon my French)……the problem is I still have to do shit.

 

Actually, sitting here listening to Pearl Jam’s “Ten”, the song “Alive” is playing. Always one of my favorites, ever since it was a new song (yes, I am an aging Gen-Xer, and was around to see the very beginning of alternative rock and Grunge.I am getting old…er). Anyway, this particular lyric has always gotten to me, probably because I have been Bipolar for 20+ years and did not know it. At any rate, here’s the lyric: “…..Is there something wrong, she said. Well, of course there is. You’re still alive, she said. Oh, and do I deserve to be? Is that the question? And, if so….if so… who answers…who answers….” (Pearl Jam, Ten “Alive”) For some reason, this lyric has always touched a nerve. Maybe because I don’t feel worthy of life, worthy of happiness (my marriage certainly validated that feeling), worthy of a happy life. Somewhere along the path of my growing up, I decided that psychological torture (both by self and by others) seemed to define the “norm” of my life. This is how confusion has been reached. Confusion is not a state I find my self in often. At least not about emotions. I just choose to not have them if I can possibly avoid them. 

 

However, confusion and complete discombobulation is where I find my self. I do not like it. I do not enjoy this. I choose not to feel for a reason. Feeling has caused me nothing but pain over my lifetime. I do not hold much hope for the same reason. Every time I have dared to hope, it has gone dramatically and catastrophically awry. I seem to find my self in a position where I am actually feeling bad that I divorced my ex. Neither of us put much into marriage counseling (it, I believe was too far gone by then), and as a consequence we paid co-payments for psychologists that couldn’t help by that point. Initially, I thought, he was falling asleep on the couch because he was staying up too late, and then, it gradually dawned. He didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me. I have these questions that goes around and around and around in my mind: was it his porn addiction or my having Manic Depression that caused the rift? Was it a combination of both? Was it my reaction to what he saw as normal and healthy? He blamed the whole thing on me, always telling me that I was all talk and no action (I had actually been thinking of divorce for a year or so). 

 

Then, the “deal-breaker” fight happened and he threatened me with bodily harm. Lethal bodily harm. I have PTSD. I have an intense fight or flight mechanism; it depends on the situation which one steps up. I also have a fairly “distinctive” career as a substance abuser (see post: “Self-Medication” in the archives). When he said that I was lucky there were no lethal weapons in the house, he was clearly thinking about guns. Idiot. I felt this really scary calm come over me. I have only felt it a few times, and it always involved a threat to me of some sort. I just looked at him, and found him pathetic. I, mean, how dare he threaten my life? As if I was going to let him hurt me? So, I looked at him much like you look at a specimen of algae in Biology class. He had become a non-entity; something to be disposed of. I looked around the room from my position on the sofa, and I could clearly see at least 10 lethal objects not to mention the knives in the kitchen. I asked very calmly what did he mean there were no lethal weapons in the house, that I could see about 10 from where I sat. He was clearly out of his element. I had been a fairly violent child, and it got even worse as my substance use led me further and further down a very dangerous path littered with human land mines. I told him the conversation was over, and I was going to bed. It was 2:00 am. I spent an hour trying to fall asleep, and in that hour decided that I was leaving. He really fucked up when he threatened me because a vital part of my self shut down, and part of that part was my love for him.

 

Which gets me to where I am now. Confused. And emotional. I feel bad for divorcing him because I know he thought I would put up with his shit forever. No, sorry, even my self esteem has a point at which I say no more. I mean, he clearly was hiding from me. He would spend all day locked away with his computer and his porn. Didn’t leave much room for me. So, I filed the first of the paperwork 4 days before my birthday and one month after our anniversary. I have always had a great sense of timing. I think what is bothering me now is that I just don’t feel that bad about it. In my eyes, I was protecting my self from further damage. I isolate the word “self” for a reason. It was the “self” that was being attacked and damaged. I have spent far too much time in therapy, in the hospital, getting medically “stable” to watch it all go down in flames. Maybe that makes me a cold person, but I do not think so. It makes me a survivor, and it makes me someone who wants a life. I feel bad for him, but, at the same time, I do not feel anything. That’s new; I have never just not felt anything. Maybe its because it is the Holidays, and I feel so much that it feels like numbness.

 

I Am The Dark Side Of The Moon

This is the Sine Wave. When it looks like this with equal frequency and amplitude, everything is ducky. It is like being on a gently rocking ocean.

So, my divorce is official, and has been for about 2 months. You would think I would feel relief at being out of a situation so negative and hurtful that I barely survived at times. I do feel relief that I am not being disrespected and degraded by some one who “claimed” he loved me and that he could handle the Bipolar part; he had dated two other women with Bipolar in the past, and in fact, his most recent breakup was with one of those women, they both walked out on him, not the other way around. I find that interesting. All of his longish term relationships have ended with the woman leaving the relationship. Hmmm. 

At any rate, I am finding that I am slowly almost imperceptibly becoming very depressed. I am still at the point where I can hide from people who do not know me well. I am on a fucking roller coaster. One minute I am crying like I lost the last pet on the earth, the next I am thinking ‘hmmm, the kitchen needs cleaning,’ and no more crying for a while. I know that I am still on the okay side of this mood swing because I still care about what I look like, engage in personal hygiene, that sort of thing. The very fact that I do not out the kitchen off until tomorrow tells me I have not fallen………yet. I may still be on the okay side of this particular piece of the sine wave, but that doesn’t mean I won’t slip off.

I know there are many ways that people with manic-depression have devised for themselves when they feel an episode coming on. Well, that’s all fine and dandy, and hooray for them, but what do you do when it blindsides you and cold-cocks you in the face? What are you supposed to do when you both belong to the same religious organization, and you see each other at community events? How the hell are you supposed to heal from everything he put you through and everything you did to him? It’s not like you can decide to be a Zen Buddhist (I am a Buddhist, as an aside), and go climb a mountain and empty your life of all desires both material and those that are more fleeting, and come back enlightened. I mean, hello, most people have some sort of life including myself as unhappy as it has been for a time now. We don’t have time to climb mountains seeking the “way.”

Besides the only thing I can see coming out of that is a lot more money in the savings account due to one’s lack of desire for earthly things. (Sorry to the Zen Buddhists, no offense meant). Then I stop and think about one of the key concepts of my sect of Buddhism, and that is to make a plan then take action on it. Making a plan is great, but what will it accomplish, what will it get you if you do not take action? Nothing.

So, my ex-husband and I had the mother of all of our fights about first week in June. It was one of those fights where you are yelling but then get quiet because you have become so angry, you are afraid to speak. I sat there and let him yell, and I yelled back, until he said “You’re lucky there are no lethal weapons in this house.” I got quiet real fast and kept my butt glued to the couch because within my immediate sight I could see about 5 lethal objects. The next words out of my mouth were calm and modulated. I stated that I had enough of this discussion, and I was going to bed, and he could do whatever he wanted. 

That night I curled up around my teddy bear (yes, I still have one), and I thought very hard about something I had mentioned before in passing fits of temper: Divorce. This time he had not just crossed the line, he jumped over it like he was an Olympic athlete. You do not threaten people with bodily harm. Especially those of us who have PTSD and a very strong fight mechanism. So, that night at about 3 am, I decided that come hell or high water, I was filing by Friday of that week. And, that’s what I told when he woke up the next day, and that is exactly what I did by that Friday.

I said all of that to say this: one can never be prepared for what is going to come unhinged in your mind that will set you up to break. I had been so unhappy in that marriage for two years, and I honestly thought I had worked through all the emotions. I was so wrong. I have been awful. I have been up for a few days then crashing out of the sky for a few more. I feel like the boy, Icarus, in the Greek legend who flew too close to the sun with wings of wax. I feel like I am hanging on to my sanity by the most light and gossamer of threads. I have become the dark side of the moon.

Bouncing Brain ~ The World Looks Different Through The Lens Of Insomnia

A Love Hate Masquerade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am tired of so many things……something has got to give and it better not be me. I just wish the world would wake up one morning and realize that while we all may hold different beliefs, lead different lifestyles, eat different food, pray to different divine beings/powers, we are all the same at the core. We all desire to be loved and happy and have friends and a sense of belonging somewhere. We all love our families and our children, and would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way. But, no, people have to be petty and put a stop to any disagreement within their ranks, sometimes with deadly, militaristic force. That’s not going to solve anything in the long run except to determine who had the better weapons and who had the better allies. I find it all frighteningly petty.

There is so much more that people could be doing than having to fight their own governments while their governments hang onto their power by using chemical agents on their own people. Even we have done it. Look at the guys who came back from Desert Storm and started showing up at clinics with mysterious ailments. There are times when I get so discouraged that anything will change because that’s just the “way it has been.” Well, why can it not be “that’s the way it was?” I think I need sleep tonight. My brain is starting to bounce, and I am starting to think aloud and on “paper,” so to speak.

I would love to set up a world-wide contest of sorts to see who could create a country with a government that not only worked, but worked for its citizens, and where diversity was completely embraced as being part of life because no matter how much you stomp your feet and scream and cry, people are going to be different than one another. Accept it, embrace it, get over it.

I am just so extraordinarily pissed off today. About everything. I just do not understand why people hurt the people they purport to love like the air they breathe. I do not understand why people form exclusive little groups and if you don’t belong, then you might as well cease to live. That is what bullying is all about. And, on the subject of bullying, does it seem more prevalent today than when you were in school (provided you have graduated college by now)? I mean, the kids can’t even escape it at home. In my day, you were bullied at school and maybe a little bit by crank phone calls. Now, these kids have iPads, smartphones, they are on the Internet for as many hours as we used to watch cartoons. They can’t escape it. It is insidious and everywhere. Why are 12 year olds committing suicide? What can be so bad in a 12 year long life that rather than struggle through it, they choose to take their lives? I wonder, because I was that kid. You know, the one that was slightly off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. I was harassed from grade school until I left high school, and yes, I did try several times to take my life. But, I couldn’t do it. Something has kept me alive for many years for some reason that I have not figured out yet. I should be dead. I should not be sitting here letting my mind dance over the million thoughts I have in one minute of an average person’s life. I hate having Bipolar and I hate having ADD, and I hate being anxious so much of the time and I really hate the paranoia that comes with all of them, especially the bipolar and the PTSD which I hate also primarily because of the way I came to develop it. I just really do not like much of anything today. I fell off the sine wave.

Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)

Down the rabbit hole (Photo credit: PeterKlein77)

I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in. (Photo credit: Refidnas)

“…..Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)…”

What is the current state of my madness? Yes, I will call it that, because I do believe I am beginning to fall down the Rabbit Hole to have tea with the Mad Hatter. Whether this is going to be the good kind of madness where I actually get stuff done, or if it is going to be the kind where I am paralyzed I do not know. I have no time for the paralyzing type of madness. I have to move. It has become essential to my physical and mental well-being.

It is clear from taking the Holmes and Rahe life stress test that I am dangerously close to the edge of some precipice. I scored 314, and anything above 300 puts a person at extreme risk of becoming ill. What kind of ill they are talking about I do not know, so for my purposes, I will assume mental illness because physically I am fine. Mentally, I am not so sure. I have been passing through hypomania (though not true mania thanks to my meds ability to manage that) and mild depression for about a week now. I think they call it mixed episodes which I so often present at my psychiatrist’s office. One would think I would be used to them by now. However, they always take me by surprise. Hence the precipice of the Rabbit Hole that I feel like I am standing on. And, the ground beneath my feet is not super solid. I can feel it crumbling a little bit more everyday.

Part of the reason for this feeling, I believe, is that I have to give my current rental company a 30 day notice by Wednesday, and the apartment complex I located that had reasonable rent for the size of the apartment is giving me the run-around. Yeah, granted my credit isn’t that great; it plummeted when I was sued by my Student Loan company. It wasn’t that great prior to that, but it was like Black Friday all over again. I also discovered that a bankruptcy that should have been removed from my record is going to be there until 2015 instead of 2013 when it should have been removed from my credit report. So, needless to say, I do not look like a good risk even though I always pay my rent first. I have no desire to be homeless, and homeless with a cat is all the more impossible. Needless to say, I am extremely on edge. I am looking at losing what little I have managed to acquire in my lifetime. It may not be much, but it is mine.

I am doing my damnedest to remain positive, and know that everything will work itself out. That’s not how my brain works naturally. I always seem to think the most dire of things are definitely going to happen. Now, whether that is anxiety talking, or the Manic-Depression, I do not know.All I know is that my internal dialogue is trying to sabotage me. The most dire thoughts are winning, and the positive “everything will be okay” thoughts are being suppressed. I am losing my own argument. That alone does not bode well for stability of madness.

I keep taking my meds as I am very medication compliant having seen what will happen if I try to go off of them. It isn’t like I am on a whole lot of medication. However, the random thoughts keep coming and they are very negative. The stupid “voices” keep telling me that nothing is going to work out, that everything is fucked (pardon my french, that’s how I feel), that I am going to be homeless or at the less positive end of the scale, that I will be living with my soon to be ex husband for longer than I thought. That really gets on my last nerve. I would give anything for the more confident, positive thoughts to be stronger, but they never have. The negative is more powerful and always has been. 

Apparently, I should drop in more often to check what condition my condition is in……

I Have No Idea What I Am Right Now ~ Manic, Depressed, Stressed Or Are They All The Same

bipolar-quotes-02-300×240 (Photo credit: Life Mental Health)

 

I have one certainty right now. I have BPAD type I with psychotic features, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder with and without Agoraphobia, and Panic Disorder. It it not amusing that 3 of 4 are anxiety disorders that are triggered by stress which I am undergoing to an extreme that I never have in the past. Not this kind of stress. I can handle work-related stress, the everyday stress that comes from sharing this planet with so many different people, but I don’t know if I can handle this level of emotional stress. I feel that I may go insane (I have a list to choose from), and this time I may not come back in the same form I left in. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I am paralyzed in my mind where I go to hide. I feel like a coin being tossed and whatever comes up heads is where I go that day. If it’s tails, do not bother getting out of bed, it won’t be worth the time, energy or pain that will go into trying to stay positive in the face of extremely negative circumstances. 

 

Everyone thinks I am strong and I am not. I am a quivering mass that is hiding behind a facade of normalcy and strength. Unless you have experienced this type of emotional stress, you will not understand what I am going on about. My husband is going to be served with divorce papers tomorrow, and neither one of us have a place to go live other than where we are. So, we are living together for the next three months. I do not think this is going to finally be the proverbial straw, and I go off the deep end (I am already in the deep end), and never come back. This is going to color my world for a long time, I think. My whole paradigm about relationships has shifted, and it remains to be seen in which direction. My last long term relationship lasted 9 years, but at the time no one knew that I had manic-depression. PTSD, yes. But nothing that could explain the Bipolar symptoms that were beginning to manifest. Now, I know, and I feel an obligation to whoever can love me to tell them so they will know from the get go what they are in for. Ideally, this person will not be swayed and will learn how to be with someone who has periods of mania and severe depression. And, they will care and not care at the same time. They will love me for me, and the disorder won’t always be the elephant in the room like it is now.

 

He doesn’t understand what he did wrong in the marriage, I totally get what I did wrong. I am divorcing him for those reasons, not because I do not love him, but because I do love him and care about his welfare, and I am not an easy person to be around sometimes. I do things and say things that are harmful and damaging. And, I am trying to protect him from me, and to a certain extent, myself from him. I cannot tolerate his pet diversion any longer and still respect myself as a woman. I can no longer live with someone who refuses to try to learn something about Bipolar disorder since that has been the most disruptive of all my diagnoses. How can one handle something that one has no real knowledge of? I have to live with it everyday. You can be damn sure I read whatever I can get that is legitimate and not “pop” psychology. I cannot do battle against something that I do not understand. No one can. At least not effectively. I hope I can get through this without becoming cynical and jaded. I hope that I can get through this without any drama, or me going way off the radar of “normal” feeling. 

 

I just hope that……hell, I do not know what I hope. I do not even know how I feel. I do not even know if I am feeling or if I am pretending which I am so good at. I just know something is off about me these days. I do not think I have allowed myself to feel because then I would be useless. Maybe I will let myself feel when I have time. Maybe.

 

Tomorrow Is D-Day

Panic-attack (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, tomorrow is “the” day. I am absolutely resolved to end this farce of a relationship and reclaim my happiness. I firmly believe that I was in a better place mentally before this relationship than I am now. Although, that may be a perception colored by sadness and anger at the demise of a marriage that was supposed to last for life. I have no idea. All I know is that I cannot sleep well, am not eating, am ignoring my appearance, and all the other hallmarks of severe anxiety. I know that this is the right thing to do, and probably has been for quite some time, but actually initiating a separation from someone you once were madly in love with is extremely scary. It means I will be alone with myself again. Just me and my cat. Although, if i am honest about it, I have been alone with my cat for a long time now. But, there was still someone to talk to. When you have nobody to talk to except your cat, then life gets a little weird. Cats are great little furry healers, though. Having a dog or a cat or whatever kind of pet you prefer gives you something to nurture that in turn helps you to remain okay. I digress because I am really freaking out. 

I do not understand why this particular separation has me so anxious. It’s not like I have not gone through this before with previous relationships, one of which lasted about 9 years. When that one ended, I did feel like I was going through a divorce due to the length of the relationship. However, I had somewhere to focus my attention during that breakup. I was finishing college and working full-time so I had little time to sit and ruminate on the loss of my significant other. This time around though feels like a failure. I feel like I failed somehow. Like I didn’t do something right, and that, perhaps, everything I did do was in some way wrong or not enough. I didn’t feel that way with my other breakups of relationships. The toughest was the nine-year one. The saddest was one that lasted almost as long as this marriage did. It was only about three and one half years, but I felt a tremendous amount of loss and grief over that one.

I am not good at dating. I am in my early 40’s, and I am pretty well set in my ways at this point. I know what I want, what I like, and what I don’t want and what I do not like. That’s going to make dating difficult. That and I am feeling like somehow being mentally “interesting” is going to be an encumbrance to my meeting someone new. It’s not like I can get away with not being straightforward about the fact that I have manic depression, PTSD, occasional bouts of Agoraphobia, and Panic attacks. They are going to rear their ugly heads at some point just as they always do, and then, people either freak out and want to get away from me, or they try their best to understand but inevitably just cannot handle it, or they are supportive and try to learn what they can about the various challenges I face daily. It’s always one of the three. I think the one that hurts most is the person who tries to understand but ultimately just cannot handle the sometimes intense emotions that I feel. Then they leave. Either be supportive and educate yourself and stick around or freak out right away and be gone. That’s how I prefer it. Two options, no grey area. 

I do not mind living alone. In fact, I may prefer it, but you cannot be alone all the time. A person will go nuts, literally, without other people. That’s another thing. I have to find a place to live that I can afford on my little SSDI check, and find a part time job to supplement my income. People take a look at my resume, and the first thing they ask is why I haven’t worked in 6 years. That’s a tough one to explain. It takes delicacy and a lot of inferences and innuendo to having been ill, but being better now. Then, they ask why I only worked two years in previous positions. Hmmmm, because I had uncontrollable mood swings and severe reactions to stress that were sometimes debilitating and I simply could not work for several days? This is where the Agoraphobia and Panic attacks live. i would try to get out the door, even going so far as to get ready to go, and at the last minute realize that the world was too scary that day, and I would call in sick. I was sick, in a matter of speaking, but not in a way that anyone would really understand unless they had had a similar experience. So, that should be fun. Not. I really want to try to finish my Paralegal degree because I think I would make a good one. I love research, I enjoy the legal profession, and I like to be support staff. However, that involves getting funding and getting to school. 

I know I shouldn’t feel like a failure, but you reach 42 and your only accomplishment of note is that you finished undergraduate school, you kind of feel like you just didn’t meet your “potential.” There are so many highly functioning Manic Depressives, i just wonder if I am one of them. I do not feel mentally impaired in any way, I do not feel that I am not smart enough, I guess I feel like somehow I have deserved everything that life has thrown at me, and I have either caught the ball and ran with it, or I didn’t. For me, there seems to be no grey area. I am either manic (like I suspect I am now) or I am depressed, but I seem to reside mostly in the middle with mixed episodes: manic and depressed. I know that I am not depressed because the crushing weight that is depression is not sitting on my chest. Probably slightly manic: not eating, not sleeping, thoughts racing, restless and irritable. 

I am very scared and sad and glad at the same time. I cannot live with someone who simply refuses to educate themselves about my “disorders,” I do not like that term. It is debilitating, and requires that you accept yourself as less than. But it sure is hard not to feel less than when you are ackowledging that you have lost. I intellectually understand that this divorce is not all my fault, that there is a role that my husband played, but I am experiencing the familiar heart-mind split. If i keep it intellectual, I am less sad, more pragmatic, and more realistic about this. If I let my heart into this, i will be a slobbery mess. 

Okay, feeling calmer and more certain than ever that this is the right choice for my health both physical and mental. It has disintegrated to a point where verbal and emotional abuse is common. I grew up that way. I do not have to live like that as an adult. As an adult, I have a choice. Exercising that choice is a whole different world. I warned him that it would come to this, and all he said was don’t threaten me. It wasn’t a threat, it was a certainty. It just got accelerated, that’s all. Okay, I think the anxiety has passed. Maybe I’ll go throw some makeup at my face so I do not look so plain 🙂

 

Okay So I Am On An Old Childhood Song Kick Today

Cover of The Beatles (The White Album)

 

I tend to have better memories of my “formative” years before things got all weird in my family, and between me and my Dad through music and the lyrics. I am in a reminiscing mode. Sorry  🙂 My Dad loved the Beatles, and I happen to really like The White Album, so here we have “Dear Prudence”

 

Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play

Dear Prudence open up your eyes
Dear Prudence see the sunny skies
The wind is low the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence won’t you open up your eyes?

Look around round
Look around round round
Look around

Dear Prudence let me see you smile
Dear Prudence like a little child
The clouds will be a daisy chain
So let me see you smile again
Dear Prudence won’t you let me see you smile?

Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play