Times you think it’s going to be fine


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I had two weeks, maybe three or a month. Can’t remember, all I know is that, I could feel depression sneaking in the background. Behind trees, watching me as I took my daily walk. Hanging from the walls of my apartment and casting doubt into every action I made.

Then, like a genius, I added alcohol. I thought it would help me sleep. I slept worse. I stopped exercising for two days and now I’m exhausted. My body aches and all I want to do is to stay in bed.

Bed is my friend. It’s a good place. I can hide there, dream there, be there. But its empty. Apart from the stuffed animals. (Girl thing).

So now I wonder, how long will this last. It’s the closest I felt to being (cured) of BP in years. I know there is no cure, I know it’s an illness I have to deal with 24/7/365. I know this, its reality. But I felt good and I haven’t felt good in over 7 years. Arbitrary number, it could be more. You lose count. With all the med changes and hospitalizations and therapy and physical illnesses. Life becomes a blur and I already wear glasses.

Too much to do today and visitors tomorrow. Two doctors the next day and accompany my mom on Friday.

Then holiday week. Christmas, New Years Eve and New Years Day.

No parties, no presents, no invitations. But the world will continue with the process and I guess I will just “be”.

There are times when you think you’ve got it beat. Delusional. I guess I just have to be happy with what is offered and given to me.

I have to brush, floss, bathe, lotion, gargle, sleep. And what surrounds that, I guess its life.

My Mom had cancer, she’s 100% cancer free. But she’s still healing and it’s stressing. I don’t know how she took care of me when I was sick, so much worrying, stress and demands. I guess that’s why I’m barren. God knew I couldn’t handle children and BiPolar.

There are reasons I know nothing about.

Beep Beep Eddie…


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For some reason I thought of Tim Curry as the clown Pennywise in the tv movie “IT” by Stephen King.

Although it has nothing to do with this post.

I’ve been away for some time, I’ve moved. My mother moved, although I’m not very happy about where she is right now. I wanted her to be alone, but she’s still got my relatives with her, but she seems happy. It only is sad when I leave and come back to my apartment.

She had breast cancer and I go by and make meals for her and help her with things. Laundry etc.

To be honest, I’m tired. I’m not depressed or cycling. Just slightly overwhelmed. I’ve been snacking tonight, putting my eating plan over it’s limits.

Deep down, there is a feeling to stay in bed and NOT function. I can feel it creeping up on me. I don’t want company. I don’t want to talk. I just want to lay in bed and sleep. But I can’t. I have to make sure my mom is ok.

But I also need to keep doing. I’ve started WiiFit U and have been doing pretty good for the past week. How long this will last, I don’t know. But I’m not gonna future think. I’m just gonna be in the moment and try to cope.

My eating disorder is at bay. Thanks to Overeaters Anonymous and me moving. I hate counting calories etc. And I just won’t do it anymore. It makes things difficult for me. I don’t want to obsess over food logs etc. But,it does help.

Feeling a bit sad over Craig Charles’ brother dying all of a sudden from a heart attack. He was only 52. I feel bad for him. He’s back on the roller coaster of life and I hope he can hold it together.

There is still so much to do concerning this apartment. Bills, learning how to budget and save. Hoping my meds hold on and I can pull this independence thing off.

Everything has changed, it takes a while to get use too. I miss having easy access to my Mom, she’s my best friend. Everything has changed. Kinda scary.

Long time coming


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Quiet and peace. The weather outside is the complete opposite, with the wind blowing and the rain falling. I have to head out there soon, but if it wasn’t for the present calm I’ve been feeling, I know I couldn’t do it.

My eating disorder is in abstinence at the moment. I am preparing myself for a rough two weeks or so, taking care of my mother who is going in for surgery. She is tired and doesn’t feel very well and is psyching herself up for the experience. I know she is scared and I am scared too. I don’t want to lose her, never want to see her go. Although, I know its inevitable. Just not now, I’m not ready for it, then again who ever is ready for someone they love to die?

I have a new apartment with privacy and a pleasant landlord. a true blessing from God. Neighbors upstairs are always dropping things on the floor, they are either klutzes or doing it on purpose. I vote for klutz.

My current cocktail of Latuda, Doxepin, Xanax and Vistaril. I think that’s the name of it… Has kept my anxieties down and allowed me to get quality sleep. I know the move has had a huge effect upon my current mood and life in general.

I know my pdoc will want to reduce the Xanax, but things are fine at the moment. I say, don’t mess with it.

I’m not going to speculate as to how long this will last, I’m just going to enjoy what is now and live in the moment.

It is how I have to deal with things, otherwise I’m overwhelmed and hospitalized.

I’m going to Overeaters Anonymous, although I won’t be able to go back until my Mom is back on her feet. It has helped tremendously with boredom eating and binging in general.

Right now,I’m in a good place. I’m gonna leave it at that.

Mental Illness is like that, sometimes you are just fine and the BAM!!! all hell brakes loose in your head. I’m aware of this, but I’m not going to stress over what may or may not happen for months or years from now.

Existing in the moment, enjoying what I can.

With a side of Self Hatred, please…


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I have hated myself since I was a child. I was too thin, then too fat and my knees wouldn’t bend all the way like everyone else’s did. Arthritis.

I was always finding some fault with myself. My siblings teased me mercilessly. I was over sensitive, my mom would say. She would yell at them for teasing me. But it really never stopped.

As I got older, the teasing turned into judgement. I was the odd one out. I took pride in that. I like being a misfit.


The individual, I praise it.

This would be nice if I didn’t hate myself. IF my father didn’t tease me in front of everyone and turn my efforts to lose weight into a joke. I hated him. The mental abuse was non stop. I could not please the man, so I just stopped trying.

The best thing he ever did for me, was to die. I was free.

Didn’t stop the self hatred, which turned into self harm once the BiPolar hit. No self confidence, low self-esteem, low self-image. Just Low.

I’m 47 years old. I’ve been battling this crap for years. I’m sure I’ve got more battles ahead, but right now.
At this moment. Today, at 12:52pm EST.

I don’t hate myself. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to harm myself or others. And I am just HERE.

Now, I’m going to play Farmville 2.

Tomorrow will be, what it will be and I will feel as I feel TOMORROW. And I’m not going to obsess on that to the point of an anxiety attack.

I’m in the moment. And it’s quite peaceful.

Stephen Frey: The Secret Life of the manic Depressive – Important film to fight Stigma.


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I began watching this award winning documentary early this morning. Was only able to get thru a half hour, because I was triggered. I’m easily triggered, I empathize and identify with the person on the screen and I remember feeling or doing the same thing and I’m there again.

I saw it on YouTube, a friend of mine sent me the link. There are two parts I know of right now and a link where you can get it with subtitles in different languages.

In my opinion, it is very honest. Asks the right questions and pretty fucking accurate. It’s not boring or draggy. Watching Carrie Fisher in the midst of her illness was disturbing to me. I’ve been there. Cant sit still. Thoughts flying, such brilliance and such suffering all at the same time.

Here are the links: PART ONE:


Watch, post and pass on. I think this film will help a lot of people. And fight the stigma of mental illness

Thank you Mr. Fry.

Is it wrong ? All I know is a change is coming.


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When my sister died, I wished it was my cousin instead. He was misbehaving and just an all out nuisance, pest, waste of space. While my sister, well… She was my sister.

That was many years ago. My cousin has caused so much family drama etc. Too much to get into. I had chalked that thought up to grief, and I guess I really didn’t want anyone to die.

With all the pedophiles, rapist, murders, sadists etc. roaming the earth. I will never come to grips while the innocent and good seem to die so young and so easily.

I don’t blame God. I have long considered Earth, this world as it stands, to be the real hell. Some days just living is torture. And I wonder why I continue to do so, way too often.

My mother and her love keep me here. I’ve said that to my therapist one time too many. She understands that once she’s gone. I’m gone.

I know my life will be lonelier than it is now. I search so hard for a purpose to breath, and I still can’t find one.

Spent half my existence just trying to taste ‘stability’ again, and it keeps running me by. Twenty plus years of meds, therapy, inpatient stays.

Now I approach if I’m not in menopause and children are and impossible. Sitting here with one beat up ovary and non-viable eggs. Not much of a woman, never the chance to reproduce and nurture.

Can’t even have a dog in my apartment. NO PETS. What shall we do with our time?

My brother may be dying. I always go to the worst case scenario, force of habit. Trying to change that aspect of thought.

Doc added an additional low grade anxiety pill. To be honest, I’m in a nice buzz thru the day. But no anxiety. I’m fine with that, I think I would have done something stupid or eaten half of North America by now if not for the little greenish pill.

The anti-HULK.

Things are changing.

When your family treats you like the CITY DUMP!


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You’re the house they crash at for weeks when they are homeless. And they don’t clean, contribute or say thank you.

You’re the one they misplace their anger upon. You get yelled at, hit and talked about like you killed their dog.

It’s your apartment, but someone’s always there and you have no privacy and they eat all your food and steal your things.

This is abuse. And I’m tired of it.

I’ve always said, “I get treated kinder by strangers than I do my family.” I’ve been saying this since I was a teenager.

And it still holds true.

Does this make me weak? Does this make me the rock that they can depend upon?

NO! It makes them selfish bullies. It makes them thieves and liars. It makes them less FAMILY and more like criminals.

I’m too old for this, I don’t trust any of them.

Stringing sentences


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Things have been pretty awful, but I know they can be worse and I guess that’s what keeps me going sometimes. I want to write poetry, actually entered a contest and edited some stuff for the contest. I hardly ever edit my poetry, but I just didn’t feel I was getting the point across.

One I thought was brilliant, was a mess. I guess its all state of mind at the moment.

Anxiety is really high. I’m beginning to think my ‘generic’ Xanax just isn’t doing anything. I’m afraid of everything. I try tea and warm baths and it just isn’t helping. Life is like, ‘hurry up and wait’ right now.

I’m going nowhere and yet things will change, but the change scares me. Although I know its something I’ve been hoping for and need. I’m scared.

When I say this, my therapist always asks of what? My answer, “Everything”. I’m scared to face the day, to deal with people, to not have enough to pay bills, to speak to others, to just LIVE. Everything brings me anxiety, because of the expectation of others.

Maybe it’s imagined, but after being judged for so many years. It’s hard not to feel this way. I don’t walk right, I don’t look right, I should be doing this, I should be doing that, why haven’t I BLAH, BLAH, BLAH…

Yadda yadda yadda…

Life is cruel. People are so dissatisfied with themselves, all they can do is find fault with others. Makes them feel better about what they lack.

Which is why, I guess. I am alone.

No one considers the bullshit of growing up and adolescence that we all went thru. There is no PERFECT NORMAN ROCKWELL HOME. Give each other a break and have some fucking empathy for a change. I’m not asking for excuses, just understanding.

But I guess that’s too much to ask for in this world. Which is why I’ve wanted to leave so many times.

I use to have so much confidence in college. Although underneath, I was pissy scared. But I could pull it off, cause I knew what I wanted.

Now, what I want is so far out of reach and has either passed me by or is crippled by my own inadequacies, that I just accept ‘being’. Cause everything else is just too stressful.

Had a horrible weekend. Anxiety on mountain high. I use to get so anxious and stressed, that the muscles in the back of my neck would feel like they were tightening so tight. That my head was tilting upwards and I would soon be looking at the ceiling.

It’s getting to that point again. Right now, I just want to sleep. I just want an even break. I just want a chance to have a ‘fucking good life’, as Rik Mayall suggested.

PATIENTS LIKE ME… A site I go to in order to find others who understand


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If you follow the link I’m about to paste. You will find a place made up of all types of people from around the world who all have conditions that are diagnoses and live with them every day of their lives.

These aren’t doctors or researchers or advertisers. But everyday people who survive day to day and can offer help, comfort, support and conversation.


There are boards for Mental Health, MS, Arthritis, AIDS, Cancer, all types of conditions. I have found so many wonderful people here and I offer you this chance to find some comfort and advice and camaraderie.

Thank You.

The See-Saw I ride


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When I was a kid, I loved the see-saw. Going up and down with a friend who, hopefully wouldn’t jump off and let your ass hit the ground with a thump, was the most fun you could have on the playground. Apart from the Merry-go-round.

I live my life on a see-saw. There are times, I can deal with it. Up and down, up and down. But imagine doing this 365 days out of the year, never stopping, never knowing if someone was gonna jump off while your UP and you CRASH down with a back breaking THUD.

Sometimes it’s rapidly moving from mood to mood. Other times, it takes days or weeks. Each day, feeling yourself slip away and lower into more than just feeling blue, or out of sorts. Deeper than mildly down or just not yourself today.

You know you’re heading for full blown depression, and you just hope that it doesn’t last very long. That something will spring you back up, be it chemicals (meds) friends or just the whole cycle of BiPolar.

This is the second day I’ve felt like pieces of me are falling off. I’m fighting the negative thoughts. I’m getting to the point where, come hell or come high water… I just don’t care.

Everyday is a fight. I have to weed out the negative in order to let the positive things grow.

“One must cultivate his own garden.” – Voltaire

That alone is tiresome. Then I must deal with ‘living’ in the real world and functioning enough so I can keep myself clean, fed and housed. Just the basics, just the basics.

I don’t complain. Some people would explode. But I’ve been on this ride for over 20 years, and it’s just par for the course.

I never know when I’m going to come down, its part of the game too. Your friend holds you up on the see-saw for a long time and slowly, you begin to come down, but if the game is going good, you go right back up again.

I’m not talking manic, just ‘up’. Smiling. Living.

Like I said, I feel like pieces of my self or rather armor are falling off. The one I built in the hospital.

I’m tired. I don’t want to exercise. My sugar keeps dropping. I’m just not enjoying this ride.


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