anxiety · bipolar · empathic · relationships · symptoms

When your heart pulls you

Ever have that feeling that there was a tugging on your soul/being/heart? Whenever you saw this person or heard their voice or saw something they’ve created. It touched you. You felt tied to that person. You had feelings and concern for that person and yet you’ve never met them in real life.

The internet can be deceiving. There are trolls and creepy people out there whose only desire is to satisfy some NEED they may possess. You have to develop some type of radar to stay away from these traps.

I met my best friend on the internet. Somehow we just clicked and it felt like we knew each other whole lives.

I’ve got that feeling for someone. It’s hard to live with because I have to filter everything through my illness. Do reality checks and just stay positive about existing. I’m a work in progress and it’s going well. I can handle things with more confidence than before and my self-image is higher than it’s ever been in my life.

I’m accepting “me.” Trying to live in the moment. Keeping my stability. Taking care of loved ones. These are priorities. This heart pull. These feelings. I don’t know what to do with them. He’s on my mind daily and he doesn’t know who I am.

I’d say it’s a symptom of the BiPolar. It’s never manifested itself in this manner. My body reacts with an increased heartbeat and that feeling of attachment. I believe in soulmates. I also know that I am sick. So I’m confused.

Maybe I need some internet downtime. I don’t know if these feelings will ever go away.

I’m not going to stalk him or do something drastic. My stability is sound, although what I wrote above sounds insane. But I feel him.

Like a group of moody clouds over the ocean. Whatever happens, after I publish this, I’ll be able to tell if it’s symptoms of my illness or some empathic tie to another soul.

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Life · lyrics and music · mental health · relationships · Self Image

Both Sides…

Knocked back by a cold for a few days. I must admit once you start walking daily its hard to stop. Even while I was sick I just wanted to walk and be out in the air. I did go out. Bundled up while taking short walks and napping once I got home. I was exhausted, but I just NEEDED to walk.

Mentally things are fine. Physically things are fine. Emotionally things are confused.

Trying to figure out what I want in life. Do I want to remain alone? I had resigned myself to being a spinster. That sister/daughter who never married or had children.

At first, the thought made me sad. But there’s a freedom to being alone and a loneliness. It’s the emptiness that kills you. When you want to talk to someone and no one is there. So you pick up the phone and everyone is busy with their family and work.

So what do you do? Where do you go when life is just YOU and it’s not enough.

Do you rush into a relationship just to have someone? Or rekindle an old flame in hopes it stays lit this time. Knowing there was a reason it failed in the first place. But it’s better than the hollow feeling in your chest. Maybe.

I figure I’ll be alone. Not because I’m damaged goods like I used to think. My mental illness doesn’t mean I’ll never find love. Nor am I damaged because of it. If there is someone out there for me or not… I’ll survive.

I had a love. A possibility of having a life with someone who loved me. Or I thought I did. God had other plans and I thank him/her for it.

I realized that when I wrote to him that I was not able to have children and he didn’t want me anymore. All those feelings and empty promises were just that, empty. If I couldn’t breed I was useless. He’s the one who’s useless.

I could get angry. I could hate. Instead, I’ve been spared. Thank you, Lord. He didn’t truly love me. If he did, I wouldn’t be writing this post. A woman’s not a breeding machine. I would have loved to have a child. It just wasn’t meant to be. So be it.

If I find someone who wants this whole beautiful package, we’ll adopt a child or two.

Wow, I called myself beautiful. I’ve never done that before in my life. It’s not a physical beautiful I’m writing about it’s everything I have to offer to a true love. I guess I’m a romantic. Everything I have to offer as a person is what makes this beauty. It’s a fifty-year long journey.

I’m listening to the song, “Both sides now.” by Joni Mitchell

I guess that’s what this post is about. Looking at things from both sides and realizing you really don’t know what you thought you knew.

Age brings a wisdom and acceptance which youth can never fathom.

I’m glad I’m still here.

Life · mental health

Trying

Positivity is something that is new to me. I have grown up with nothing but negativity in my mind and in my life. No wishes just dreams and reality. When you are poor. You don’t expect the best to come. You don’t expect to win. You hope to make it to the next day.

Our parents begin to feed us negative thoughts at an early age. They may want the best for us which is the step up from where they were, but big dreams are just that. Dreams. So the negative song plays for years in your head and it takes years of therapy until you can finally say “Yes, it could happen.”

Each day I wake up with what I am going to do that day in my head and by completing it, no matter how small. It is a positive thing.

Positive people help keep negativity at bay. Negativity breeds hardship. Positivity creates hope.

DIH

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Poetry

Empty Mornings – A Poem

Waking up

Opening eyes

Dry mouth and sore thighs

The chairs are barren

The table set

The dishes washed

I never leave a mess

No one ever calls

But just in case

The apartment is clean as gallery walls

Silent Sundays

Still Friday nights

Saturday is for television

And Popcorn for one

Things become familiar

Medication routine

Waiting for it all to kick in

So I can function once again.

Searching for the meaning of this emotional state

Popping a pill to quell the anxiety

Eating chocolate to satiate

Not knowing what I want

Not knowing what I need

Just knowing there is emptiness

If it stopped suddenly

I would find it all peculiar

Living so long like this makes living without impossible

And Saturday’s are for television

And Popcorn for one.

DIH – 9/26/18

bipolar · Life · mental health · mental illness · Self Image · Stigma

Friends and diagnoses

You may say you care.

You might wish me luck.

You may have the best intents but it just doesn’t show up.

Wish me well, understand.

Just don’t attempt to take me by the hand.

I know my position. I’m well aware of my affliction.

It’s not your position to help me get through my diagnosis.

Did I ask you? Did I beg you?

I was only throwing it out there trying not to persuade you.

Why did you run so fast? Forgetting that I am human.

What can I do from so far away when I’m the only one I’m ruining.

So I’ll keep my mouth shut. Keep it simple and sweet.

We won’t get too deep because the Stigma scares you more than your own contradictions.

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Meds

Anxiety

Surprising I got more support for my short story on FB than here. I thought those of us who get it, would understand the story more. Whatever. Nobody reads this shit anyways.

The anxiety between the get together and my mother’s cataract surgery is starting to get to me. I’m literally having to take it day by day. Can’t think beyond today or I’ll get overwhelmed.

I just want to disappear into my house and never come out. Except for food and therapy. There’s a drop in and I want to go. Probably will. But I doubt the Marvin in me will enjoy it.

post-125-1262523505

LIFE DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LIFE

 

I should be very happy about my story being published. But I kinda feel like it’s not legit. Like they just needed a story to finish off their publication and threw mine in, mistakes and all.

Two other publications declined it because it wasn’t what they were looking for, “I GUESS NOT!”

No one wants reality anymore. No one wants to read about the mentally ill unless it’s “HAPPY”. There’s nothing fucking happy about existing with this shit.

But we make due. We have happy moments and those are the ones we have to hold onto.

Just shovel us back into the sanitariums and forget us again. You practically are doing that again.

What’s my audience? People. People who want to understand the truth. The reality of mental illness.

Yeah. I guess that makes two people. Me and my friend.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY STORY HERE’S A LINK TO THE ORIGINAL POST.

STORY PUBLISHED.

anxiety · bipolar · Life · Meds

Doing Better

Need an extra nap soon. Going to be up most of the night at a concert. My first BIG venue concert and I’m hoping I don’t freak. Gonna take my anxiety pill before I go and stay hydrated.

I talked to my therapist and she kept the printed out version of my blog post last time. I don’t even remember what it said. I just put it out there to get it out of my head and it’s gone. One day I’ll read all of this, just not now.

I get the feeling that I educated them as to who I am and what I would and would not do. I am not stuck in my therapy. That is clear, we agreed upon that. They thought I was isolating and staying indoors and away from people and seeing my mom every day etc.

This is after I was told by my Pdoc not to go outdoors in the sun because of the effects it has on me, because of my meds. DUH!

I told them about my physical limitation and how not having a thyroid causes anxiety and depression. So although the meds are doing their job, I’m still going to go through times of anxiety and depression as a physical manifestation. DUH!

I know their main fear is that after the inevitable death of my mother, I’m outta here too. I need to build my own life and I am trying. But it’s not as easy as it sounds. With the anxiety and depression.

My mom and I talk every day, but we have our separate lives too. Although I do have difficulty when it comes time to leave. I still believe we should be living together and still doing our own thing. But we are not rich.

I do what I can for her and believe she should never go without. She sacrificed so much for me to help ensure that I grew up with a good moral outlook on life. Done. Now I just want her to be happy and comfortable.

She’s allergic to the rug in her apartment, but there’s nothing she can do about that, it’s a senior living complex. Everyone has the same rug.

I have more inflammation with my Sjögrens. Nothing they can do about that. I think it’s the weather.

Mood wise. I’m ok. Not good. Not bad. Just ok. I’m dealing with everyday life and for the moment. I’m ok. I’m not looking any further than that.

I have to accept that people don’t change when they feel that there is nothing wrong with their own behavior. No matter how many times others have pointed out these faults. I’m talking about Asshole.

Patience is a virtue. Guess who’s VIRTUOUS?

Going down for the nap. Hope tonight goes well. I’m not Sally Socialite and I’m kinda stuck when it comes to talking about myself. Read me like braille.

My writing had a short start this morning. I got some things down when my neighbor started her noise again. Headphones are a must, can’t avoid it.