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.

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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.

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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.

anxiety · bipolar · mental health · mental illness

We all have dreams

 

quill-ink-pot-and-poetry-book

 

Certain things are important to people for different reasons. We place value on things or events or people because we hold memories or feelings or hope towards these events etc.

I got to thinking why I really want to go to this conference. And my therapist reminded me what it was all about. That I write and it brings me joy. Very few things in this life bring me joy.

I’ve got a lot of problems. We all do. Some can be cured, some are temporary, some imaginary and some are brought about by our own actions. Whatever the cause, these are the conditions of our lives.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a long time you are aware that I am Bipolar, have a connective tissue syndrome and a growth on my pituitary gland. These are my main conditions. These are things which will NOT go away. So I live with them, but they are not who I am as a person. I just live with these conditions and do what is necessary to function within my life.

I could give up. I’ve thought about it and I’ve cried over it and come very close to just quitting. I’m talking about killing myself in case you’re wondering.

But instead, I move forwards. Everyday. I find something to do or something to make me feel good about myself or just enjoy someone’s company. I don’t obsess about my conditions. Why think about things no one on this planet has the power to change?

To me, writing is my way out. It is my respite from my conditions. And according to others, I’m pretty good at writing. Damn, I am good. I have to learn affirmations daily, so I’ll start here.

Low self-esteem has plagued me all my life and it’s a battle in the brain and the mirror. People tell me I’m pretty. My first thought is, ‘your just being nice.’ I don’t look at mirrors, even when I brush my teeth. I just realized that a few weeks ago. I use to physically duck the hall mirror every time I passed it, just in case I might see my reflection.

When I write, all is fine with me and the world around me. This writers conference is and event where I can learn and flex my ability and meet others whose passion for writing is the same. I might even make a friend.

I’ve been indoors for about a week.  Because I freaked out at a social event. Anxiety, self-doubt, self-hatred a whole lot of things. Felt I didn’t belong there and all everyone was doing was playing board games.

How am I gonna handle a conference? I’ve thought of that too. The thought of going brings me as much joy as my writing. I will be learning about something that I have been doing since I first learned to string a sentence together. A donation to me is not just the money, it shows me that people believe in my ability. That they believe in ME. Something I have difficulty doing daily.

I’ve thought of pulling the gofundme, but my therapist reminded me that this conference is as important as my writing. I need things to look forwards to in my life. Events I can have happy memories of and feel like I belong.

Someone tried to break me down about my gofundme. Tried to tear down my dream of one day being published. I didn’t curse them out, just gave them some information and told them “I don’t need to justify myself to you.”

I also told them we all have our journies. Mine has taken me from healthy and working and moving towards a career. They were all smashed. I’m just trying to get a little piece of that dream back. And there is nothing wrong with that.

I want to publish a series of stories about mental illness and offer hope and understanding to those of us who suffer. That’s the ultimate dream, am I having grandiose thoughts? I know I can’t change the world, but I already have a few stories under my belt, so I want to go to the conference to help make this a reality.

This is more than I wanted to say, but if you’ve gotten this far. You must have dreams too.

Click Link    CONSIDER DONATING TO MY DREAM. THANK YOU   Click Link

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · mental health · Self Image · social anxiety

Turtle

box_turtle_page_image

 

Sometimes I wonder how long this ‘good’ feeling is gonna last. I feel stable. And I’m scared it will be gone one morning like it has so many times in the past.

But I can’t think that way, I have to just keep moving forwards. And make the most of what I have now.

So much of me want to just revert like a turtle and go back into my shell.

But the sun feels good. Although a storm is coming (literally). The snow will melt, the skies will clear and the sun will come back again. So why not enjoy it for now.

Taking a slight break from writing. Did some searching of where I am in my present writing abilities and where I want to be in the future.

Having some feelings of doubt and low self-esteem. Which are hard for a writer.

I know that going to the conference will improve my writing. I’m not jumping into that pool without the right tools.

You know how your mind creates ENORMOUS POSSIBILITIES. While you dread that first rejection. But I know I have to put myself out there if I’m gonna get the word out about STIGMA. And what it feels like to live with a mental illness.

I need to make my characters into everyday people in order to reduce the fear and stereotypes of mental illness. I can’t and am not doing this alone. There’s a huge social media movement out there, and I just want to be a part of it.

But I also want to be that turtle.

PLEASE CONSIDER CONTRIBUTING TO HELP ME ATTEND WRITERS CONFERENCE.

anxiety · bipolar · Book · Life · Meds

Been a little busy lately, in a good way!

I’ve been writing short stories about people with mental illness. Concentrating on characters who just happen to be ill and making them as identifiable as possible.

It’s important to me that these characters could be anybody. Not a stereotype or diagnoses, just a person going through a phase or situation.

My purpose is to help chip away at the stigma that is out there about those of us with BiPolar or Schizophrenia or depression and the list goes on…

I don’t want it to read like the PDA, but rather as a glimpse into someone’s life. There will be some triggering and tragic instances, but also some simple one. Which to a person without anxiety would be a simple task. But for those of us with anxiety, it’s a major undertaking.

There is a Writers’ Conference at Rutgers University I wish to attend. But money is an issue. When isn’t it when it comes to living on a very limited budget. I have to have the money for the conference and the money to get to and from the train. I’ll be taking a bus, to a train and then Lyft. Unless I can get enough to just take Lyft there and back, that would be heaven.

Donate to help me attend the conference, CLICK HERE.

This is my mission and my dream. To get this book finished and attend this conference in June. Either way, I am writing this book.

The conference would put me in contact with publishers and fellow writers and give me a peek into what it takes to get your work out there. To find out if there is a market for my book or would I be creating one. I realize that I need to attend this conference in order to get a better understanding of what I intend to accomplish. In real terms and not just as a dream.

So, if you’re still reading. Please consider helping me attend this conference by clicking the link and hopefully contributing to my cause. Even if you don’t contribute a comment would be nice. We have to support each other and not be ashamed of who we are, and remember that our illness does not define us.

Thank You.

Donate to help me attend the conference, CLICK HERE.

anxiety · Life · Meds

Strange Days

Thursdays are always strange days for me. Therapy and maybe something social. I think it’s the social part that sends the anxiety flying early in the morning. I did some writing on a second short story. I’m not worried about how good or how much editing I’m gonna have to do later. I’ve just got to get these stories out of my head.

Poetry is easier. I don’t rhyme all the time. I think there really shouldn’t be any rules to poetry. It’s a pure expression of the soul and how can anyone put rules on your soul.

It’s you.

I need to write more and I’m glad I did some writing today. But right now, the anxiety has got a huge hold on me and I have to go and do something about it before I scream.

Thoughts

Moods

I find the worse I am doing. The better the poetry. I’m not fond of what I’ve been putting out. Although some seem to like it. I don’t know how long this poetry thing is gonna go on with me.

There is a poetry/writing meeting tonight. I hope to go. Work on some stuff. Maybe I can improve what I’ve been doing.

The more I suffer, the better I write. At least that’s how I feel. I’m doing pretty well in some areas. Not so good in others. Maybe I’ll tap into the dissatisfaction in those areas and find a new groove.

There was a time I didn’t write at all. There are times when all I did was write. It comes and goes.

My bipolar is pretty ok lately. I’m trying not to get things screwed up in my life and improve what I’ve got. Not to get discouraged with not reaching goals etc.

I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got. Is there room for improvement??? Probably, but only in areas I know I’m fucking up on purpose. Like eating for emotional reasons, stuff like that.

Otherwise… I’m o.k.

I guess.