Lets try and figure this out…
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Test
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If God Can Forgive. Why Can’t I?
I have to turn things around. My thought patterns. If there are no circumstances (some people believe that) and we are co-creating our own realities with others, then I have to think upon the last year of disasters another way. And the disasters have continued by the way…
It all started with my throwing my boyfriend and his son out of my house. I behaved in such a way that I believe now that it was an unforgivable act the way it happened, and I am unforgivable. Scaring children is not okay. I can’t get that one out of my head and it’s just like what happened more recently with my own son. The weight of these actions and my inability to forgive myself makes me not want to be here. On earth that is. My life has been so terribly painful lately that I don’t want to live. Of course, I’ve always said that I would be relieved when death came for me. I would finally get some peace… but I was trying to turn things around and now I’m wallowing.
I broke my foot last Halloween, which was two nights ago for this year, so its come full circle. I had just decided to start running to better myself when this happened. So if I apply the new age philosophy, I broke it for some bigger reason. I remember I wanted to change, and being laid up for nearly 6 months certainly changed more than a few things. I learned to let things go. I learned that trying to control things on a minute level made me angry and dissolving my anger was one of my issues. I learned that I always gravitate towards a caregiver, and perhaps with the fragile state I was in after my break up, my foot doctor was just what I needed. He was so good at it, making me feel like everything was going to be fine and he was the one to see to it. Maybe I needed to break my foot to get some rest… maybe to gain a new perspective. I remember at one time I considered the whole situation a blessing in disguise. My house is allowed to be much more messy now. But,
- Why would I want my car to be totaled? What situation did that serve? I was going to put the money aside for a downpayment on a house!
- Why would I want to work my ass off on the conference only to realize that my boss lied to me and it was not going to become a career job?
- Why would I choose to have half of my hair fall out and never grow back!?
- Why choose to have my dad in the hospital so very sick and make myself angry at his new life once again?
- Why would I have chosen to have my new car keyed and then break off my side mirror?
- Why the nervous breakdown? The attempted suicide? The running away and making everyone worried sick.
- Why when doing the right thing while finally resigning from my position do I not even get a “goodbye, nice to know you” from anyone! No parties for me…
- And finally, why when I do decide to get back into riding, just for me, something just for me that I used to love and excel at, for my mental health, do I injure myself the third time out and have to quit? Back to the couch with a hematoma on my pelvic bone. Nice!
Could all of this be related back to my inability to forgive myself? Do I consider myself not allowed to?
Maybe… Not allowed a house. Not allowed a career. Not allowed to be beautiful. Not allowed to be close to my dad. Not allowed to enjoy the luxury of a new car. Not allowed to be cared about by my coworkers. Not allowed to have fun. Not allowed to be a mother. Not allowed to live.How did I sink so low? Am I locked in the white room, continually filling the empty box with emotions I can’t look at? How do you forgive yourself when you know, no believe, its just a belief ——-
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Don’t Try and Hold the Beach Ball Underwater
It’s been three months since my accident. I’m still walking in a boot, but at least I’m walking. I go in to see my doctor on Monday and oh the dread… Not because of the foot. Not because I know he is going to say two more weeks in the boot, but because I am experiencing a bad case of transference towards him. I know that’s all it is. I know it’s because he was the one to take care of me during a crisis, and I have been utterly dependent on him for a while now, but the logic does not make it go away. I actually met with my therapist to ask her about it and she advised the following.
“Don’t try and avoid it, that will just make it worse. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Don’t repress it. Don’t move away from it. Don’t quit going to him. Don’t avoid driving down the street where you know he lives. Just accept it and it will fade.”
In other words, don’t try and hold the beach ball underwater.
The thing is, it’s hard to feel it fade when he blurs the boundaries, and oh do I want him to continue to do that, but how is that helping me? He’s married. Has kids. I may be a temptation to him but that’s all I am. In the meantime, I have his cell phone number, he’s come to my office for an office visit and not charged me for it, he allows me to text him and he texts me back, and most pointedly, that last visit we had… the tension in the room was like a thick fog. Every move one of us made the other mirrored. Every expression. There were long drawn out pauses where neither of us spoke, yet the visit went on to a full 40 minutes. I actually felt nervous and had a hard time holding his gaze.
So now the question. What do I do on Monday? The way I see it, I have three options. 1) Ignore the entire thing and remain completely neutral (oh yeah right. That has been working so well!) 2) Openly flirt and see what happens (a good way continue the agony) 3) Have a conversation with him and tell him directly what’s going on.
Unfortunately the last one, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, will probably yield the best results. For me, not for him. I wish I knew what to do. I mean I wish I knew what I was going to do. I’d like to talk openly about it, but I truly believe that I’ll be too nervous. I bet I don’t say anything at all. Option 1. No flirting, but no talking about it either. In other words, keep holding the beach ball underwater.
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Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus!
I was thinking about how to explain bipolar disorder, again, and I thought about something I did relate to in the very beginning. Some of you with kids might have already heard of it. Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus. It’s a fantastic book. Won the Caldecott award. What I related to though was the birds relentless need to drive. I mean, at least in my case, my moods alway tried to drive me. It’s a simple illustration of bipolar disorder in my opinion and a funny one at that. I will not show it all here, so as to honor the copy write, but check out the page below and see if you relate…
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Anger Management
This may very well be the most angry I have been in adulthood. As a moody teenager it was acceptable, but now I am just enraged and nobody want’s to fucking hear it. Of course, neither would I, but I can’t deal with it any longer. I don’t even know where it began…
Everything was fine in July… then we were supposed to go back to my family’s house for a week long vacation in August. My fiance wouldn’t get his shit together, so I threw him out! I fucking screamed and yelled and I’m sure the neighbors heard. The boys were crying, the dog was freaked out and my dick-head boyfriend was screaming right back at me. It must have looked like some white trash weekend carnival.
After that he wouldn’t stop bugging me. “Won’t you reconsider.” “You know it’s just your illness.” “Everything was fine until you started taking the medication.”
It was all a load of crap, especially since he already has a new, young and impressionable, stunningly beautiful lady friend at his side. They’ve probably been engaged in some giant fuck-fest since early October, when he was still begging me to come back to him.
I’m starting to think that he has put a curse on me. I wonder if people can do that? Maybe I should try and find out. Like, go to a psychic or shaman or something, because here’s what has gone on since.
- My boss did a drastic change on me and started treating me like shit for no reason
- He threatened my position with calling in HR
- My dog turned on me and now acts like I beat her
- My car was totaled and I was without one for two months
- My job was threatened again, so I decided to quit
- I stepped off a curb and broke two bones in my foot
- The ER misdiagnosed it as an fucking sprained ankle so I went ahead and walked on it
- My son’s father developed cellulitus and became deathly ill
- I am now on crutches and unable to– drive, eat anywhere but the kitchen counter, shower without risk, carry a glass of anything anywhere, do laundry, clean the house, take out the trash…
- My recovery time is 4-6 weeks in a boot with no weight-bearing at all
- Oh, and last but not least, I have to see my ex-boyfriend/fiance with his hot new squeeze, who he hooked up with 2 weeks after I dumped his ass for good
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Finally, Someone Sees the Difference
My son was building with Legos yesterday, I think they were “shoe ships” (whatever that is), and he wanted to know what color I’d like to be. I looked at them and said, “blue” and he says, “That’s a good choice mom. It reflects your personality”, (and yes, he does talk like that even at nine). I’m like, “what do you mean?”, and he says, “tranquil and meditative”.
So, I asked him when he noticed the difference. He thought about it and told me around two months ago. I stood there and I counted backwards. I got out my mood chart (goofy but definitely effective) and sure enough it was all there… in plain purple. Two months ago was when I stopped being controlled by my emotions and started living again.
I remember what it felt like then, how good it was to finally be in control. I guess I take it for granted now and I shouldn’t. Things got really, really bad there for a while. I doubted my own sanity! I kept telling people, “I’m controlled by my emotions” and all I would hear back was, “Well don’t be so sensitive”.
Funny, it took 4 years, 3 doctors, 2 therapists and then someone had an idea of what was going on with me. I had two sessions with my current counselor and she knew. Now that’s something I won’t soon forget, the look on her face when I came in freaking out. Her face drained of color and she stood there with this shocked expression that said something like, “Okay, she’s really flipped her lid. Just keep it together. You’re a professional here”. And me, I just kept saying over and over, “I don’t want to do this, God I don’t want to do this, I know there’s something there, and I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this…”
What followed was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, walking into an urgent care psychiatric facility and pouring out every little private detail about my past history. It was right up there with crossing the Atlantic on a 46 foot sailboat in the middle of November (another great tale), but the important thing right now is that my son recognizes the difference. He sees the real me.
There’s still a long way to go to rebuild. It took years for bipolar to drag me into this hell hole. I’m giving myself at least 1 year to get out. That sounds so good to me. Just thinking about that year is like sipping on some exotic drink out of a coconut while lying on a beach in some tropical island. I can feel it all through my body and deep down into my bones… the calm, cool relief of being alone.
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People Just Don’t Get It
I have read websites, blog topics, and listened to personal advice about whether or not to reveal this illness to people. I’ve kept it a secret for the most part, except for telling my Mom and Dad, my best friend and my ex- boyfriend who knew something was wrong and encouraged me to seek help. I keep it to myself because I have a strong sense of self-preservation which is my driving force so much of the time.
What I think is that most people don’t get it and don’t want to, so what’s the point? The responses I’ve gotten so far haven’t really satisfied me. I’ve gotten blank stares, avoidance in the form of never talking about it, reassurances that they know someone else with it (as if it’s like the common cold) and walking away from having a relationship with me altogether. It’s been four months and I have not had one person, not one fucking person of the few people closest to me, simply ask… how I feel about this freight train of wreckage that was just dumped on me.
Last week Friday at 4 o’clock my boss came in and started to tell me that I needed to create a “presentation” about the training center that I run, and basically pitch it to the practice. See the hospital is making budget cuts and it’s shutting down entire departments. The stress in my life became enormous. I considered telling him about my condition and how this kind of pressure can trigger bad circumstances for me, but realistically he would react no differently than anyone else, and let’s face it, it might seriously work against me as far as employment.
Telling people… I haven’t figured it out yet. I think that there is still a huge stigma when it comes to mental illness and a great misunderstanding of bipolar disorder. There is so much information out there, but people don’t feel the need to read it, not even those closest to me. They think they understand, they think it’s like what they see on t.v. I guess. Honestly, it makes me feel very alone in this… I’m required to visit a psychologist once a month, as many of us are when on the medications prescribed, and I don’t even think she gets it. All in all, I only want one person to understand, my son. That’s why I continue to write this. One day he’ll be able to read it and get it.
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Mania, Mania, How It’s Rewarded!
So I’ve been on the up and up lately. I thought that the medication would keep this at bay, but as I understand it, it only prolongs the periods between episodes. I have to admit the hypomanic phase is really rewarding and I love feeling it again. It’s like a drug rushing through my veins ~ ~ ~ I am extra attractive, spontaneously witty, ultra productive, irresistibly charming. I feel so God damned good! I can overlook anything!
I drank an entire bottle of wine last night and should have woken up with a terrible hangover, but instead I got up at 6 a.m. and went into work after organizing the entire house for when I would get home. I walked into the lab and the girls complimented me on how great I looked. I thought they were just giving me shit, but no, they were sure that I looked more “refreshed”. I quickly quipped “It must be the run I had this morning”… better than telling them I have bipolar disorder and I am happily in the manic phase.
I took the day and wrote up an entire contract for the operating procedures of the training center, something that I have been putting for nearly a year. My boss was impressed. I was exhausted. Again.
I have the hardest time wrapping my head around explaining this illness to people. Maybe that’s the real reason I am writing this blog. There are so many misconceptions wrapped around mental illness. Most people have no understanding of it and think that its something that you can control if you put your mind to it. I think of it as a heavy subject, which is why I don’t discuss it.
For me, on the medication I realize I have to be on, the mood swings are a subtle shift that most people don’t even recognize. But the thing is, if I’m up I’m rewarded and if I’m down well it’s, “You’re just tired. Give yourself a break”. What people don’t realize is that mania, with all it’s attractiveness, generally winds up making me feel like I want to hurl a plate at someones head, and depression makes me think about that 38 Smith & Wesson, which is why I don’t own one.
I know that being in a position of high stress right now is bringing this on and I’m trying my best to control it from outside of my mind. But I have to be honest… it’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt my old friend mania working the magic in me, and for the first time I understand why people choose to go off their medication for this illness.
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Trashed Relationships
My relationship of 5 years has dissolved. I can’t help but think that my bipolar has something to do with it. I understand that this illness has affected all of my relationships in the past. I’ve lost countless friends. Moved every two years; ran away from everyone after creating a scene. The question is, how do I examine what my bipolar brings to the table, without creating self-doubt?
I was trying to explain it to someone a couple weeks ago. Aside from the brain being totally different in someone without bipolar disorder (more on that later), there is a filter through which I see the world. We all have them. A mothers view of things is completely different from a single woman. The rich businessman can’t possibly see the same view of the world as some homeless guy sleeping under a bridge. We all have a filter. The only difference is mine is not a completely healthy one.