Hmmmm.

Your Personality Is Like Ecstasy

You're usually feeling the love for the world around you - you want to hug everyone. And while you're usually content to sit back and view the world with wonder... Sometimes you're world becomes very overwhelming and a little scary.

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

3 Hours

I shut my computer off at 2am.

I had the tossy turny sleep, and then it was 5am.

Uh,I think I'll pick up my Seroquel prescription.

I Yawned

1:58am.

I yawned.

Hooray?

We'll see.

Out of Seroquel

Got home and realized that I was out of Seroquel.

Hmmmm.

I forgot to pick up my prescription.

Hmmmm.

Maybe it was that other "me" made me forget because she thinks that we can do without it. I use other "me" tongue in cheek.

So, uh, its 12:31am, and I'm wide awake. I guess I'll see you later on in the morning.

I Feel Her.

I Was On!

Today was awesome!

My makeup was perfect.

My hair was perfect.

My outfit flattered my body.

I slept well.

My Lexapro kicked in before I left home.

Had Swedish Fish for the train ride to work.

I did a presentation at a company and was great.

I made calls and networked with the press.

I got lunch and dinner freebies to give away.

I planned an amazing promotional campaign for April.

I was on!

I felt like my old pre-weirdness self.

Then came "me" talking": Well, you do know that depression is around the corner, so enjoy it while it lasts.

SHUT UP! You're not gonna ruin it for me.

I feel great, and I'm going to enjoy the moment. Period!

I will NOT label my successful day as "mania".

I, Butterfly had a great day.

I felt normal; normal like I remember.

Wow.

Two co-workers said I was glowing, today.

I felt good.

Damn, it feels so good to feel good.

Please, Butterfly...

Speaking of Fights

I'm fighting today.

Cheery and perky vs. melancholy and gloomy
Social Butterfly and communicative vs. Recluse and antisocial.
Productive vs. procrastinating and falling behind
Completing projects vs. feeling worthless

I hate looking at my life based on a 1-10 spectrum - 1 being depressed, 10 being manic- but that's kinda what my life has become.

Today I am a 2, and terribly afraid. I really shouldn't miss additional work days, and I falling behind is not an option; but I can't sleep. I took 75mg of Seroquel at 7:30, and I'm still awake.

Bah Humbug.

I need an 8 or 9 right now. There's so much I want to get done for work, but I'm in a sleepy, foggy haze.

I'm fighting against an opponent, one as cunning as can be.
This opponent knows my strengths, my weaknesses
Can anticipate my moves, gauge my defenses, and
With one quick blow I can be brought to my knees.
I see this cunning opponent,
As shrewd as can be each time I look in a mirror.
My opponent is me.

Shut Up!

I swear, this week, noise has been amplified.

Not just regular noise like sirens, birds, taxi honks and stuff. I mean people's DAMN VOICES!

PLEASE, JUST SHUT THE F*CK UP!

How about you buy a vowel, a "u" and insert it above!

Who, you ask?
Who should shut the f*ck up?

Anyone who wants to tell me what to do.

If I say I'm not bip, then, I'm not f*cking bip!

If I say I want alcohol and fat arse blunt (even if I'm not a smoker), then I will have alcohol and fat arse blunt!

If I want to move again, I will move again!

I'm the boss of me.
I do whatever I want.

Damn, just back the f*ck up!

The Meetup

On Monday, I finally attended the NYC Bipolar Meetup.

After a year of sending my RSVP and not showing up, I finally did.
1. I wouldn't attend solo. (My sis came with me. Yup, she's bipolar, too.)

2. It's only recently that I accepted this whole bipolar stuff, and to be honest, I still questions whether or not I have it.

My sis did however, raise a good point: is my psychiatrist stupid enough to give me mood stabilizers if I really didn't need them?

But I digress.

Can't say I had a good or bad time. I left really confused.

On one hand, being in the presence of people who understood why I couldn't get out of bed or leave my home despite my sincerest desire to do so, was comforting. There's safety in numbers; I didn't feel so weird.

On the other had, all of my preconceived notions of bipolar, how bips "look" and how the disorder manifests, were thrown out of the window.

See, I thought bip2's never get hospitalized, but bip1's did. Moreover, my brother is bip1. I've seen the hospitalizations, the padded rooms, and being around people that "look" crazy. Maybe I just made myself believe this because I need to feel in control of me at all times.

Maybe I'm afraid of that, for me.

Anyway, at the meetup, there was a bip2 that had been in the hospital several times, but a bip1 that was never hospitalized.

Whoa! Abort mission, Abort mission!

Too much at once.

Ok, I was overheating, getting irritable, annoyed, confused. I wanted to bond, and I still do, but I still feel separate. I still feel like I can beat this. I loved that I didn't feel like an X-file, but to embrace everyone as "like me", means I must embrace the possibility that their symptoms and experiences could be real for me.

And that, my friend, was a jagged, rat poison -laced pill I was NOT trying to swallow.

One guy said I needed to realize that what I had wasn't about curing but about managing. I found myself getting a "tude".

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW?!?!?!?!

So what if you've been bip longer than me. I can beat this, I swear I can!

The result: I'm in a f*cking funk.

It was just too much too soon, I guess, and now I'm pissy and irritable; the bad mania.

I'll keep in touch.
I'll attend again.
But I'm deeply annoyed and irritable.

So Slow

Not sure what's going on with Seroquel.

It used to be my homie, and now it's acting like a BI-YATCH!

For the second night in a row, I tossed and turned.

I took 50mg on Sunday, and didn't sleep.
Monday night I took 75mg and no sleep.

Tuesday night I took 100mg, and again, NO SLEEP!

WTF!

Am I gonna have to keep increasing until I'm at 1million mg?

Is it fluctuating because I introduced some hidden stress?
Is my body fighting the Seroquel like a germ or other foreign substance?

Geez!

This uncertainty sh*t, sucks!

I got to work, and was so slow. I'm sleepy. I want to sleep, but sleep is playing games like a dumb boyfriend. I took my Lexapro so I could focus, but I what I really want to do is crawl under the covers and go to sleep.

But will I sleep? I didn't last night. Whats makes me think that just because I want to sleep, I will sleep?

Slow in NYC,
The Limp Butterfly.

A Quickie

Face is burning; too much Clearasil.

Attended bip meetup.

Work good.

75mg of Seroquel tonight. Tired as hell.

Check ya later, Alligator.

Seroquel vs. Mania

I was in a one fall, steal chair caged match last night.

Well, not exactly, but it sure as hell felt like it.

I took my usual 50mg work -eve dose of Seroquel at 10:15pm to ensure that I'd be fast asleep at 11pm; but it didn't work.

(I take 75mg if I'm going in to work late, and 100mg on nights where I have no plans of getting out of bed before 2pm. My prescribed dose is 100mg. Don't tell my doc.)

I saw 1am, 2:45am, 3 something, 5:15 and then I was up at 6:15am to give my sis her wake up call.

I didn't sleep much at all, and when I did sleep, it wasn't that deep, feels -so-good, "ooo -don't-wake-me" sleep.

So, yup, I'm manic today, but not the "bouncing off the walls" manic, that allows me to get a week's worth of work done in a couple hours. Today, I'm closer to the "don't-talk-to-me-cuz-I'm-pissy-and-highly-likely-to-pinch-you-very-hard-or-at-the-very-least-roll-my-eyes-at-you" manic.

And last night, manic kicked Seroquel's arse!

So tonight I'm going up to 75mg .

A Question

Which came first:
Feeling weird and then the diagnosis highlighted your weirdness, or were you weird and then the diagnosis make you weirder?

I have trouble gauging what is normal for me because I have forgotten what normal is.

It's like:
Wearing fake nails for so long that you forgot the shape of your fingers;

Wearing weaves and wigs for so long that you forgot that you had hair;

Wearing pants for so long that people forgot that you have legs;

Wearing makeup everyday all day and forgetting what you face looks like without it.

Hmmm.

I'm gonna find normal.

If you see her, point her toward NYC; I'll take it from there.

Good Day in New York

Slept.

Read and listened to The Secret ( I have the book and audiobook).

Did laundry, cleaned, folded clothes, saw parents.

Had good thoughts, took meds.

Fasting from negativity this week.

I'll keep you posted.

Grateful for people like me.

The Ramble Mind Train

Butterfly, why did you eat all the girl scout cookies?
That's why you're breaking out.
Well, I'll just purge.
I have laxatives left.
I have toxins in me.

Well, stop eating junk!
I will starting Monday.

You'll have to drink water, too.
Well, that's why I bought the Chrystal Light.
I hate water, and the Chrystal Light tastes just like koolaid.

I miss church.
Used to have koolaid there.
Go back.
No, the pastor shouldn't have been mean.
I can read my bible aloud.
But you need church, you like church.
Not that church until he apologizes.

Oh brother.
I have The Secret.
I should listen to it now.
But, I wanna finish this blog first.
Are you applying The Secret?
I will starting tomorrow with the visual stuff.

Why do you blog?
Kinda like therapy.
I like to write.
I write to remember like Misha.
My sister and best friend have blogs.

Your bedroom is filthy.
I know I need to clean.
Things on the floor again.
I know. I can't believe there are no mice.
That would be gross.

I'll do a load of laundry.
You didn't fold last week's laundry.
I know.
Maybe I should eat.
I'm so damn lazy.

You eat like sh*t.
That's why I'm breaking out.
STAY AWAY FROM THE DAMN SWEDISH FISH!!!
But they taste so good.

I want a birthday party.
Gotta start planning.

Tired.

I Tied it to My Finger

I did, honest.

Off and on throughout my adult life, I've tied a string to my finger.

I'd wear it for weeks at a time; wash my hands and sleep with it, etc. It was jewelry; a ring.

I never wore it to remember anything as trivial, as "don't forget the soy milk", it was always something more introspective, and well, damn it, I tied the string to remind me of deep stuff like "be nice to people", "turn that frown upside down", "count to 10 and get a hold of yourself".

And it would help me.

Very often total strangers would ask me if I remember what the string represents as an intro to "so, can we have lunch sometime?". The really rude ones would ask me out right - "so what are you trying to remember?".

Why the focus on memory?

Because I can't remember sh*t!

It's not just the glasses of red wine and amaretto sour or sleep deprivation; I can't remember anything.

I hate when people tell me the same damn story over and over. I would always think that they were shallow and self-absorbed, like, damn, do they really think I want to hear every freaking detail of their crummy date again?!

And now I have become that person.

I'm so aware of my short term memory loss, that before I share, I've started asking "hey, did I tell you about...?"

I'm also keeping insane notes about everything. I write everything down, refer to my notes often, and get paranoid about losing it, so I write it down in several places.

No one likes a repeater.

Hmmm, so is this me being over analytical or can I rightfully blame this on Seroquel or Lexapro?

Which came first - losing my memory and then me noticing, or me noticing that I don't remember everything, and then taking detailed notes created the environment to forget more things?

See my dilemma?

The Thugs Are After Me

I saw them kill someone, so I've been living in hiding for the last 6 months.

Every minute was lived in fear.

I didn't trust anyone to know where I was, so I would wear different disguises to get food, and take a long way to get to my hiding place just to be certain no one was following me.

It was stressing me. It was making me sick.

Ever had someone after you? Ever KNOW that someone wants you dead?

I had to do something. I lost my job, friends didn't understand, and my life as I knew it was over.

I thought bip was bad, but this was worse.

They would want to kill me. I made up my mind that I was either convince them that I wasn't a threat, or die trying. So I did.

I came out of hiding went to where the head thug had breakfast, and him watched from afar.

I was scared as hell, but I had to do it.

I saw that he had a pack of Halls, so I faked a cough, loud enough for him to hear, and went over and asked for one.

He started hitting on me!

Wow! He didn't even recognize my face! He wanted to kill me, but didn't even know me!

We spoke for a couple hours, and I actually started to like him.

Would you believe that we started dating?

We'd laugh, wrestle and go shopping. I never revealed my identity....


This is the kind of sh*t I dream/ think on NO Seroquel and being HIGH on Thin Mints.

The fear was so real, I remember praying to make myself stop thinking about it. I had bip and now people want me dead? Does it ever freaking let up?

I tossed and turned, and tossed and turned and then made myself stand up, shake it off and realize that no one was after me.

Hey, last time, I dreamed that I was dating 50 Cent. He was Curtis to me. LOL.

Just take the pills, Butterfly; take the damn pills.

Blasted Girl Scouts

I ordered 5 boxes of girl scout cookies during one of my impulsive, excessive days. This also occurred pre-meds.

Anyway, they arrived on Monday and I stalled on eating them for a couple days; didn't want to make them my breakfast, lunch and dinner with a laxative chaser.

So I woke up yesterday morning to find 4 Thin Mints left in the pack!

Now, I remember eating throughout the night; I do. But, surely I didn't eat that many!

I swear! I don't remember getting the box and opening the pack.

A Thin Mint Binge.

This happened last night, too.

I didn't take my Seroquel, so I was tossing and turning (more on that later). I didn't have the sense to pop the pink pill, but I did roll over to consume about 10 Thin Mints in a foggy, sleepy, brain-alert haze.

I hid the poopy pills a couple weeks ago - well, i actually put them so far up in my closet that I would need a ladder to go get them down.

I have about 15 Thin Mints left. Gonna have a couple for breakfast, and then I'm done til later.

I promise not to buy any more poopy pills.

Time

Where does the time go?

It's Friday at 12:37am, and the last time I posted was Tuesday. How?

That's what's been happening a lot lately - I lose spans of time, my days are running together, and I can't decipher, separate or make sense of the haze.

Here's to my days one day being days, and my nights one day being nights.

Sweedish Fish Makes Pain Go Away

I swear to you, 2 bags of Swedish Fish eaten two or three at a time, back to back, will so make you forget bip.

Maybe it's the red, the sweet or the gummy.

It works for me.

Been home all day and it's the only thing I'm going out for.

Dear Oprah:

Dear Oprah,

I love that you built the school in Africa, and that you talk to celebs and help women find their correct bra size.

That's all f*cking awesome.

But you think you can pause to do a show about bipolar disorder and the struggle I deal with every day?

So it's not MS, Lupus, cancer or sickle cell, but it's hella important and we really need you to raise awareness and get people talking about this.

Why do you think some people kill themselves, turn to drugs and alcohol and go on murderous rampages?

Why do you think so many of us actually inhale?

It's the damn non-stop voices in our heads, the frustration, the paranoia.

We need a face, Oprah.

We need you to help.

I'm not saying stop cancer research, but can a few bucks be kicked out to find or make some f*cking meds that work?

Damn?

Oprah, I am even willing to come out of the closet to be the face. I guarantee you that you and your viewing audience will be surprised by the faces behind this disorder.

No one talks about it.

Hey, maybe I'll film a week in the life of the Butterfly or I won't take my meds (that don't work anyway) just so i could be manic or depressed (right now it's a roll of the dice); guaranteed to be a ratings booster.

Hey, use me for Sweeps!

I'll do anything to feel normal again.

Commit Me

I have insurance and a stay in the hospital is looking mighty attractive.

I'm tired of fighting me.

I'm still not at work.

Can't I go in like a car in the mechanic shop and come out all better?

Walk Away From Weirdo

So my doc says using derogatory terms like weirdo, dumb, crazy, loony, special and short school bus aren't helpful to me.

She says it creates a separatist mindset. It's about the only things she's said besides "hmmm.".

Okay. Whatever.

I am seeing a guy who will find out just how weird I am, and you know what's the muthaf*cking truth?

He has a right to walk away if my sh*t is more than he's willing handle.

Butterfly, Get up!

It's 12:52, and I'm still in bed.

I should have been at work at 11, 12 or 1.

I'm still in bed.

My GM is an arse and he's picking on me.

I want to cry.

I wan to go back to last week when I was manic and didn't need to write this f*cking blog!

I hate this sh*t! I hate my GM.

I hate that I judge myself for not being able to apply "The Secret" principles.

I hate that I'm looking like a f*cking incompetent arse, and I can't tell anyone why?

The owner can't protect me forever.

The Date Pt 2 & 3

So remember I told you about the date?

Well, since then, there's been two others - last Thursday and last night.

On one hand, I spend too much time with him and his friends (7:30pm - 4am).

On the other hand, I've been living the life of a 70 year old, and want to have fun.

When we hang out, we're over at his partner's loft.

He's a Sr. VP for a Brokerage firm.

28, Guyanese, great dresser, and thank God, NOT CHEAP!

He's so cool, funny, nice smile and eyes, nice hands (huge deal for me). Is it weird that I can guess-timate exactly what people's feet look like from their hands?

I can. Honest.

We dance and karaoke to Itunes, eat, drink (yup drink, Amaretto Sour and last night I had Red Wine. Wait, no need for the lecture, I am not on meds when I'm drinking).

He always tells me to "relax, you're with me."

He doesn't try to make me drink or go over my limit.

His friends adore me, and are funny as hell. Anyway, I have such a great time with him, so what's the problem.

Well as quirky as he is too, if this bip sh*t continues, I'm gonna need to have the conversation.

Damn.

I don't think he'll care but still.

In my head, Bip is as bad as "hey, I have herpes simplex 29, and it's never going away".

Well at least you can't catch bip.

Chrystal Light

I've been drinking it- The Tropical Punch. It tastes like Koolaid.

Less calories.

I know what you're thinking - Butterfly, you have an eating disorder, laxatives and Chrystal Light aren't good.

Well, you're not understanding.

The Chrystal Light has less calories than juice. Why ingest extra calories? The laxatives are removing the toxins. When they're gone, you think clearer and you're more focused, and I need to be focused.

I'm Going to Heal Myself

I told my therapist that I was going to heal myself, and she took it lightly.

I know I said it before, but I mean it now, SHE'S SO FIRED!

4 visits and I feel like a f*cking scatterbrain!

Anyway, I am going to heal myself, I really am.

I've always known that I had special powers, and I am going to use them to fix me and then I can help all of you!

So how does it work?

Well, here's my plan of attack:

1. Daily Meditation and Prayer - to remove evil spirits.
2. Exercise - to look good and then it'll jog my feelings.
3. Cleansing - colonics, water, laxatives and the Cayenne pepper remedy. - to remove toxins.
4. Special incense and oils - keep the spirits away
5. Journaling. - Get in touch with my thoughts and feelings
6. Motivational tapes like Louise Hay and The Secret. - Positivity can't hurt.
7. Some isolation - I need to know me.
8. Upside down stance - Release serotonin.

I know what you're thinking - I'm making it seem like bipolar is something I can wish away or something that isn't forever.

Well, kinda.

I don't know for you, but I'm certain that I have a build up of toxins in my body, and I'm not willing to accept bip as a forever thing until I have tried everything.

I need to be alone with my thoughts and monitor my feelings and activities.
Being upside down will send more serotonin to my brain.
The cleansing will remove the toxins.

Denial?

Maybe, but I haven't done EVERYTHING, and so I will not concede.

I Change My Mind, No Lexapro!

Have you done everything?

Lexapro Wins :-(

I haven't been here in a couple days, and I also haven't been taking my meds.

I figured I could do without them.

I figured I was strong enough to take life by the horns and ride the bull commando.

I guess I'm kinda admitting defeat.

I have so much pressure to perform at work in light of my arse of a GM. Yesterday, my brain was all over the place. I had no structure in my day, just heading to which fire threatened the most damage.

I am conceding, and popping the Lexapro, today.

"Operation No Seroqel"

In a word - HELL!

I tossed and turned all night.

Is this what it's come to, me not being able to sleep without pills?

Damn.

But I had to do it. I sleep too late when I take it, and I really needed to be in early to deal with my arse of a GM.

I made it in at 10am, and I feel good. I'm hoping he doesn't pick with me today because I know I won't pull any punches.

I'll keep you posted. (Btw, I'm leaving early today; 2 Law & Orders and a full dose of Seroquel.)

I - DE -CLARE WAR!

I can't miss lexapro in the am because tommorow is gonna be one hell of a day.

My GM is an arse!

He's afraid to talk to me, and so he talks behind my back to everyone!

Today was so bad; I was so wound up, I had a bit of trouble breathing.

I stopped myself from going to his office and spazzing out by locking myself in my office, chewing an entire pack of gum (10 pieces), deep breathing and then reading my bible.

He can't control me, and he hates it.

Last week when he was acting like an amoeba, I really tried to protect HIS feelings!

I tiptoed around his bat ears and big nose.
I failed to mention his unprofessionalism and high-water pants.
I ignored his thinning hair and public affair.

If I was evil I'd call his wife and OUT him, but I'm not.

He's picking on me.

I must defend myself, and so I DE- CLARE WAR!

Emergency Sirens

Today I exited the train platform to see FDNY EMT doing CPR on a passenger that was having cardiac arrest.

There were so many people around, simply looking.

Gawking, not saying anything.

What do you do when you hear and emergency siren?

My parents taught me to pray each time I heard a siren. Their reasoning is that the ambulance could be en route to someone I know, and even if they weren't wherever they were headed, there was a person in need of prayer.

So when I saw the man laying lifeless on the station floor, I did what I do each time I hear a siren - I prayed for healing, health and miracles for him, but I also prayed prayers of thanksgiving for myself.

See, witnessing the EMT in action reminded me on how close I have come to being in a similar state, and of times when I was in the same state.

It made me grateful.

And in the moment I was praying, I forgot about being bipolar.

Dog Therapy

I need dog therapy.

I can't have one right now in my apartment, but I do want to hang out with one. Not the owner, just the dog.

SF seeks fun loving dog for walks and games.

Love hugs and don't mind drool.

Will bring treats, games and bags for poo.

Give me cold nose kisses and loving bites on my hand.

Not seeking a fling, really looking for long term.

Curse Words

Yea, I include them.

I don't think it's not fitting of a lady to say.

Actually never cursed until I was in college ... hmmm, maybe even long after. I would say hell, but the "f" word? Never.

In my later twenties, I cursed by association. My boyfriends had potty mouths, and it kinda rubbed off on me.

I've been cursing too much and wanna stop, but in the blog, I think it's ok. This is a space where I can be honest and real about how I feel in the moment.

No pretending.

Just undiluted me.

My Last Day on Earth Mania

When I'm manic, I'm pretty much racing against the clock.

I'm not sure if depression will hit in the next five minutes, tonight, or tomorrow, and so I try to get as much as I can accomplished.

I'm living everyday like every day is my last.

Hmmm.

Is that good, bad?

Whatever.

I'm at work and gonna stay here until the fat lady sings or actually until my demon of a GM goes home because of course he's a "Printer Nazi" and must have the printer in his office to see what everyone is printing.

What an ass!

Enraged!

They day started off fine.

I was ready for a productive day, and then I hear some more childish bullshit that my GM is spewing.

The nerve of that f*cking, incompetent, social skill lacking, affair having A**HOLE!!!

He is so afraid that I will take his job that he acts like a scared b*tch!

Do I need this in my world?

Whoever said, Butterfly needs an overgrown five year old gossiping b*tch of a male GM, THEY WERE WRONG!

If I put a tack in his chair or pee in his iced tea, then I'm the f*cking bad guy!

Yo!

Just Another Manic Monday

I had a great day.

Great by manic standards - not stop talking, thoughts, working through lunch, etc.

Didn't get up until 10am, but I was cooking with gas after that.

Pretty productive at work, and even saw my best friend.

Saw my therapist - the one I swore I'd fire when I was depressed a couple days ago. We spoke about my memory and how I've blocked things out in my life. She actually called my "blocking out" amnesia!

WOW!

Not sure how to view that.

Hey, right now, I'm racing against the clock to get as much done before the sad heebeegeebees return.

I love you for reading.

The Deal With Garbage

Ok, so as a child, I would be on my hands and knees removing "stuff" from the carpet because I was convinced the vacuum wasn't getting everything. Actually, I knew it wasn't getting everything.

But now, not sure when or how it happened, but I'm Oscar the Grouch's girlfriend!

What was her name?

Grundgetta!

Yup, that's me.

Not even my fear of mice is compelling me to clean up.

Fine, argue if you will that my nastiness is not bip related. But, how ok am I if I recognize the mess, the clutter, the filth, the disarray, the garbage, but won't fix it?

Why am I not tossing the trash?

I'll do it in the morning. I promise.

Livin La Vida Loca

It's really weird to me how when I'm manic I judge myself for being depressed.

I felt so productive today, so alive, so on top of things that I questioned how I wrote those angry posts a couple days ago.

I started asking myself questions like "was it really that bad" and "why couldn't you just snap out of it", and "butterfly, come on, why weren't you able to shake it off"?

Yup, I went there. I judged myself the way "they" would judge me.

Damn.

For a brief moment I convinced myself that I'm okay, and that I just had a bad patch, you know. I tell myself that I'm not bipolar at all.

Hmph.

Sad to know that depression could be as close as going to sleep and waking up tomorrow.

Until then, I'm gonna ride the mania train and Live La Vida Loca!

Commando Pt 2!

This is the 2nd day that I haven't taken my lexapro.

See, its times when I feel good...aka mania...that I don't see the need to ingest more toxins.

I'm doing good.

Butterfly, we've been here before. Take it any way.

I don't wanna!

I took the seroquel last night. That one is a must. Without it, my brain won't go to sleep.

Like a baby with colic, my brain won't shut the f*ck up! So, I take it.

Matter of fact, I slept great last night.

Commando, baby.

I Went Outside!

Yesterday I bathed and went outside.

Maybe it was the dark cloud of funk surrounding me that made me angry and depressed over the last couple days.

Maybe, I'm really not bipolar at all.

Hmmm.

But I got out and yup, I was manic as hell.

Talking non stop.
Speed walking.

I really didn't notice until I was asked why I was talking so much.

Hey, I got out of bed and took a shower.

After last week, that muthaf*cking progress.

I Bathed Today

Maybe normal is around the bend; heck, screw normal, gimmie mania.

My Bedroom

Smart Start crumbs
A cup of sugar
Ginger Ale bottle -empty
Grape Soda bottle -empty
Cherry Pepsi 2 liter -full
Cheese puff crumbs
Red Lobster take out tray
Cranberry Juice gallon bottle - empty
Arizona Sweet tea can - empty
Creme Soda bottle - empty

Why?

Am I weak?

Am I weak because I don't wanna fight?

I'm tired.

I'm exhausted with fighting me, and then after I fight me, I fight having a pity party.

I am tired of fighting.

I want someone to blame; someone I can extract all my aggression on.

I want rest.

Not sleep but rest.

Peace of mind.

Mind ... just slow the f*ck down, please.

How?

How do I get back to me?

If this is what I must look forward to, then I rather sell everything and travel- just me and my thoughts.

Are you out there? All of you that have been dealing with this.

Tell me how, please.

Eulogy

No, I'm not suicidal, just sad.

At one point in my life, I knew that my eulogy would read like a wonderful E! True Hollywood story of fame, beauty, and ambition.

My eulogy now would be "what happened?"

I'm in a dirty, funky world. I don't leave my bedroom, won't go outside, and dread my phone ringing.

If i never knew better, I'd have nothing to miss.

But I miss my old life, the old me, my body, looks and personality.

How do I get better?

I feel like no one can help me.

I'm a Prisioner

I'm a prisoner in my world.

A prisoner in my head, my anger, my breath.

I can't possibly live like this forever.

How is this a life when I can't control me?

I can't wake up when I want, eat when I need to and be angry.

Where's the justice when I can't trust me?

All I have left is me, but I can't trust me to be angry.

I live in a cell.

I'm not living, I'm being controlled, trained like a f*cking animal.

And lexapro and seroquel is my owner?

1,2,3, BREATHE!

Butterfly breathe.

I'm angry again.

The Italian lied to me and I think he should pay. I want him to pay.

I hate that I rock back and forth.
I hate that I cry and clench my jaws.
I hate that I'm bipolar.
I hate that I cant make him pay without going to jail.

He needs to hurt,
He needs to feel like I feel.

1,2,3, Breathe.
F*cking lying ass bastard.

May he roll over in excruciating pain tonight, this night. At the moment he calls out for God, may my face creep across his eyelids and may the pain endure until the morning.

Pain, yes pain, may it know you biblically and disturb your slumber.

85 Things About Me

0. I've been diagnosed Bipolar 2. That means I hang out on the depression side a lot more than the manic side.

1. Depending on who’s taking the measurement, I can be 5’6” or 5’8”, but I am 5 foot 7.5 inches

2. I have an eating disorder. I guess its bulimia. I obsess about ridding myself of toxins from food, and take laxatives to do so.

3. I faint when I’m stressed or break out in hives. Yup, very psychosomatic.

4. My favourite food is pasta, noodles, macaroni, whatever. I like Italian food and men. I also like Caribbean and southern cuisine.

5. I like being by myself. Although lately I’ve been questioning if its healthy for me to be such a lose..um, loner.

6. I ran away when I was 3 years old. I got as far as the mailbox and returned when my mother told me that the kids in foster care would steal my clothes and stuffed animals.

7. I am the middle child, and what a typical middle child I am.

8. My favourite colour is red. I like that it’s signifies hot, danger and stop or I’ll hurt you.

9. My favourite numbers are 4, 7, and 17. I kinda like 9, too.

10. I’ve never won lotto, but I did win $400 when I gambled in West Virginia. I don’t think I’ve ever won a raffle.

11. I read a lot. Self –help and business books mostly. Sometimes I read 4 books at once.

12. I used to be a morning person. Now I’m a 6pm – 2am person. What’s that?

13. I’ve dislocated my collarbone, but I’ve never broken a bone.

14. I would like to have board games because I think a social person should have some, but who would I play with? I don’t allow people into my home.

15. I hate waiting. Don’t make me wait. I will leave. I’ll do without. Waiting sux.

16. I smoked weed once. My brother does it and I wanted to see what the big deal was. Well, I did it wrong the first time. I was doing it with a friend who was more concerned with me wasting it than giving instruction. I did it (mind you, I am asthmatic), and went right to sleep. Good for sleeping, but not good as perfume.

17. I wear clear contacts. I have glasses, but apparently they are ugly. The Italian laughed at me when he saw them. Such a f*cking arse! So, I wear them at home.

18. I work for the owner of my company. Everyone else can go to hell. I like him. Not like in the romantic sense although I’m sure he’d like to bone me, but hey, no job, no insurance, no meds. So, I work.

19. I’ve never been married. Wanna know why? Cuz I’m a f*cking married man magnet. I attract unhappy husbands. I need to figure out what it is they smell on me and burn it off with a blow torch! I’d like to get married, but first I need to find a guy. Hey, will two bipolars make a bippy baby? Why even chance forcing a child to live with two bips.

20. I’m honest. I tell the truth; even when it’s hard to say. I don’t lie. I even hate withholding. Why? Well, if I tell the truth, there’s no need to remember anything. I also can’t hide my emotions. If I don’t like you, it shows on my face and I stay away from you. I’m not a fake ho.

21. I spend too much on food.

22. I’ve lost ambition.

23. I love Monk. Makes my OCD seem special instead of weird.

24. I LOVE Law & Order, SVU and CI. I watch it from 6pm to midnight weekdays and all weekend long. Yup.

25. I won’t fall asleep with the TV on. I truly think The Man sends subliminal messages while I sleep.

26. I have 31 known addresses on my credit report. In the 6 years that I’ve lived in new york, I’ve lived in 12 different places. Hmmm, could be mania, maybe.

27. I went to college. Took a semester off, but stayed on campus in my room. I was depressed.

28. I have an obsession with feet. Not only my feet, but feet in general. Mine are always french pedicured. I like nice feet. Ugly feet make me wretch.

29. I hate messing with my hair. I often wear wigs.

30. I used to swallow 12 pills a day to cure myself – vitamins, supplements, herbs, laxatives. This was before Lexapro and seroquel.

31. I save everything. I have my first 8th grade test taken in a public school. I have the wrapping paper from the bottle of perfume that my first boyfriend ever gave to me in 11th grade.

32. I think I deserve things just because I’m me. I think I’m special-er.

33. I’m not a label whore. I think $20 jeans fit me better than expensive ones.

34. I hate cats. I think they should be extinct. I’d lead the helm to make it happen. They’re nasty, sneaky, dander-laden, mousetraps.

35. I have a great body. I know that, but I still don’t like it.

36. I obsess about my skin, and make unconventional ways of being clean. I exfoliate a lot, use several types of cremes for different body parts, and yup, laxatives. I really think you act weird when there are toxins in you. Get the toxins out and you’ll be fine-er.

37. I cry a lot by myself; for everything and nothing.

38. I know that I have special powers. I believe that in their darkest most painful moments, my face flashes across the eyes of every person who has ever done me wrong.

39. I talk to Ralph, my stuffed bear. I sleep with him, Napolean, Hamilton and Bonnie. Yup, all stuffed. When no one is awake at 3am, they understand my silent scream.

40. I have issues being friends with women. Not sure why. Maybe I should blame my mother. But I like men until they start to like me. That always muddle things up.

41. I have played out scenarios in my head where I beat people up and/or torture them. That’s why I’ve never watched horror movies- too much going on in my own head, why add more? Also, I think that’s why I’m fascinated with Law & Order, CSI and the like. Maybe it reminds me that I can’t get away with the stuff I think.

42. My childhood nickname was sunshine and smilie. Right now, I might as well be dark cloud or cruella. After a lifetime of caring about other peoples feelings, I love that lately, I just don’t give a sh*t.

43. I believe in spirits – good and evil. I know that angels hang out with me, and I know that some people have tried to send demons to me, but I repel them.

44. I talk in my sleep sometimes.

45. I make myself dream sometimes.

46. I’ve never been in a fight. To be honest, I’m afraid I might kill the person and spend a lifetime in jail because the jury wouldn’t believe beyond a reasonable doubt that it was self defense.

47. I make my bed sometimes. When I do, I MUST spray each layer with Lysol. It keeps the cooties away.

48. I like heels. I have great legs.

49. I don’t cook, but every ex did.

50. I’m really not the cooking, baking domestic type. I’ll buy the damn cookies.

51. I wish I could punch some people in the mouth and make them spit their teeth like chicklet gum.

52. I don’t drink much because I know that I have an addictive personality.

53. I am evil when I’m manic. I have punched ex’s. I broke a chain and slapped someone in the face once. I am also known for spitting and throwing phones. I’m good for stomping my foot and sitting down wherever I am and refusing to move until I have my way. I guess that’s bip meets brat.

54. I always get even. Always. I’m very strategic with my revenge. I think for hours and days on how exactly I can bring the person the most pain. Sometimes it’s sending pics of them with a lover to the current boyfriend, suing, having them arrested at work, or getting them fired. They shouldn’t have muthaf*ckin crossed me!

55. Pretty people have life easier. I am pretty. I don’t deserve all of what I get.

56. I believe in Karma, boomerang, sowing and reaping, etc. I try to be good. When I’m bad, people pushed me to do it, so they get the bad karma, not me.

57. I’m gonna be 30 and it seems old.

58. I hate my college boyfriend for changing the script with a breakup. The script was married at 24, first child at 28.

59. I have eaten something that fell on the floor. No one was looking.

60. I would want to be on the Real World, but I’d so need to be on meds.

61. I have a million thoughts in my head at any given time. Okay, not a million, but at least 19.

62. I hate injections, and seeing blood makes me hurl. I know, I know.

63. I believe that evil spirits are chased away when I pray and tell them to go.

64. I hate people who clip their nails in public.

65. I love completing surveys and questionnaires and personality tests.

66. I’ve peed outside.

67. I really don’t like talking on the phone.

68. I can be a b*tch.

69. I’d like to buy random people braces, contacts, houses, cars, and hair.

70. I’m “black” and I use tanning booths.

71. I am afraid of cooties and toxins.

72. I’d like to have my younger sister’s skin and older sister’s feet.

73. I hate when people walk slowly.

74. Some days I wish I could collect SSI and welfare and stay at home.

75. Hair doesn’t grow on my legs all the time. I Nair about 6x/ year.

76. I have big eyes. Nice big bambi eyes. Not sure how I feel about them.

77. I think itches are a sign of cooties and toxins.

78. I’ve written to Oprah about my depression while in college.

79. I have journals from 8th grade.

80. I’m asexual right now. Men can go to hell.

81. I bought nail fungus remover to prevent fungus from growing…you, know, just in case.

82. I hate when people applaud in a movie theatre.

83. Sometimes I think I’m better than people. No, actually, I know it. Does that make me evil?

84. I breathe weird; not with my diaphragm, but with my chest.

85. I hate grocery stores. They make me itch; a sign of cooties being present.

I Have Silver Eyes

I never forgot this book.

It changed my life because I felt like I wasn't alone.

I've done things, thought things. It may sound weird to you, but I know that I have special powers.

I have visions and dreams. It's more than just the gut instinct or a sixth sense.

Maybe I'm not bipolar at all, and just a different species of human.

I'm Being Punk'd!

Not only has the banging resumed, but whomever is up there is now playing a montage of Celine Dion including that bloody Titanic song.

if you're going through sh*t, why do I have to mourn with you?

I'm fighting the urge to use my Swiffer to bang on the ceiling or to go outside and collect dog poo left behind by some nasty bastard of an owner and place it in front of their door.

Who the hell wants to hear Celine at 12:04 in the day?

God, help me cope cuz the thoughts I'm having are so not nice.

No one hears me. Peace and quiet, that's all I ask.

Suicide

I have to talk it out.

This can't exactly be the life I'm gonna have for the next how many years.

See days like today are when the suicidal thoughts enter my mind.

I'm too much of a chicken to do it.

I care too much about other people to make them sad, and I know that because I know better, doing it reserves me a spot in the itchy seat in hell.

I'm so pissed.

Is it that bad?

It sure as hell feels like it, and when there's no end in sight, makes you wanna hold a yard sale of all your stuff and be a hobo.

What am I doing?

Yea, there are people living with this everyday, and they don't have access to medication. I know that it can be worse, but I'm not thinking or talking about anyone else's reality. I'm thinking about my own. I need coping mechanisms.

My therapy sucks because I think they should have given me some coping skills for 3 in the morning when I'm standing and looking at a wall trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Where is the 10 Steps to Calming My Ass Down?
Where's the Relax in 5 Easy Steps Pamphlets?

Why the hell am I paying a therapist when much o' the sh*t I deal with isn't happening in that 45 minute block?

She is so getting muthaf*cking cancelled.

What's the benefit?

I get things out here on blogger.

What? 2 sessions isn't enough?

Well I rather buy Sweedish fish with the $25 I give her each week.

Where's the justice?

I don't know any more.

Which came first: me being weird and then the diagnosis or has the diagnosis made me weirder?
See, I did strange things before the diagnosis, but I feel stranger now.

Is it that I am overanalyzing and looking at everything to minutia?
Are the meds slowly disolving my brain to a lump of week old spam?

Why:
* Do i walk around in cricles in my bedroom?
* Do I talk to stuffed animals?
* The hell am I covering them at night so they're not cold?
* Am I counting so damn much?
* Am I not answering my phone?
* Am I sitting in a filthy room?
* Am I stalled on going outside?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Where is the f*cking magic pill?

I can't possibly live like this for the rest of my life.

Where's the justice?

I've been good- good grades, no cheating in school, no cheating on boyfriends, I give, I give, I give, and I am the one that gets bipolar?

What about the high school bully that stabbed someone?
What about the ex that told me my breast and butt weren't big enough?
What about my former boss that was a fat ass liar?
What about italian liar?
What about my so called friend that assumed I was a whore because some greasy ass guy lied and said he slept with me when he didn't? He should know me. F*ck him and his herpe ass chick!

Why the hell aren't those dumb muthaf*ckers bipolar?

I swear if you tell me that you only get what you can handle, I will blow a f*cking gasket!

I have to go to work, but can't, and now I must call in once again and appear like the nutball I have become.

Where's the justice?
Where's the muthaf*cking justice?

Trust, Smrust!

Trust people?

Please.

People lie, and liars might as well be satan!

Here's how I see it:

I prefer a thief over a liar, ANY DAY!

Why?

Well, a thief will take what they want and leave, but a liar will watch while a needle is placed in your arm.

F**k people and their lying lips!

I've had people promise me the world and then change mid stream.

Well, butterfly, isn' t that their prerogative?

Prerogative?

What the hell does that have to do with anything?

When I make a decision, I've thought it through. I say what I mean, and mean what I say and I can deliver. The problem is that people are not f**king thinking.

THINK!!!!!

Pause to figure sh*t out before you open your friggin YAP!

People I hate Today
1. The Italian Lothario
2. My GM
3. The GM's mistress.
4. The neighbors upstairs.
5. The Sea
6. Izzo
7. The model/ actor/ real estate rep for whom I bought a birthday digital camera.
8. The Italian's wife

F**K!!!!

I hate people.

The sh*t that I deal with.

May they all have one day of my worst depression.

FEEL LIKE YOUR F*CKING CRAZY FOR A WEEK, AND THEN LEARN TO SPEAK THE TRUTH YOU F*CKING MORONS!!!!!

May your seat in hell also have itching powder and poison tipped tacks!

I'm Angry, Today

I'm Angry today about everything and nothing.

Maybe it was the blasted pounding upstairs that set me off.

I was up until 6am. I took my Lexapro at 3am, so maybe it's wearing off.

Why am I angry?

1. I've gotta go to work.
2. It's cold outside.
3. I have bipolar 2.
4. I have to take meds.
5. I don't like, trust, respect, or can stomach my GM.
6. I have to pay rent today.
7. My bedroom looks like a tornado hit it.
8. My nails aren't looking the way I'm used to them looking.
9. I have to put on makeup.
10. I have to leave the house.
11. I keep getting spam in my gmail inbox.
12. It's too late to cancel my Monday therapy session where after 2 weeks, I don't see progress.
13. The week is over and I have nothing to show for it.
14. I don't trust anyone.

Count to 10, Butterfly

Woke up to pounding.

The people above me either have a cat from hell, a toddler in heels or they're doing construction. Either way, it's annoying me and I'm counting to 10 before I go up there and WILD OUT!

I have anger management issues. Did I mention that? Oh well, add that to the laundry list o' shit I deal with.

How does it manifest?

Well, apart from road rage (although I haven't been driving much lately), I've noticed that I lock my jaw; not grinding my teeth, but I clench my jaws so tight that I realize that I'm doing it when it starts to hurt. It also causes some headaches.

Also, a couple times a week, I wake up with nails in my hand.

Yup, apparently, while I'm sleeping, I make a fist and my nails (I wear UV Gel nail tips, and they're kinda long) dig into my hand. I wake up when I start to feel the pain.

So I count.

I count steps.

I count to 10 and take hold of myself before I run upstairs with a bucket of cold Clorox water and toss it on them when they open the door.

I count to keep my cool.

Butterfly, do you want to go to jail, or do you want to go home?

I want to go home.

The pounding has stopped as I type.

I Wanna Be Great

Isn't that a secret desire for everyone - notoriety?

I want to contribute something wonderful to someone or something.

I think I've moved past only wanting my name in lights or a billboard in Times Square. I want my life to have meaning, but as I deal with this bipolar shit, I feel the prospect of being "someone" slipping away.

It's tough.

I haven't told you about my past, but I was a really good model and actress. I know now that I pulled away from the entertainment industry I crave when I started showing bip signs.

I'm frustrated that I didn't have the keys to fix me; that I didn't have a term to describe what was wrong and going on with me.

Where am I now?

Some days I feel like a has been.

I want the life I had, but I'm not doing what I need to get there.

Not working out.
Afraid to go outside for auditions and castings.
Cancelling photoshoots.
No-showing at events.

I'm not a fan of my body which is so weird because I am proportionate. I even have boobies now and a butt, but I don't know this person.

I know the girl called "skinny", "olive oil", "bones". I look in the mirror and see a person that's fatter than the me I know. As much as men love this "me", I don't really like her.

How's that for some muthaf**king truth?

Maybe I'm channeling my inner Oprah.

I hope this shit is helping someone. For right now, it's me getting it out so I have one less thing floating around in my brain.

I'm afraid

I am.

I'm afraid that somehow this blogger will be tied to me and I'll be outed.

In my shining moment, my identity will be revealed.

The Man will find me.

The Date

I've been craving red Lobster for about 2 weeks.

I know, not exactly 5 star cuisine, but I like their bread and Raspberry Lemonade.

So I was in my office yesterday and a guy walked in. I know that he's been interested in me, but I digress.

So I shared my desire for Red Lobster, and he said "Meet me outside, and let's catch a cab."

I would have preferred to come home and lay in bed with Law & Order, but I went.

Guess what?

I had an amazing time.

No expectations.
No "why don't you have a boyfriend" questions.
Just talk about life, experiences, work and miscellaneous bullshit.

I had an amazing time, but I watched him transform before my eyes. Yup, I actually watch him go from "this girl is cool" to "this girl is amazing".

So what's the problem?

I don't know what the hell is going on in my world at any given moment, and lately I am as asexual as a ..... doorstop.

I have no romantic-ness in me at all.

I like hanging with him, but his cute text messages the day after lets me further know that he is smitten with the butterfly.

Darn.

I ain't trying to have a bip talk with him especially since my last couple "people of interest" turned out to be first class ARSEHOLES!

I just wanna hang out and laugh and have people buy me nice shoes.

Oh did I mention the little problem I have with going outside? See if I am already out its a lot easier. I still have that damn leaving problem.

Let's call him...uh, Mr. Potato Head.

I'll keep you posted.

Guilt

See the problem with sleeping the day away is that everything you're supposed to do, doesn't get done.

I have a deadline tomorrow at work, and will have to pull and all-nighter to get it done. I'm actually OK with that because I'm tired of sleeping.

I feel guilty for sleeping, so the all-nighter is the punishment. Also drinking water is a punishment too. I know that i must drink it to get the meds out of my system, but I hate it.

Tonight, water is punishment for the the 2 bags of Swedish fish I ate, and the liter of Sprite, grape soda, creme soda, apple juice and Arizona Sweet Tea that I guzzled.

I rather drink than eat. I should make a sandwich right now. I'll do it in a bit.

I know better.

BUGGER OFF! I'LL DO WHAT THE "F" I WANT!

(That's what I tell the judgmental voices in my head as I take another swig of creme soda.)

Headache Pt. 2

Headache still here.

I've gotta choose: Lexapro or Aleve.

Can't take both because I could end up like Anna Nicole.

Which hurts more: my head or my head?

Commando!

So we know that commando means going without underwear, right.

Well, I hereby declare the bip definition of commando is:
GOING WITHOUT MEDS!

I feel like a fucking freak right now.

My head hurts.
I haven't called out from work.
Just ate left over shrimp pasta.
I'm angry that I ate it.
A gallon of water is taunting me for not drinking it.
I didn't wake up for the gym.
I'm pissed off, for everything and nothing.

And, no, I'm not taking the damn meds.

For what?

I'm staying home today.

Do I need to have a good attitude to be around me?

I wanna flush them down the damn toilet.

Friggin pink and white pills.

Headache

My head hurts badly.

So like a parent of a crying toddler, I must isolate the cause.

I'm not wet. LMBO!
I'm eating right now.
I'm not being pinched by an older sibling.

Hmmmm.

I do want to be held.

hmmmm.

I'm still sleepy. That's it.

I guess taking seroquel at 1am would do it.

Seems like I'm not going to work today.

Damn.

Sleepy Time

I've got a workout buddy.

We're supposed to meet at 7am, but its 2am and I just to my seroquel.

Yup, if I'm drowsy at 5:30am. It's my fault.

Can I tell you about the not so date, date later?

Cool.

Good night.

Kept My Head Right

Today was an interesting day.

I felt like me.

I was productive at work, social, I even went on a non-planned date...of sorts.

Well, I had trouble leaving home today; just seemed safer to stay inside. However, I did manage to leave, and once I did, I felt okay.

Maybe it was my sunglasses.
Maybe I was warm.
Maybe I'm making progress.

Truth is, I actually spoke to myself all the way to the train.

What was I saying?

My usual mantra:

Butterfly you're fine, you"ll be okay, you can do this, baby steps, you're a big girl.

I repeated my mantra while counting steps. The counting helps me cope, and helps me set small milestones like walking to the red car, then the gray car, then the big tree or lump of snow.

Hey, anything that helps me cope.

I purposefully left my Ipod at home. So, once I got on the train, I read my bible aloud.

I killed two birds with one stone: not only was I reading my bible (something I want to do more of), but also reading aloud helped me to focus and to drown out the other voices in my head.

High effort day, but I feel good.

Nike, Baby!

It's snowing in NYC.

Looks so pretty.

But why the hell do I have to go out and slosh around in it!?!?!?

Because I must go to work.

No work, no insurance, no meds, no normal.

There's that word again: normal.

Butterfly, Nike Baby.

Just do it.

Hi

Some of you are having a tougher time than I am today.

Talk to me.

I'm going to set up an email just to talk with you all.

I've thought about suicide, but never tried it. I know some of you have.

Talk to me.

You know one good thing is that there are no judgments with The Bipolar Chick. I'm like you.

You may be manic when I'm depressed; I may be manic when you're depressed; but you know what? I know how you feel.

You take pills. I take pills.
You're in the closet. I'm in the closet.
You fear losing your job, going outside, people finding out, not being able to care for yourself, being judged.

I have the same fears.

Let's talk and talk and talk until one day we aren't afraid anymore.

Papa Can You Hear Me?

Remember those words?

I think it was from the movie "Yentle or Yentel" with Barbara Streisand.

That's my tune today.

I guess I'm singing it to God, but only half heartedly; I now that everyone gets a thorn in their side.

I haven't come to terms with the whole bipolar thing; especially since there's such a stigma about it. Some days I can convince myself that I'm really not bipolar. But then the panic attacks begin or I close my blinds and turn the lights off so I can be in utter darkness, and then I realize that I only have 51 cards.

I don't wanna be bipolar. I want God to take it away. I really do.

Yea, Yea, you only get what you can handle, blah, blah blah.

Well, I don't want it!

Well then Butterfly, everyone gets something.

Would you prefer diabetes, and to inject yourself daily?

Would you prefer to lose a limb?

How about tourette syndrome, would you like that?

See, this is how I make myself feel better. I know it can be worse.

But still, on days like today when my chest tightens because I dread going outside, I sing my song:

Papa Can You Hear Me?

The Rest of Me

So you know where my head is and where it is not.

What about the rest of me?

Well, like I mentioned yesterday, I'm struggling to catch up.

Physically, I eat crap. I can't remember the last time I had a hot meal.

I'm single.
I don't cook.
I can, but why?

I know why; because it can save me time and money.

Well, when you're behind in so many areas, cooking is the last thing on your mind.

I've lost weight, muscle and size; which is ok, I guess. But I want my muscle back.

I need to start exercising again. There was a time when I lived in the gym; up at 6am for yoga on my own. Those days are a distant memory.

I still read, but I haven't been reading my bible as much as I should have.

Yup, I'm a bipolar Christian. So for everyone who thinks that's an oxymoron, WHATEVER!

I know that my mind can be at peace by reading and praying more. No excuses. I simply need to do it.

I know the saying all to well:
if you wanna stop getting what you're getting, stop doing what you're doing.

Change, Butterfly, Change.

That's where the meds come in.

They allow me to focus long enough to read, to pray, to meditate.

10:20am, and Lexapro is not in my tummy.

Gonna go take it now.

Me and Anna Nicole

I didn't know her, but I surely felt her pain.

I'm not saying she was bipolar, but you didn't have to be a psychic to see that she was in severe emotional anguish.

Stevie Wonder could see her pain. (joke)

Why didn't the people around her get her the help she needed even if it meant being taken off her payroll?

If I get to where she was, who would get me the help I need?

To some people in my family, there's nothing wrong with me.

Truly only one friend knows EVERYTHING.

What if I get depressed around the friends that don't know I'm bip?

Would they care enough to get me help?

Hell, would they even notice that I needed it?

Would they allow me to self -destruct like Anna Nicole?

Hmmmm.

Truth is...

I love this blog.

I love that I seemingly have an infinite amount of topics.

I love that you read and that you share your thoughts, and I love that I'm not alone.

But if I'm honest, I'd tell you that I wish I couldn't write this blog.
I wish I didn't know about bipolar firsthand.

I may be writing now, but I wish that next month, the subject matter would no longer be relevant to my world.

Truth is, what makes me feel connected to you is what I wish would go away.

Smile Therapy

Lately I've noticed that the corners of my mouth turn down; you know, like a frown.

I don't wanna frown, but I think I've been sad for so long, that a frown is my default face.

So I'm fixing it.

I'm smiling; even when I'm by myself.

I'm smiling to prevent wrinkles (cuz you know it takes more muscles to frown than to smile), but I'm also smiling because as silly as it may seem, the smile jogs the rest of my face into feeling good and helps my mood.

Hey, any trick I can use, helps.

Say cheese!

Thanks for the feedback

I really appreciate the feedback.

I started this blog to prove to myself that I wasn't an x-file.

Some days, I feel so weird.

It's like I have an out of body experience and I'm looking at the things I do in utter disbelief that I'm doing it.

It's totally bizarre!

Hearing your struggles, your quirky bippy things, reminds me that I'm not alone, and that's such a good feeling.

Good Mania

Been depressed for the last couple days.

Even when I was in good spirits, I was closer to depression than mania.

This will sound dumb, but I'm hoping not.

At least follow my train of thought:

I've been hoping for mania.

Why?

Well, I feel so behind in everything:

Laundry
Cleaning
Personal work
Work for work
Emails
Texts

I'm kinda hoping for a Manic Monday (pun intended) just so I can get caught up.

For me mania means I can work straight through the night. I can usually clean, cook, sort, file, organize, do laundry, iron, and email over night.

I don't want to induce it with soda or coffee, but I sure could use an episode right now.

Stop The Clock!

It's 9:30am.

I've got to be at work for 12noon.

Will I make it?

Here we go again.

I did take my Lexapro, but I want to stay in bed.

I'm annoyed because I didn't get my clothes together last night, so that's 30 minutes of impending frustration.

I have to be out of bed by 10am so I can get dressed and leave by 11am.

It's 9:32am.

I have to make a deposit to stop a check from bouncing.

I have to do some work to turn in to the GM.

I have to act once again.

I'm not ready for the day yet.

I wish I could just stop the damn clock.

Bittersweet Time of Day

For me, the most bittersweet time of day is sunrise.

It's sweet because I'm grateful for yet another day to get it right; despite my issues.

Still, it's bitter because it marks another day of fighting "me"; another day of meds and frustration and acting.

It's 12:04am.

Just took my seroquel so sleep will be here soon, but I'm sad.

I want to be up and keep writing and maybe even do some work that will be a challenge to tackle in the office tomorrow.

Law & Order is in the background.
I feel sleep coming.
Fine, whatever.
I fold.

Take me, Mr. Sandman.

Take Your Meds

Seems so simple, so easy.

Just swallow the pills.

They're smaller than a Tic Tac, and sometimes I can't even feel them in my mouth.

They're pink and cute, and so much easier to swallow than my horse pill vitamins.

So why do I procrastinate on taking them?

Why do I wait until 3am when I still can't sleep?

Why am I waiting until I'm pissed and irritable?

Why?

Because I still hold on to a flicker of hope that I can fall asleep on my own; that just maybe, I can be happy and perky and productive without the damn pills.

Such a let down when I have to walk over and shake two pills out.

Butterfly, we'll try again tomorrow.

Just take your meds.

I'm Blogging!

Yup, I've got a lot pent up inside.

Chat with me, leave comments and questions.

We're not weird, we're special.

Technorati Profile

Indulgence

What's your thing?

What's your indulgence?

Seemingly all bips have a secret hot button, a closet or not so closet indulgence.

Mine is food.

At 5'7.5" and 118lbs, you'd never believe that I eat as much as I do.

I eat a lot, and then other times I won't eat at all.

When I eat, it's usually junk:

Swedish Fish

Milky Way

Cameo cookies

Red Velvet Cake

Cheese puffs

A&W Creme Soda

Apple Juice

Like any E.D (eating disorder) chick, its followed by laxatives to get it gone.

But I haven't done that in a month, so Hooray for progress!

My other indulgence is Law & Order.

Law & Order

Law & Order SVU

Law & Order Criminal Intent

Yup, I love the marathons; allows me to justify my need to stay inside.

Hey, knowing is the first step isn't it?

To Tell or Not To Tell

Does anyone on your job know that you're bipolar?

Only one person knows on my job -the owner.

Not sure how it happened, but we developed a good friendship, and he knows.

Haven't told anyone else, but if I don't get my meds regulated fast, I may be compelled to justify my absences and tardiness.

The owner has been cool.

Of course he wants me to be productive, but he's also allowing me to take the time necessary to get stable.

My schedule is flexible, and I'm mindful not to create a problem by abusing the flexibility.

I don't want special favors.

I want to be "normal"; whatever that means.

Well, I guess while I'm dealing with this, I need to be thankful for the flexibility, understanding and confidentiality.

A Question

What do the following have in common:

Alvin Ailey
Axl Rose
Sting
Larry Flynt
Marilyn Monroe
Mozart
Jane Pauley
Drew Carey
Ben Stiller
Ted Turner
Jean Claude Van Damme
Jim Carey
Agatha Christie
Winston Churchill
Robin Williams
Frances Ford Coppola
Edgar Allen Poe
Mark Twain

They're all bipolar.

Bipolar and Christianity

I was recently told that "depression is not of God."

What was basically meant by the statement is that my being depressed is a result of me yielding to sin and satan instead of yielding to faith and God.

Can you believe it?

According to that Christian, each depressed episode buys me a ticket on the express train to hell.

Utter hogwash!

Where does a chemical imbalance come into play?

Some Christians really believe that God would predestine me for hell by allowing me to have a chemical imbalance that makes me depressed.

Doesn't that belief contradict the notion of a fair and benevolent God?

Again, I say it: Utter Hogwash!

I'm not going to hell and neither are my fellow bips.

I've got your back and so does my God.

Wanna Be My Therapist?

Currently I see a psychiatrist on Saturday to monitor my meds.

At $60/session, she's also serving as a life coach of sorts and gives me a good kick in the pants as necessary.

I also see a clinical social therapist on Mondays to "talk it out"; an additional $25/ session.

That's $85/ week.

As I see it, blogger is free.

I'm talking things out right here.

Can't I save that extra $25/ week and do retail therapy? LOL!

Psychiatrist -$60
Clinical Social Worker -$25
Being able to focus long enough to type this blog -Priceless.

Committed

My fellow bips may feel me on this one.... or not.

I'm tired.

Not just the sleepy kinda tired, but the "I need a break" kinda tired.

Ever want or maybe thought about being committed just so you can get some damn rest?

I'm thinking about it.

3 square and snacks.
TV
Books
No phone
No demands.

Just left alone to get some much needed r & r.

Ahhhhh.

I hate alarm clocks.

Focus, Maaaaan!

Butterfly....

For one million dollars.....

Choose one:

(a) Read a book

(b) Complete a crossword puzzle

(c) Actually do some work

The clock is ticking.

Come on!

Choose!

Whomp, Whomp, Whomp!

Times up.

I can't focus worth a damn.

I've been checking out CNN, myspace HI5, work email, craigslist, etc.

Just surfing.

Can't focus.

I'm sleepy.

Speaking of Suicide

Can you really speak about bipolar without addressing suicide?

Suicide is one of those taboo subjects, yet we bips (as I affectionately call those with bipolar, and NO its not okay for non-bips to use the term.) have all thought about it.

I'll be honest - what prompted me to get meds was the fear that I would one day be unable to stop myself from doing IT.

I've thought about IT.

I've thought about it a lot, and many times, I wasn't thinking that its wrong, or permanent or that God won't be pleased.

I was thinking about ending the hurt, frustration and agony.

I've ran away from train platforms because I didn't trust myself to stand near as the train pulled into the station.

I've thrown scissors across the room, to stop myself from using them on myself.

I've dropped knives, and poured pills into the toilet.

I was able to stop myself.

What if I get to the point when I couldn't?

That's why I chose meds.

A Question

Where does bipolar's depression end and laziness begin?

Shut Up!

Not you silly, the voices in my head.

You know the ones, or maybe you don't.

I'm talking about the ones that analyze and over analyze everything to minutia.

Before I can take a step, I've hypothesized every detail to the nth degree.

But I can't shut it off.

Wanna a peak inside a bipolar mind?

Do the following at the same time:
1. Turn the radio on.
2. Turn the TV on.
3. Turn on your Ipod, with ear buds in tight.
4. Have your house phone ring.
5. Talk on your cell phone.
6. Read a newspaper.
7. Sing a song.

Yup, utter f**king chaos.

And that's why I can't hear your vain ramblings.

Kiss Sleeping Beauty, Please

Will someone kiss me and wake me up, already?

Do it just like in the fairy tales, cuz I can't wake up.

Took 100mg of Seroquel as prescribed on Saturday night, and didn't wake up until 2pm SUNDAY!

And I'm still tired!

I'm bipolar 2.

I think that's the one that leads more toward depression.

Yea, that's me.

I don't feel like doing anything, wanna just stay in bed, and be left alone.

I did get up for work today,and made it in on time.

Yeah me!

True, that's an accomplishment, but kiss me anyway,

Who Will Take Care of Me?

Lately I've been feeling like an unfit mother.

I'm not taking good care of myself with basic things.

My meds suppress my appetite, so I'm not eating. That's great until you learn that I also have an eating disorder.

Yup- Bipolar, with acute agoraphobia, OCD and a damn eating disorder.

I digress.

So I'm not feeding myself (although today I had a Whopper with cheese and fries.)

I'm not washing my face, bathing timely or caring about what I wear.

I laugh about it when I'm by myself, but it makes me sad.

Am I unfit?
Am I in danger of losing custody of me?
Will I be taken away from me?

If I no longer can, who will take care of me?

Hi

I started this blog to get my thoughts and feelings out.

I figured if I get them out of my head, it'll be a couple less things floating around to stunt my productivity.

I got diagnosed last February 2006, but didn't start with meds until February 2007.

I'm on Lexapro and Seroquel.

I'm a chick,
Living with bipolar,
In NYC.

Come along for the ride.