Suicide Education Training

Yup, I'm doing it.

I found a certification program online, and I'm going to take it. Of course it would be a tremendous benefit to me. I would learn more about how I could help myself, but also about how I could help others, and help others help me.

I am also going to do the crisis counseling training. I think I would volunteer once a month on the hotline. Hell, who's better than me to talk to a person that wants to commit suicide, almost got raped, dealing with bipolar disorder or is very depressed.

What am I going to do with all the training?

I'm going to start talking to whomever an wherever I can book myself.  Maybe one day I went stand behind "thebipolarchick",  and will reveal who I really am.  All I can say, is that I do not look like how the world envisions people with bipolar disorder.

Stay tuned.

Wrist Strength

I'm suicidal.

Well, how suicidal can I be if I'm blogging, right?

I feel like shit. I've been feeling this way since about noon today. Been in a pissy mood caused by nothing and everything.

So I've been thinking about my wrist strength. People get tattoos on their wrists, so how bad and the pain of slitting a wrist really be?

I didn't do it. I haven't done it. Maybe writing about it is helping.

Maybe.

Foggishness

Foggishness.

That's ny word for sleeping until 4pm, waking up, and then wanting to go back to sleep.  Add not feeling like you know if you're coming or going, and there you have it. Foggishness.

Damn, I miss mania. Mania at least makes me feel good. This other side sucks. I wasn't going to eat today. Why? Why not? Why did any of the things that pop in my head to do.

Right now I'm sitting in pizza hut getting enough food to ensure that I won't need to leave the house again this weekend.

Foggishness.

Damn it!

Yes, damn it.

I'm down again. I knew it was likely to happen, but I hoped that it wouldn't... this time.

Earlier in the week I was upbeat, functioning on all cylinders, excited, executing, revving to go, do be. Today, I lay on the couch, covered in a blanket with no desire to move, speak or eat.

There's few in my life who can understand my today. Many think they know, but have no idea. There is no "just get up" when I'm in the down world. There is no "shake it off".

Sleep doesn't mean rest to an overactive mind.

Longing for another manic cycle.

Just a Thought

It's Day 2 of being semi back and I think I am OD-ing on blog posts.

There's so much to tell, share, write about, and as I get caught up on your blogs, I am motivated to write even more; but it's overwhelming.

Today, I am rapid cycling; in fact I've been this way for the last week. I tried to convince myself that I am really not bipolar at all, and that my only issue is that "life" isn't exactly the way I want it.

2004 was a great year for me. I've been toying with the idea that if my hubby and I went back to 2004, would I still be experiencing such periods of mania and depression?

The answer may be easy for you, but um, no so much for me. So, let's just say that's all for now.

Anesthesia

Writing requires thinking, and lately I've really been trying really hard NOT to think.

Thinking causes hurt and shame. Thinking dredges up that which I don't wanna talk about anyway. Just seems that lately it was easier not think or be numb.

I've been using food to prevent thought. I've been eating cheesecake, wings, Swedish fish and whatever else I can get my hands on. I focus on the food so I don't have to focus on my life. I'm not very happy with the way things are right now, and its a challenge to chuckle through pain, smile in the midst of fear and press on despite overwhelming fatigue.

It's tough and I'm tired and its easier to put all the things that bother me out of my head, and numb myself.

Porcelin

I brought it on myself
Like covers on a thunderous night
I pulled this blight over my head
It felt good then
Comfortable
Safe and free

On the other side
By being comfortable I lost me.
And now I'm mad at the world
Disgusted with all I see
Numbing my pain with food
It tastes so good going down
Helps me to escape the right now
This fucked up menagerie
With not so exotic animals roaming free

But seeing it again feels so much better
Are you ready?
Ok, your turn
Pick a finger
Ha ha
But now I've gottn so much better
No assistance necessary from the pointer
Just a look in a mirror
Cuz I'm disgusted by the me I see

And away she goes
Throwing up the shame that no one knows
Flushing it down the drain
Bye bye to the hurt and pain
Bye bye to the guilt and shame
Did I really win this time?
Never to hurt again?
Nope, so break out the bread
The crab dip, the candy, and chips.
Feels so good going down
But who am I kidding.
I'll see you by the porcelin
Tonight middle finger is king

Hello?

God when do you show up?
Right before I take razor to wrist?
Right after I swallow the pills
Or take the last numbing sip?

When do you come in like superman
Save the day
My picture is on the front page
Of course I'll sign that for you
You're too kind
Thank you

Returning to the clutter in my mind
Retreating to the gloom of the day
I learn to accept this reality
Unscripted, unedited
No makeup person
Stylist
Pin on mics
No assistant
No special food

Just me
Overwhelmed
Fatigued
God, I'm drowning
You see me
You hear me
So why aren't you helping?

My Own Best Friend

I used to be my own best friend
And than she started acting weird
Now a distorted figure
Looks at me from the mirror
I no longer see her beauty, her charm
Just an unhappy confused girl
Nothing in the mind
Nothing in the middle
I don't recognize her

Would you believe
Like billy jean
She was a beauty queen?
Strutting on catwalks
In movie scenes?
Now this hollowed casing of a human being
Lives in a constant state of second guessing
Perpetual state of fight.

What happened to her?
She used to be....

Used to be thin
Used to be pretty
Used to intelligent
Used to be fearless

Used to be
Was
Has been

She's too sad to hang with me
Now without her
I am lonely
She used to be my best friend.

22 Years

22 years I have served you
Called on your name
From the age of 9 I knew you
June 24, 1986
That's the day my life changed

22 years
To have my fears overtake me now?
Prayers seemingly falling on deaf ears.
I feel like david
Begging for deliverance
Begging for an out
Pleading for help

If I'm weak to pray it
Then so be it
Then give me strength
But I am wary, oh God
And so I pray:
Please pass this cup before me.

Oh God

Oh God
Why have you allowed me to sink
To this state of being?
My former me
Merely
A figment of a sketchy imagination
A mind wrought with chaos and uncertainty.

For what end
Am I a skeleton of yesteryear?
Living in what was
Making love to memories
Who I am
Disgusts me.

Reduction to the lowest common denominator
Yet possessing the will to fight
Is an equation of insanity
How can a plate of wrong when eaten
Taste right?

You're far off from me, God
At least you seem to be
I talk to you everyday
Begging, pleading, for an opportunity
To see
A glimpse
Of a happy me.

Why so downcast oh my soul?
Because my hope in God
Has left me wary.
So with only residual energy to lift my head
I moan a tearfilled help me.

I Get It

I've hear a lot about rapid cycling and mixed states.

I thought I knew what it was. I thought I experienced the mixed states thing. I was so wrong.

For today, I've been under the covers with my eye pillow on, chipper watching TV, back under the covers, awake making phone calls, and then under the covers on the couch.

WTF, is this?!

Ok, I get it. Bipolar has my attention.

Moldy Mood

"People living in a moldy home may be more likely to suffer from depression... of 5,882 adults... those who lived in damp, moldy homes were more likely to report symptoms of depression, including sleep disturbances and lowered appetite or self-esteem."

Did you know about the link between mold and depression?

On a whim we had our carpets, air ducts, and furnace cleaned and sanitized this week. When we opened our furnace, it was covered in mold and mildew!

We've been breathing in cooties! Depression and insomnia -filled cooties!

I wanted to claw my skin off when I saw it!

"Clean it, Clean it, Make it go away! Butterfly No Likey!

My home had been invaded and I was itchy. I instantly wanted to bathe and scrub... hard! But they took care of it , and lemme tell ya, the difference in air quality before and after was AMAZING!

I won't lie: I paid attention to everything I did since the cleaning. Just checking to see if I "felt" different, you know.

What I did feel was clean. The house smells clean, and I feel like there less invisible cooties floating in the air. Read More Here.

Gratitude Moment: I'm thankful for the junk advertisements that come to the house and offer discounted services on duct cleaning so I could be cootie-free.

Unleash the Beast ...Called Nausea

Hubby and I decided to go back on meds.

SHOCKER, I know.

With one month shy of a full year off meds, we jointly decided to buy some time.

We had both been experiencing an increase in symptoms. Fortunatley for us, when I was manic, he was depressed and when I was depressed, he was manic; so we were able to pull each other out of the funky funk funk of depression.

For me, we decided that I would take only the Lexapro (10mg) every day for 5 days, then every other day, then a 1/2 every other day, until I no longer took it. (No Seroquel.)

Why?

We have A LOT going on - court, home sale, career, etc. They all require that we focus on them simultaneously. We recognized that we fell behind in a lot of areas, and with our p-docs/ t-docs supervision, we're going to use the medicine to play catch up. Our careers, lives and finances depend on our ability to be focused. Once we've cleared the emergencies, we'll ween it out of our system.

Am I ashamed to have gone back on meds?

Not at all. There's no honor in having your life fall apart when a tiny pill can buy you some time to get it together. Lexapro bought me some time. Elavil bought my husband some time.

We came up with the weening, and our docs said it was a great plan for a med-commit-phobic couple.

With that said, the house is filled with PEPPERMINT! I was nauseous 10 MINUTES AFTER I TOOK IT!

Brain is clear, gotta grab a mint.

I'll keep ya posted.

Bipolar's Bad Wrap

***MALE SQUEAMY ALERT***
Sometimes it's the simple things that we forget.

Dreamwriter reminded me of the simple things with a comment on my "A Question" post:We are woman and we are hormonal ... sometimes it is not all bipolar, Ya know?

EUREKA!

It just so happens that my cycle is due! Last month when I got wacky, it was also a week before my cycle began. I'm no Sherlock, but I think the two are related.

I've been so preoccupied with finding OTHER root causes for physical issues, that I completely ignored that there could be OTHER root causes for my emotional issues.

(The concentration issues are still there, but we'll tackle these babies one at a time).

Not EVERYTHING is a result of bipolar disorder.

So simple, but damn, oh so deep.

Thanks Dream.

RIP Heath

Sad is just sad.

Everyone gets sad.

The fortunate ones are able to pull themselves through or they have people to pull them through.

It's very sad especially when he took stuff that I've taken - Lunesta.

From one actor to another; from one who's been sad to another; My prayers are with his family.

J-O-B.

So, we all know how my last job ended.Never going back into a job setting like that, not ever!

So what am I gonna do for money?

Well, hubby has it so that I don't have to work at all!

He wants me to focus on my acting career; like really pursue it for real instead of being a scardy cat.

But before we had that chat, I signed up for a real estate class.

I'm gonna be a real estate agent!

Not only is it super flexible, and can work around my audition schedule, but the money is good; GREAT, in fact!

I want to sell houses, condos and commercial property, but I'd also like us to buy some and do some real estate flipping.

Who wants to be a landlord?
Ik, and deal with people who don't wanna pay rent?

Nopey.

Wanna know a secret?

Doing what you love increases self-esteem.
Self-esteem helps to reduce depresion.
Depression reduction makes for one sunshiny day!

Did I Know?

I'm going through my grade school writing, and I'm finding evidence that I knew something was wrong with me as early as age 9!

At the time I called it depression. Wow. What an amazing 9 year old.

Here's another poem that ends in the famous words of Ella Wilcox.

Bright and fiery
Depression begins.

Larger and Longer
The hurt never ends.

It closes you in until you feel trapped.
It surrounds you with the feeling
That you can never turn back.
Then at last when you can hurt no more,
You erupt.
Depression has captured you
With it's strong claw.

So many God's
So many creeds.
So many paths that wind and wind.
While just the art of being kind
Is all this sad world needs
-Ella Wilcox

Dear God

So much has happened.
So much has transpired.
I hurt, I cry.
Dear God, I'm tired.

Tired of the pain,
Frustration and shame.
Tired of the labels,
Judgments and games.

Tired of dreams postponed;
Crying alone;
No peace in my skin;
Dear God, I'm in such turmoil within.

Who can hear my silent scream?
Who truly understands this pain so deep?

Under the weave and the Maybeline;
Remove the jewelry and designer jeans;
Behind the smiles worn to appease;
Shed the image they need to see;

I'm in pain.

Oh God!
Hurt and ashamed.
Judging myself harshly
Dear God,
That's the pain I'm in.

This vicious cycle, it just won't end!
I can't even trust my mind-
Formerly my friend.

"I" has turned on "Me";
And "Myself" is nowhere to be found.
I''m surround by people
Yet it seems no one's around

Dear God,
I think I've found hell.
It's right here in my mind-
No peace;
Deferred dreams;
I'm frustrated most of the time.

There's a Cliff behind,
And an 18 wheeler racing ahead.
Get a grip, Butterfly
Or else you'll be dead.

Deep down
I know I transcend hurt and pain
Deep down,
Butterfly, lift your head
You will smile again.

Deep Down
With the last musters of strength...

Inhale.
Exhale.
Dear God,
I still have breath.

Thank you.

(Dedicated to my cousin Mike)

Apathetic

I wish I didn't care so much.

I work for a company where I give.
I've given.
I've given a lot.

I work at home long after I've left the office, and I network constantly to bring them new business. I have so many ideas on how to make the company better and they know this.

Yet I cant get a response to my FUCKIN 30 PAGE POWERPOINT PRESENTATION?!?!

They don't give a fuck about me and effective immediately, I don't give a fuck either!

(On Friday 8/3/07, I was called to the corporate office to meet with the owner. I'll let you know what's said.)

JOKE
Why are they called "hemorrhoids". They should be called "asteroids"?
(My boss is an asteroid.)