I Feel Guilty

I'm happy.
I sleep well.

No tantrums.

I'm in a healthy relationship with a good guy.

The owners of my company love me.

I go to work when I want.

My landlord adores me.

2 doggies think I'm great.

I'm not manic or depressed.

So why do I feel guilty?

Well, one main reason: I Haven't Blogged In a While.

Onemeanmutha is my sister, and her blogged touched on an issue that I've kept "out-of-sight, not so successfully out-of-mind" - my brother.

My brother was the first person diagnosed with a mental illness in my family, and it really tore the family apart. There was a rift in the family for a year stemming from his first hospitalization, and the effects are still felt.

He is 6.5 years my Junior, and prior to his diagnosis we lived together. I blamed him for his misbehavior, short attention span, marijuana use, etc. I even moved to another state because I couldn't deal with what I was seeing him "do to himself". I couldn't understand why he just simply couldn't behave himself.

Fast forward to his diagnosis, and I felt like shit.
I should have seen signs.
I should have known.

I should have known that my brother wouldn't purposefully treat me like shit. But at the time it was easier to think that he was going through the "teen years" than that he had a mental illness.

I felt even shittier when our brother-sister bond wasn't enough to make him take his meds. I felt frustrated, betrayed, angry, etc.

I've stayed a way from the situation first because it truly hurts me to see him not at 100%. I realize that I've been placing my hurt, frustration and feelings of helplessness over his need for my support. Although I truly feel I did what I needed to do for me, now that I am stronger, I think it's time for me to reach out to him a bit more.

So I feel guilty about my brother.

I also feel guilty about onemeanmutha.

I just don't get it.

I think the worst part of bipolar disorder is that it quietly robs talented people of their contribution to the world.

I look at my sister and see beauty, health, intelligence and so much to offer the world. When I read that she's not in remission like me, it frustrates me.

How can I make her get better like me?
How can I make my brother better?
Why am I better?

I feel that maybe I should be in the trenches of mania and depression with them instead of going shopping and to spas; kinda makes my rants about GM seem like bullshit.

So how exactly do you support a family member with mental illness when you're afraid to lose yourself again to the same thing?

How do you support anyone for that matter with a mental illness when you're no longer there?

Is how I got better really how I got better?

Yeah, feeling a smidge guilty.

So thankful that I "feel".

Drunken Rage

Remember my drunken last Wednesday?

Well, I went off meds because I knew I would be drinking (no Anna Nicole here). One of the things I found out was that I went into a drunken rage and had Mr. M by the throat, banging his head against a wall because I thought he was trying to talk to some other chick.

Apparently, he recognized that I was "not myself" and was able to calm me down, get me away from everyone and I was ok for a little bit, but then I saw the girl and went over to her.

From what I was told, I threatened to hurt hurt, begged her to test me, and then told her if I saw her near him again, I would wreck her life, and she would have no peace.

A co-worker was present.

Totally ashamed.

No one really knows what I was saying unless the girl told.... damn.

I quit my therapist, but I am gonna look into anger management classes. I guess Mr. M knows for sure now that I'm bipolar and what I can be like off meds and on alcohol. I've since banished him from my life not out of embarrassment, but because I think I like him and I don't want to like him any more.

Truth is, I'm not sure I've learned my lesson.

Today is Wednesday, another event, and another 5 hours worth of opportunities to drink. I'll keep ya posted.

The Italian

I first told you about him in 1,2,3 Breathe.

Spoke to him today. We had a long chat. His divorce is final and he's going through the motions. The only issue we ever had was with external shit.

I still love him, but hate everything right now and really want to be left along. S asked me who I'd choose - The Italian or the other guy. Two days ago I couldn't decide. Today The Italian wins, but then again, I'm not sure if I'm over reacting with the other guy.

Didn't take my pills today cuz I had 4 beers. I know, I know.

No more talking.

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 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.