Sunday, March 29, 2015

Photo Confessional


Old memories left behind. 



Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Will/Will Not

Today I woke up and opened the blinds in the living room to find snow falling. It's a shocking sight to witness when you've been able to open the windows to feel the warming Spring air float through your personal space the previous week. 

In that moment I decided on all the things I will not to today.

There will be no job searching!
--I'm tired of rejection
--I'm tired of being told I'm asking for too much money
--I'm tired of the inference that I should settle

There will be no shower!
--I threw on a sports bra to soak up the under boob sweat
--I dabbed on some more deodorant 
--That's all you get today mother fucker

There will be no trip to the park! I was planning to visit Four Mile Historic Park in Denver. I've never been and the boys are on Spring break so it was a thought, but fucking snow.

There will be no fighting today in this house -between kids- or otherwise. My head can't stand it. Threats are definitely high on the list of probably going to happen but no fighting. 

There will be no fretting about the lack of medication swimming in my bloodstream to treat my aching, dark, black soul. 

There will be no cream for my coffee because --if people are buying the hell out of Bailey's French Vanilla creamer and there's always a bare shelf when I need to restock, why aren't you stocking more? Sweet funky Jesus!

A select few things are making their way into this day though, let me tell you...

There will be cookie baking!

There will be reading! I'm gobbling up the last 75-ish pages of The Beach House today (Jane Green) and nothing can stop me.

There will be a trip to the library (because real books) for more Jane Green (why didn't I know of this broad before?) and my reserved copy of the latest Nicholas Sparks book (my guilty pleasure) and I may even read the entire novel today.

There will be wine and probably a trip to the store on the way back from the library for a shiny new bottle. One glass starts to numb the thoughts and two glasses makes everything just right and fuzzy.

There will be dinner cooking. I'm cooking my way through my recipe board on Pinterest. More gets pinned than tested because OH MY GOD there's so much I need in my life on there. 

And that's a wrap.

It's all I can handle and I don't care in the slightest if anyone has a problem with it. 



Thursday, March 19, 2015

That's Why

Are you suicidal?

Are you homicidal?

What made you call us today?

When contacting a new office of psychiatry, you're usually faced with these three questions. 

The first one makes me squirm (because sometimes the answer is yes). The second one makes me twitch. The third one makes me question why I called in the first place. It makes you feel like, oh, you're not going to take me seriously and see me soon unless I answer "yes" to the first two questions. 

Unless I'm a danger to myself or to others, you're going to sweep me under the rug until you have an opening to shove me into. 

How long until I can get in to see a psychiatrist? I'm bipolar and need to get back on my meds.

We have a shortage of psychiatrists right now. I can get you in to see a therapist who will evaluate your place in line to see a doctor. In two weeks.

Sigh.

As a person with mental illness, placing the initial call for help is difficult. 

Being shut down as a result of reaching out in the first place is like taking a bullet.

We want to help you, but it's not up to you how quickly we're going to do that.

This country needs to wake the fuck up. 

Let's continue to let the mentally ill go without help until it's too late and see what happens. Then people wonder why so much crime has fingers pointed toward the reason of insanity plea. 

That's not to say those of us without proper care, upkeep if you will, will go out and commit a crime. 

But it's a goddamn possibility. 

The struggle is real.

Maintenance is a necessity. Mental maintenance should be a priority. Not a last resort.

So here I sit, unmedicated and exhausted. My thoughts racing. Anxiety shooting me directly in my veins. 

Because I'm not important enough to be seen sooner.

Because I don't have health insurance because I'm too busy paying for my family to survive because you don't get paid enough in America to make ends meet because WHY?

Because FUCK YOU! That's why.

Monday, March 16, 2015

That Which Never Comes

For three out of four people with Bipolar Disorder, sleep problems are the most common signal that a period of mania is about to occur.

I've been dealing with a lot of situational bullshit for over a week now. Friday's issues sealed the deal on all of it. 

Saturday night, I fell asleep on the couch for about an hour. I like to set myself up on my couch and get some sleep because I know it will be more restful than dragging my ass to my bed, where sleep is ragged. 

I woke up on the couch and went into the kitchen to take some herbal sleep pills (I may as well be swallowing sugar) and went off to bed. To bed where I lay for hours. Where sleep didn't rear its ugly face. 

By 1am the stomach cramps set in, as they often do when I'm exhausted but can't find sleep. I finished reading a book then checked in on all the social media outlets on my phone. By 3am I was pissed at the world. I forced myself into a position and didn't move. Eventually I dozed off. At 7am the fire alarm in the bedroom began to randomly beep. Loud. I knew that was it for me.

Can't catch a fucking break ever. 

I found a mental health clinic here in town that won't turn people away even if they can't pay. I'm calling first thing Monday morning. I'm done with everything.

Mood stabilizer, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety...I can't wait to swallow them all (and by all I don't mean the entire contents). Each one with their own set of side-effects.

It'll be a fucking joy.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Photo Confessional



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Sometimes it's not what is before you that should be seen. Look beyond the thicket. 

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Clear the Room

That was the loudest fart I have heard in my life!

--The Husband

I know a lot of people who swear they -do not, will not, will never- fart in front of their significant others. 

To that I say pfffft! Why in the hell not?

What do you do all day long...hold onto it until your stomach is going to explode? Because let me tell you, when you think you're alone in the bathroom and you let it go over and over (since by now it's so backed up you'll need to let loose for hours), your husband/wife is right outside that door listening and laughing on the inside because...he/she doesn't fart! You're not really all alone like you might think.

I've been with my husband for over seventeen years. I wasn't my nasty self with him at the start. That kind of awesome has to be eased into. Nowadays it's all eye rolls and walking out of the room and I can't evens. 

One time specifically I was in bed and my husband was down the hall washing his hands in the bathroom. I knew what was about to happen was going to be epic. I just didn't know how epic. I let that sucker fly and it was like a drive by shooting. When my husband returned to the bedroom he was all, "Did you hear that noise?" His hands were poised in the air before him. I could see the horror behind his unsuspecting eyes. I of course, played it off like I had no idea what he was talking about. I don't know how many days later it was until I confessed that it was me. I honestly don't think he believed me. Like it wasn't possible. Oh...it's possible. We laugh to tears about it now because OH MY GOD! 

So I say do what your body was created to do. Noises, smells, appearances and all. I can tell you this...you know those moments when you just want to be alone for a bit? Clear the room!


This post was written based on the writing prompt: Write a blog post inspired by the word: Embarrassed.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

When Will It Be Real

He asked her...

How are you?

I'm fantastic!

Right then, in that moment, I hated her. This petite woman and her blonde hair and her flashy smile. I wanted to punch her in the face.

It goes along with that whole -I'm up early so you're going to get the fuck out of bed too-thing. That is a thing, right? Maybe only in my world.

How can you be so fantastic as I sit here, dead on the inside. Rotting. I'm not fantastic. Not anywhere close. So you can't be either.

I'm not looking for a parade to hang around. Not for pity. I just hate all the happy shit, the real happy shit, when I'm used to the whole facade of appearing happy.

I've come to the realization that I will never find true happiness. I've held it in my hands a few times. Just long enough to examine it, but the rightful owner always snatches it back--just outside of my reach.

Will there ever be a perfect job? One I don't dread driving back to tomorrow?

Will there ever be a perfect home in the perfect town?

Can I continue making my family happy? Will my kids ever come back to me as grown men to reminisce what stood out to them? Do they even have such memories?

It's the answers to the unknown I crave so much. My mind never stops churning out thoughts or questions like these. 

Paranoia.

My mind is never at rest. 


Monday, March 9, 2015

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Drifting

How is living day to day with bipolar disorder without medication? 

Hard. As. Fuck.

My diagnosis of bipolar 2 took place sometime in 2010. It was crushing. Since it began as postpartum depression the thought was always that I would get better. I would recover. When I wasn't getting better, when I wasn't recovering, things shifted. The healing shifted. It would be for the long term now, not just temporary.

I tried medication after medication. 

I planned my suicide.

I faced a round of electro-convulsive therapy (ECT) (so much more to come on that later).

Some days were amazing and others were the scariest I've ever experienced.

I lived in Florida at the time of my diagnosis and for three or so years afterward. When the opportunity to relocate my family to Colorado came up it seemed like the right thing to do. A new set of chances was just waiting for us to grasp onto and do good things. That's where we are now. Just outside of Denver, trying to make it.

I got right to a new doctor and the rules were all different. It was this new set of rules that, at first, I followed. I played along with the new game. I just wasn't used to losing. I was seeing this new set of doctors for no fee because I wasn't yet working. Once I got a job I lost the ability to be seen there. The cost of insurance was ridiculous and so I eventually weaned off the medication and haven't taken anything in over a year now. 

I've visited local health food stores and purchased over the counter anti-anxiety remedies and sleep aids (the lack of sleep at the present time is really kicking my ass). Nothing works for more than a month or so.

The highs are high (and rare) and the lows suck. I'm drifting along as well as I can. Until the opportunity to see a psychiatrist happens and I can get back into some sort of groove, I'm just making it.

I don't see the point, living this way. Work (actively look for a job I won't hate that pays decent in this God forsaken high cost of living end of the country), tend to the home and family, sleep (if I'm lucky) and start all over again until the weekend hits and additional errands are thrown in. 

It's fucking boring. 

How do you keep going when you just want to give up?