Tag: bipolar II

What Next?

Published on by cmglife

A little confused tonight as to how to look at my life. It’s been four years since I set out on this journey.  For the first time since then I feel really well. It’s almost what I imagined life to be. You know, being normal.

I am still a little sensitive to mood changes though. Every time I have a different feeling I wonder if it is normal or are my moods shifting again because of my “special” brain chemicals.

The depression is gone! The highs are gone! I feel regular all the time. What does that do for me? Not sure yet.

I’ve been going along at a pretty good pace. When summer break began I had a list on two sides of the paper. It has been reduced to one of those skinny magnetic grocery lists that hang on the fridge. Good for me, but what happens when I run out of things to do frantically?

I know what I’ve gained, but what I will lose?  It can’t possibly remain the same. Will I begin to lose my energy? How about the ability to write anything worth reading? Sense of humor? God, no.  Anything, but that.

 

Full Circle

Published on by cmglife

I was going to write about my juice fast I’ve been on for four days. I say, I was, until I realized how I must be boring everyone with diet after diet.

I thought I’d write about my son, 18, who just graduated and has overnight turned into a horrible version of himself. More of the same, dull.

How about my bipolar II condition? Then I thought, do I capitalize the “b” in bipolar and do I use roman numerals for the “II” or the numeral “2”.

Obviously, sidetracked I started to write about my love of Adam Lambert and U2 (do you know I met Bono) (yes, yes, I did!).  Adam’s next (dare to dream)!

I wrote about the silly predicaments I get myself into. For instance, I kept biting the inside of my lip every time I cheated and ate on the four day juice fast (Karma I think). It’s going to take at least four days to heal!

See, somehow I have written about all the same boring things, but I have come full circle. That makes me feel better, you know, finishing things.

Trauma Lite

Published on by cmglife2 Comments

Things that stick with me…I have to blame a lot on my delicate mental condition, not everything, but a few things. Does anyone else have situations that haunt them with humiliation years after they have happened? Every once in a while they pop up as a random memory. I dwell on them for a few minutes, realize I am doing it and cast those memories aside. I’m keeping this light, so I’m not going to reveal some of the more traumatic stories.

Here it is: “Traumatic Lite”.

  1. Got so nervous at an interview typing test that the manager questioned if I could even type at all. She was actually mad. Must’ve thought I was trying to pull one over on her. (60 wpm actually.)
  2. Burnt a hole with a cigarette in the seat of John’s new Toyota pickup. Spent all day trying to see if I could replace the upholstery until I finally had to give in and tell him. (I don’t smoke anymore.)
  3. Rear ending a car because my breaks hadn’t been fixed. I pumped as much as I could all while smoking a cigarette, drinking a diet coke and blasting U2 on the stereo. The only thing missing was texting. Thank god they didn’t have that when I was a teenager, I, or someone else, would’ve been dead by now.
  4. A huge fundraiser I had organized. I was supposed to leave my house at 4am. Overslept until 6am. So late I couldn’t take Emily to daycare and had to take her with me. She cried the entire time with the co-worker that had to take her while I ran the event. Then I got “talked to” by my boss.
  5. One boss said to me, “We miss you when you’re not here”. Interpretation: You are taking too many “mental health” days.
  6. Left my VW running in gear with the emergency brake on at my dad’s house. Strangely, it lunged forward and ran straight into my dad’s new siding.
  7. Forgetting my keys and trying to get in the basement window. I pushed on the glass and the whole window fell in. Try explaining that to your husband!

Oh, too many to name. I’m sure everyone’s list is longer than this. Things really haven’t changed. Things like “Wardrobe Malfunctions” and misunderstanding people happen on an almost daily basis.

Dancing Queen

Published on by cmglife

I used to be a great dancer on the floors of 3.2 clubs back in the 80’s.  Oh, yeah, I had the moves.  I was all decked out in the slouch boots, mini dress with a hip belt. Looking like a Madonna knock off.  I had the mile high bangs and bangles. Good times.

I don’t know what I would now days if a good song came on and I felt like dancing.  I’m not even talking about in front of someone; I mean alone. Just me, the house and my headphones.  The best I can do is walk across the house to the “beat” while I’m cleaning.  Pathetic.

What if I wanted to go to a concert?  What would I do? Stand there and just clap?  Are you going to a concert you ask? Well, no, but if I was…. I love to worry about things that aren’t happening.  I do have to be prepared for every situation you see.

So if I did have tickets to a concert to… I don’t know, to someone like…oooh I don’t know…Adam Lambert?   Do I go on YouTube and look for a how to dance video?  Yes, I do.  The only problem is they are all for young women.  While I do feel young at heart I don’t think the rest of the world sees me quite in the same light.

I need to figure out how to move in a mature but not “mature” manner .  God, that last sentence made me sound old.

I’ve got it! Can I just do the old sway with a lighter move? Do you think that will that pass as dancing?

Puzzle From Hell

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Oh, how we persevered, puzzle from hell!

As I was picking it out at Barnes and Noble, Emily said, “No, Mom, it’s too complicated and too many pieces.”

No, I thought, I like the picture and that is all I could focus on.  The fact it was 1000 pieces of 100 cartoon horses seemed to be a non-issue.

I feel like I do this a lot; in fact I have kind of a reputation in my family of not seeing the big picture.  To me it doesn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason so it is hard for me to correct.  I know my loved ones would disagree.  They seem to see the common denominators in these situations and try to point them out to me before I take that fatal step.  Sometimes it’s something benign like the puzzle and sometimes quite severe like moving to a town with less than 800 people.

Well, this puzzle has become a metaphor for mine and Emily’s life together.

We persevered until it was done.  Even though it took up half the dining room table and we made everyone squish at one end to eat, we did not give in.  After two days, we did not give in. We did it together until we were seeing double. Then one would take a break and the other would continue.  Tristan came by and helped a bit.  Allison stuck in there for a few minutes until she announced every time, “I hate puzzles!”

When it was finally done and we realized there were three pieces missing, we felt annoyed for a minute and then let it roll off our backs.  We did everything we could do and it was enough.

The puzzle was just like us, a little broken, but we could see the big picture.

Full House

Published on by cmglife

I have a full house this week of Christmas break.

And just how do you think I am handling the situation?  You would be right, not well, not well at all.  Tonight I took an anti anxiety pill I reserve for emergencies; second time in my life to use it. The first time I took one I actually had a panic attack. I was afraid what it would do to me.  Irony at it’s best, the drug is to prevent panic attacks.  Ha Ha Ha, what a crack up I am!

I wasn’t going to have a panic attack, but I was getting quite anxious knowing that my in-laws were joining my daughter, son in law and granddaughter (they were here first) at our house for a few days.  On top of that I will be entertaining a cousin and his family.  Oh, yeah then there are John’s friends.  I tend to be a bit of an introvert so having this many people and for so long is wearing my nerves down.

They mean well, but when my sister-in-law starts telling me about people she knows, their names, their children’s names, their spouse’s names and their pets’ names, breed, age and gender.  After I learn all of that there is the list of jobs each of them has, how great the jobs are and their co-workers.  Half way through the evening I am so agitated from boredom, but trying to be polite and pay attention even by asking pertinent questions when I think appropriate. After two hours of this I feel like drowning myself in the kitchen sink.

Tonight I couldn’t take it, even though I had mother’s little helper swimming through my blood stream I begged off saying I was too tired and must go to bed.  I sneaked the laptop into the bedroom and here I sit with headphones on writing to save my sanity for tomorrow.

I do most of this for my husband. I have to step up. Wait a minute, he was gone a suspiciously long time getting groceries just after they arrived.  He didn’t have a good explanation of why it took one and half hours to spend $100 dollars. Coward.

Exposed

Published on by cmglife

Lately I’ve been writing less than positive posts. While I’m trying to express a different side of myself I feel like they have fallen short of the way I really feel.  I have always had to laugh things off to get through life and as I’ve gotten older it’s the only the thing that has kept me alive.

Everyday life, while medicated and feeling so much better being leveled out, is still a tremendous struggle.  I am who I am.  That will not change.  I still suffer from general anxiety, social anxiety, lack of confidence and all the things left in the wake of living a life of undiagnosed mental illness in a cruel world.

Don’t get me wrong I know I am very funny (wink) and I would never deprive the world of that.

It just helps to reveal one’s real self sometimes a little bit. (Yeah, that was convincing).  I’m obviously still resistant.  I am used to the mask.  I’m used to acting my way through life.  Watching, learning and mimicking other people’s reactions to things.

Right now, writing this and then eventually posting it has me feeling very exposed.

Rejection for Christmas

Published on by cmglife

Christmas is approaching.  That’s when the old family hurts and feelings start to poke through the facade. Each year I wonder if it is easier to smile and ignore the past? So far it has been, but this year my skin feels a little thinner.

It begins when I start addressing Christmas cards. There are a few years here and there I haven’t had the mental strength to send them out and until now I haven’t realized why.

I tend to contemplate each relationship as I write the name and address on the envelope. I breeze through the names of my closest family members and friends, but then I inevitably have to write the names of those who have hurt me.  I start remembering events where I felt like an outsider, feeling misunderstood and just being downright mistreated.

And more hurtful than those names I write is the one I don’t, my mother’s.   Oh, my mother is alive and well. Physically that is.  To be kind, she is a little “off” mentally.  I don’t think this apple fell too far from the tree.  The difference is I am well and she refuses to be.  Therefore, with whatever  mental illness she suffers from she thinks she is better off without me.  I miss her. I’ve missed her for decades although it’s been only a year since I’ve seen her.

The biggest hurt was when she stopped sending me birthday cards.  That cut deep.  It’s been years and I still can’t come to terms with it.  We each have our breaking point. That is mine.

During this last year I have been tempted to contact her because, well I still miss her.  The idea will come and I will make a plan to call her.  Then the opportunity arises and I put it off.  Then I put it off again.  Next thing I know a week has gone by. I know why I don’t call, I fear the rejection.

I could go on and on about my mine and my mother’s history together, but I really don’t want to.  I’m tired of it all. Well, exhausted actually, otherwise I would dial her number again.

Skinny Bitch

Published on by cmglife

My dad told me recently that I am becoming a little cantankerous.  You know, speaking my mind, lashing out.  He thinks it might be because I work in a middle school and have to deal with all kinds of situations and it has caused me to develop an itchy trigger finger.  He may be right about that, but I don’t think so.

I think I’m becoming a skinny bitch.

Skinny bitches are one’s with the attitude because they can fit into a pair of jeans that are at least 20 years younger than they should be wearing.  That may not be the exact definition.

My husband commented that my new jeans are “really low” (low rise).  He can’t get past the fact that I am not wearing 80’s mom jeans.  Though these may be pushing it, I am thrilled I can actually wear them.

I’ve developed a weird body builder quirk.  I’m not by any stretch of the imagination saying that I am a body builder I am just acting like one, I guess.  This is just getting weirder and weirder, maybe it’s the steroids.

If there is someone acting like they are skeptical of my workouts (real or imagined I’m not sure) I’ll ask them to feel my bicep. And then I say, “And I’m not even flexing!”

Oh God, now that I’ve actually written this down I realize how insane I am acting. And yet still surprised!

Confessions of a Mad Woman

Published on by cmglife

Don’t men drive you crazy sometimes? Whether you are in love with them, living with them, married or not, female or not, don’t they just drive you crazy? As a person married to one for twenty years I will tell you it has been one of the biggest tests in my life to stay with my husband.

The other day I actually sprayed his toothbrush with Windex while I was cleaning the bathroom.  It was completely immature, but it gave me great pleasure.  He had hurt my feelings, I was mad, but I was too proud to say anything so I did something so incredibly passive aggressive it should go down in the books.  Anyway, Windex isn’t that poisonous is it?

I contemplated swishing the toothbrush around in the toilet, but that seemed too clichéd.  On the second pass at the sink I felt a pang of guilt so I entertained the idea of rinsing it under the water, but instead I sprayed it again.