Tag: bipolar II

Betrayed by Normalcy

Published on by cmglife

I don’t feel so upbeat anymore.  It doesn’t feel chemical, it feels more environmental.  I have a lot on my mind right now.

Allison in puberty…puberty or a miniature version of me?  I’m trying not to be ultra sensitive to her mood swings.  Crying, fits of anger.  It feels all too familiar and it is wearing on me. How should I handle it?

Dying friend, do I really have to say more? Sending a funny card once a week feels lame.

John’s got some health problems.  Threats and self help strategies just don’t seem to be making a dent.

Everyday life.

In the old days I would freak out for a few days, contemplate for another few and then act without any thought.  I would get it done.  These days I am so “normal” that I’m drowning in a whirlpool of practicality and cowardice. What the “old” me would do would have been brave and brilliant.  Now I am a dud, dead in the water… a wet blanket.  Feeling betrayed by my life in a different way.

I must knock myself free of the drug addled normalcy I am living.  This just doesn’t get any easier does it?

The Space Between

Published on by cmglife

“Oh, no.  That’s too bad, I haven’t seen it.”

That is what I will say to my daughter when she notices her rival school’s t-shirt is missing.  She says she doesn’t care if the other kids will make comments or say something. What she doesn’t realize is that I have lived way longer than she has and I know these things will hurt.

It’s almost the same as the “nice rack” moose t-shirt exploiting women’s breasts that was inexplicably lost behind the space between the dryer and the wall until a month ago when it was miraculously found.  By then it was way too small for Tristan to wear anymore.  Darn.  Too bad.

Maybe we’ll find Allison’s t-shirt in the space between the wall and my dresser in a couple of years too.

Exasperation

Published on by cmglife

I am exasperated. Nothing earth shattering, just irritated…generally irritated.

First off, I have the most annoying of annoying co-workers that I need to punch in his throat.  The fantasy just isn’t cutting it anymore.

I want to eat carbs!  I’m going to die if I don’t have a piece of bread today!  If I have to have another fat free yogurt or a grilled chicken breast I’ll end up face down on the kitchen floor sobbing.

I finally love exercising. That scares and sickens me…

Every evening for the last four years (a coincidence, I think not) I’ve had a glass or two of wine.  It’s become a boring habit.  What other vice can I possibly replace the wine with?  Cigarettes? Tried it, doesn’t work.  Meth? Too vain.  Sex? John couldn’t handle that much of me (wink)! Exercise? Already doing it.  Whiskey?  I’ll try it, but I’m not happy about it.

Just as I was getting to the stage of venom dripping from my keyboard, my  family life crept in again in the form of my favorite son, Tristan.  He came into the room and sat down right next to me with his laptop.  I did move to the other side of the couch, but he had already cramped my style.  Then there came John  and he flipped on the tv to watch the game.  I put my headphones on and tried to crawl back into the bitchy little cave I’d constructed.  It didn’t work, couldn’t get my vibe back.

I have a feeling this mood is not over. Oh no, it is definitely is not over.

Epic Spills

Published on by cmglife

During my life I have experienced many detrimental spills.

“Oh my God!” You exclaim,”What a sorry uneventful life you must have endured to remember spills!”

Well, my memories are scattered at best.  I don’t have any idea why I can remember the smell of a certain event and my thought pattern during it, but cannot recall going to a party two weeks ago.  It is very frustrating to say the least.  I feel dumb a lot of the time.

With my co-workers and friends I can usually get away with them believing I do remember the event I was a key player in.  I have to be careful not to say “I don’t remember” too often.  When I do have to say it, I can only allow them to give me a limited number of details. After it looks like I might have a grasp on the forgotten event, I lie and agree that I do indeed remember.  It’s a miracle that I’ve made it so far in life with my mask still in place.

Crazy never stops when you are saddled with a history of Bipolar II.  It feels like my memory capacity has been eaten away by some sort of casuistic chemical caused by this condition.

Hey, wait a minute! How did I get so side tracked from my lifetime of epic spills?

The first one I can remember when I was four in England.  Back then they let small children go down to the shops and buy loaves of bread.  I took a loaf from the shelf, grabbing the wrong end.  All of the bread fell out onto the floor.  The shop people were very nice about it but, that was it for me.  I didn’t shop again until I was six!

On Saturday mornings when I was a little older my sister and I would go to the local department store to hang around and get items for my mom.  Hair color was on the list on this particular Saturday.  In a strange coincidence the bottom of that box also gave out and the dark brown hair dye bottle hit the ground and shattered!  Mortified is the best way to explain my eight year old feelings.

26 years ago Emily spilled red artificial colored juice on the carpet that cost me my deposit on an apartment.

While visiting home one summer my husband fell asleep with a very dark beer on a futon. We had to shamefully explain what happened to my dad.  I don’t remember replacing it.  Did we?  No memory of that…means nothing.

Tristan kicked my glass of red wine on our new $1300 pillow top mattress.  Of course, it was my side.  To this day I still sleep on a brown stained corner.

Last year my phone was plugged into the truck and as I reached to answer it I caught a very full Starbucks with the cord and spilled an entire Grande vanilla late on me, the seat and the floor of John’s new truck. Yes, the same one as in the aforementioned parking garage.

This morning Allison was rolling around on the floor doing something flexible with her legs in the air and my terminator like vision zoomed in on a half-filled glass of wine across the room on a side table.

“Watch that glass!” I yelled and finally avoided another epic spill.

Actually, I’m not a big woman…

Published on by cmglife

Last summer my “sleep” doctor said to me, “You are not a big woman, but you could stand to lose 5 to 10 lbs.”

But weight (Freudian slip) …a triumph!  I have lost 13 pounds since August.  Why is this significant?

Well, other than I may be looking a little bit “hot”*, it gives me some comfort that maybe my new life on medication is finally working and maybe I will be alright after all. An awful lot of maybes in that last sentence.

What am I doing you ask?  I know it’s unconventional…diet and exercise.  It’s a new feeling for me to be in control of anything.  I don’t think I’ve ever experienced control before anywhere or in any way. Yeah for drugs!

* Parentheses and an asterisk must be used by me for the word “hot” because I am 47 and still haven’t quite adjusted to this word that has been substituted for the more appropriately descriptive “good looking”.

A Little Taste of Crazy

Published on by cmglife

Lately I’ve been feeling a little manic.

I don’t seem to have much of problem at home because everyone there is more used to the “old” me than the recently “normal” and medicated me. In my old manic state I would be solving the world’s problems, finishing the laundry and writing the next great American Novel all in an afternoon.

It’s at work around other people that I notice I’m beginning to interrupt and be the queen of the one-liners (because I am so funny).

The other day, our Campus Monitor, Mark was helping me find my daughter’s phone that had been lost in the grass during lunch.  Did I mention that Allison goes to the same school I work at now?  I know, too bad for my blog, no more charter school escapades.

“Where was the last time you saw it? “I asked.

“I put in in my pocket at lunch.  I think it fell out when I was rolling down the hill.” Eleven year olds…what are you going to do?  One minute they are too cool to be seen with you getting out of your car and the next minute they are rolling down hills at lunch.

Next thing Mark said he found it and held it up.  I was so excited or manic that I sort of walked/skipped over to him and said,” Oh, I could just kiss you!”

As soon as I said it, I regretted it.  What? A kiss?  What the hell?  I mean I’m glad I didn’t do it (I’m not that crazy) but why did I say that in the first place?  Well, because in a manic state, either I can’t help myself or I am just one step ahead of fantasy.  A split second between thinking something in the head (which we all do) and not saying/doing it.  That gap is breached in my manic state quite regularly unless I am really focused.  When something happened like today, I used to promise myself that I would “hold it together” the next day.  That would last about an hour or so until I forgot and got comfortable making a “one- liner” jokes with each person that came by my desk.

At home it’s just a matter of me having a cutting edge opinion on everything from a pair of shoes to the contestants on the Voice.  All of a sudden I become an expert fashion designer and a vocal coach.

The mania is not quite as intense as it used to be and I’m not experiencing the depression. I am enjoying the high that I haven’t had in a few years since the medication.

I’ve mentioned this to my sister and asked her to keep track of this mood and let me know if she notices anything disturbing.  She said, “Great, I can’t wait to go on this roller coaster ride with you.” She says it feels like I’m playing with fire.

I’ll mention it all to my doctor, but I’m not sure if it will make a difference.  I’m still at the wait and see stage. It’s a difficult place to be in.  I want to do the right thing, but on the other hand I have been level for so long that a taste of crazy is hard to resist.  Can I have my cake and eat it too?  Something tells me no.

Romance is Not Dead: It’s Just Hacking up a Lung

Published on by cmglife

The other night John was supposed to be home early(ish) so we could go out for a drink.

He called around 8 to say he wouldn’t be home until 9 and then called at 9 to say he wouldn’t be home until around 10. That was alright, I said I would be here anyway, but it was too late to go out. I put Allison to bed and Tristan went downstairs to watch a movie or something.

John came home shortly after 10 and I was all ready for bed sitting there watching Survivor and drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I love them, it is more like a dessert than a drink so since I am watching my calories, it is better to drink than to eat. Even though they say you shouldn’t drink your calories, I don’t care, I just love a Mikes’ Hard Lemonade at the end of the day. As you can see why I am still needing to lose that 10 lbs., my body is carrying around 10 lbs. of rationalized fat!

John seemed to be in a better mood than the situation warranted. He came into the room with a grin on his face and a black plastic bag. For some reason I thought it was maybe a stuffed raccoon at first, I don’t know why. Well, yes, I guess I do know why. He’s done this before, but with pheasant tails, an old stole made out of ferrets (and their faces), a long horn’s skull and just a bunch of various pieces of fur. They weren’t for me personally and I wasn’t sure this was either until he said with a grin, “I’ve got something for you”.

He began the story, when a story begins “I was in a bar in Cheyenne” the rest can’t be good. There is always a story, it can’t be “I picked something nice up for you”.

John says, “I was in a bar and these ladies were having a lingerie sale”.

“In the bar?” I say. He is very sensitive so I have to choose my words and tone carefully.

He laughs pulling out a black and purple corset thing with big bows on the hips.

I’m having a really hard time hiding my dismay, because I can smell it from where I am sitting, and, of course, I can see it. It has been in a bar for god knows how many hours and obviously the bar didn’t have a “no smoking ban”!

“I love it!” he says.

“Then why don’t YOU wear it?” I think.

“I’m going to have to wash it before I can wear it you know.”

“No you don’t, I don’t mind”, I think at this point his mind is seriously on that old one way track, and I have to put my foot down.

“No, I really have to wash it”

“How are you going to wash it?,” he asks.

“I suppose on the delicate cycle on cold.”

“No, I mean so the kids won’t see it.”

He thinks that Tristan is more involved in our laundry than he really is and Allison is pretty much oblivious to almost anything that is not hers. Needless to say I will not be setting the alarm for 2 am to do a clandestine delicate laundry run.

Gnat in a Glass

Published on by cmglife5 Comments

I am not a violent person as a rule, unless there is a house fly or a fruit fly around. Tonight I am trying to write and having a glass of wine. For some reason the one fruit fly in the house has supersonic scent receptors (making all these scientific terms up) and is buzzing around my head in front of the laptop screen. It’s driving me crazy, I cannot relax. The thing is obviously trying to take a nose dive into my wine. I am trying to keep track of it. Luckily I type better without looking at the key board or the screen. I wonder why that is?  I always type better when I’m talking on the phone too.

Back to the fruit fly….I keep trying to kill it by clapping my hands around it, but it is too small and it keeps getting pushed out on the air stream created by me.

The other day I was trying to take a short nap after work. I lay straight on my back with the tv off and the door to my bedroom open. This way when I fall asleep, a child, a dog or a phone call will inevitably wake me up after 15 min or so. If I don’t do this I will sleep for an hour and then berate myself on how much time I’ve wasted.

This particular afternoon I was lying there, dead tired, when a fly came into the room. Not just your run of the mill house fly, but one of those huge (Blue Bottle?) slow, noisy flies. It would not stop and I couldn’t help follow it with my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t have to get up and find the flyswatter. It did leave at one point, but came back. I finally had to go after it and I did, with a vengeance. Actually enjoying the final kill against the window!

I was trying to get all philosophical about the aggression and the fly and why it is easy to kill a fly, but I am too old and busy for that! Hate to say it, but “been there done that”!

You know that fruit flies have a 5 day lifespan; well I think it has died. Or it’s made its way into my glass and I’ve swallowed it without knowing, either way, it got what it deserved!

Wardrobe Malfunctions

Published on by cmglife

I’ve decided I’m going to just throw this shirt away. It’s been slipping over to one side or the other all day. I went into the bathroom and saw that my bra strap was exposed. How long has it been that way? My mind searches the last few encounters…who have I interacted with my undergarments showing?

Yeah, I’m throwing it away as soon as I get home! I’m not going to wash it, put it in the back of the closet until a few months go by. One morning on a desperate “nothing to wear day” I pull it out not remembering why I put it back there in the first place.

I’m going to throw it away tonight so I don’t innocently wear it and then look down and see my bra strap again. Then what am I to do? I have to spend the whole day adjusting and pulling the bra strap back all while trying to look perfectly normal.

I should go through my closet at the same time and throw out those pants that the button has been missing for a year! Sew it back on you say? Maybe in a former life! I will throw out that shirt that is just a smidge too low in the front and therefore having to hike it up every two minutes! I’m going to finally take out the staples of the hem of my favorite pants and replace it with two sided tape!

Yes, I’m feeling liberated already!

My cry is “NO MORE WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS”!

Dog Stories

Published on by cmglife

I had two heart stopping moments yesterday, both with dogs.

My little dog, Henry, is a white miniature poodle. He is a lovely little dog with a ready to play attitude. Unfortunately for us he has psychotic breaks when it comes to the mailman, the UPS man or the FedEx truck. One time he ran out the door and tried to get into the UPS truck! If he wasn’t so short he would’ve done it too! We almost had a block on our house from the post office because he ran out the front door and chased the mailman! I had to go down to the post office and plead my case to the supervisor.

What happened today relates to his severe dislike of delivery people. I just came home from work to eat lunch. I was in the kitchen preparing it when I heard some sort of commotion in the back yard, all sorts of barking and a voice. My heart started pounding! I immediately thought someone (Tristan) had left the back gate open! The mailman had come early and Henry was chewing his leg to the bone!

I dropped my lunchl and ran out through the front door to the gate at top speed! The barking and yelling had stopped as soon as I got there and out trotted Henry with a milk bone sticking out of his mouth! The woman was a meter reader; she didn’t seem bothered at all! I, however, had to go in and have a Margarita with my Lean Cuisine!

My second heart attack of the day came later when I went back to work after lunch. I work in the front office of a school. Once a month or so the drug dogs come to the school to do a sweep of the lockers, etc.  They never find anything, thank goodness, but it is great preventative step.

The dog and her handler came into the office to have an invoice signed and give us the thumbs up. There is a tall counter that runs almost the length of the room and my desk sits behind it. The handler and the dog were at the counter. Out of the blue,  the massive beast came from around the counter and lunged at my desk. She was so fast I thought she was going over the desk and I instinctively raised my arms to shield my face. The other two people and the handler also had the same idea because everyone gasped! The handler quickly got the leash and the dog under control. She explained that the dog smelled the alcohol in my hand sanitizer. Now, I try to prepare for everything, but I did not see that coming!

In conclusion, I need another Margarita!