Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Keep My Love Alive

 

Well, I'm back home. I came home yesterday after a week of traveling. I drove from here to Georgia to South Carolina last Monday to my Uncle Dave's house. From there we went to North Carolina to pick up my cousin Shavonne and from there we drove up to Pennsylvania for my Uncle Pree's funeral. 

It was a good trip even though spending all those hours in the car did nothing for my back. But, I didn't really pay to much attention. I was just glad to see my family. Sure, the circumstances of the gathering were sad, but it was really great to see everyone. 

My uncle was laid out in royal blue, down to his shoes. I didn't kiss him goodbye, but I did touch him. It was as I expected, stiff and cold. I did a reading for his service. I think it went pretty well. It was a catholic service, so I got to take communion. The service was very lovely and dignified. We even laughed a few times. 

We all stayed together at an AirBnB that my cousin Zachery found. It was a grand old house that reminded me of my grandmom's house. So, it felt like home. Shavonne and I shared a room, which was fun. We both snore, so I think we rattled some walls. We all had breakfast and dinner together. We were there until Thursday, and everyone hit the road going in their separate directions. The only person that flew in was Spencer as he came from Colorado. 

I got to see my brother. He looked okay. He doesn't seem too happy. I think he is lonely. I don't imagine that he has many friends. He's a registered offender, so he can't just pick up and leave the state whenever he wants. He said he may retire at 67, he's 62 now. I ask him to consider moving closer to us when he does retire. I would like to have him closer, just so he's not so alone. 

I was going to try and see my other aunt and uncle in Willow Grove, but there just wasn't enough time. Erica has a wedding in September, so maybe I'll go with her on her road trip and see my Aunt Gloria and Uncle George. 

So, here I am, back home doing the same shit. I missed a level 2 class while I was gone, so I'm still a level 1. Who knows when the next level 2 class will be. God, I hope I have another job by then. This job is a pain in the ass. 

I did my orientation at the zoo today. I have to take some classes online before I become active. School starts tomorrow. I didn't get my book yet, I ordered it before I left. Hopefully it will be here before the end of the week. I think we are reading the  Odyssey. I'm going to be up late at night doing schoolwork. But, I will work it out. I'm still taking my Spanish classes. I'm doing things that on paper sound great and positive, but I have to make a concerted effort to maintain my positivity.  

I'm trying to keep my love of life alive. I need to constantly remind myself that I'm good, and I feel okay. But there are times when I just think I'd like to lay down and sleep uninterrupted for several hours. Oh well, Back to the old grindstone. There's a shift bid tomorrow. I think I'll try to keep the same shift. I like having Friday's off. 

That's all for now. I'm actually doing pretty well hence my posts aren't quite so riveting. Who knows, maybe next week I'll have a nervous breakdown. 

Peace - B  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Passages

 

When I was young, I couldn't wait to be a grown up. I thought that it would be great to do what I want, have a job, make money and stay up as long as I wanted. You know what? Being an adult sucks balls. 

I can't do what I want when I want. I work all week to have a few days off to get things done, run errands and relax. Then, Sunday comes and I have to start all over again. I go to the same boring job every week. I don't make enough money to make ends meet. I am constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul, and my body is rebelling against me. Then to top it all off, when you get older your loved ones begin dying off. 

I suppose I am more fortunate than most. I grew up with all 4 of my grandparents. They all lived to a ripe old age. Their deaths were hard but not unexpected. Then I lost my parents and my whole world collapsed. They also lived a good long life, but their deaths were not expected and they were sudden. I just remember waking up one day and I was an orphan. I was 54 years old. Too old to feel like an orphan? Not at all. I don't care how old you are, when you lose a parent you are suddenly a small child wandering around in the dark. You feel alone and scared. Suddenly you are on your own desperately trying to remember all of the advice your parents gave you. The world becomes too big, and very cold. No one is there to catch you when you fall. You have to start taking care of yourself. Alone and on your own. 

I am reminded of all of this because my favorite uncle died on May 5th. I was at a concert when I got the news. The text from my cousin Spencer simply said, "Dad passed about an hour ago." 

My first thought was Fuck. Then I just texted back "Damn, I'm so sorry, hugs and prayers for all of you." I went to see the Eagles in concert. It was great, but a dark cloud did hang over my head. 

I'm going to PA for the services. I've been asked to do a reading. I kind of thought I would be asked. It is truly an honor. I read for Aunt Berta's service. If we ever get around to doing anything for my mom, I'll do a reading for her as well. Speaking of mom, I finally got her ashes out of the storage unit, Dad's too. I really need to lay them to rest somewhere. The urns just sitting around the house seems kind of disrespectful. I'll figure it out. 

I don't know if I'm dealing with this. Maybe it will probably hit me when I get up there. I feel for my cousins though. I'm going to prepare a reading just in case. 

So, it is the way things are. You're born, you live, then you die. Kinda sucks. But there you go. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: A Little Respect

 

A little respect is all I ever wanted. I do a lot around the house. Let's face it, I keep the place livable. I clean the bathroom and the kitchen. I dust, vacuum and mop the floors. For a very long time, I've done these things without prompt or discussion. I do them quietly of my own volition. I've never asked for it, but I would have liked to be acknowledged somehow. 

Well, yesterday was a typical weekend day. I woke up early and took care of the animals. I then had a little breakfast and took the dog outside for his morning walk. I did my laundry. By this time it's 9 am or 9:30 am. April and Erica are just getting up. They take about 20 mins in the bathroom each, and then they fix their breakfast. I make my bed and put my Saturday clothes on because there is cleaning to do. 

After breakfast, they scroll through their phones looking at Tik Tok and talking about the videos etc. I do not usually go on Tik Tok. Besides, there's housework to be done. I have to point out that I hate a messy house. While they are able to go about their business when there are dishes in the sink, I cannot. Clutter makes me nervous. So, like I said, I clean because that is what helps me calm down. So, I start to clean up the kitchen. My clothes are in the dryer. I put the dishes in the dishwasher, wipe down the refrigerator, stove, microwave and countertops. The floor was gross, so I swept and mopped. Then I cleaned the kitty litter area and scooped the litter box so the cats won't rebel and go outside the box. So the kitchen area is clean. Since they are still sitting around scrolling through their phones, I start on the bathroom. I clean the bathroom until everything is germ free and sparkling. Then, I gather all the trash and take that out. 

I tried to sit down, but The living room is dusty, and there are small clumps of pet hair on the floor. So I swept and dusted the living room and foyer. Finally, I can relax and have my coffee. Everything is clean as I could manage, and the house smells good. That's when it happened. 

My sister got up from the table and went into the kitchen for something. I was sitting on the couch listening to my music (Heart radio on Pandora). She said something to me, so I took out my ear bud and looked at her. She said "Thank you". 

I said " your welcome."

 And then she said "Do you know what I'm saying thank you for?" I shook my head. She said, " I'm thanking you for the cleanup job, The kitchen looks great, you did a good job!" 

I was dumbstruck for a minute. She had never thanked me for cleaning up before now. I had just figured since I did it, it was my job. But here she was acknowledging my efforts. I felt kind of giddy inside. '

"Your welcome," I said. 

Then things kind of went back to the usually Saturday morning activities. I've spoken out before to April and Erica about the fact that clutter and mess makes me very anxious. To me, mess means chaos. Chaos means everything is going wrong and my world will somehow end. So, I think they just expect it from me. I must acknowledge that they do clean up from time to time. However, me being me, I don't think they do it as well as I do. LOL

But, I have noticed lately that they are thanking me for doing stuff. Erica thanks me for taking Kyber for his walks and feeding him and the cats. The thing is, these things have become part of my daily routine, and it provides structure for me. I know that I have to do certain things at a certain time. It keeps me on an even keel. They have also noticed that I pace around if I don't have anything to do. Hence, April sent me to the store yesterday afternoon because the chores were done and my laundry was done and put away. I was just kind of sitting around looking anxious. So, she made a short list, and off to Kroger I went. Erica did ask why she didn't just Instacart it. April told her I looked bored, so she was giving me something to do. 

It was kind of true. I don't mind going to the store. I go to only 3 particular stores anyway. I'm comfortable at them, because I know the layout. I go to the Kroger, Publix and Walmart. That's it. It's important to note that I only go to the stores in my neighborhood, not just any Kroger or Publix. I go to the ones near the house. 

So, I went to the store pretending I was a housewife shopping for my family. I do that a lot, pretend. Otherwise, it's just me trying to not to look desperately lonely. Anyway, I got back, and she thanked me again. Once again, I felt good. I am a people pleaser after all. Just to know what I do makes someone happy or  makes their life easier is all I've ever wanted. I just want a little acknowledgment and a little respect. This weekend, I got both. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Being Thankful?

 

I had a therapy session today. Nothing special about it. It was just my regularly scheduled station break from life that I do every week. Today, I think I bitched and moaned a little too much. Stephanie, my therapist, said that I was coming across with an attitude. The "I don't care what you think, you don't know how I feel, and my life sucks!" I guess I am feeling that way lately. I am of 2 thoughts right now. A check for $100,000 would solve all my problems right now. And 2, no one has the slightest idea of what I've been dealing with for the past 6 months. This pain is breaking my spirit. I have nothing more that I can say about it. 

Here, I am again writing in the wee hours, not because I have something profound to say, but because my body is screaming at me. I tried to lay down in my bed to sleep. That lasted about 2 hours. I came out to the living room as usual and I sat up on the couch and grabbed a few ZZZZs. I guess I slept for 3 hours. Then I had to get up again. Zelda is the only person who seems to like this arrangement. We cuddle as I try to sleep. He body is nice and warm and feels good against my joints. 

I saw the doctor today. I have a feeling that he is stumped. According to the MRI of my neck that I had in January, I don't need surgery. However, the pain remains. The intense burning sensations and weakness are still there. He ordered another MRI, and I may see a orthopaedic doctor to check out my shoulders. Then April goes and asks me if I have been evaluated for fibromyalgia or multiple sclerosis. I think I was when I had the work up from the rheumatologist, but I am not sure. So, I sent her a message asking her if I did get those tests. It turns out I have an appointment with my neurologist on May 12th, so I will bug him about the multiple sclerosis. 

Erica is just like "Go to the Mayo Clinic!!!" I would if I could. I would just like to get a full body scan and someone pointed out all my areas where things are breaking down. Then, I would know what to do. 

Right now, things are up in the air again. Stephanie says I need to concentrate on God and being thankful because things could be worse. Of course they could be worse!! I'm not stupid. But it is hard to be thankful when you are in pain all day, everyday and sleeping has become some kind of challenge. I'll work on it, I guess. But I'll tell you my heart ain't in it. 

Peace - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Promise to Try

 

So the past 2 weeks have been pretty awful. I felt myself unraveling and I was so mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted I could not stop it. So, I just let it happen. It started with little things as always. I didn't make my bed. My hygiene went out the window, and I stopped eating. Everything tasted like wood and I had no appetite. I lost about 4 lbs. , which is good I guess. My hair was a mess, and I didn't get dressed. I managed to get to work but I worked in my pajamas, or whatever I wore to bed. 

I guess I was upset. I really don't know why. My mom's birthday came and went without much disturbance. Honestly, I tried not to think about it. I didn't really want to think about her, so I thought about everything but her. Which is why I got depressed I think. I also was worried about money. Erica got laid off so she has no money coming in. Her dick faced boss, just fired her and Steffanie saying he couldn't afford them anymore. He blamed his poor money management for the situation. Ok, but he just screwed over my family. I tried not to panic, but it didn't work. I held it all in because I didn't want Erica to feel any worse than she already did. 

Fortunately, I had managed to pay off 2 accounts before the hammer fell. Now I have to worry about the car payment and the rent and buying cat food. I also get to deal with this neck and shoulder pain on top of it. I just got so tired. I'm still spending most nights on the couch, sleeping sitting up. If I lay down I compress the nerves in my neck and burning pain shoots into my arms to the elbow. I started physical therapy, and it feels better afterward most of the time. But then, I end up in pain again because I did the extreme motion of trying to get a glass out of the cabinet. To top it off, I'm stuck in this chair trying to work and getting stiff. I pushed my monitors back a bit so I'm not holding my head at an angle so much. But, after 10 hours, my neck hurts. I only get maybe 3 hours of sleep a night. I usually fall asleep around 11, and wake up at 2 or 3 pm. Sometimes, I can dose off again, but most of the time I'm just up trying to alleviate the pain. 

Today, I washed my hair. So, my neck and shoulders are screaming at me. In fact, typing this blog is causing pain, but it doesn't really matter. It would hurt anyway. I have to feed the animals in a minute. Then I'll take a couple of pain pills. Then I'll try to take a nap. 

I started feeling better yesterday. I finally took a shower and brushed my teeth. I put on some clean clothes and combed my hair. I almost looked presentable. I had a doctor's appointment, physical therapy and had to have an MRI of my liver. I know, big fun on my day off. All I did today was my laundry and my hair. I'd like to do my nails, but my feet are in need of professional health. They need to be scaled. I haven't had a pedicure in 6 months, so I've got some rough skin. I could do it under ordinary circumstances, but with my neck the way it is, I don't dare. 

I though about just letting myself go, but I had made myself a promise when I was in the hospital last time. I promised that no matter what, I wouldn't give up. I would just try to keep it together. So, far I've managed. Of course, there are times when I'd like nothing better than a good hard cry, but it doesn't happen like before. I cried before Christmas. Haven't since. So, I will continue to try. 

Peace, Joy, Love- B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Hella Different

 

Well, things kind of got away from me this week. I was anxious and weepy on Monday. On Tuesday, I was tired and wanted to sleep all day. On top of that, I couldn't regulate my blood glucose levels. It kept falling below 70 no matter what I did. Then my shoulders locked up. So, I only worked 5 hours. This morning was just bad. I fed the kids, and just vegetated on the couch. I didn't work today. I know it's just me sabotaging myself again. I was doing really well for quite a while. This week just isn't good. I couldn't figure out why, but then I remembered my mom's birthday is on Saturday. She would have been 86 yrs old. 

I've known this day was coming, I even thought I was prepared. I wasn't however. I was ready for a big emotional swing, but not the little things that have crept up on me. I would be doing something in the kitchen and suddenly I would remember how my mom did it. I was making myself a chicken sandwich the other day, and I just remember thinking that my mom made great sandwiches. I wasn't feeling well this morning, I was dizzy and nauseous. It flashed in my mind that my mom would have made me tea and toast and I would feel better. She would massage my shoulders to help with the pain. 

I really wanted to talk to my mom this week. I wanted a hug. It's all well and good to think about her and the things she would do and say, but it's not the same as having her here in the flesh. I can hardly wait to see her again. I went over an inventory in my head of the things I remember about her. The touch of her hands, the way she smelled. Her laughter that was infectious and the way she looked after everyone in the family. Especially the way she looked after me. I have now been on my own for 6 years, and let me tell you, being an adult is highly over-rated. I thought I'd get to go and do whatever I wanted. I couldn't wait to stay up late. Now, I just want to go to bed at 9 pm. 

I remember how limber I was. Now, I can barely put on my underwear on without falling down. When I was young, I could drop something and immediately pick it up. Now, if I drop something, I have to ask myself how much I really need it. Getting down on the floor is now a physically challenge. I have to make sure i have a plan to get back up. I used to be able to literally dance all night. Now, if I sleep in the wrong position, my back is messed up for a week or more. 

I need to talk to my mom about all this. I need to know why she didn't warn me. I want to know why I need to take pain relievers in order to do the laundry. I need to ask my dad why I have to turn the radio down in the car when I have trouble reading the street signs. 

I just wish I could go back in time and have these conversations. I need to tell my parents that I'm sorry for chuckling at their aches and pains. I need to say sorry for making fun of wearing socks and sandals and not being able to eat certain foods after 8 pm. 

I wish I could go back, but only if I was able to know everything I know now. Life would be hella different. I'd still be old and my parents may still be gone, but I would KNOW. 

Peace, Joy, Love -B  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Other Shoe

 

Well, I have had a lot , well maybe not a lot, but I have had an increase in my anxiety levels lately. I don't know exactly why. I think it's because everything is going pretty well. I have been able to pay my bills. And I've worked almost 2 straight weeks without taking time off, which is a major accomplishment for me. I only missed 1 hour. I could have missed more because I was worn out and cranky by Thursday. 

Actually, my new schedule is working out better than I thought it would. The idea of having a 3 day weekend every week is enough to bolster my spirits. The hardest day is Wednesday. Not because of a particular reason, it's just like hurry up and be over so I can have 3 days off. Thursdays are pretty good for the most part. It's like HOORAY, the end of the week is here. 

Working a 10 hour day isn't too bad. I get a break every 2 hours. That includes my 1 hour lunch. Sometimes, I take a little power nap. I have 2 more breaks after lunch, so I feel pretty good. The last hour from 6 to 7:15 tend to drag. Every once in a while I get a last minute phone call. April and Erica think I should go into personal for the last 3 minutes, but I can't do that. It would be considered call avoidance which is a serious offense. People have been fired because of it. I am being watched every second that I am at work. The even know how many keystrokes I make during a call and what screens I access. It's very creepy if I stop and think about it. Most of the time, I just merrily type away and do my job. 

Anyway, about my anxiety. I've been living in survival mode for so long, that my body and brain aren't used to not having anything to worry about. I guess I could worry, but I have learned to live in the moment so I'm not stressed all the time. But since my brain isn't used to it, it invents things to worry about. I've been having anxiety-ridden dreams and a couple of nightmares. I had a very serious nightmare a couple of weeks ago. I was being stalked by Pennywise. I kept my eyes closed and covered my head incase I woke up and he was really there. Like a little kid, I thought as long as I don't see him I'm safe. Eventually, he went away and I was able to get a couple of hours of sleep. 

I also had a very weird dream about my dog Smokey, who died like 20 years ago. I was taking care of him and everyone was telling me to put him down. People kept coming up to me and telling me that he was just a dog. But, he was more than just a dog. He was my baby and he was sick. It was my job to take care of him. So, I did. Eventually, in the dream I carried him away from everyone, and he and I lived off by ourselves. 

Those are the only dreams I remember. In some others, I was running from someone. I don't know who or why, but I remember waking up not being able to breath. I suppose all of these dreams are my subconscious self telling me that I need to take control of my life. I think I am. I have a lot going on and coming up soon. I think my old brain is bracing me for the other shoe to drop. But so far, it hasn't happened. Things are always working out. Sometimes not like I thought, but always to my benefit. I'm trying to redirect the anxiety so it doesn't set up housekeeping in my brain. 

My old brain was constantly ready for the worst case scenario. It didn't always happen, but I was in such bad shape that I couldn't appreciate when things went well. I was not a great person to be around. I don't know how I am now. I really don't care what other people think about me. I'm doing okay in my little corner of the world. I am much happier nowadays. 

So, the other shoe hasn't dropped. Things are going well and I am rejoicing in it. Well, I guess that's all. 

Peace, Joy, Love- B 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Blessings

 

Well, it's 3 am and here I am again. I had an interesting therapy session yesterday morning. I didn't have anything bad to report. Mostly, we talked about my successes. I know right!! I have successes!? Amazingly, I have set some things in motion that are pointing to a well lived life. 

This past Monday, I took a vacation day to do a background role on Tulsa King. It was an airport seem and I was one of about 300 people on set. It was hard work because I had to do a lot of walking while carrying a suitcase. I was worried that my back would be screaming with pain, but actually I felt pretty good. 

I met a few people on set. Of course, they were all younger than me, but they were very nice women. I got a very nice boost to my ego from the wardrobe, hair and makeup people. We were supposed to come dressed for a day of travel. I wore a pair of purple and pink tie-dye yoga pants, a purple t-shirt and my pink and purple swoop Nikes. The wardrobe mistress said she liked my look a lot, and I didn't need to change. The makeup person said I did a good job on my makeup, and the hair person said my hair looked good. I thought I looked cute. I topped of the look with a denim jacket. 

I was there for 8 hours, but the shoot only took 2 1/2 hours. As an extra, you spend most of the time sitting around waiting for them to set up the shot. Lunch was served, but I ate what I brought since I wasn't sure about the looks of the food. After, Erica's food poisoning experience, I wasn't taking any chances. I had a good time and it definitely lit a fire under me. I'm going to try to get more background roles and hopefully get an agent. 

The only bad part was that I had to drive to downtown Atlanta. I stayed off the highway because there was a big accident that morning. So, it took about an hour and half to get there. The route took me through some sketchy areas, but it was uneventful. I was in the new Rogue. That's right, we have a new car. Well, it's a 2023 Nissan Rogue. I still have my 2010 Rogue, but I bought my sister a used car last Sunday. Why? I have no clear idea except that it was needed and I could get it done. I withdrew from my 401k. I figure, I'll never retire. I'll just die on the phone. 

At any rate, it made me feel good. I booked my trip to Ohio to meet my pen pal, MJ. I will be there from May 26 to May 30th. I booked the flight and the hotel. I was going to rent a car, but that's too expensive. I will using LYFT to get to the Atlanta airport and from the Akron airport to the hotel. I don't mind really. The only hitch in my plans is that I have a 2 hour layover in Chicago. I have to change planes. Which is a bummer. But, I'm only taking carryon bag. I'm really looking forward to it. I hope everything goes well. 

I had a doctor's appointment yesterday about my pain. He gave me a 2 trigger point injections in my shoulders, which has helped. The pain isn't totally gone, but at least my shoulders aren't on fire. The pain was so horrible last night. He said he doesn't think I will need surgery, hence the injections, and I'm getting pain meds and muscle relaxants. I also have to go back to physical therapy, which is going to be difficult with my new schedule. 

I go my TB test for my zoo volunteer job. Orientation is April 12th. I'm really excited about that too. I'm hopping to work in the kitchen preparing animal meals. On March 27, I go to the library for a Spanish lesson. It a free beginner's class. I'm hoping that I get to practice what I've learned on Duolingo. I read it pretty well, but I struggle with speaking. 

So, I've got some irons in the fire. Emotionally things are going well. I dealt with the anniversary of Mom's death well. Mainly, I was too busy to wallow. I thought about her sure, but I didn't get depressed. 

I have to take the car to the dealer later today. It needs some tweaking. I really like the car. It only has 26k miles. It was more that I wanted to spend, but between the 2 of us, we'll be able to afford it. I paid off some bills with my 401k money, so I won't be so strapped for cash.

Oh well, I guess that's all for now. I wanted to take the time to acknowledge my blessings. I'm a very fortunate person even if I don't have a lot of money. I still play the lottery, you never know. lol 

I have to go to confession tomorrow, I haven't been to church in a while. Been to tired and in too much pain. Hopefully, I'll be able to go to Easter services. I need a new dress. I think I'll do a little shopping now. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Six years

 

Yesterday was 6 years. It's been 6 years since you left. You'd think I'd be normal by now, or at least not so emotional. But, I still mourn for her. I still think about calling her every morning. When things are going badly, I still want to feel her arms around me in one of her best hugs. They say that grieving comes in stages. But what they don't tell you, is that grieving is forever. 

The death of a parent leaves a hole in your heart and it wounds your soul. You don't get over it, you simply learn to live without them. However, it's harder than you think. I think death affects each person differently. Some people seem to get over it, but then again. I must appear to be okay to some people but this week I was so discombobulated and off center. 

I was late to work on Tuesday. I was just wiped out from lack of sleep. The pain is becoming quite the pain in the ass. I saw something on Facebook that says all my symptoms are due to parasites in my gut. The thought of it makes my skin crawl. There is a natural remedy of course, but it is not for people who have diabetes. Also, the side effects of the so-called cure are not pleasant. 

However, I know I was also sad about my mom because of the nightmares I've been having. I also have not been practicing good hygiene. I've only had one shower this week. I'll take another one today. I've been having trouble getting up in the morning. 

So, I've been without my mom for 6 years. I wish I could say that in spite of it, I'm doing well. But the fact is, we're not doing so great. I've been in such a bad financial situation, I've been forced to liquify part of my 401k. Today, April's car got repossessed, and I am awake now because Erica got food poisoning from her dinner. She's been puking all night. I've been told that things are going to hell right now because Mercury is in retrograde. I don't know if I believe in all that, but something is definitely happening in the world. 

I'm feeling old right now. I'm tired. 

Peace - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: What does Lent mean?

 

This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. The first day of Lent. It is a time of reflection, self awareness, growth in our connection to God. Lot's of people think it is also about sacrifice. That is true in a small way. What some people do is fast during Lent. Some people do juice or water fasts. As a diabetic, fasting is not in my wheelhouse. I would love to lose the holiday weight I gained by fasting, but I have to keep my blood sugar at a level rate. So, in order to practice my Lenten fast, I gave up something important to me. M & Ms chocolate candy. 

I know your thinking, WHAT?!. That's not a real sacrifice. Trust me when I tell you for me, it is. It is taking a great deal of willpower for me to not go buy some. I will allow myself a small bag on Sundays, but other than that, it's a no go. How is this a sacrifice? That's easy. I've become addicted to them. I was eating them all the time. That's how I gained so much weight. I don't know how I got hooked on them. I like them a lot, but this was a psychological thing as well. I would get a serotonin boost from them. So, I popped those suckers all day long. It worked on my mood. I could feel the difference from before and after eating them. I have to pray about it constantly, "Please God, do not let me buy any M & Ms. Remove the desire for them from my mind and body. Help me concentrate on you." 

I know that may sound ridiculous to some people, but it's a challenge for me. I should have given up cigarettes again too, but I didn't want to become a raging bitch. Cigarettes calm me down. They allow me to satisfy a deeply entrenched oral fixation. I can't go back to gum. That's how I broke a tooth last year. If you think it isn't hard for me your wrong. It is. Very hard. I'm trying to satisfy my urge to eat with health choices like apples, carrots, and pineapple. So, far it's working okay. I also decided to try the Mounjaro again to help lose some weight. I ate a couple of times this week more out of necessity than desire. 

With Lent, we remember the 40 days of fasting Jesus did in the wilderness. So, I figure, if Jesus can go without for 40 days in the wilderness, I could at least sit in my comfy living room and go without chocolate candy. It's another wiring of the brain challenge. The next few days will be hard because a milestone day is coming up. It's the anniversary of my mom's passing. I'm trying not to get bogged down with the sadness, instead remembering the happier times. Since I'm off on Friday, I think I may just have a weepy day and watch sad movies. Terms of Endearment, Love Story and Steel Magnolias. Those are always good for a good cry. 

I hope to deepen my relationship with God with pray and fasting. I missed church on Ash Wednesday, so I'm not starting off too well. This Sunday I plan on being there early. Should be easy since Zelda wakes me up at 5:30 now. I will be able to reflect on my life and some of the choices I've made, and move forward. Spring is the time of year for new beginnings. Maybe this year will be better, I certainly hope so. 

Peace, Joy, Love- B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Valentine's Day

 

Today is Valentine's Day. A day manufactured to pressure people into showing their loved ones how much they care. Cynical? I guess. I'd prefer to have someone get me flowers just because. No reason required. I being terminally single, do not participate in this day. I suppose I wouldn't be cynical if I had a significant other. However, it just doesn't doesn't seem to be in the cards for me. 

So, here I am, up at 4:30 in the morning sitting at my computer trying to think of something to say. I've tried the dating sites. I've been involved in romance scams, but never to the point where I actually gave the clown money. I mostly just lived in a little fantasy by imaging that someone out there actually loved me. 

My fantasies are quite nice. They allow me to dream of the perfect man. Well, he's never really perfect in the sense that he has no flaws. He is, however, perfect for me. He gets me and all of my accompanying bullshit. Loving a person with a mental illness is not easy. I know the movies make it look so romantic and tragic. It's more like approaching a bear. Depending on the circumstances, the bear could ignore you totally and go on his way or he could charge at you and rip your face off. That's the challenge of loving a person like me. You have to poke me to get my attention. I will either open myself up or close you out completely. I may, at times, rip your face off. 

What kind of romance do I want? At this age, I just want a steady, slow burn. Ideally, we would both have our interests outside of each other and get together a few times of week for sex. Sure, we'd hang out sometimes, but I really prefer to sit on the couch alone. You know, curled up in a blanket with a cat on my lap. I haven't got time for someone who wants to spend every waking moment with me. He'd get on my nerves. Plus, most men are messy, and I am becoming more OCD regarding my housework. 

So, I'll be spending Valentine's day alone. Again. But don't feel sorry for me. I'm not unhappy. I'm just unattached. So, if you have someone in your life, do a little something for him/her today. Or you could take my suggestion and buy your gift any one of  the other days of the year. You'll score bigger points. 

Peace-B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Great Unlearning

 

I've been in therapy since I was 22 years old. I am now 60 years old. For those doing the math, that is 32 years of therapy. Yes, that's a long time. In that time, I have also been hospitalized 15 times, and attempted suicide 6 times. I suppose some people will think I didn't have the right therapists or the right medications. I did and I didn't. That's the cruel nature of mental illness. You have to have the right medications and the right therapists at the same time for things to go right. 

I have had some top quality therapists. Some of them held my hand, and others let me discover things on my own. I owe a lot to those who held my hand and comforted me during some of the most horrible times in my life. I needed them. I needed to be "held" and told everything will be okay. Those therapists got me strong enough to stand on my own 2 feet so I could face the really hard part of therapy. The Great Unlearning. 

What is that? That is the term I use when describing undoing all of the mental and emotional habits I learned along the way. Some of them were methods of survival. Others were the result of the tapes of the voices I constantly heard in my head from the time I was 5 yrs old. My mind was quite strong and convinced me from a very young age that all that was wrong in the world was my fault. 

My mother was a paranoid schizophrenic. She had many years of stability, but every once in a while she would have a break and things spiraled out of control very very quickly. No one explained to me what was happening. I didn't know my mom had a illness. I didn't know what depression was. I just knew my mom was very unhappy and it was my job to cheer her up. Most people don't recognize the fact that little kids are very self-centered. Not in a negative way, but in a way that everything in their world revolves around them. All they know is in a very tight circle. They recognize very early that if they do something bad, mom and dad are unhappy with them. If they do something great or funny, mom and dad are very pleased with them. To a child, whatever she does has a direct impact on the world around her. Hence, if my mom was unhappy and crying, it must have been something I had done. 

So, because I was a child with a child's perception, I thought that I was charged with the task of making my mom well. I had to keep her happy. I had to make her want to stay. You see good girl's moms didn't try to kill themselves and go away. A good girl's mom wanted to stay with her daughter and love her, play with her, and make cookies. I really thought that my mom didn't love me enough to want to stay alive. If she died, it would be my fault and everyone would be mad at me. 

So, my mind started recording these "truths" as I knew them. The tapes recorded every negative feeling about myself. I was too stupid, too ugly, too fat, too dirty, just too much of everything that was bad. Since there was no one to contradict these "truths", I believed my mind and became convinced that everything I thought was true. That's not to say that I didn't have a loving family surrounding me, because I did. I just never verbalized these thoughts and feelings, so no one told me anything different. 

So, until about 5 years ago, at the ripe old age of 55 years old, those tapes have been playing in my head non-stop. I tried to pretend that I was okay, and that I was a lovable person, but I didn't really believe it. I was in the hospital when one of the therapist talked to us about the "wiring" in our heads. When I got out, I read up on it. I mentioned it to my current therapist, who explained it to me in detail. My mind was wired to react in certain ways not just behaviorally, but chemically. When I was feeling a certain way, this particular chemical was released causing my body to behave a certain way. The best example is the fight or flight response. When you are in danger, your body releases a chemical that triggers you nervous system to release adrenalin which will enable you to either run away or fight the threat. I was one of the unfortunates who always felt in danger, so I was constantly in fight or flight mode. I lived in a constant state on anxiety ready to run or fight. You can imagine what a told that takes on your body. 

At any rate, I had to learn to re-wire my brain to reset my chemical pathways. It's taken a very long time. I'm not done. 55 years of loathing yourself doesn't end one day and everything is peachy keen. No, it takes a lot of effort and sometimes a great deal of pain to unlearn all of those negative reactions. I had to face a lot of truths about my family and about myself. It hurt, a lot. Then in the middle of my unlearning and reprogramming my parents died. All of the old tapes started playing again. It became an internal battle of wits. I had to practice a lot of positive self talk to convince myself that my mind was lying to me. 

Every once in a while, my brain will fire up the old stereo and blast a tape of self hatred, but it doesn't last long anymore. I can pretty much shut it down whenever it happens. But, there are times when I'm feeling particularly vunerable and it's a little hard to shut them down. However, I have unlearned a great deal, and I know who I am now. I'm finally a functioning adult. It took a long time, but I realize that while I am a powerful person, I am not so powerful that I can control the world. I can only affect my little corner. That's cool with me. It's peaceful. I've earned this peace. No one can take it from me. I am me. If you like me, great. If not, that's cool too. I'm okay with who I am. I've learned a lot, and unlearned a lot too. 

Peace, Joy Love- B