Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Prodigal Girl Returns

It's Sunday, the day we set aside for God and family. This is my first service since November. I was angry, I'm still angry. I blamed God for my disease, my disappointments and the pain of every day living. So, I cursed Him, used His name in vain, and stopped speaking to Him. I hurt no one but myself. I am the one who sent me into the riptide. I stopped talking and held back my feelings. Whenever I hold things in, it festers like an infected wound. My brain chemistry gets way out of balance and the voices come. My anxiety and depression build inside me and then the Shadow People come. They are always there, standing next to me, coaxing me to go with them in to the all encompassing darkness that is my custom designed hell. Jesus is there too. He doesn't say anything. He stands there surrounded by a warm light with his arms outstretched. He leaves the choice up to me. So, why do I always seem to choose the darkness. I have no idea. I guess it's because I am familiar with the pain. I am, for lack of a better word, addicted to darkness. It is the light of Jesus that scares me. In His light there is no place to hide, nothing can be denied, and my secrets are revealed. At my last confession, I was told that God chooses some people to suffer so he can work through them to save others. This time he reminded me that nowhere in Scripture did God promise us a easy life here on earth. He promises us happiness in the hereafter if we live by his Word. I guess that it seems that I am one of the chosen. I must suffer so I can testify of God's love and mercy. Maybe, there is someone out there like me who is suffering from a mental illness and needs to know he is not alone. I don't want this burden. I want this cup to pass from me. It has been exactly one week since the dog ran off. I am still crying. I find myself making bargains with God. If he returns Toby to his dad, I will do such and such. But God doesn't make bargains. The only thing I can hope for is my uncle's forgiveness, and that he still loves me. I have learned a hard lesson. God does not stop the world because I have a problem. It continues to rotate on it's axis as it circles the sun. I can either reach out and take His hand and go with the rest of the world, or I can freeze in place and be blown off the surface as it goes around. Today, I choose to take His hand. I know He will never let go. It is my choice. I must remember that God is always there, and He wants what is best for me. Enjoy your Sunday. Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Grandpop Scott

Grandpop Scott was my mom's father. He stood about 5'3", he had a small frame but he was strong. He was pretty goodlooking and had a "high-yellow" complexion. From what I remember that was talked about around the dinner table, he was from NJ. I don't know how he ended up in Ambler, nor do I remember much about his mother (Nanny). She lived at 331 Woodland Ave with Grandmom and Grandpop until I was 3 or 4. The Scott family started out at #4 North St. I believe my grandpop worked at the asbestos mill in those days. He came home covered in the stuff. They moved to Woodland Ave when the family started to grow. They raised 7 children, all but one still living. My grandpop was a hard working man. He placed high value on education. He read voraciously. He got the Philadelphia Bulletin and Philadelphia Inquirer. He got educational magazines like National Geographic, New Yorker and Smithsonian, just to name a few. He liked to talk about current events. He was always ready for a conversation. He did not medically qualify for the armed services during WWII, but served on the Civil Defense league. He took his responsibility very seriously. When there was a drill, he was one of the men that patrolled the streets and made sure that people put down the blackout shades. He worked at the Ambler Movie Theater as a janitor. My mom remembers getting to see movies for free after she helped him clean up. I believe my grandpop's rules for life included getting a job to help out the family no matter how old you were. Another doctrine was after high school you went in the service or college. At least that's how I saw it. He was very big on historically black colleges and universities. I should have applied at Spelman. Instead I applied and got in to Wellsley. I should have gone to Spelman, I'm pretty sure I would have got in. I know that he loved me and wanted the best for me. We used to talk about life in the family room. Once, my picture was in the paper and it earned a spot in the family scrapbook. I got to interview him for my modern American history class. The assignment was to interview 2 people in the WWII era. I interview cousin Greenie Flowers for military service as he was in the Navy, and my grandpop for the homefront. Both of them told me stories, and it was from Greenie that I learned that the military was segregated until 1948. My grandpop pulled out all of his press clippings and read me the section about the Japanese were in negotiations with the US right up until Pearl Harbor. He said that's why they weren't ready. My grandpop was rough-handed man too. I miss his kisses and the way he would tickle me until I couldn't breath. I've always felt guilty for dropping out of college. I felt like I let him down. I am working on remedying that now. I want him to be proud of me. I could use his advice too. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Hey God

Hey God! Yeah, I'm taking to you.  All I want to know is why.  Why don't you hear me? Why don't you do something to help me and my family?  Yeah, I know I haven't been praying or going to mass like I should, but that quite frankly is your fault. I have come to you in deep sorrow, panic, humility and love.  I have prayed to you for things that are needed, yet still I hear nothing, I see nothing.  Are you really there or are you just a myth made from the minds of men in order to control people.  I am not so sure anymore. I am tired of crying, begging and pleading for you to help me. It is said that you help people in your own time.  Well, I've been waiting for 30 years.  When is it my turn? Where is my breakthrough?  I am so angry with you right now, I can hardly stand it.  All I want is a well paying job that will allow me to support myself and help my family.  I ask for blessings, you throw rocks. I'm not asking you to perform a miracle. I'm just asking for help!!! PLEASE

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Big Sister

Today is my sister's birthday. She is 5 years older than I am. We shared a bedroom until I was 11. I don't remember too much about it except I was forbidden to touch anything the belonged to her. I think we used to fight a lot. Nothing too harsh, just normal sibling battles. I remember she always had the latest fashions, the hair done. She had tons of friends. They thought I was cute. But who wants to hang out with her baby sister. We didn't have much money, so when my sister wanted a new record or clothes, she earned the money for it by cleaning my nana's kitchen and bathroom. It paid $5. It's not a lot, but $5 went a lot farther in the 1970's. Sometimes, when she was feeling especially generous, she would take me with her when she went to the record store. I was definitely not allowed to touch her albums. That risked the penalty of death. She introduced me to some good music; Stevie Wonder, Jackson 5, Isley Brothers, Parliment Funkadelic, Prince.
When I was old enough to stay home alone, I used to play her albums. I was Behind the Groove with Teena Marie, and Dancing in Boogie Wonderland with Earth, Wind and Fire. I made sure I polished the albums free of fingerprints, and put them back in order. She probably knew anyway. I've always been jealous of her. She could talk to anybody, she was funny and had great hair. She was more beautiful and stylish than I could ever hope to be. 
We started to get along well when I was 15. The 5 year gap wasn't so bad, and I wasn't quite as nerdy. I would go out with her and her friends. I was with my sister the first time I got drunk. That was fun, but she cut me off before I got totally plastered. She looked after me a lot of times, and has been with me when the dark times come. I wish I was with her today. I could go for a frozen pina colada. Raise a glass to the woman who knows all my joys, all my fears, and I love with all my heart and soul, April 

sketches of a bipolar girl: Adventures of a Vet Tech

I was just laying here on my bed, thinking about how much my body aches today. I kind of feel ashamed because I haven't earned it. I didn't work out or anything, I just ache. It might be my new medication. I hope it's not, otherwise I may have to try something new. I know what a hard working body feels like. You try and convince a 150 lb Rottweiler to lay down for a chest x-ray or getting a cat out of a carrier when he's pissed off at the world. That's hard and can be quite dangerous work. Most people think that being a vet tech means you play with cats and dogs all day. Nothing could be further from the truth. A vet tech is an animal nurse. We just don't get the pay or recognition. Most vet techs have to have a second job to make ends meet. They work 10 to 12 hour days regularly. The biggest thing is they must work with owners who haven't a clue what is going on with their pet. Vet techs aren't like human nurses who can find out history and symptoms from the patient or EMT. Vet techs hear things like "he ate 2 days ago". Veterinarians and tech have no idea what's going to walk in the door. The cost could be a $45 office visit or a $400 dental cleaning. I've done a lot of cleanings. It astounds me the condition of the teeth I've seen. They do have toothpaste for pets you know. The reason it cost so much? Anesthesia. In order to clean Rover's teeth, I have to do pre-op bloodwork, any necessary x-rays, knock him out, monitor his condition while asleep. All this in a specific amount of time to get the cleaning, polishing and scaling. If something has to be removed, I have to get the vet. People should appreciate their vets and vet techs. They are part of your family's medical team too. This concludes my public service announcement. Scroll on!

sketches of a bipolar girl: Panic at Publix

ok, I knew things weren't right for me today. I just came from the Publix to get a sandwich for dinner. I got my sandwich without incident, but while I was looking for the grapefruit juice, I had a panic attack. I managed to keep my composure while I checked out, and got to my car. Then, I just lost it completely. I couldn't catch my breath, heart racing, palpitations, and my insides were boiling.  My car is one of my safe places. so I sat there for about 20 minutes weeping and tried to calm myself down. Anyway, I got home in one piece, hugged my mom for a long time. That's it for this girl. I will pray to God and ask for the intercession of St. Dymphna, the patron saint of those with mental and emotional problems. Hopefully, I will be able to sleep tonight and go to mass tomorrow. I hate it when I feel good about something, then my body is like "no you don't girlie" and I feel like somebody hit me with a bat to my head. God help me, I am so tired. Peace, Joy, Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Get Ready for the Outside World

silly girl
you forgot to put on your extra layer of skin.
You know, the skins that keep the world at bay.
instead you went out naked
nothing to reflect the acid in other's mouths
you got burned again, the pain went to the core
go back into the house, child
you're not ready for the real world
you still believe in magic
they are waiting for you
you are not strong enough to fight them yet
don't worry, you will be
in the mean time, stay with those who truly love you
everything will be alright
you will find someone who accepts you and your scars
go back into the house for now
this is about survival, so go and dress for the day
cover yourself and stay low
silly girl

B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Keep Hope Alive

Keep hope alive!
That's what Jesse Jackson says.
But what happens when you have no hope left?
Lord knows I am not one of the lucky ones, 
You know who I'm talking about. The privileged class,
Things always going their way.
I am not one of the beautiful ones either. Doors open automatically for the girl with the great smile, shiny hair and good body. I've often thought of what I'd be like if I were beautiful.
I don't dwell on it though, that breeds the dark thoughts, the thoughts that tell me that it is all for naught. I try to stay away from thoughts like that. I keep struggling because I have no choice. If hope dies, the dreams die, and for some of us, dreams are we have. It used to be a war cry for black people. But now I believe, it is a war cry for all people, everywhere. So, I will pick myself up, dust myself off and keep hope alive.
Say it Loud, I'm BLACK and I'm PROUD!
Peace, Joy, Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: On the Cusp of Sleep

I lay my head down on my pillow,
Waiting for sleep to seep into my bones.
I'm thinking of a simpler time, up to knees in mud.
I couldn't wait to grow up back then, no one to tell me what to do.
But now I am that grown up, wishing I had someone to tell me what to do.
Life is strange and very hard to navigate when you are alone.
I've gotten lost a lot of times, but I keep moving.
When you stand still too long, you get stuck.
More often than not, it's not the best place.
Right now though, it's not too bad.
I will take off my shoes and take a hot shower.
Hopefully, I will dream of some place pretty.
Maybe I will be allowed to visit across the rainbow bridge and get doggie kisses as they tell me of their new lives and new friends they've made. I will think about it as I close my eyes and lay my head down. B.

sketches of a bipolar girl: Simpler Times

When I was 5 years old, we moved into my grand parents' house. They were my mom's parents. It was a big deal because to us they lived in the country. There were big fields of grass, creeks (also known as cricks) and wildflowers. We had come from the city. In the city, you were lucky to have a small patch of grass in front of your house. I remember eating the wild berries, drinking the nectar from the honeysuckle bushes. I went down the big hill in back of the house and played among the trees, rocks, and in the water. I would take my Barbie dolls down there and play search and rescue with my cousin's GI Joe. I made many complicated desserts with tin pie plates. My favorite pie was the chocolate cream. I could anything with dirt. It didn't taste like dirt, to a small child, dirt came in different flavors according to color. Since Grandmom was a gardener, we had bags of potting and garden dirt. I don't know why this memory came to me today. Maybe it's because of today's shooting in Virginia. I long for peace and innocence. Days of carefree playing in the yard are long since passed. Today, we all walk around slightly paranoid and looking over our shoulders. It's kind of sad really. I miss those days. I think I will take an afternoon nap and let my mind walk in the woods, taking in all the smells and sounds that only nature can provide. Hopefully, it will rain again today, washing the world clean of the horrors of the day. I wish you all the best things in life.

sketches of a bipolar girl: Luxurious Long Hair

It's been over a year now since I cut my hair so short. It has been a relief. I don't have to worry about relaxers, curling irons etc. Now I just wash, pat down, apply a little leave-in conditioner, a little moisturizer and I'm done. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my hair, I just couldn't take the up keep anymore. When I was a little girl, I used to pretend I had long hair. I would put a towel on my head, and pretend I had long, luxurious blonde hair. I would flip it off my shoulders, and put it in a ponytail. Fixing my hair was such a chore that I came to hate my hair. My grandmom had thick, black hair that went down her back. Sometimes, I would go into her room in the morning, and she would let me brush her hair. She taught me how to braid hair. I remember one time when I was very little, she took her hair down just so I could brush it. I miss her a lot. I am trying desperately to remember all of my grandparents little traits that gave me great pleasure. I have some keepsakes from all of them. I know that one day, I will see them again. I believe that your family and friends come to guide you to the gates of heaven. I'm not in any hurry to see them again, not like before when I wanted to die. I am now trusting in the Lord to guide my days. Sometimes, I know they are watching me. I hope I do them proud. May all of you have a wonderful weekend. Peace, Joy, Love -B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Blue Collar Man

If I concentrate hard enough, I can still smell my poppop. It was a mixture of baby powder, motor oil and soap. Occasionally, he smelled like pipe tobacco. I remember how strong his hands were. They were always stained with motor oil. My dad's hands were the same way. No matter how much they scrubbed with the professional hand cleaner, they couldn't scrub off all the years of working on engines. I used to go with my dad to my nana and poppop's house whenever I could. I would dance around the garage and ask my dad what different parts and tools were. I asked about timing belts, transmissions, brake shoes etc. My nana didn't want me in the garage. She didn't want me to get dirty. But, my poppop told her to leave me alone. I wasn't getting in the way, and I loved to be around my daddy. When it was time for lunch, my poppop, dad and I trooped into the back porch and washed our hands. It was this tan powder that formed a thick paste when it got wet. I thought it was fabulous stuff and scrubbed up to the elbows. Their hands were rough too, calloused from always working on engines. I was eager to soak it all in and observe the little nuances that made men. On the days when they were doing something a little more dangerous, I stayed in the house. I helped nana with her chores and we talked about family. When we were done, she would make some tea and put some Carnation sweetened condensed milk in it. Sometimes, we had pound cake too. My nana was from Georgia and my poppop was from Virginia. The food was definitely southern. My poppop used to call me "Baby girl" I miss them both. I would love to have some of nana's lemonade, and play with the train set with my poppop had. It's because of those men, my father, my poppop and my grandpop, that I am attracted to men with rough hands wearing work clothes. They are men who work hard and are not afraid to get their hands dirty. You can keep your white color jobs. Give me a blue collar with coveralls who can fix my car!!

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sketches of a bipolar girl: Nana

I want my nana. I need a little solace. She was always there for me. Nana and Poppop lived in a section of Philadelphia called Germantown. They had a nice big house, but no yard. The side and back of the house were all blacktop so that you could park the car off the street. Off the street parking is a very big deal. They had a 3 car garage. They had a closed in front porch, and had rocking chairs. We would sit on the porch talking to the people that went by on the way home. There was a butcher shop 2 blocks over. Nana would always take me with her when she went there. Once, I went there by myself to get some bacon. I remember the smells of the shop, especially when they were making the sausage. The air was heavy with spices. I remember walking up to the counter and got a ticket. I saw a tongue in the case one time. Poppop told me that people ate it. I didn't believe it at first, but Nana confirmed the story. They never lied to me, so if they said something was so, then it was so. When it was time to shop for school, Christmas and Easter, Nana took us downtown to JC Penney, John Wanamaker's and Strawbridge and Clothiers. Nana had charge accounts there. The was before women could have credit cards issued in their own names. We would have lunch at the Woolworth cafeteria. I always got grilled cheese and a Pepsi. No Coke in the Briggs house. To this day, my dad still drinks only Pepsi. When summer came, we would sit on the porch and wait for the Mr.Softee man. I always got chocolate with rainbow jimmies. Upon the sugar crash, I fell asleep. Even as an adult, I took naps at Nana' s house. We would talk about everything. Sometimes, I cried and she would hold me. She smelled like roses and body powder. She was my southern Nana and I also had a northern Grandmom. Both of them represent different aspects of home. I really wish they were still physically here so I can get some hugs and sound advice. I just wish I could talk to them, just for a minute.

sketches of a bipolar girl: Divorced Children

These two dazzling people are my parents, Evelyn and Arlington Briggs. They have been divorced since I was 22 ( to the best of my recollection). A lot of my 20's have been lost to side effects of ECT (shock treatments). ECT is not that bad, it's not like they show on TV and movies. They knock you out for it. Most common side effect is a throbbing headache. It got rid of the killers and the shadow people for a while. I may need to get a reboot since I am hearing sports radio announcers again, and see bugs everywhere again. The shadow people popped in to say howdy the other night. Who are the shadow people? The best description I can come up with is the dementors from Harry Potter, except you can hear them whispering, and they smell like death. But, I digress. I wanted to talk about my parents. I am 51 years old now, but the child in me blames myself for the dissolution of their marriage. I keep thinking, if I had been prettier or smarter, they would have stayed together. I have no idea why they parted. No one talked about problems then, I guess they thought they were protecting us. It doesn't matter much anyway, they are happy with their lives. But for a child, it brings up a lot of anxiety. Who do I see over the holidays? What if something happens to me? Will they both come to the hospital? Part of me is still seething when I think about it. I want to see my mom AND my dad you know, in the same room. They get along pretty well and they love us. So I guess that will have to enough. Sometimes, when my mom is cooking, I pretend my dad is in some hideous lounge chair watching the news, my sister April Briggs Cirwithen and my brother Jerald Briggs are in their bedrooms listening to Commodores and Pink Floyd respectively. I was lost in a book somewhere taking another trip to Narnia. Why do things have to get so complicated? Right now, I am streaming #GameofThrones on Amazon. On that note I will say good night. May God bless us all with very good things.

sketches of a bipolar girl: The Woman in the Mirror

I don't like mirrors. I never did. I am always awestruck by the reflection. Who is that? Why is she wearing that outfit? I think a lot of my difficulties come because my sense of self is bitterly divorced from the reality of who I actually am. I don't feel my age, but yet I see gray hairs on my head. My body betrayed me years ago. I am walking around with my head in a cloud thinking I still have time to correct the serious mistake that were made when I was created. I am at a loss of what to do next because I wasn't supposed to live this long. Every once in a while, I catch that woman in the mirror staring at me. The first thing I notice is how tired she looks. I also see all the freckles on her face. The eyebrows are out of control and she cut all my hair off. Where is the pretty, perky, clear-skinned woman that I know myself to be? I have come to the conclusion that my body has been snatched. Someone or something has stolen the petite, funny, shapely person that I am and replaced me with a short, pudgy, sad, unlovable blob. I know that I am responsible for this attack on my person. I lost myself several times along the road of my life. Well, I really can't say lost. I know where I was. It was in one of the nation's finest mental wards. While my stays were needed, they also stole time. For example, I have to look at my phone or laptop to check what the date is. I spent all this weekend thinking it was Sunday. Imagine my shock at finding out that June is almost over. I decided earlier today that I was taking the whole thing too seriously. So, I did the only thing that made sense. I got a chocolate ice cream cone. I see both my therapist and doctor tomorrow. I have a lot to say. I just have to remember to talk. That's another issue with me. I don't like talking about myself out loud. I don't want to bother anyone. You all have so many other important things to do. Hope you all had a good day! Peace, Joy Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: The Ladder

 went to see my psychiatrist and my therapist today. We are all in agreement that I have wandered off path again, and find myself in one of the black, twisted corridors of my brain. The doctor increased one of my medications and placed me back into the acute care schedule. So, I will be seeing him every 2 weeks instead of 4 and more. My therapist wants to see me once a week, but I can't afford that. I will be seeing her every 2 weeks as well. Mary asked me why I wasn't looking at her when I talked. I told her what my depressed self thinks is the gospel truth. I don't look at people when/if I talk because I don't want people to see me. On this particular day, my disease has me convinced that I am one of the ugliest creatures that has ever been. My rational self knows this is not true, but bipolar is not rational. Right this second, I have a serious headache from trying to put my thoughts in order. I had to let go of one of the rungs on the ladder of my life so I could get a better grip. When I did that, I slipped farther down than first anticipated. I am still on the ladder, to let go completely would involve a complete psychotic break. Let me tell you, I have been tempted to let go. But, I promised my mom that I will hold on as long as I have breath in my body. I need to take a shower. I need to wash off this sticky feeling of crazy that has enveloped me. I'm thinking it may be another chocolate ice cream day, something to help my serotonin levels. Take care of yourselves, and have a great afternoon. Peace, Joy, Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Tiny Victories

Well, I managed to do some adulting today. I didn't do such a good job at first. I'm wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. I did make my bed and have a good breakfast (Belgian waffle). I didn't take my meds on schedule, but I got them on board. I made phone calls to both my doctor's office and the insurance company for a fun game "I'm Sorry But We Don't Cover That Drug!" I did not freak out when they put me on hold and my pharmacist gave me an emergency refill to hold me over until everything works out. Since I'm there all the time, my pharmacist at Walmart treats me well. I did a little grocery shopping, and managed my anxiety. I had lunch, called the office to have the hot water heater checked, and am now getting ready to take a cat nap. I hope you all are having a successful Hump Day. Peace, Joy, Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Morning Light

Mornings aren't pleasant for me. Each day I wake up and have to decide if life is worth living. I'd rather not think about it today, thank you very much. My head hurts, my heart broken, my future looks bleak. I think that I will disappear into the world of Westeros. #GameofThrones on Amazon. Perhaps I'll rejoin reality tomorrow, although I don't see any reason to rush back. Lord HELP me, I am so tired. I can't see the light right now. So many tears in my eyes. I can't just feel my way out, there are monsters out here. Please take my hand or call out my name. In case you don't remember, my name is Beverly . I live in Greenville, SC. Please come get me, I am hanging by a very fine thread. I am scared and alone. Please

sketches of a bipolar girl: Flowers

I had a flashback triggered by a smell. I was walking past the bushes in front of our apartment and I caught the scent of flowers. It was really sweet. I was instantly transported back to my grandmom's garden. She had all kinds of flowers around the house. She planted some of them under the windows, so when you opened the windows in the spring or summer, a fragrance floated in the air when the wind would blow. I thought about the summers in that house, and how we went without central air. After a nice bath, my mom would pat me down with baby powder and we went to bed in just our undies. We would fall asleep to the sound of the window fan and the smell of freshly washed bed sheets. You can get the smell in a candle or air freshener now-a-days. Nobody irons sheets any more. Nobody hangs clothes on the line anymore either. Those are the best smells. I love the smell of freshly brewed coffee, bacon and eggs with buttered toast. I can remember Sunday morning with Mary Mason playing on WHAT. I remember the whistle of the tea kettle and the taste of the shortbread cookies or cinnamon toast. These are the things I want to remember. Summertime at 331 Woodland Ave was simple but oh so special. I hope you all have a wonderful day. Peace, Joy, Love - B

sketches of a bipolar girl: Mental Health Day

I am taking the day off from adulting today. Call it a mental health day. I got up, threw some clothes on and walked the dog. I had a light breakfast and have spent most of the morning in the bathroom. My new medication can cause diarrhea. Oh joy and rapture. If it's not one thing it's another. While I was outside, I decided it was entirely too hot and noisy. Apparently, so did Toby. He is currently curled up in his bed in my room. We are boycotting today because we can. I have to adult tomorrow. I have a meeting at Vocational Rehabilitation, bills to pay etc. I hear The View in the living room. I can't take those women today. I hope everyone is having a good Hump Day. I'm going to take a nap.

skeches of a bipolar girl: Noninvasive TV

I am doing the very best I can. Most of the time things don't work out, but at least I am not giving up. I treated myself to a long overdue hair cut and eyebrow wax. I did win $20 on my Powerball ticket, but I need it for gas. Right at this moment, I am drowning is shame, guilt, and anxiety. I can only hope that help is just around the corner. I'm tired of treading water. I guess I will float for a while. Tonight's viewing is "Father Brown" on Netflix. It's about a crime solving priest set in 1950's England. It reminds me of "Murder, She Wrote". All this crime and murder takes place in this tiny town, and Father Brown is never far from all the hubbub. It's entertaining, and doesn't give me nightmares. Hopefully, I will feel better in the morning.

sketches of a bipolar girl: Don't Go Breaking My Heart (again)

I was walking down a pretty country road and stepped on a land mine. It was hidden under a rosebush. It had the most beautiful fragrant flowers. I reached out to touch it and that was it. My feelings of self-worth and stability were once again blown apart. My ladder of life was not made of steel like I thought. It was made of sugar and melted in the rain. I ask that you pray for me. I need the intercession of St. Bernadette, St. Dymphna, and the Blessed Virgin. I cannot make it on my own. My heart is once again torn to pieces. Quite frankly, I am tired of putting it back together. I will not offer it again. I'm done

A New Day Begins

Someone turned on the lights. I hear a voice calling my name.  Sleepily, I turned over and squinted into the light.  I couldn't see the face, but I heard the voice.  It was man.  "I need to test your glucose level, dear," he said.

"What time is it?", I muttered.

"It's 5:45 in the morning." was the reply.  I was a little perturbed at being awakened so early, but I stuck my hand out from under the blanket.  The was a small painful prick of my index finger and it was over.  At least, I thought it was.  No sooner than the nurse left, another person came into my room.  It was the phlebotomist, or as most patients call the, the vampires.  It seemed that the blood they took the night before showed elevated levels of something, so they needed to run more tests to evaluate my liver and kidney functions.

After she left, I was awake.  I looked around my room trying to take it all in.  My walls were beige, and the floor was a sickly gray color.  There was another bed in the room, but it was empty. All of my belongings were put into a closet.  I didn't have any of my toiletries. It was all at the front desk. I was overcome with a need to urinate.  The bathroom was beige, and the mirror above the sink was some kind of plastic bolted to the wall.  The shower curtain was connected to a tract on the ceiling.  Te shower itself seemed decent enough, although there weren't any shelves to put my things.

I put a hospital gown over my night shirt, and walked to the front desk,  I had to wait a few minutes because it was time for a shift change.  The daytime nurses and techs were going over last night's events.  One of the techs gestured in my direction.  I heard him tell the nurse that I wouldn't be any trouble.  When they finished talking one of the techs came up to me.  "What do you need, Miss Beverly?"  I told her I needed my soap, my toothbrush and toothpaste.

"May I also have a towel and washcloth?"  I said.  I hadn't bathed in over a week, and felt rather grimy.  She, Melanie was her name, got me my things and I said "Thank you."  I turned and noticed that some of the other patients were up.  I shuffled back to my room, closed the door and got undressed.

The shower was not hot, it was about body temperature.  But, the water felt good running down my back.  I washed up quickly and stepped into a puddle on the floor.  The shower curtain didn't keep the water in the stall like it was supposed to do.  I dried off, and put lotion on my body, which was covered in goose bumps.  I had to admit that I did feel a little more human.

I made my bed as I was supposed to do, and gathered up my wet towels and walked into the hall. This wasn't my first time here, so I remembered how things were done.  I found the bin for dirty linens and put my towels and washcloth inside.  I walked a little further down the hall to the common room.  One of the male techs said that breakfast would be up soon, and went up and down the hallways like the town crier announcing his news.

Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon, oatmeal, orange juice and decaffeinated coffee.  The eggs were lukewarm, and the bacon was soggy from being in the steamer cart, but it wasn't awful.

I really missed my coffee.

After breakfast, we were allowed to go to the smoking room to have a cigarette.  The cigarettes were kept locked up, and you can only have 2 maximum.  If you didn't have your own, you might get lucky and get one from the community pack.  I packed mine, so I got 2 cigarettes and shuffled my way to the smoke room.  It was a dank little room where the walls were stained from the years of smoking/.

I didn't do any talking, I just looked down to the ground.  We had group therapy after this, so I would have to say something then.  I didn't want to talk to anyone about anything.  I just wanted to go back to bed.

A Day in the Life

It was the birds I noticed first.  Chirping, cheeping, chittering, an endless symphony of birdsong.  It was too loud.  As I struggled to lift my head from the pillow, I realized something.  I was conscious.  I was still alive. "Shit", I said to no one in particular.
Why was I awake?  It wasn't supposed to be like this.  I took all my medications.  I should at least be in a coma, not lying in bed listening to the birds.  Those fucking, loud, obnoxious birds.  Now what was I supposed to do.  I got up and did the first thing I always do in the morning, I went to pee.
I checked the toilet bowl for blood, but didn't see anything.  My urine was it's normal hue.  Not even a little green.  Once I finished, I went back to my room.  It was about 10:30 AM.  That's a perfectly acceptable time to wake up if you have no place to go.  I was hungry, so I put my sweatpants on and meandered downstairs.
There she was at the kitchen table, going through the paper and drinking her coffee.  I supposed I should say something, but I didn't really know how to say it.  So, I just looked at her and blurted out "I think I should go to the hospital. I took all my pills last night".
I wasn't sure what to expect.  I mean how often does someone tell you that she tried to kill herself.  But my mom's face betrayed nothing. "Oh, Bev!" was all she said.  She hugged me and said "OK".
She fixed me something to eat, eggs I think. We didn't talk about it.  She didn't ask me why or anything.  I found that a bit odd, but I was kind of relieved.  I didn't feel like talking.  After I finished my breakfast, I went and threw some underwear, a pair of jeans, and some socks into a small suitcase.
We got to the hospital and I checked myself in.  I went into the emergency room exam room and waited for the nurse.  While I was waiting, it suddenly hit me.  What I was doing there and how it happened made me feel very tired all of a sudden.  Different people came in and out some to take blood, some to fill out paperwork.  The doctor was nice.  He was the one that asked me why.  I told him I wanted to die.  He asked my mom a couple of questions and patted me on the back.  He told me that he wanted to admit me as a psychiatric patient.  I agreed with that and so it goes.
The psych unit at the hospital was old and had paint the color of oatmeal.  I was in a wheelchair and an orderly was pushing it behind me.  We had to be buzzed in, because psych wards are always locked units.
I was wheeled past people of all kinds.  A lot of them were old people.  There were a couple of younger people, but what I noticed most of all, that I was the only black person there besides members of the staff.
I was checked into the unit. My picture was taken, I was body mapped, and a staff member went through my bag.  I kissed my mom goodbye, and she left.  I was shown to my room, and I immediately lay down on the bed and curled myself into a fetal position.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  They left me alone for the most part.  It was the weekend, and not much happens on the psych ward.  It wouldn't have made much difference to me if it was a weekday.  I lost track of days weeks ago.  Someone came and got me for dinner.  It was bland, high carb with little to recommend it.  I just picked at it, but I did like the fruit cup.

Depression Over (for now)

Well, here it is March 10th 2017.  I have finally pulled out of this depressive episode that left me bed-ridden.  This episode started on November 30th 2016.  That's a little over 3 months of lies, trickery and negative thoughts running through my head.  I probably should have been in the hospital for the better part of it.  I hit rock bottom.  I no longer cared for myself or anyone else.  I held the pill bottles in my hand on more than one occasion. 

But, I put them away, and managed to get through it.  I saw my doctor, my therapist and communicated with my support group.  I also have come to terms with the fact that I will have this disease for the rest of my life.  There is no cure.  So, I will have to battle the demons in my mind again.  I can only hope it will not be for a long time.

In the meantime, I am making plans.  I am actively seeking employment.  I have applied for 12 jobs.  I've heard back from 4.  Most of them thank me for applying, and they will get back to me.  I know I won't hear from them, but it's better than nothing.  There is a great job I would love if it existed.  I would love to be the office manager for Speak for Animals.  But, they run strictly on volunteer basis.

I have decided that I want to live on my own.  I have applied for housing assistance, but I am on the waiting list. 

I want a job that pays at least $35k per year, with health, dental, vision and a 401K plan.  That is not a fantasy to my way of thinking, but around here you'd think I was asking to be paid in gold.  I want enough money to have a nice clean apartment, pay my bills, and have food, cable, internet and some furniture.  Is that asking too much?  I don't think so.  I truly believe I am worth that much.

Oh boy! I almost forgot to tell you that I had lunch with someone.  I actually have a friend!  Her name is Susan, and she's near my age.  We had lunch at Panera Bread, and I had such a good time talking with her.  We talked about my illness mostly.  I don't mind talking about my illness, the more I talk about it the less power it has over me. 

I have to call my dad today.  He had an MRI on his hip last week.  He may need surgery.  If he does, then I am going up there to take care of him.  He'll tell me he doesn't need any help, but I don't care, I'm still going.  Hopefully, it won't be until next week or the week after.  I get my disability on the 15th, so it will have to wait until then.  

I know that the Michigan family will look out for him, but this time he is alone in the house without Gail, so he's going to need someone.  I won't pack a whole suitcase, just an extra pair of jeans and a couple of shirts and underwear.  Plus, I have to take my medication.  I love being around my dad, he is so easy going. Not like here,where I have to be on guard all the time.  I have been calling my aunt "the bitch" in my head.  I know it's terrible, but something about her I don't trust.  That's why I hardly talk to her.  She has a way of putting things that tear down my self esteem.

Well, I guess that's all for now.  It's Lent and I am gradually weaning myself off cigarettes.  I hope to be smoke free for Easter.  It will be a year on March 26th that I was baptized into the catholic faith. 

It's been a rocky road.  But, I am back to praying the rosary, and reading my bible everyday.  It brings with it a sense of peace. Maybe I should have become a nun.  Oh well, I guess not, because I have a feeling God is going to bring love into my life this year.  Can't wait to meet him, I hope he's tall.

Peace, Joy, Love - B

The Lion Rages

There is a rage inside of me and I don't understand where it's coming from.  I wanted to hurt someone yesterday.  I wanted to feel the blood dripping from my hands.  I let curse words flow through my mouth like angry vomit.  I was irrational and out of control.  It scared me.

The day started out well enough.  I was in a pretty good mood.  Then, I took my mom to the doctor.  She had a 12:30 appointment.  We got there at 12:05.  I sat in the car listening to Sonatas and Soundscapes on the public radio station.  When she hadn't come out by 1:45, I went in to investigate.  She hadn't even been seen yet!!  Well, I lost it.  We ended up leaving without her being seen by the doctor.  She was just there for a follow-up visit, so it wasn't anything crucial.  

I, however, was boiling mad.  This is a good doctor, but 2 hours wait is ridiculous.  I ought to charge her for my time.  It would be different if this was the first time, but it has happened before on many occasions.  Yesterday, I just got fed up.

Then, one of my psych meds went from $10 to $55.  That was the absolute end.  I drove to the store like a wild woman, cursing everyone and everything.  I don't know why the price went up, and frankly I don't care.  I know it's my insurance company.  In addition to that, my psychiatrist does not accept my insurance, so I have to pay $70 a visit.  So, I either start over with a new doctor and therapist or eat it.  Right now, I am eating it, but I am going to have to cut down on my visits.  Which, given my present mental health, isn't a good idea.  

I started seeing a chiropractor and a massage therapist.  Let's see how the insurance roulette falls on these two things.  I'll probably get screwed on those also.  Quite frankly, I am sick of all this fucking bullshit.  I hate taking all this medicine.  I hate going to the doctor.  I hate being on disability.

I applied for a couple of part-time jobs to help make ends meet, but who wants a fat, dumpy, disabled person who hasn't worked since 2010.  I certainly wouldn't.   I hate myself,  I wish I had killed myself last week.  Then all this fucking nonsense would be over.

My aunt started squawking about the rent last week.  I want to tell her to go fuck herself and throw all my pill bottles and diabetic supplies at her.  Here's your fucking rent you dumpy bitch!! You don't want me here just say the word, I don't even like you you old cunt.  I'm only here because of my mom anyway.  I'll have to talk to my dad about living with him.  I don't forsee any problems, but you never know.  Maybe I'll end up homeless.  Living on the street, talking to myself.  One of the forgotten people.  

If I had a gun, there would be a murder suicide here.  Maybe not, maybe just murder.  I am not well.  Maybe I will send an email to my doctor.  I have to send one anyway about my ambien and klonopin.  I have had such trouble sleeping, that I have been taking 2 pills instead of one.  I'll be out soon, then I'll have nothing to help me sleep.  Of course, I could always drink some wine.  But, I can't afford that either.  

Life, right now, fucking sucks!! I don't know what kind of sick game God is playing with me, but I wish He would knock it off.  FUCK YOU!!!

Acceptance and Hope

After careful deliberation and planning, I have abandoned the idea of taking my life.  It was pretty close there for the past week.  I have closed myself off to all human contact and communication.  I avoided touching people, I could not look anyone in the eye.  I truly wanted to die.  But something happened today that gave me a new perspective.  I went to confession for the first time in 2 months.

I told the priest of my pain and anguish and how I felt God had forsaken me.  He told me in very simple terms that it was me that failed to open my heart to God, and it's true.  I did not trust Him to answer my prayers.  He told me that God listens to our hearts and hears our sufferings.  Sometimes, however, God leaves us to carry our cross for our own good.  I am not exactly sure why God left me so over-burdened, but apparently he has a plan for my life.  It may be that it is my lot in life to suffer so that I may reach out to others and help them.  If that's what it is, I accept that.

So, I have decided to stop fighting the bipolar.  I will take each episode as it comes and do what I can to make it through.  Maybe my life will be a lesson to someone else with this horrible illness.  Maybe that person will look at me and know that through my darkest times, I did not give up.  Maybe I am supposed to be alive for that purpose.

Jesus did not promise us paradise on earth, but only in the next life when He returns.  Until then, I will just have to bide my time and reach out for little scraps of happiness.  I will try to face each day with expectation instead of dread.  If I can function that day, great! If not, I will try to fulfill my activities of daily living the best I can.  It's okay to sleep all day, and it's okay if I cry a lot.  There will be those kinds of days.  Truth be told, I am tired of trying to meet everyone's expectations of me.  I must learn to accept myself as I am and be satisfied.  I will try to participate in the world, but the world will have to just suck it up if I would rather be alone.  

I am still in a deep depressive episode, and I don't know when it will end.  I am trying to engage.  For instance, going to confession today was huge for me.  I just want to make it to mass tomorrow.  I will not be dressed well.  I'll be lucky to remember to brush my hair, but that is tomorrow's goal.  I will take my meds as prescribed and hope for the best.  That's all I have right now is hope.  My name is Beverly, and I have a mental illness.  I hope tomorrow is better than today.  Peace, Joy, Love - B

Shiny Happy People

Sometimes, well, a lot of times I look at people, and I wonder what their lives are like.  I see them with their happy faces, watch them with animated conversations, or just walking along.  I wonder where their going, where they've been, what their thinking about.  I don't judge them, but I often wonder what's beneath the surface.

Are they as unhappy as I am?  Is there pain and longing in their lives too?  I'm certain that the answers to these questions is yes, but what makes them go on with their lives?  What's the secret?  I read the posts of my Facebook friends, and I get so jealous.  Why does she have a love and I don't?  What gives that person a right to be so happy and have children and pets and a good job, when I know some of the darkest deeds they have committed?  When is it going to be my turn to find such fulfillment?

Am I undeserving of love?  Am I so undesirable, that no one can look at me?  Am I invisible?  I like to think that I am a good person.  Yet, day after day, I end up alone in my room pondering the mistakes that I've made, and listening to the voices in my head.  I have told myself that these voices are liars.  I know that I am not an ugly, stupid person with nothing to give.  I can feel my heart overflowing with the emotions that rage inside me.  I would be a wonderful wife, friend and lover.  I have something to give.  

But, what if I am just fooling myself and the voices are true.  Will I die alone?  Am I destined to be untouched by the warmth of a hand in mind or kissed with tenderness?  I honestly don't know.  I have tried to be friendly and courteous to people I meet.  I have shared smiles and flirted when I see an attractive man.  I have made casual conversation to other people in hopes of making a friendship connection.  But, nothing has come of it.

Sometimes, I think to myself, I will just go to a bar and pick up some stranger like a whore.  But, that's not what I want.  Besides, I am limited on what I can drink, and I don't really like bars.  Maybe I will go to a sports bar for the Superbowl.  I like football a lot, even though there are somethings I don't understand.  I could meet some people that way.  I could try one of those meet up sites where you find a group of people who share common interests.  

Sometimes, I think about going back to partial hospitalization just so I could have some people to talk to.  Yes, that's how lonely I am.  I have been spending a lot of my days living in my fantasy world.  It passes the time.  In my daydreams, I am beautiful, I am brilliant and I have a husband and six children.  My first pregnancy was quadruplets, twin girls and twin boys.  My second pregnancy resulted in twins also, a girl and a boy.  My husband and I want a very large family, so we are going to get pregnant again.  My name is Primrose, and my husband is Henry.  

Henry is tall, gentle, kind, athletic, funny, smart and loyal.  He thinks I am the most beautiful woman in the world.  We have fabulous sex.  It is tender, passionate and spontaneous.  We often get lost in each others eyes, tuning out the whole world.  Most people comment that they have never seen two people so in love.  Our children are very gifted and polite.  Victoria loves music. Lorelai loves to dance.  Jared likes to build things, and Darius just wants to fly.  The two youngest, Skylark and Sebastian love to paint and read.

Henry is a world renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, and Primrose is an astrophysicist.  She has been nominated for a Nobel Prize, and has worked with Stephen Hawking.  While they are very busy people, both enjoy spending as much time with the family as possible.  The do have two nannies and a housekeeper, and live in a 12 bedroom estate in the country.  There is a lake, a fountain and a glorious garden.  There is also a stable and barnyard.  They have 2 dogs, 2 cats and a bird.  

Sounds perfect doesn't it?  Well, it is.  That's why I spend so much time there.  I'd rather be there than here.  My world is cold, lonely and dark.  There, everyone is shiny and happy.  Sure, Primrose and Henry have disagreements, and the children misbehave, but it always works out in the end.  Not like real life where things can fall apart around you and your left standing by yourself feeling like a complete fool.

I've never told anyone about my fantasy life before.  I don't know why I am telling you now, except for the fact that I so want it to be true.  Is it the Cinderella complex?  I don't think so.  My other world is not magical, it's just happier and full of the things that I desire .   They say is you believe in a thing you can achieve it.  Well, I believe in love.  How long do I have to wait to achieve it?  Oh well, I guess I'll step into the real world for a moment.  I have to pee.  After that, a little time on the porch with Henry and the children as I have my cigarette.  I leave you all to lead your own lives, where ever they may be.  Peace, Joy, Love - B

Depressive Episode #500

The past week has been a nightmare.  I am in a full blown depressive episode.  I sleep all the time, and when I am not sleeping, I am crying.  My mom says it's just post-holiday blues, but it's bigger than that.  I don't want to be here.  I wish I had never been born.

I am in physical pain as well as mental.  Every muscle in my body hurts.  My joints ache.  I wish I could just make the pain go away.  The only good thing is that I am not hallucinating.  I had to miss the first class of the new semester at school because I am basically non-functional.  I finally took a bath last night after 5 days of not bathing or brushing my teeth.  I have worn the same clothes for a week.  It just takes too much effort.

I am isolating like crazy.  I spend most of my time in my darkened room.  I have ventured out for meals and to talk and cry to my mom.  Other than that, I am alone.  I hate myself right now.  There is a group on Facebook for people with bipolar, so I've been posting there.  I have seen my therapist this week, and my doctor today.  There has been a medication change.  I go back to my therapist next week and my doctor in 2 weeks.  So much for being stable.

I saw my medical doctor this week also.  My diabetes is well managed, but I have an eye infection on top of everything else. So, I am on antibiotics until that clears up.  This downward spiral began at the end of November, and has just gotten worse.  There wasn't anything I could do about it because I was broke.  That's 3 months in a row I have mismanaged my money.  It's so stressing that it's making me sick.  I had a panic attack yesterday.  It took my mom a half hour to talk me down.  My aunt doesn't get it, so she's no comfort.

There are some days that I actually feel good.  But, they are few and far between.  I had wanted 2017 to start out on a really positive note, but that didn't happen.  Even when I visited my father, I was so depressed.  I isolated from him too.  I feel a lot of guilt about that.  All I did most of the time is sleep.

Once in a while, we went out to the store.  Mostly, we just stayed in because Michigan is so cold and windy, and we got snow.  The snow was nice.  

I applied for 2 part-time jobs online the other day.  I don't know why I did it, as I am in no way ready to work and go to school.  I have an assignment due tomorrow for my online class, but I don't have the book yet.  I had to order it.  I have no motivation to get it done anyway.  I really don't care at this point if I get a zero on it.  I'm too busy fighting for my life.

I haven't been to mass in 6 weeks.  I just feel like my spirit is dying.  I pray all the time, but I don't think God is listening to me right now.  I guess I am being punished.  I'll do my best to make it to Adoration tomorrow night, and mass this week.  I have to go to confession. I did commit a sin. I stole a bottle of laxatives from the store.  I wonder what my penance will be.  

I'm tired.  Just bone tired.  I don't know what to do anymore.  Suicide is not an option, but I think about it lately, which is never a good sign.  I'm not going to the hospital, that's all I know.  I've been here too many times to count, and have weathered the storms.  I guess I'll get through this one too. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Diamonds on the Ground

The ground is sparkling

The air is still, except for the occasional rustling of the wind

The musical glass chimes sing their song

A song of winter and ice

The streets are quiet, noises cancelled by a blanket of white

People are still snuggled deep under the covers

Not stirring from the warmth of their beds

Breathing the soft air of sleep

The birds will be out soon

pecking the ground for signs of seed

A lucky few will find nourishment at the hands of humans

Bird feeders full to the brim

With the sun, comes the drip of melting ice

Plop, plop, plop on the ground outside the window

Some people will rise with the sun

Coffee brewing as they clean off their cars

The world will awaken and trod on the virgin snow

Dirty slush where the white purity used to be

The diamonds on the ground will fade

Melting away and leaving damp earth behind.

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Smoke-filled Hazy Days and Charlie

Okay, the quitting smoking thing is hard.  I say that because I couldn't overcome my anxiety and went to buy a pack on my last day in Michigan.  My father, bless his heart, bought a whole carton for me.

I know  I could have said no thanks, but I couldn't. So, now I am just trying to limit myself to 6 cigarettes a day.  So far, I am not doing very well.  I feel a little bad about it, but at the same time I am relieved.  I will quit, I just don't know when.  I had announced my quit date as Jan. 3rd, but here it is the 5th and I am still puffing away.

Yesterday was a depressive day, so all I did was sleep and smoke.  Today, I feel much better, and am not so anxious.  I think, no I know I will be leaving the house this afternoon.  I have to get gas and go to Walmart to pick up some meds.  I may even actually comb my hair.  I know, big deal right?  Well considering I haven't washed my hair in 3 weeks it is a big deal.  Which reminds me, I need to call the salon for a cut.

I ran out of testing strips for my diabetes, so I haven't tested since yesterday morning. My sugar levels have been good, so I am not too concerned.  I need laxatives too.  I must confess, I am dependent on them.  I take 5 or 6 at night.  It does give me diarrhea the next morning, but it makes me feel so much lighter.  I hate feeling bloated.  I know I am probably doing damage to my colon, but I had a colonoscopy last January, and everything was normal.

I am going to try a chiropractor this month.  Hopefully, they have massage therapy too.  I could really use a deep tissue massage. I used to get them all the time, when I went to a chiropractor back in the '90s.  I would get a massage, drink a lot of water and take a hot shower.  I could feel all the toxins flushing out of my body.  My adjustments made me feel better too.  I carry all my tension in my shoulders and thoracic region of my back.  I think one good crack would do me quite well.

Oh well, that's all that's on my mind right now.  That and Keanu Reeves.  In my dreams, we meet on The View when I am a guest co-host because of my best selling book.  We really click, and he asks me to lunch.  Only problem is, I can't call him Keanu.  It makes me feel all starstruck, so I call him Charlie, since Charles is his middle name.  Anyway, he totally gets me.  He is gentle, kind, funny, doesn't freak out because of my bipolar, and really listens and talks to me.  Naturally, we fall in love and get married after a 2 year relationship.  We adopt 3 biracial siblings, have 2 dogs and a cat and live in Malibu and Michigan.  We are fixing up a Victorian townhouse in New York to be our main home.  The Malibu house was his, and the Michigan cottage was mine. Both of us are deliriously happy because we have been waiting so long to find someone special.  Stupid, isn't it?  But that's the dream that puts me to sleep at night.  It doesn't hurt anyone, so I'll just keep dreaming.  Peace, Joy, Love - B

New Year's Day 2017

Well, it is the first day of a new year. I give a warm welcome to 2017, and a kick in the ass to 2016.  Not that I regret 2016. It just didn't start very well (depression) or end very well (depression).  Today, however, I woke up in a great mood and a ball of energy in my belly. Ah, the joys of being bipolar.  I don't know how the rest of the day will go, but I am determined to make it a good one.

I will not rehash the bad times of 2016, but will instead focus on the good things. Number 1, I lost 55 pounds!! Number 2, out of 4 courses I took in college this year, I got 3 A's and a C+.  The C+  was a computer science course. I would have done better, but all the tests were timed, and I don't do well in those situations.  Number 3, I became a card carrying catholic.  My faith is a little shaky right now, but I am praying for strength and guidance.  Number 4, I am now working with a volunteer organization called Speak for Animals.  I've been working with them on some marketing stuff. So far, it's very exciting and interesting.

As for 2017, there are a couple of big things I want to happen. I want to get on a stable medication regime.  I was feeling really normal for a while, but  things have started to get unsteady again.  I can't concentrate like I want to, and all I really want to do is sleep most of the time. I have a new semester starting on the 9th, so I need to get it together. Next thing I'd like to do is get a job so I can move out on my own.  This would enable me to get a pet and live my life the way I want. Maybe, I will make a few good friends, and even meet Mr. Right.  Of course, I know the last 2 things aren't really anything I can do to facilitate them.  I just have to do the best I can.  I will continue to do the best I can in school, and not strive for perfection.  I am taking 2 courses again, Nonprofit Admin: Human Resource Management, and an online course; Introduction to Art.  I hope both courses are interesting and that I do well.

Anyway, that is all for now.  Aside from the usual resolutions to get healthier and quit smoking, I have nothing else to report. I am still smoking, but I only have one pack left,and I think that will be it.

I'll let you know how everything goes. I am going to try to post more regularly to help clear my head.  I think I'll go take a shower now and get all squeaky clean. Peace, Joy, Love - B