Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Who are you?

 

So, I haven't worked in a month.  I suppose I should feel guilty about it, but I don't.  On top of that, my temporary insurance license is about to expire on the 29th.  I had the money for it, but I spent it on clothes.  Very irresponsible I know, but I really don't care.  Ok, maybe I care a little.  I have justified my lack of work ethic as not being good at selling.  

I'm not good at selling.  I do not have that ability to talk people into things.  My feeling is, if you don't want it, fine by me.  Just go your own way and live your life.  I tried to care, I really did.  I liked talking to the people but I was not ruthless enough.  I couldn't apply the right pressure tactics to get people to buy life insurance, even if I knew they needed it.  I did sell a few policies though.  But, I got shot down, and chewed out a couple of times.  

I am starting a job in an Amazon distribution center Friday morning.  I will be working 1:20 am to 11:50 am.  I work Friday through Monday, 10 hours a day.  I haven't had a full-time job in 10 years so we'll see how this goes.  Also, with my back issues,  I'll have to wait and see if I can handle the physicality of the job.  I got some really comfy, supportive work shoes, so that might help.  Also, I still have my back braces from my surgery last year, so I will be using one of them at work.  

I am still trying to get things together to go back to school to finally get my degree is something.  At first, I was all gung-ho about biology and then medical school.  Now, however, I'm thinking of becoming a writer.  It comes easy to me, especially when manic.  I already have a few stories floating in my head.  I just need to get it down on paper.  I'll start with just an outline and work from there.  I think that's how it works.  People have told me that I have a gift for writing.  I may as well give it a shot, right? 

So, who am I?  I have no idea.  I'm a woman with a lot of hopes and dreams.  I'm desperate to have someone to love, and be loved in return.  I want success, but not at the price of my peace.  Why is that so difficult for me to find?  I'm running out of time.  

I guess I'll keep searching for myself until I find me.  I may be a doctor, a writer or something else entirely different.  Who knows?  But, I'm out there some where.  I'll just have to keep looking. In the meantime,  I'll just concentrate on the me I am today. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: In Love

 

Okay, so I'm in love.  He has no idea that I exist.  Which is usually how things go in these sort of things for me.  No, it' not Tony.  He has gone.  I made a simple request that he could not grant.  What was it?  Was I demanding too much?  No, certainly not.  I merely asked the man to call me.  He did not.  So, I let it go. 

I know that seems like such a small thing, but you must understand something.  We had a 5 month text relationship.  I made many attempts to call him.  He is one of those people that never set up his voicemail.  So, I could not leave a message.  I took a step back and looked back at our so-called relationship, and realized that I was always the one to initiate contact.  Well, I said fuck it, I'm not chasing you. 

I think I was sad for a week.  After that, I just kind of shrugged it off and put him in my collection of dickheaads and losers.  I would like for once, to meet a man, and actually date.  No booty calls, no text relationships.  I want a real relationship.  So, what about this guy that I really want to meet and be in love with?  Just a fantasy really, it will never ever happen.  

I won't say who it is lest I make a fool of myself, but he is a beautiful human being.  He's cute, but not to the point of being pretty.  He's just a nice looking guy.  He's kind, generous and kinda shy to those who don't know him.  I would really like to meet and have coffee.  I just want to talk to him really.  

So, why can't I meet him?  Because he lives in NYC most of the time.  He is rather famous too.  No, this isn't just another crush.  I've had plenty of those.  This is more than that.  I respect him.

I don't know why I can't find someone to love.  It doesn't seem like such a big deal.  People fall in love all the time, don't they?  Why not me?  The song, Somebody to Love by Queen, is like my theme song if I had a TV show.   That might be a good idea.  A crazy girl's quest for love in her 50's in the digital age.  It could be funny.  I have to give it some thought.  

Oh well, I guess that's it.  I haven't posted in a while and I just wanted to clear my head.  I wish I had something more profound to say, but sometimes it just doesn't work that way.  Peace, Joy, Love - B 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Critical Condition

 

I'm hanging by an unraveling thread.  I was suicidal yesterday.  I formulated a plan.  I wrote the note in my mind.  I must have looked at the number for suicide prevention for a half hour.  I even drove to my local nuthouse.  It was a dark foreboding place.  I don't want to go there.

I did drive there to check it out.  I thought if it looks a nice place, I would come home and pack my things and check myself in.  But, since it was so creepy looking, I decided against it.  So, I came home and watched tv.  It took a while for me to just figure out that I wanted to eat something.  So, I went to QT and got a hotdog.  

This is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month.  Ironic I know.  I was going to try something new this time and cut my wrists.  I'm usually an overdose on pills kid of girl, but it never worked.  So, I thought, hell why not?  But then, I thought about Zelda.  I mean, I just got her.  Who would take care of her?  I decided it wouldn't be fair to just kill myself and leave her behind.  So, I briefly considered taking her with me.  I would strangle her and then cut my wrists.  We'd both be dead, and things would be better. 

It did occur to me that people would be kind of mad, but hell, they are usually mad at me anyway.  I'm always doing something wrong.  I don't always know what, but people, meaning April and Jerald, are always annoyed with me.  I wonder if they've always been mad at me.  Maybe they were angry that I was even born.  You know, sibling rivalry and all that bullshit.  

It's not my fault I was born.  Quite frankly, I've always felt like huge mistake.  I'm an very unfortunate event.  So, Why am I still here?  Simply put, I have no idea.  I got up today, and fed Zelda, had breakfast and proceeded to go about the business of getting ready for my day.  I took a shower, did my hair, and put on makeup.  I look pretty good.  But inside?  Well, inside, I feel like there are snakes in my belly.  My eyes are burning, and I could really just go back to bed. 

I'm pretending that everything is ok.  I have music playing in the background.  I posted on Facebook a picture of Zelda.  Answered a couple of guys on the love connection.  One guy wanted to know if I was looking for a sex partner.  Ha ha! I guess he has a fantasy about sex with a black girl.  I do attract the cream of the crop don't I?  

I keep seeing shadows, what the fuck?  I'm still paranoid.  I can't look anyone in the eye.  They might see how crazy I am.  I think I could probably kill someone in my present state.  I'm not necessarily homicidal.  I just want to see blood.  Maybe, I'll just cut.  I haven't done it in a couple of years.  Maybe it will relieve some of this pain.  I want to get drunk.  Unfortunately, I can't even afford a bottle of booze.  Maybe if I take all my meds and have a chaser, that would do the trick.

I guess I should call the crisis line.  I have an appointment with my psychiatrist today at 11:30.  I want to tell her what's going on, but then I don't.  I see my therapist tomorrow. My head is fuzzy.  I want to drive, just drive off.  I wonder when they would notice.  Probably a week. I'm a freak.  Fuck it!

B