Thursday, December 29, 2022

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Goodbye Adele

 


Dear Adele, 

We used to call you Del. At one time you were my friend, but that was a very brief time and probably you were being fake. Why am I writing you after 40 years? Why should I write to you after everything you've put me through back then? It's precisely because of your terrorizing I'm writing to you. I wanted to finally tell you what I think of you and say goodbye forever. I'm also putting the feelings I have for you aside and get over my mistrust of strangers, which you caused. 

I was 5 years old when we moved to Ambler. I was lonely and scarred and only had my cousins to play with at the time. I was introduced to a little girl up the street named Charletta. We became fast friends. Was that why you hated me so? I took your best friend away? At any rate, you succeeded in turning the other neighborhood kids away from me by spreading lies that I was talking about them. You expertly played the whole he said, she said game. How could I win? I didn't know how to play the game. 

I went and found another friend named Peggy. She was a white girl from up the street. You said that I acted like a white girl, and thought I was better that everyone else. More lies were spread. Eventually, I stopped going out to play with anyone. I stayed in my own back yard and played with my toys. 

Going to school became a daily exercise in terror. You and your crew were always waiting for me to get off the bus and begin my walk home where you would walk behind me calling me names. I started stopping by the bank where my mom worked on my way home, so you would leave me alone and my mom would make sure I was safe. 

Then came the day you told everyone you were going to kick my ass. I was convinced that you were going to kill me. I got off the bus and ran to the bank, but my mom was not there. My sister came and walked me home all the while you and a crowd of kids taunted and teased me the whole way home. My mom eventually told your mom what had been going on all those months and in the end it was you who got the ass whipping. You were also told to stay away from me, and grounded for a month. 

I don't know for sure, but it is my feeling that ass whippings were a regular thing for you. However, that's not my problem. The unhappiness you felt in your life did not give you the right to terrorize me to the point those scars still show. I grew up thinking that everyone was false and a predator. It's because of what you did I had a hard time trusting people. But, I'm here to tell you that I am through with feeling that way. I release you and your terror from my mind. Do I forgive you? Yes, I do. I forgive you in order to move on and practice love and compassion for my fellow humans. 

So Del, goodbye. I hope life was kind to you. - B


Saturday, December 24, 2022

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Notes from the Inside

 

I got a weird Christmas gift to myself. 7 days in possibly the worst mental hospital in which I've ever been. I've been feeling pretty wonky the last couple of months and it all came to a head on December 7th. I felt like I was losing control and actually had thoughts of suicide. I had no plans, of course. In fact, I had previously made plans and goals for 2023 only a few weeks before my ideation. 

Unfortunately, I got very overwhelmed by life and started having panic attacks. I stopped sleeping, and spent most of my days cleaning house. It's the only thing that relaxes me. Well, I don't know if relax is the right word. I suppose I mean to say it burns off my manic energy. However, on Tuesday the 13th, I went to the grocery store near our house, and as I was waiting to pull out of the parking lot I just started wondering what would happen if I just drove out into the middle of traffic and let someone hit me. I shook it off immediately, but still the intrusive thoughts wouldn't stop. 

I called my psychiatrist whom I had just seen the Thursday before, and explained what was going on with me. I was told that the doctor wasn't available but she would get back to me. That never happened. I called my new therapist, Leslie, who is fabulous by the way. She told me to go to the ER because I was in crisis. So, after some convincing, I went to my local ER. They recommended I voluntarily commit myself or they would do it. I wanted a hospital close by, so I picked a hospital called Lakeview Behavioral Health Hospital. 

From the moment I got there, I knew it was a mistake. It was a dark, gloomy, cheerless place with all the decoration and approachability of a prison. I had to wait for 6 hours to be admitted, and was then admitted to the acute adult unit, which is for people over 50. It was horrible. The rooms are semi-private and I was pair with a racist, homophobic "Karen". Her sense of entitlement was not to be believed. She was a mean, small minded, bitter woman who was convinced everyone was against her, by the time she left, we all were. 

The food was unrecognizable, greasy and nauseating. Several people got sick with vomiting, and diarrhea from the food. Most of the time, the vegetables were so overcooked, you couldn't tell what vegetable it was. There were several diabetics in the ward, but we didn't get a special diet. I had to kind of guess what was safe to eat. 

Finally, on the 21st, they let me go. My medication was adjusted, I'm now on 6 psych meds. They added Vistaril to my meds. So, now I'm on 2 antipsychotics. Woohoo! 

Being home the past few days has been kind of weird. I'm back to only sleeping a few hours a night. I was sleeping fine in the hospital, even though the bed was like sleeping on a slab of concrete. My back is now shrieking with pain. Sometimes, I can't walk completely upright. If I try to walk normally, it feels like I'm going to snap right in half. I was supposed to have an appointment with a back specialist on the 19th, but obviously didn't make it. Now, I have to wait until January. I was hoping to see him before the year was out because I've met my out of pocket for my health insurance. 

I made my mom's Christmas cookies today. They're not as nice looking as last year because I was rushed. Leslie wanted a picture, but I didn't take any. I made with them as love as I could muster, but I didn't feel my mom with me this time. Plus, I was tired. I've been up since 2:30 am this morning. 

I'm seeing another therapist too. She's going to see me 3 times a week for more intensive treatment. We talked yesterday for over an hour. I think she's going to be a really good fit. 

I was denied FMLA at work because I haven't been there that long. But, I an ADA leave request in motion now. In the meantime, I have no money, and we're behind on rent again. As soon as I'm done here, I'm going to have to go make a request from St. Vincent de Paul for the second time. 

I'm not going to midnight mass of Christmas services. I masturbated last week, and gossiped. I didn't get a chance to go to confession so I can take communion. It's going to be so crowded, I'd probably have an anxiety or panic attack. So, I guess that's it then. That's what's been going on, but I'm holding on to my faith. I don't know if I'll have a job to go back to, so I'm looking for something new. I want to get back to veterinary reception, but only for a company that gives good benefits and will pay me well. 

Merry Christmas

Peace, Joy, Love - B