Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

 

There's a song by the Bee Gees with the above title. How can you mend a broken heart? It's a good question. One that I think deserves an answer. How do you heal from grief? I don't think you can. It's just something that you carry with you. It's like a stone in your chest. Sometimes it's small, other times it grows so heavy that you can't breath. 

It was one of those days for me. I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about my parents. We were in our old house on Knight Road. My parents were happily together. My brother and sister were putting up decorations and my mom was in the kitchen cooking. My dad was outside cleaning up the yard. I was there too. However, no one could see me. Every time I called out to them, no one answered. They were all happy and laughing and talking, but I wasn't included. Slowly, it dawned on me that I was a shade. It was if I had never been. It was a happy family of four. 

I woke up at 4:30 am wondering where I was, who I was. I realized that I was in my room in Georgia. My parents gone, and there was no happy family. So, I got up and went to the bathroom. Then I went and smoked a cigarette on the porch, trying to figure out what the dream meant. I went back to bed and fell asleep. I had two hours before my alarm went off at 6:30. 

The dream I fell into is familiar. I am standing in a wood while a fierce hurricane swirled around me. I saw the faces of my family. Again and again, I called out to them, but no one could hear me. I could hear my mom calling for me, but could not go to her. The winds were so fast. So, I stood there, screaming. I woke up with a powerful headache trying to decide if I wanted to get out of bed. Eventually, I did because I had to take the dog to day care. But the rest of the day I was disconnected and sad. Then the song came on in our processing group. Not the Bee Gees song, but another song that someone chose as there goodbye to the group song. It made me think of my parents and I started to cry. 

The lyrics were powerful. I felt a surge of grief rush upon me, and I wept. God, I want my mom. I want my dad. I'm still not okay. I've come a way, but I don't think it's been long enough. How long will it be before I stop hurting? When will my broken heart mend? I'm tired of hearing that think of happy memories, I do. I'm sick of people who say they understand. No you don't! This is MY pain, my grief, my pain, my heart! 

I think being bipolar amplifies one's emotions to a higher level of feeling. We don't just get angry, we rage inside. We don't just get happy, we become overly happy to the point of mania at times. Sadness runs deep cutting us apart inside. I have put the pieces back together so many times, I don't know if I can mend my heart again. It's just too hard. Who'll show me how? I suppose I must lay it at God's feet and let Him take over. Today, I am tired. I need to rest. I need to learn how to just be. Problem is I never learned how to just be. Adulting sucks. I want to climb into bed with my parents again as a little girl. I felt safe there. I was young and my heart whole. I can't make it whole again on my own. It's too difficult. I don't know how to mend a broken heart. Who'll show me how? 

Peace, Joy, Love - B 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Connections

 

We make a lot of connections in our lives. I know I have. I've met all kinds of people. Some of them good, some of them confused, and some just plain old creepy. It's not just the men either. I've met some women that gave off bad juju too. 

But what of those connections that stick? You know the ones that have become friendships. How do you keep it going and how do you not lose touch? That's been a problem of mine for sometime. I have made great friends, but the most important I lost in the shuffle. It wasn't their fault. It was mine. I stopped talking. I shut down completely because I didn't want anyone to see the ugly world in my head. 

I lost my very best friend in my 20's. Her name was Pam. I was going through a bad depressive episode and completely cut her off. We are now just Facebook friends having rediscovered each other. We will never be close again which is regrettable because I miss her terribly. I wasn't there when she needed me. I had run away. 

In my 30's, I was in vet tech school and met Eileen, Stephanie, Marge and Rachel. I really loved them. The only one I talk to now is Eileen. In fact, after a year of letters and the occasional text messages, I just got off the phone with her this afternoon. We spoke for a good 40 minutes. She married her longtime boyfriend several years ago and they have 2 fabulous kids. Stephanie died of a drug overdose a few years ago. I think about her often. Rachel is married with at least 1 child, but I haven't heard from her in 2 years or so. Marge is a bit older  than me. We got along great. But, my disease scares her, so I can't really talk to her much. She did send me a nice message on Facebook when I got home a few weeks ago. 

I have no friends locally. As I said before, COVID did some serious damage to my social skills. I stay at home most of the time. I try to be friendly when I'm out but it's kind of hard to be sociable when you have nothing to say. Guys will want to know why you don't have any girlfriends. Some guys like it that way so they can use you and you have no one to talk to about things. They prey on women like me. So, I don't talk to guys very much. I don't trust them much anyway. I am trying to change that behavior so I don't shoo away Mr. Right, if he ever comes around. 

Human beings are social creatures. We need each other or else we'll go mad from loneliness. I've come to learn that I am hungry for interaction. I would love to have a trusted girlfriend to talk to every day, and meet up on the weekends. I guess you could say I'm looking for my best friend, my ride or die friend. 

I even tried going into the office to meet people, but surprise, nearly everyone works at home. There were only about 6 people on our half of the floor. I don't know if I'll go back in right away. I'd like to work from home a little bit more at first. That's if I have a job. I'm not too concerned. I suppose I should be, but there you go. 

The point is, I'm reaching out. So far  the response has been good. I will be keeping in touch with my friends from now on. I'm intent on making some connections with someone. I'm a nice person, I'm kind and considerate. I'm a loyal friend. At least, I try to be. We'll see how it works out going forward. 

Until next time, Peace Joy Love- B 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Fractured Fairytales

 

I've been thinking a lot lately about my future. Where am I going? What am I going to do? What do I want? I think children have been getting shafted for decades, especially girls. We are taught to put up with bullshit. We are told that if we wish and hope some handsome man will ride up in his white limo and rescue us from our drudgery. That is a load of shit. 

The truth is there's no fairy godmother, no magic, no bippity bobbity fucking boop! It's taken 40 years, but I've come to realize that I'm on my own. Sure, I still dream, but it's just that a fantasy. I don't really expect it to come true. There is no brave, handsome stranger to come rescue my from my demons. I need to rescue myself. But, let's face it, that shit is hard. Hence my 6 suicide attempts. I'm tired of falling on my face on to concrete. I'm battered, bruised and extremely exhausted. I'm also a little angry. Ok, I'm a lot angry. 

There are times I look at people out in the world and wonder why they seem to have it together and I don't. I know I'm not supposed to compare myself to anyone else, but it's pretty much impossible when every other commercial is telling you to dye your hair, extend your eyelashes, and have wrinkle free skin. Try this product and you'll have clear glowing skin! Make your hair shinier! Lose those unwanted pounds in 30 days! There are good arguments to take care of your skin, hair and lose weight, but all those commercials tell you that you will be a better person if you use their products. You'll get a handsome, rich husband, and you'll live in the perfect small town in a million dollar home. Your kids will be perfect, and you'll be thrilled every time your dishes are sparkling clean. 

I will admit, I am a little happier when my house is clean. It's not  because of the joy of cleaning. It's because I am a person that needs some control over the external chaos from the world. If things are tidy and in their place, I can relax and not feel so hectic inside. Where is my Prince Charming when I need to take the trash out or fix my car? Nope, I have to lug my garbage to the dumpster, and rely on some stranger to fix my car without ripping me off. 

You know, I've thought about it, and I don't want the prince. I want the guy who keeps his limo running smoothly. A man who knows what a fuel injector is and how to maintain it. I'd even take the gardener that keeps his gardens looking beautiful. In short, I'd like a blue color guy. You know like a butcher or chef, a mechanic like my dad. But lo, most women want a guy who makes the big bucks and has to work 70 hours a week. Where's the fun in that? You never see him. There's always an emergency and he has to cancel plans with his family at the last minute. 

Don't get me wrong, I'd like a guy to have money. I like nice things as much as the next girl, but I'd like to see my man on a regular basis. I'd like to see him home with me at night. We could have fun just sitting at home on the couch watching a movie. I don't need to jet to Greece for the weekend. I'm a pretty simple girl. Some words of affirmation, affection and I'm good to go. Throw in a few gifts once in a while, and I'm ecstatic. 

Why did those stories get written anyway? I suppose because women were only good for housekeeping and having babies. It was to make poor women feel like they had a chance for better life, which could be accomplished with a well made match. Fuck that! I wish somebody would tell me I had to marry some jerk just to expand the family prospects. Well, that's all a moot point as I am a spinster. I may get married one day, but I'm not going to hold my breath. '

If you take a look at fairytales, they were kind of stupid. Snow White got poisoned and died before her prince came and kissed her awake. She had never met the man, and all of a sudden she's riding off to his castle in the sky. How do we know his intentions were good? Maybe he was a serial killer. Don't get me started on Cinderella. All that girl wanted to do was go to a party, and she's stalked by some dude who didn't even know her name. It all came down to who's foot fit the slipper. You're telling me, no one else wore her size? What a load of crap!

One of the most recurring themes in most fairytales, especially in Disney films, is the tragic death of a parent. The child is then left to grief and subject to abuse by a caregiver. Then, when the villains get their comeuppance, the hero/heroine forgives them. I suppose that's the healthy thing to do. Forgiveness does help one move on, but I'd give them a taste of their own medicine first. Then banish them from my kingdom. 

My life has been nowhere near a fairytale. My innocence was stolen from me. I had to stop believing in them. My soul was fractured into so many pieces, it looks like some sort of ugly quilt. Do I regret it? In a way no, because I am who I am because of my circumstances. But then, I think of what might have been if my life hadn't been turned asunder, my brain chemistry and cognitive functions altered. 

Now, I face the difficult task of reprogramming my brain and erasing 57 years of warped thinking. I have to constantly remind myself that I am okay. I'm a good person with value. I look in the mirror, and don't see a princess. I don't see the monster I used to see either. However, if I concentrate very hard, I can imagine a crown. The crown of a queen. 

Peace, Love, Joy - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Let it Be

 

Yesterday was my first day of IOP (intensive outpatient therapy). It was good, but I was so exhausted that I could barely drive home. I've been used to getting up at 6:30 am for several weeks now. But yesterday, it was harder than hell. I managed to get some breakfast and make the 30 minute drive there. It's a nice hospital, clean and bright. However, a psych hospital is still a psych hospital. Everything made of plastic, and steel toilets, cameras everywhere. I don't mind, it's not like I ever do anything against the rules. I am the quintessential good girl after all. 

Today, however, I just could not do it. I called out. It's only my second day, but I felt so sick. I just needed to sleep some more. I have to get into a routine of taking my meds at 8 pm so I can fall asleep by 10. Last night I stayed up late watching TV. I guess I should only watch an hour of TV before bed, and do some meditation to wind down. In the center, I used to fall asleep by picturing a meadow by the stream with a golden sunset in the background. It was easy to do because things were pretty quiet there most of the time. But now that I'm home, I just can't seem to do it. Too much street noise. We live by a busy road, and I can hear the cars speeding by along with the occasional siren. Back to reality. 

I've been trying to get in contact with my psychiatrist, but she is off on vacation I guess. In the meantime, I am almost out of Cymbalta, and I'm not scheduled to see her until the 20th of July. I'm dumping her ass. I talked to her 2 days before my overdose, and told her I wasn't feeling good and needed a med adjustment. She told me to wait. 3 days later, I took the pills. I'm going to look up a new doctor on Headway today. see if I can get a appointment for this weekend. 

My short term disability hasn't been approved yet. They need additional information. I also need to get an extension I think. I had requested time off until the 28th of June, but that's only 2 weeks away. Maybe I ought to resign and look for another job. I don't know what to do. I have a lot of things to decide. I'm thinking about declaring bankruptcy. I have about 15k in debt that I have no chance of paying off. Maybe, if they don't fire me, I'll stay with Delta Dental. It's a great company, I'm just not a contributing employee. 

I'm going to confession this evening, I hope. I haven't been to confession since November. I have to confess my suicide attempt. There are other things like masturbation, missing mass, and cursing, also those stupid affairs I had. Speaking of which, some dickhead texted me, "Hello beautiful, let's do lunch." I have no idea who it is. I didn't answer. Then someone else wanted to know if I could come over. I had no clue and ignored that one too. I guess I'm just going to hold out for someone real. Men are basically stupid. There are some good ones that know who they are and what they want, but they are not easy to find. But like I said, having a man is not a priority. 

My family is pretty much the same. April and Erica really don't talk to me much. They haven't asked me anything about the treatment center or how I feel. They did ask if I wanted to go to the movies with them tomorrow. I said I'd think about it, but I'm going to go. I have to start doing things with them if they ask me. If I refuse, I think it will reflect badly on me.  

Well,  I  guess that's it for today. I feel better. I took a nice shower with my fragrant body wash and moisturized with my cherry blossom lotion. I smell quite nice. I also remembered to brush my teeth. I changed the linen on my bed and put fresh towels in my bathroom. I'm going to start auditioning for some roles since I have a little time off. It would be nice to get some more validation in my acting pursuits. 

In the meantime, que sera, sera. I'll just go with the flow. Let it Be. 

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Great Nothing (repost of 4/30/2023)

 

Today is the Last day of April. A month of emotional upheaval s great that I just wanted to sleep. So I did. I abused my medication to the point of sleeping for 3 days straight. I didn't eat. The only time I got up was to pee a few times. My sleep time was quite nice actually. Although I did have one dream when I was breaking out in maggots. However, I suppose that was a reference to the death I was experience. I didn't take a whole bunch of pills at one time because I didn't want to throw up. 

Did anything happen to cause all  this. Nope. Just the sheer panic about going to work and trying to put a big fat smile on my face and coming up with enough desire to give a fuck. I stopped caring. About my self, about my family and about my cat even. Zelda has remained glued to my side throughout all of this, but I've had to kick her off  the bed a few times. 

I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow like everything's ok, but it's not okay. I'd rather drive my car into a brick wall than go back to work. I'm not going back inpatient. Again, brick wall. My so call family doesn't give a shit. Has anyone asked me if I'm okay, gotten me something to eat? Nope. They just ignore me as if I'm not here. So I guess I shouldn't be here 

 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Finding Harmony

                                    

 In psychology, harmony refers to a positive state of inner peace, calmness, and balance, as well as the feeling of being in tune with the world.

My journey seeking harmony began on April 25th. I started spiraling downward at a frightening pace. I couldn't sleep at first, then slept all the time. I didn't eat or bathe. I didn't take care of myself at all. I was just a dirty lump of a woman curled up in my covers sleeping the days away. I kept think of my mom and dad, and how much I wanted to be with them. I was tired of trying to live a successful life. I had reached the end on the line. In most other depressions, I would see at least the tiniest speck of light. I would hear my mother's voice in the darkness calling me back from the brink. This time I heard nothing. I saw nothing. I was dead inside, so I thought I'd might as well be dead for real. 

I took the pills with the intention of sleeping and not waking up for a while. If it turned out I didn't wake up, then so be it. It was an off the wall attempt at suicide, but an attempt nonetheless I must confess. Truth is, I like sleeping out of all human activities. I can put my head down into my pillow and pull the covers up and feel safe from the world. The world has always been a harsh place for me, and I was exhausted trying to manage life on my own. All the stress, chaos and my job, which I now admit I hate made me so incredibly tired that I couldn't even hold my head up at times. At the end, I couldn't hold it up at all. So, I tried to end all the pain, shame, guilt and agonizing longing with 16 sleeping pills and sixteen sedatives. Had I taken them all at once, I'd surely be dead, but I took them over a 12 hour period, so I wouldn't throw up. 

Finally, I decided a few days after surviving that I needed help. I called a place called Harmony Hills in Florida. I told them my story, and they told me to go to my local emergency room. So, I did. I went to the emergency room and told them what I did. An overnight stay, and 15 vials of blood later, I was medically cleared to go inpatient, but the sent me to a local psych ward because I was considered a danger to myself. I didn't mind, the hospital was nice and clean, plus I got a room to myself. I was there for 9 days, from May 3rd to May 12th. I was discharged to my home. Once I got there, I called Florida again, and they booked me a flight for the 16th. 

I was in Harmony hills from May 16th to June 12th, in all 27 days. I am glad I went. My head was still so screwed up when I got there, and my depression was still deep. The only thing they ask is that you follow some easy rules, go  to groups and participate. At first, I didn't take part much, but gradually I found my voice. It had been almost nonexistent. The question I went there with and asked myself every morning was "Do you want to die?"

I'll admit now, that the first couple of weeks, I answered "yes". I did still want to die. But gradually, as I learned about myself, I became unsure and finally became "no, I don't want to die". Problem was, I wasn't sure how to live. I am still trying to find my purpose. I did keep a detailed journal of my feelings every day of my stay. I wrote my future self a letter. One of our groups was about our dreams and aspirations that we want to accomplish in 10 years. 

I said that I wanted to be a successful, working actress. That is my goal. It's the only thing I want to do. I decided to place all my energies into making that dream come true. Of course, I know I have other goals as well. I'd like to get on my feet financially. I'd like to get involved with some groups where I can make some friends. I'd like to have a significant other, but that goal is not a requirement. lol. 

Have I achieved harmony? Not yet, but I believe I have laid the foundation. I start my IOP tomorrow. It runs 7 days a week from 9-12 pm. I hope I get something out of it. I will keep my head up, and pay attention to the signs. I will be okay. I will be well. One second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time. Peace, Joy, Love -B