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!!!