Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Life So Far Without You

Hi Mom,
I was just thinking about you and I thought I would write and let you know what's been going on.  It's been  a rollercoaster ride the past few weeks.  My emotions have been all over the place,
About a month ago, I wasn't feeling so well.  I stopped taking my meds, and then I was so thirsty all the time.  Anyway to make a long story short, I ended up in the hospital with hyperglycemia.  My blood sugar had skyrocketed to over 700. 
I was in intensive care for 4 days.  Even if you were here, you couldn't have visited me, because of the virus.  It was kind of nice being in the hospital, having people taking care of me.  No one is looking out for me anymore.  I've had to put on my big girl panties and take control of my own health.  I suppose that's the way it should be, but I liked having someone who could look  at my eyes and tell if I felt good or not.
Things have gotten a little better with April and Erica, now that I have a little extra money coming in.  It's not much, but I did sell a couple of policies that gave me a small commision.  I'm hoping to get another check this coming Friday. 
I'm still working from home, which I hope I can continue to do.  I'm not sure at this point how I would do if I had to hit the road.  When I get bored, I take pictures of the cats and post them on Facebook. I make up things for them to say.  People really seem to enjoy my writing.  Your not missing much on TV. All of the shows had to stop production back in March because of the virus.  I've been watching murder documentaries.  I don't know why, but that stuff just fascinates me.  I know you don't approve and want me to watch something to make me laugh.  A lot of times I do. But, I work from 9-9, so I have to catch what I can during the day.  By the time bedtime comes around, I can barely see.
Speaking of seeing, I need glasses.  I think I need bifocals at that.   I'm getting so old, mommy.  I don't feel like I should be 55.  I guess that's because I'm immature.
I've started calling Dad a lot more often than once a week.  Sometimes, we talk for a while.  Other times, it's his famous 3 minute check-in call.  But, he doesn't seem to mind.  I know I really like it.  I tell him about my job and he gives me advice and encouragement. 
I still see my therapist once a week.  It's going pretty well.  I'm talking a lot.  Which is good I guess.  I had a meltdown a couple of weeks ago, so I've been seeing the psychiatrist more often.  She had to adjust my meds a couple of times.  I think it's finally right.  We'll see in 4 more weeks I guess.
I haven't heard from  Jerry for a long time.  I don't know why.  I miss him.  Tell him to call me or something.
On Friday the 26th, it will be 4 months since you died.  I hope Heaven is all you dreamed it would be.
Tell everyone I said hello.  I love you Mommy, now and forever.
B
 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Hidden Anger

If you ask almost anyone who knows me, they will tell you that I'm a nice, quiet person who is generous, loving and doesn't cause trouble.  Sounds like the description of your average serial killer, right?  Well, that's pretty much me.  No, I'm not confessing to a murder.  I've never killed anyone, but I sure as hell thought about it.
I have found that people who have suffered trauma, have incredible deep seated rage.  They are angry at their abusers, and the people that failed to come to their aid. 
I have plotted revenge on the kids who bullied me while growing up.  I have dreamed of torturing and cruelly castrating my rapist.  There are times when I dream of shooting up places or bombing buildings because of something someone did to me.  But, the difference is, I know right from wrong.  I know it is a sin.  I suppose I need to go to confession about these impure thoughts.
I had a dream about my mom last night.  We were in the kitchen at our house.  I was so made at her.  I snapped at her, and made faces every time she spoke.  When she asked me why, I told her I didn't like her anymore.  Then, I woke up.  I wasn't upset about the dream.  I was just curious.
I thought about it a while and realized, that I was entering another stage of grief. Anger.  I am so mad at her for leaving me.  I have so much to tell her and she's not here.  I don't feel her with me.  It's like she disappeared.  My grandparents still come to me.  Why not her?  Where is she?  Why did she stop coming to see about me?  Does she think I'm doing okay?  Well, I guess I am, but last week, I barely held it together.  Where was she then?
There were times when I was growing up, I hated her.  I hated that she was a paranoid schizophrenic. I hated the knots in my stomach every time I came home from school.  I hated the suicide attempts and everything that went with her disease.
Now that I have bipolar with schizoid affect, I get it now.  But, I still hate it.  I am learning, finally, after 35 years, not to take this anger out on myself or others.  I' channeling it in other directions.  Mostly, I'm working a lot, and writing.  So far, it's working. 
#Peace #Joy #Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The New Normal

We have been on statewide lockdown for a little over a month now.  A new virus crept over the world in the latter part of 2019.  It's a novel corona virus, so it is called covid-19.  It's a virus that invades the lungs and causes you to slowly choke to death.  Anyway, as of today there are something like 543k Americans infected and close to 47k American deaths.  The current administration's response has been slow and chaotic.
President Chump  has shown himself as he really is, a liar, a cheat, and mentally unfit for this position.  He has defied scientists, and fires those who contradict him.  I refuse to say his true name because it turns my stomach.  I never liked him, even when he was just a piggish business man.  He is such a narcissist, that it is a true personality disorder.
Anyway, we have been banned from nonessential travel.  You can go to the store for groceries, doctor appointments, and drive-thrus for food.  But, most businesses have been closed.  Many people have lost their jobs, which is unfortunate, but isn't that better than losing your life?
The lockdown didn't really affect me emotionally as I am introverted anyway.  I don't like crowds of people.  I don't go out very often.  I started a new job a few weeks ago, and I am working at home which suits me just fine.
I haven't been feeling too well for the past few weeks.  My joints hurt a lot, and I am extremely tired no matter how much rest I get.  My sister insisted I get a covid test, so I got one yesterday.  I get the results back tomorrow.  I see my primary care doctor tomorrow also.  I really wanted to go to the office because I want a blood test.  However, it a telemed call.  I'll talk to him frankly, and explain my concerns.  I know there is something wrong medically, not mentally.  I will not be dismissed.  Wish me luck.  B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Spring Cleaning

It's Spring.  The weather is getting warmer and the air is clean since the stay home order went into effect.  There aren't as many cars on the road, so there is less pollution.  Funny how people are now realizing that all of the problems of air, noise and water pollution are the fault of humankind. I always knew this.  Some of the shit heads in government have no choice but to admit that they were wrong.

I started today with a good attitude.  At least, that's what I conjured up a little bit later in the morning.
I woke up at 6:15 am, a full 1/2 hour before my alarm.  I had to pee so I got up. I'm always a bit dazed when I wake up.  It's the drugs I take before bed.  I go and put on my coffee, then go smoke a cigarette.  If you remember from my introduction, I said I was trying to quit smoking?  Well, the struggle remains.  However, with all of the things going on in my life right now,  it's not a major concern.
I had physical therapy at 8 am.  I'm still trying to recover from the back surgery I had in November.  I think I am just going to have to face the fact, that I am going to be in pain for the rest of my life. Most of the time it's bearable.  But, there are some days when it feels like my back is broken in two.  I just want to rip out my spine and soak it in cold water or something. 
Well, I did a little cleaning in my room.  I went through some papers, and organized my desk.  I have all kinds of papers for work, and they were just in a big pile.  So, I organized them by topic and filed them accordingly.  That way, I should be able to find what I need more easily, rather than shuffle through a bunch of paperwork.
Work is going pretty well.  It's stressful because there is so much to learn and remember, but it is interesting.  The hours are long.  The other night, I didn't get done until 10 pm.   I hope I can keep up.  I have a set  routine for bed, and I try to get lights out at 11 pm.  If I get ready for bed at 10, I watch TV for an hour just to relax and let my meds take effect. 
I usually watch sitcoms, something that I don't have to think about too much.  I like something that will put a smile on my face before I go to bed.
So, I have some more physical and spiritual cleaning to do  this weekend.  I need to dust my room, change the bed, vacuum, wash clothes and file some more papers.  Spiritually, I must start attending Mass again.  I am sending a membership request to become a member of the Catholic Church of St. Monica.  It's not to  far from me and it looks very nice.
well, that's all for now I guess.  I  have a couple of things to do before I get back to work.

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

It's been seven weeks and one day since you left the physical world.  How can I explain the incredible vacuum that is in my life right now?  I have spoken to you on so many occasions and imagined our conversations, but it is not enough.  I want you here, next to me, on the phone, wherever, but here in my world.
Sometimes, when I think of you it brings joy to me. Other times, your memory brings a sadness that's almost too much to bear.  It happens all the time.  I could be watching TV, or eating something, or even driving in my car.  Then suddenly, your face flashes before me, and I remember that you're gone.
I have never asked why.  I never questioned God for taking you away.  I prayed that if He did not heal you, to take you quickly.  So, He did.  There was still a trace of the little child in me, that hoped you would live forever, so I would never have to go through this.  But, I realize that was selfish, and impossible.  So, I had to let you go.
Things in the world are so crazy right now, that we haven't been able to say a proper goodbye.  Your celebration has been postponed until further notice. So, the family is in limbo, at least I am.  I am moving on with life despite my feelings.  We had your birthday party, as you know since you showed up and flickered the candle.  I hope you liked it.
I think you would be proud of me for the way I'm handling things.  I have not fallen into a deep, dark pit of despair that everyone was worried about.  I got a job at American Income as a benefits representative.  Basically, I speak to people about the benefits their group has set up for them and see if they qualify for more.  I know it sounds like I'm just an insurance salesman, but it's much more than that.  I help people evaluate their lives and point out the gaps in insurance that would leave their families in deep financial distress.
Also, you know about Tony.  Oh my gosh mom, he is so wonderful, and funny, sweet, charming, smart and supportive.  I told him all about my condition, and he didn't bat an eyelash.  Instead, he disclosed his own battle with depression.  How great is that?  Anyway, we are totally connected.  I haven't actually met him in person yet, since we started talking during the lockdown.  But, mom, I really like him, and I think you would have too.
I've really been thinking of going back to church regularly.  The world is just so crazy, I need some to anchor me.  I have gotten closer to God, but I haven't attended a worship service, not even virtually.  I don't know why.  I know it would do me good, but it's like "no, you can't!"  It's a matter of the scientific part of my brain talking to my soul.  So far, my brain is winning.  I can't find a televised worship service here that is Scripture driven.  It just seems like a bunch of shouting to me, or televangelists asking for money.  I have to admit, I didn't check out Saint Monica's yet for virtual services yet, so I guess I'm just making excuses for my laziness.  I promise to check it out.
Well Mommy, I guess that's all for now.  It feels really good to talk to you and let you know how I'm feeling and what's going on.  I wish I could print this out and mail it to you.  I suppose I could tie it to a balloon and send it upwards, but then there's the whole environmental impact to worry about, and powerlines and such.  So, I'll just send it to you by brain waves.  Please know how much I love you and miss you.  You are my heartbeat
Love, B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Mom

Today is my mom's birthday.  She would have been 80 years old.  She died on February 26, 2020 of pancreatic cancer.  It took her quickly.  She was diagnosed on New Year's Day.  I was devastated when I learned of the diagnosis.  But her death was kind of a relief.
You see, my mom and I had a very intense connection.  I spent most of my life living in fear of her death.  My mom was a paranoid schizophrenic, who had attempted suicide 3 times when I was growing up.  I walked around in a constant state of anxiety until the day she died.
It's weird I know, but now that my greatest fear has been realized, the knot in my stomach has loosened.  I miss her terribly.  The first week, I woke up every day and reached for the phone to call her.  When I realized she wasn't there, my heart broke again and again.
Now, when I think of her, I smile.  I remember her laughter, her smile, the little things that she would say when we talked.  I remember how she used to talk me down from a panic attack.  I remember all the times she came to the hospital to visit me when I was inpatient.
She never gave up on me. She always told me that I was beautiful, smart, and a good person.  She loved me when I couldn't love myself.  I have fallen so many times, and it was my mom who encouraged me to trust God, and get back up.  Sometimes, she would just look at me, and ask me if I needed a hug.  I would fall into her arms and she'd hold me tight.  It always felt like she was putting my broken pieces back together.
I remember our family tradition of waffles on Sunday morning.  We still do that to this day. 
My mom loved hard. She was devoted to her family.  When she and my dad got divorced, she never remarried.  She didn't want anyone else.  So, she just concentrated on us kids, and her siblings. Her love never waivered, unless you did something unforgivable.  But, if you knew my mom, you couldn't hurt her.  She just had such a big heart. 
Heaven has her now.  She is dancing and singing with the Lord.  I can't be mad at that.  I'm not angry at her for dying.  I now have to rely on the things that she taught me, in order to look after myself.  So, far things are going pretty well.  I have a new job, and I met someone I really, really like.  I talk to her a lot, and I know she's happy for me.  There  are times when I wish I could see her in person, but I know she is always there, watching me.
I just want to make her proud.  I love you Mommy, now and forever!!!!

Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Free Falling

It's been a long time.  I wish I could say things were good, but I can't.  I guess I will start by saying I have relocated to Duluth, GA.  This was not my choice.  I was asked to leave my former residence by my aunt, who simply stated that I had to go by the end of summer 2019.  She gave me three months. 

I guess it's my own fault really.  I was very depressed, and had been hospitalized 3 times in as many months.  I attempted suicide.  I felt completely worthless and a burden.  I tried to find a place of my own, but couldn't afford it.  My brother and sister talked, and it was decided I would move to Duluth to live with her.
It hasn't been easy.  My sister doesn't really want me here, and doesn't talk to me about my feelings or emotions. I am still depressed, and no one in my family wants to deal with me.  I am constantly told to get myself together.  I have a therapist, but can't afford to see her often.  I am still on medication, but can't afford it all the time. 
I have been looking, but can't find a job.  I don't even know if I can work.  I just feel so useless all of the time.  I am alone most of the time.  I have no friends.  I spend a lot of time just listening to the radio or watching tv.
Whenever I post my feelings on Facebook, people tell me I am not alone or I should talk to God.  I don't think He hears me anymore.  My pain is relentless and unending.  I have been suicidal the past week, but I am not going to the hospital again.  I will disappear or die first.
Now, things are as bad as they've ever been.  My mom has pancreatic cancer, and I am devastated.  No one will talk about it, and I am not handling it well.  Once again, I have been told to get myself together.  My mom is fading fast, and I can't bear it.  My mom is my best friend and confidante.  I don't think I can live without her.
I am free falling through time and space and I am alone with only my screams to accompany me.  The growing darkness of my mental state is enveloping me, and no one seems to notice.  I am dying.  I don't think I'll be missed.

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: No Crying Allowed

So, I moved to Duluth on August 10th.  It's been downhill since then.  I have no support here.  I get on their nerves.  They said I brought chaos to their lives.  Everything is my fault.  I'm not allowed to cry. I must put on a smile and act happy.  I hate them.

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Return

Oh my, it's been a long time.  I wish I could say something wonderful happened, like I met a guy and am getting married.  Unfortunately, life only works like that in the movies.  I still have no friends despite putting myself "out there".  You know, look people in the eye, show them that dazzling smile, and say in your most lilting voice "hello".
I've been doing my hair everyday.  It's grown out a lot.  I'm rockin' the soft curly Afro.  No more chemicals for this girl.  I might dye it though, a little too much grey.  I'll be 54 next month, but I don't want to look it.  I've lost 30 lbs. since my last post.  I went on a healthy eating plan, with an occasional indulgence.  I'm the type of person that gets cravings for a certain thing, and I'll try to avoid that thing.  But what happens is, I eat everything else trying to avoid that one thing, which I just give up and eat anyway.  So, not only do I feel like Jabba the Hut, I also feel guilty for having destroyed the days success.
Remember last year when I had my D&C for my post menopausal bleeding?  Well, I haven't bled since June 2018.  Well, TA-DA!! I started bleeding again this past April.  The cramps were so bad, I could hardly stand-up straight. I got the cramps in May, but no bleeding.  It came back with a vengeance in June, and 2weeks later I got it on July 1st.  It's almost over.  I have gynecological appointment on the 9th, so we'll see what happens.
I'm moving to Duluth, GA to share a house with my sister and niece.  My aunt whom I live with now as well as my mom, told me she wants me out.  Apparently, she is sick of me.  I don't know what I said or did, but we are no longer getting along.  She barely speaks to me.  I know she thinks I'm lazy and I make excuses for not working, but that's not true.  I thought she understood my disease, but I guess not.  She doesn't understand I can be fine for a day, week, month, etc, but then all of a sudden my soul is cloaked in darkness, and it hurts to breathe.  I don't have strength to get out of bed or eat.
I thought she understood, but I guess not.  It really hurts.
I'm doing better now.  I'm 6 months stable now, so it seems my drug cocktail is working.  Both my doctor and therapist are very pleased with my progress, and I've even started looking for a part-time job.  I use my coping skills a lot, it's either that or cry all the time.  I still cry, but at least now I know why.  I know the reason and emotion behind my tears instead of being miserable without knowing the reason.  I'm feeling good most days.  I wake feeling optimistic.  Sometimes it lasts, sometimes not.  But that's okay, so far I'm taking good care of me.   #peace #joy #love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: I Woke Up

It has been 3 months since I went to bed. I slept all day and all night.

I didn't even get up to smoke.  I abandoned light, drawing my curtains tight.

My sweet mother woke me up once a day so I would eat something.

The rest of the house was too bright too loud. I did not linger.

I saw my doctor and therapist weekly.  I wore my pajamas. I did not bathe regularly.

I despised the sight of myself. Teeth covered with film, breath smelling foul

My blood pressure and blood sugar went unregulated.  I did not care if I died. That was the point.

I did not go inpatient as I was inpatient three times in 2018.  Once, I was committed against my will.

After many medication changes, and outpatient sessions, I am on the verge of bankruptcy.

I cannot afford to get sick.  I am constantly borrowing money from my family to squeak by as it is.

However, last week something happened.  I looked in the mirror, and I saw a tiny sparkle in my eye. 

There was a medication change eight weeks ago, so I guess it finally took effect. 

We also took in a foster dog.  I am trying, but failing, not to fall in love with him, but he is perfect.

I hope I keep feeling this way.  I do not want to go back down that black hole.

It's only been a week. I just woke up.

peace, joy, love

B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Tears

Despair trickles down the walls of my room.
I am trapped on an island of isolation.
Distress calls have been made,
But no savior has come.
Voices in my head are so unkind.
She is getting stronger,
Her words dig deep like daggers in my soul.
I tried to stop her, but she laughs in my face.
Working so hard to change my life.
Trying to make the days worthwhile.
Two steps forward, three steps back.
I will never be well.
Don't give up, I say, you can do this.
In the end, I curl up into fetal position.
The sound of my weeping the only sound.
Waves crashing against the rocks.
I sit and ponder my fate, my face in the wind.
As the tears slip silently down my cheeks
All is bleak.


Peace, Joy, Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Art of Detachment

I've been watching her for sometime now.  I wonder what she's like, what she thinks about.  She is a quiet woman.  She can go for days without speaking barely a word.  She has a quiet way about her.  Mostly she moves silently from room to room, but her body sometimes makes a clicking noise when she walks due to a knee injury.

I watch her as she writes in her journal, or types upon her keyboard.  Her face shows little expression.  Sometimes, she cries when she writes.  I can only assume it is because she is pouring out secrets on her paper because she has no one else with which to share them.  I could be wrong.  Her eyes may be watering because sometimes she writes in the wee small hours of the morning.

I look at her face and see a potential for beauty.  She could be a very pretty woman if she tried.  She's a big woman, and her skin is golden brown. She needs a pedicure, but she is not the kind of woman who treats herself to that luxury anymore,  Her legs are scarred.  Her right leg bares surgical scars on her knee and ankle, and both her feet have scars from what look like bug bites that she scratched.  She has no waistline, having disappeared long ago with years of compulsive eating.  I have seen her late at night when she binge eats.  Again, her face has no expression as she eats for some reason only she and her God know.  Her face is not exceptional.  She has fine eyes to quote Mr. D'Arcy.  Her skin is clear, but she does have freckles across her cheeks.  Her eyebrows used to be dark, bold and finely arched, but they are no longer as grey hairs have crept in and disappear in the light of the sun.  From watching her all this time, I would have to say her mouth was her best feature.  It is a small mouth, with lips stained a dark rose color, but time has stolen their softness.  They are now dry and cracked.  She treats them constantly with balms, but to no avail. 

I know this woman quite well.  Her name is Beverly.  She often goes by Bev.  But, I am not she.  I am Babe.  I am the true self that lives inside her.  I am the woman she used to be.  I dress well, I drive a black convertible.  I have a great circle of friends, with which I love to go to dinner and happy hour.  I get my hair done weekly, and mani-pedis once every two weeks.  I have my own well appointed apartment and a successful career.  I have a Chow dog, whom I love to pieces, and family I adore.  I am not afraid of people, and I sleep well at night.  I still have bipolar II disorder, but have been stable for years.  

Sometimes, I come out when she lets me.  I take us shopping, to get our hair done, or go to the movies.  I haven't been out in quite some time.  Bev's depression has taken over our lives.  We don't do anything fun anymore.  All she does is sleep and write and cry.  She worries all the time and trusts no one.  I wish she would loosen her grip.  I want to get a haircut, but she's afraid to leave the house.

Sometimes, when I watch her, I feel sorry for her.  I try to talk to her about doing things we both used to enjoy, but I can't get through to her.  Quite often, I hate her.  I wish I could make her disappear.  But for now, I wait.  Sitting here detached from existence like a snowflake waiting for winter.

I learned to detach myself from her many years ago, starting when I was seven and I lay frozen on that musty carpet while he put his hands on me.  I've employed detachment a million times since then in order to escape any reality with which Bev was trying to handle.  The fact is she couldn't handle it, that's when she called me.  I won't leave her, she's just a little girl inside really.  She needs me.  So, I will continue to wait and watch.  Don't hurt her.  If you do, I will come after you with a box full of crazy.  Remember, she's Bev, I'm Babe.  Don't get it twisted.