Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Sorry I'm late, I Didn't want to Come

                

It's been months.  I have sat down so many times to write, but then the urge passes.  I supposed I should write more often, in order to empty my head.  But, somehow, I always chicken out, as if I'm afraid of some grand revelation. I'm also afraid that I won't have anything worth saying. 

Nothing much has changed.  I'm still depressed. I'm still in mourning, and I am still bored out of my ever-loving mind. Well, there has been one major change.  I met a man.  I gave up my fuck buddy Brad, and have met a new man.  His name is Kevin.  He's 6'6" and 60 years old.  He's handsome and sweet, and smart.  He's also poor as a church mouse.  He's basically homeless, as he stays with different friends. 

He does have a couple of jobs, his main job is at night.  He's a fuel technician at the airport.  He has a couple of side hustles.  He is a dreamer, and has some big plans.  He has a couple of lawsuit settlements he is waiting on, with which he is going start his business.  He wants to start a limo service.  

We don't see each other very much, so we talk on the phone.  He is so very easy to talk to.  We talk about almost anything.  He's been to my house a couple of times, but he fell asleep both times.  He kind of makes me nervous.  I could really fall in love with him, but so far I am restraining myself. 

As far as my depression is concerned, I'm not actually sure where it is coming from.  I am still grieving for my parents.  Almost every other thought is of one of them.  Kevin occupies my other thoughts.  I am still out on disability from Amazon.  I am bored almost to death.  I putter around this house all day, trying to invent things to do.  I figure if I can keep myself busy, then I wouldn't have to think.  

However, every morning I have to decide if I want to get out of bed and do something with the day.  Tomorrow, for instance, I am going to the post office to mail a letter.  I also have a therapy appointment.  That's it; nothing else planned for the day.  Do I get up and shower and dress?  What's the point really? But, I do get up and carry out my activities of daily living, just for the sake of not falling deeper into a dark hole. 

I don't sleep much anymore.  I get up in the wee hours and watch mindless TV.  Tonight is a good example.  I think I slept for two hours, and here I am.  Oh well, I guess I should try to relax and go back to sleep.  I might masturbate.  It relaxes me.  But, I'm not really feeling horny.  That's all for now I guess.  Peace, Joy, Love - B  

 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Ashes on the Table

 

Well, they are both here in my room.  My parents are sitting on a table in a corner of the room.  Their urns sitting next to each other with a picture of them next to each of them.  They have been reunited in death.  At least that's the way I put them.  

I think I will keep them for a few years.  I suppose it would be morbid for some people to have ashes in their bedroom, but it gives me a great deal of comfort.  I have them nearby again.  I say good morning, and talk to them when ever I want.  Does that strike you as strange?  It shouldn't.  It's not like I hear their voices talking back.  I almost wish I could.  I don't hear anything from them.  

It's like they disappeared.  I had a session with my therapist yesterday.  I cried.  I tried to explain how I was feeling.  I feel like I don't belong to anyone anymore.  I am an orphan.  I have no family.  But, that's not true.  I have a sister, brother, niece and nephew, aunts etc.  But, it's not the same as having parents.  

With parents comes a home. A place to return to on major holidays; a home base.  Home is a place where memories are stored.  I don't have that anymore.  My memories, what few I have, are scattered to the four corners of the earth.  I'm trying desperately to remember things.  Going through all these photographs helps.  It's helping me to remember chunks of my life that were wiped  out by shock therapy.

I found a couple of my letters from my mom.  Maybe not letters, but journal entries.  In one, she talks about how much she loves to do laundry.  I thought that was funny, since laundry is my favorite thing to do too.  I love the smell of fresh laundry.  So did she.  The other entry was about a nightmare she had.  It reminded me about my own nightmares.  It's almost as if my mom and I are the same person.  

So, there they are.  Ashes on my table, sitting there watching over me.  I don't mind.  I know they will protect me.  I can turn to them at any time.  Regardless of the fact that they were divorced, they are my parents, and they will always be together in my heart. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Dear Dad

 

Dear Dad, 

It's been 41 days.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.  I long to talk to you and hear you call me baby girl. It doesn't seem real.  One day you were here and the next you were gone.  It's not fair.  I wasn't ready to lose you.  I had no time to prepare.

The last few days haven't been too great.  I've been sleeping too much, and staring at the walls.  I haven't been able to delete your phone number.  It's kind of like, as long as I have it, you might call.  I know that's just unrealistic and childish, but I don't care.  

Julie is sending your ashes to us in a couple of weeks.  I picked out an urn for you.  It has an eagle flying over a mountain.  I think you will like it.  I know you're divorced, but we are going to sit you on a shelf next to mom.  It's only temporary.  Mom wants to be scattered on Grandmom and Grandpop's graves.  Jerald will take her up there, when things clear up. 

The weather up north is dreadful.  They've had snow storm after storm. Some places have over 20 inches of snow.  The weather here has been horrible too. It's just been cold and rainy.  I guess that's added to my downward mood.  It's sunny today, so I am feeling better. 

Oh dad, I miss you terribly.  I've only cried twice.  Is that weird?  Sometimes, I want to just weep, but I can't.  My doctor says that my meds are keeping me on an even keel.  She's probably right.  Please visit me if you can.  I still have that old thermal jacket of your's.  I wear it whenever I need to feel your arms around me.  I love you daddy.  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Valentine's Day

 

It's Valentine's Day.  The day that all single people dread.  I had almost hoped this year would be different, as I have a lover.  However,  it's not.  He avoids holidays with me as if I were some kind of side chick.  I guess I am.  I'm not in love with him, but is it too much to want some kind acknowledgment?  Perhaps, I'm just a fool.

I do want a hug, a kiss, and comforting words.  But, not from Brad, my parents.  I want to hear my mom and dad laugh.  I want to give them hugs.  I want the warmth of being in their embrace.  It's been almost a year since my mom died, and a little over a month for my dad.

The grief washes over me sometimes, like a powerful wave.  It knocks me off my feet and leaves me gasping for air.  I stayed in bed all day on Thursday.  I just didn't care.  I want my parents.  I didn't get to say goodbye to either of them the way I wanted to.  I didn't get to say the things I wanted to say.

Life is such a chore.  Sometimes, it takes you to the highest highs, and then everything comes crashing down around your ears and you can't make sense of anything.  I think if it wasn't for my meds, I'd have been hospitalized.  I feel sad today.  I would like to be with someone, but then I want to be alone.  

I'm watching old movies today.  I just finished Wuthering Heights, and now I'm watching It Happened One Night.  Maybe I'll take a nap.  I feel like eating some fried chicken.  Off to  KFC, I guess.  

Happy Valentine's Day to me.  I'm tired. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Merry Christmas and My Dad Died

 

I haven't posted in a while, and I have good reasons.   Things have been crazy for the past 12 months.  I had hoped after Aunt Berta's death, things would look up around here.  However, I was greatly mistaken.  Christmas was great. I got some great gifts and spent entirely too much money on everyone else.  Without mom to buy for, I felt hard pressed to spend money on someone, so I bought a bunch of stuff for April and Erica.  

I had wanted to spend the holidays with my father because I hadn't seen him in five years.  I couldn't do that in 2020 because of the virus etc. But, I wanted to visit him in 2021.  However, that was not to be.  I talked to my father on Christmas day, he sounded a bit stuffy.  He insisted that it was just a cold and he felt okay.  By December 31, he was in the hospital having been diagnosed with COVID. 

I had the pleasure of being the family member that the doctor talked to about my fathers case.  I talked to her, Dr. Casement, three times.  By the end of our conversations, I was informed my father had refused additional care, and that he was in fact going to die within hours.  

We set up a Zoom call to talk to him one last time, and we did.  He looked terrible, he was struggling with every breath.  He told us that he would be fine and not to worry about him.  He told us to go ahead and live our lives.  He even made a joke, saying to cremate him and put his ashes on a shelf so he can keep an eye on me.  We said our I love you's and good byes.  On Wednesday January 6th at 3:50 am, my father died.  I became an orphan.  

So, I lost my mom in the beginning of 2020, and my father at the beginning of 2021.  So far, this year is turning out to be as shitty as last year.  How am I?  I don't know.  Most of the time, I can go about my business, but then other times I get the overwhelming desire to call him.  I used to call him 2 or 3 times a week.  Now, nothing.  The only calls I get are from doctors and spam calls.

I got drunk last Sunday and freaked out completely.  I cried hysterically, slammed doors and yelled at people.  Needless to say, I got in trouble with April and Erica.  But, I apologized the next day, and we are cool.  I've been trying to find things to do not to think about things so much.  

But, I ended up working on photo albums featuring my parents.  I got new albums from Hobby Lobby and having been putting the pictures in them.  I also took my dad's Air Force picture to get it matted and framed.  I found my moms senior class picture and am having it done.  

One reason I am trying so hard to stay busy is because I'm going through some health stuff.  My right ankle is totally messed up.  I have osteoarthritis, and much to my surprise, my achilles tendon has completely calcified. The surgeon said he will have to graft a cadaver tendon on my ankle.  Also, I'm having nerve issues.  I think I have diabetic neuropathy.  But, the good news is that my A1c is low enough that I no longer need insulin.  I just need my metformin for the next 3 months, and if it's still low, I may be able to stop diabetic meds all together.  

I am still with Brad of a fashion.  We did not see each other at Christmas.  We spent the 23rd together.  We also didn't spend New Year's eve together.  Valentine's Day is approaching, and I doubt I'll see him.  I'm not upset about it though.  I figure we are just friends with benefits.  If I do see him, then that will be a pleasant surprise.

So that's it for now.  Life is sucky, and I'm trying to keep my head up.  Staying positive is a challenge, but I just take it minute by minute.  Right now, I'm okay. It's only the 25th day of the new year and I'm exhausted already.  Happy Fucking New Year. I want my dad. - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Holiday Letter to Mom

 

Dear Mom, 

Well, Christmas is 9 days away.  I feel a little lost right now. I want so much to call you and get your advice, hear your laugh, and get a phone hug.  But, now, more than ever, Im hit with the fact that you are gone.  There are no Christmas cookies this year.  The smell of baked goods in our apartment comes from candles.  I thought about baking, but it just hurts too much.  I go buy the cookie ingredients, and the sugars and I start to cry.  I've been thinking of something that I could do to honor your memory.  

I've decided to watch your favorite movies so I could hear you laughing in the corners of my mind.  Erica had a good idea.  She said I should buy something and donate it.  I just might do that, like buy a turkey for someone at your church.  I'll have to contact Angela about it.

Anyway Mom, a lot has happened since I last wrote.  I'm not talking to Tony anymore.  He was very sketchy when it came to us getting together.  This was after 5 months of texting 2 or 3 times a day.  One day, I asked him to call me, and he never did.  I decided not to chase him, and see if he ever would reach out, but he didn't.  It's funny, I thought I was in love.  Anyway, after about 3 weeks, I moved on.  I stayed on my own for about a month.  Then, I met Brad. 

Brad is 49, divorced and white.  He's an average middle-aged white guy, but he still has his hair.  He has blue eyes and brown hair.  He's about 6 feet with a bit of belly.  We texted for about a month, and finally met in October.  He's very nice, and he thinks I'm beautiful.  When I'm with him, I feel sexy as hell.  We have had sex.  It's amazing.  I feel free, and not ashamed of my body. I'm not in love with him, yet.  But we talk about a lot of things, and we are gradually finding out each other's quirks.  He has a good job, with great money.  He has his own home in Athens.  I think you would like him. 

I'm working at Amazon as a sortation associate.  I like my job, but to be honest the bloom has faded from the rose.  I'm dreaming about packages, and warehouses.  Everywhere I look, there are boxes waiting to be sorted and placed into routing bags for delivery.  Even with my sleeping pills, I dream about it.  

I notified SSA about my job, and I got a letter from them today saying my disability will continue for 6 more months.  I was given a 9 month work trial.  So, I get to keep my benefits until June 2021.  I also got a check from Uncle Bill today for 2k, that is a gift from Aunt Berta.  I've decided to save it toward a new Subaru Ascent.  It's a really nice SUV that I've driven a few times as a loaner for when my car was in the shop.  I love that car.  There's plenty of room for everyone and their stuff.  

I'm down to once a month for therapy sessions and once every 3 months for psychiatrist visits.  I've been making a lot of decisions and figuring things out for myself.  I'm not so needy anymore.  I've finally developed those coping skills I've been trying to learn for the past 30 years.  

Zelda the cat is just fabulous.  She is the kitty I've always wanted.  She's fun, affectionate and smart.  She loves to play fetch.  Zuko thinks she's pretty great, but Zabra can do without her most of the time.  We are trying to do a rent to own house, and found one we love.  We're just waiting to hear back from the agent.  When we get settled, I want to get another cat and Erica wants a dog.  She wants a Samoyed.  It's a Nordic breed, medium-sized and fluffy.  I hope we get the house.  It's gorgeous, you would love it.  

Well, I guess that's all for now.  I just wanted to catch you up on all I've been doing.  I really miss you.  I've seen you pop in for visits just to check on me by way of a cardinal.  I say hi, but you usually don't stay long.  I saw you the other day, you stayed for a while.  That was nice.  I hope Aunt Berta is settling in okay.  I'm sure you were glad to see her again.  Tell her thank you for the gift.  I miss her too.  As always, tell grandmom, grandpop, nana, poppop, Uncle Millard and Aunt Neatsy I said hello.  Things just aren't the same without you.   I love you mommy, now and for eternity.  

B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Amazon Woman

 

Well, I got a new job.  I now work at Amazon in Buford.  I'm an Amazonian.  I started on Friday 10/2/2020.  My hours are 1:20 am to 11:50 am Friday through Monday.  That's four 10 hour days.  The job is physical.  It doesn't take much thought, but its hard on the feet and back.  I'm on my feet the entire of time. 

We get two 20 minute breaks and a 1/2 hour lunch.  We get paid for breaks, but have to clock out for lunch.  I make $16 per hour.  So, I'll be making about $640 a week.  That's $2500 a month, so I'll be stopping my disability if I get hired permanently.  Right now, I'm just seasonal.  So, I have a job until the first of the year, unless I fuck it up.  

So far, my mental state has been good.  I haven't been cycling, and my mood is pretty stable.  I was a little concerned about the hours, but surprisingly, I am getting up on time and making it to work. 

The people there are really nice, and very helpful.  No one has yelled at me for asking the same question over again.  So far, I have done all the jobs except inducting.  Inductors are the people who take the packages off the truck and put them on the main conveyor belt.  I think so, anyway.  I've been a diverter, a stow buffer (sorter), and a stower.  A stower is the person who puts the packages in the designated bags which are later picked to go on carts for the assigned routes.

The drivers pick up their packages according to their assigned routes around 9 am.  Once the packages are picked, they are placed on carts and moved to the designated staging area for the drivers to load.  That time of day is organized chaos.  There are loaded carts being pulled to the staging area, the drivers are pulling their vans into the warehouse (they are beeping).  And the aisle traffic cops are screaming "cart coming out, cart coming in!!!!"  It's an awful din.  Thankfully, my PTSD is under control, because the noise would have sent me spinning a year ago. 

Mainly though, I get home, put my feet up, get something to eat, and watch a little television before going to bed around 4 pm.  I sleep a dreamless sleep because I am physically tired.  It's nice to be tired from a hard day's work instead of depression.  Also, I'm getting a workout.  I've lost a few pounds already, which is a little unfortunate, because my underwear is too big, lol. 

The company supplies all the PPE, and they even gave us a $122 credit with Zappos for shoes.  Mine should be here sometime today.  I'm also expecting some rain boots that I ordered from DSW.  I have to go to the post office to pick up a package, and to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things.  

Some really big news?  I met a new guy on Facebook dating.  His name is Brad.  He's not bad looking.  He's a sales manager from Athens.  Anyway, he's a white guy.  I think I'm done with black guys.  I have yet to meet a good one.  Tony was nice, but he played games in the end.  I don't have the time or inclination for that bullshit.  I want to get married.  Brad may come here this week to meet.  I hope I look okay.  I am kind of lumpy, and I have so many scars.  My legs have taken a beating from the cats.

I did get soe sexy underwear, so if things progress, I'll be wearing something better than my regular cotton panties, lol.  Oh well, I guess that's all for now.  I can't think of anything else.  I hope I continue to feel well.  If I do, I may only need to see my therapist once a month.  That will be the first time that ever happened.  I think I'll do my nails now.  #peace #joy #love - B 

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    

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Lies

 

The lies have started again.  The ones in my head that tell me how ugly and useless I am.  The ones that tell me that I am a complete failure and will never amount to anything.  The ones that say everyone is against me and people don't like me.

I've started to become paranoid.  I feel like people are watching me and laughing at me.  They are just waiting for me to fail.  The only person that likes me is Zelda, and she's not human.  I think April and Erica are talking about me.  They go into their rooms and close the door.  I am not invited.  No one talks to me.  They are making plans without me.  They go places without me.  The eat without me, and only prepare enough for themselves.

The job is shit.  I suck at it.  I don't know why I bother.  Would you buy insurance from a useless blob like me?  What's happening to me?  I called the doctor, and got an appointment for tomorrow.  I'm not suicidal, but I do want to go to a place where no one knows me.  Right now, I haven't any money, so here I sit in this stupid room in this dumb apartment.  I pretend to give a damn, but I don't.  

In the meeting this morning, they were talking about being the best person you can be.  Well, I've tried being upbeat and friendly and where did it get me?  I have spent the past five months texting a man who obviously had no intention of meeting me.  He's probably married.  He won't call or meet anywhere.  Why do I attract such losers?  Do I leave a scent of desperation?

I have an appointment in 45 minutes.  I need the sale badly.  But he won't buy.  He's a sixty-four year old real estate agent.  I'm sure he's got insurance up the wazoo.  I should have just stayed in bed.  Life is for the living you know, and I'm not living.  I'm existing.  I'm taking up the space of someone who could do some good in the world.  

Lies, it's all lies.  My head is full of self hate and all those old voices.  I have not prayed in a long time.  Would it help?  I don't know.  I know I'll end up crying.  I don't want to cry.  I'm a little to angry at this very second.  I hate this disease.  It robs you of your sense of self.  I suppose it's good to feel angry, since I haven't felt much in the past couple of weeks.  Feelings are overrated.  What good do the serve?

I know my mind is lying to me.  But with every rebuttal, it screams that much louder.  I think I'll go smoke.  I've said what I wanted to say.  Will it make a difference?  Probably not, but at least I got to vent a little.  Fuck them, fuck all of them. 

B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Six Months

 

Dear Mom, 

It was 6 months last Wednesday.  6 months without your voice, your hugs, your laughter to get me through the day.  I was in bed all last week.  I felt horrible.  I experienced one of the worst periods in a long while.  I bled all over the place, and the cramps were almost unbearable.  I slept almost the entire time.

I think of you off and on.  I don't think of you everyday.  I wonder why that is.  I've been compartmentalizing my feelings lately.  I've just been putting thoughts and feelings in little boxes in my mind.  I used to do that all the time, until one day they all came crashing down on my head.  I have a box for you, a box about my money problems, a box for Tony. 

Speaking of Tony, I don't think that I love him like I thought.  I haven't heard from him in a week.  I told him, via text of course, that I wanted to move forward in our relationship and actually talk on the phone or Zoom or anything.  That was the last I heard from him.  I got to thinking about it, and I was always the one initiating conversations.  I decided not to chase him.  He knows how to reach me if he wants to.  So, in the meantime, I have decided to move it along.  

I don't feel sad about it.  To tell the truth, I don't feel anything about, just indifference.  I opened myself up to him, and it seems he doesn't think enough of me to take what I have to give.  I know I am a good person, and I deserve someone who want to be with me.  So, I guess I just put him on a shelf with all the other disappointments of 2020.

My job is still a challenge of my self esteem.  I made a sale last week, only to have it cancelled.  So, I lost a $600 commision.  I have to get a sale in order to pay for my car repairs.  I must get it together and take no prisoners.  I promised myself 2 years in this job, but I don't know if I'll make it.  I just don't seem to have it in me.  I was thinking of just getting a job at Amazon or something.  I might get over that feeling, I don't know.  I wish I had someone to talk to about it.  I just feel so lost sometimes. 

My birthday was good.  I got flowers, and money.  Of course, had I known then what I know now, I would have banked the money.  My account is overdrawn again.  I hate myself for that.  I wish I knew what my problem is.  I can't keep a dime in my pocket.  I'm tired of being always broke.

Erica says she is moving into her own place in January.  I don't know what April's plans are.  I guess I better start planning something.  Looks like low income housing for me.  I guess I better start looking into it today.  Now that you're gone, my greatest fear has become homelessness.  I'll just be some sad sack living in my car.

Aunt Berta is in the hospital.  She's been there since last Saturday.  She has severe edema.  They've drained about 1000cc of fluid from her lungs and belly.  She said she is feeling better, but they still don't know what the problem is.  I'll tell you, Mom, if she dies, I don't know what I'll do.  I'm scared.  I know if you were here, you'd be at the hospital everyday.  

Well, I guess that's all for now.  I wish I had some great news to tell you, but I don't.  It's still me just plodding along through life one day at a time.  I keep telling myself that I am a warrior, but I sometimes wonder if that's a lie.  The feeling will probably pass.  It usually does, and I'll feel good.  Until then, I'll stay the course.   Please look in on me from time to time.  I miss you terribly and love you for all eternity.  

B.