Life sure has changed. As I sit here sipping on a Keef Cola, root beer flavored, I still can’t believe I can go down the street to the store and buy an ice cold pot drink. What can I say? Life is good. If we all ended the day with a Keef Cola, what might our world look like?
Barry Fey died over the weekend. They were just talking on the radio about the U2 concert at Red Rocks in June of 1983 (yes I was there, in the front row, you can see me on the recording, but who cares that’s not what this is about ;)). It was the second week in June and it was COLD and there was a cold mist falling that we NEVER see here. Barry Fey wanted to move the concert venue and U2 and their management convinced Barry to keep it there. They were planning on videotaping the concert for a live movie. They had plans to have fires burning on the top of the rocks and had the whole show planned for that outdoor venue, rain or shine. They promised to put on a second show the next night for anyone who chose not to attend this night, which they did. What seemed like the shittiest set of circumstances ever became rock and roll history. Bono looked magical, covered in mist, marching with his white flag, breathing out the mist as he sang, the fires casting eerie shadows upon the rocks. Everyone there felt like they were experiencing something they might never see again, and they were right. It was the best definition of a magical night. It was so much more than anyone could have conceived of when they planned the evening, all thanks to Mother Nature.
Which brings me to us, fellow Bipolereans. How are we looking at our illness as a handicap, when it’s really the biggest gift, the best possible outcome, the best possible scenario? How does it bring out the best in us? What traits are spun out of our bipolar brains that wouldn’t be here otherwise? I don’t have all the answers, but I am feeling the magic of that night, and I know there are no accidents. We are meant to be here, and we are meant to be who we are. ALL of who we are, right here and right now. And we’re meant to honor ourselves, of that I have no doubt. Let’s honor every stinkin’ drop of ourselves, right down to the crust. Let’s do it!
What an amazingly full weekend. I was thinking yesterday, as I did all the usual Saturday chores like laundry (including folding and putting away, a big deal for me) and grocery shopping, and then making dinner, from scratch, this is really high functioning for me! It used to be that I’d joke about doing “survival laundry”, just enough to get by, like, wash enough underwear for the week, and a few outfits, but otherwise all the clothes were strewn about my room, all over the furniture and DEFINITELY all over the floor. Slob? Maybe. Depressed? DEFINITELY. It is absolutely fucking amazing to me what being on the right drugs can do. It’s just the difference between functioning and not functioning!! I mean, seriously!! Laundry! Going to the grocery store! These are monumental tasks when I am depressed. For one, I can’t get any get-up-and-go, any motivation, to start the task of laundry. For two, I can’t complete it. Grocery shopping? I ABHOR going out in public when I don’t feel good. I just don’t want to do it!! It makes my skin crawl. Now? Ain’t no thang. THANK YOU, DR. DRUGS!!!!!!!!! I’m grateful. For all of you who are struggling, half-functioning, or not functioning, take a couple of things away from this: a) You’re not lazy. b) You’re probably not on the right “cocktail” and c) There is hope for you! Keep trying, even if it takes all you’ve got, keep trying to get help.
I might not be 100% out of the woods or 100% happy but I AM 100% grateful to be doing so much better. And relieved like you wouldn’t believe. It’s been a rough patch. It’s good to be coming out the other side. And I’ll see YOU on the other side….of Monday. Peaches! To yer Mama!
One of my good friends just found out his Mom died yesterday. I am sad with him and for him. I am also the proud step mother of two Boston Terrors (you get my drift) while my friend is out of town for the funeral. It’s amazing how these little lives come in, and displace your own life. And it’s amazing how I’m so happy to let them. It’s like “Walking? First thing in the morning? Interrupt my religious coffee routine? That might cause convulsions and itching hairy hives? Um, ok, sure!” They have invaded my house and my kitchen and my bed. I have a fat hot little pellet of a dog scrunched up against me in sleep. Problem? I think not. These little lives, one happy, one curmudgeonly, bring me so much joy. I celebrate their every yawn, bark and fart. Ok, not the farts. One of them recently had cancer surgery and is shaved up with stiches all over. We call her FrankenPig. She is so cute in her ugliness. She is shrill in her “RI RUV RU’, imitating my “I love you” calls in a high octave. At the same time, Bean will begin to coo very coolly, like Elvis. Don’t expect me to write for awhile, my life is completely full with these two souls who have overtaken me. I am content.
After April showers of snow in blizzard-like fashion, grey skies abounding, Spring decided to make an appearance this afternoon. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, blue sky appeared, and the drip, drip, drip began. The sun has gone down, but the drip continues. Oh happy dripping melting devil dust! I am glad to see you go.
I demand a Freshly Pressed for this one!!!! Incredible.
I had a total ass-kicking therapy sesh today with EMDR. On a scale of 1 to 10, this was an 11. I mean, I should have paid double! I was crying and snot was coming out and everything! YAY for EMDR and the way it just flings you right down into the shit you want to delve into!!! This is all positive to me. Man, when I go to therapy, I wanna do me some Therapé! Today was one of those days. I’m not gonna tell you what my therapy was about, because even I have some boundaries, but suffice to say, I’ve been therapized. Ah yeah. Yeah. YEAH!
Well here’s another one for the gratitude list: Waking up without that sense of impending doom! Normally Monday mornings are terrible for me, and I have a horrible feeling of dread upon waking. Well I gotta say! Between the oxcarbazapine and the daily exercise, I think a switch has been tripped!! Thank you Lordy Jeezy and thank you Dr. Drugs!!!!! I am walking around my house with a happy little feeling in my heart!! Holyyyyy Shite is this nice!!! Whew. I am full of thankfulness. Just had to share it with the world. Peach out, homies!
I have a secret. It’s a bad one. Oooooooh I don’t know if I can tell it. Well this is a blog of truth-telling so I’m gonna say it. I often go the WHOLE WEEKEND without seeing anyone. Yep! Isolater Extraordinaire! I can go from Friday night to Monday morning being all by my lonesome. And, depending on my level of depression, this feels GOOD to me. Well, not necessarily good. It’s what I prefer. Because when I’m depressed, it makes me kind of cringe to spend time with people. When I’m depressed and I spend time with people, it’s like an assault on my psyche, and mentally I’m counting the minutes until the encounter is over.
Fortunately for me, the depression is lifting, and I’m sticking my head up out of the depression-hole here and there for little pockets of time, and spending time with people. I did it Friday night, for Dad’s 80th Birthday, and today I will have a darling friend over for lunch. This is one of my favorite things to do, is to cook for people. I MUST be feeling better if I want to cook for people! Ah yeah! <—— (80’s exclamation of excitement, yes I just laid that on you). Let’s get this road on the show! I gotta go to the grocery store! Peach out homies!! See ya later. Bipolar on Fire over & out!
Let’s face it: Clowns are ugly. Why in the hell do they paint their faces up to be so ugly? It’s the only occupation I know where good looks might actually be a liability – I mean don’t you expect your clowns to be booger-butt-ugly? Also, they’re usually fat. The best clowns are fat. This is starting to seem like an ideal occupation!! I can really let myself go!! Forget all that expensive dental work! Let the shit fall out. I’m a CLOWN! Eat that second twinkie. Eat it fried in bacon. I’m a clown!! Too tired to wash your face? Don’t feel like brushing your chiclets? Not to worry. I’m a CLOWN!!!!
I take it back. I don’t HATE clowns!! I just have INTENSE CLOWN ENVY!
Did you notice what day it is? What? It’s your Dad’s 80th Birthday? It’s MY Dad’s 80th Birthday too!!! That is so wild!!! And to think that it happens on the universal day of marijuana enjoyment! It’s just too good!! Well my old poppy will not be celebrating by rolling himself a fatty, but I may be! I live in Boulder, Colorado, after all, the American Amsterdam! Happy 420 Day, One and All! Smoke one for me! And I shall do the same for you, my friends! 🙂
Well. I have struggled with my weight my whole adult life, going from a Women’s size 10 all the way up to a size 18 at one point and now I’m in the size 14-16 category, unhappily. I would be happy to be a size 12, which to me at 5’9” is just fine. I have been exercising and trying to eat right with some almighty challenges here and there, but it seems that I’m still gaining weight!! The psychiatrist, Dr. Drugs, assured me when he handed out the latest round of pills (and the round before this) that the drugs he was putting me on were “weight-neutral” but now I’m not so sure if I believe that. I’m uncomfortable in my clothes and now even my skin is starting to feel like it’s too tight. My favorite boots that I wear all the damn time were nearly impossible to zip up today. You know, when I’m not comfortable in my skin, I’m a miserable bitch. No two ways about it. I just wanna starve myself, exercise myself to death, try all kinds of unhealthy shit that I know ultimately won’t work. The think that makes me batshit crazy is not knowing if the drugs are sabotaging my best efforts!! Are the lamotrigine or oxcarbazepine or the pine-a-pine or zine-a-zine fucking me up? There’s like a rainbow of flavors going down my gullet every morning and then a whole other ration of shit every evening. I don’t know. I’m just very overwhelmed right now. I wish I was a skinny chick who didn’t have to fight this battle along with a couple others on my slate. I think I’ll go to bed. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up with Anna Nicole Smith’s body. The sexy Guess Jeans one.
The man who allegedly sent letters containing ricin to both the President and a member of the House of Representatives is bipolar, according to his ex-wife. He is bipolar, on disability, and not taking his medication. According to his ex-wife, he has an obsession with body parts and their disposal, or the issue of illegal trade in body parts. It’s so sad to me that this man, an untreated bipolar, has jumped onto the world stage to say “Hey! Look how crazy bipolar people can be!” In addition to that, in my own mind, I’m saying “Hey! Look how crazy you could be!” It scares me. I don’t have any illusions about taking medication, or not taking it. I don’t fantasize about the day that I’ll be able to not take medication. I value my stability too much, such as it is. Still, I’ve had a rougher-than-rough patch, and I fear “going crazy”. Some days I think I’m there.
Anyhoo, there’s a lot in the news of the last few days to give us pause. There’s murder, terrorism, fire, explosions, and every form of death and destruction imaginable. How do we keep our cores stable? What kind of mental pilates do people do to hold it all together? I know for me, this blog is a part of my regimen. So are reading other people’s blogs, regular therapy, exercise, talking to friends and spending time with friends and family. Even that blessed job adds structure to my days and distracts me. I welcome your comments and feedback on how the events of the week have affected you, what is working for you, what doesn’t work for you, what might work for you, what works on Tuesdays and Thursdays, what only works at 3 o’clock, etc. I pray that you enjoy a Happy Friday. Your ever-loving friend, Bipolaronfire. Fire! Fire!
My cubicle-neighbor’s dog had cancer surgery today. Not only do I have a human cubicle-neighbor, but I have these two dog cubicle-neighbors, Bean and Pig, both Boston Terriers. Pig went under the knife today. She is such a precious little soul, with so much spunk. She’s very sweet and very sincere. Her back legs are slowly going out but she’ll still try to jump up every time she sees me. She is also a talented orator. When I say to her “I LOVE YOU” she squawks back “RI RUV RU” in the most darling yet ear-splitting yelp you’ve ever seen. She also says “Redrum” and she has a FIT when her Daddy exclaims ” ‘ELLO” like a Cockney Brit.
Her brother Bean is not as amiable as her and has tried to bite the lips off of many an unsuspecting visitor. He shows me he loves me by taking my lip very gently into his mouth when I kiss him on the head, which scares the hell out of me. I know!! Sometimes I just forget and I kiss the shit out of him because I love him too.
There are some days that the four-legged co-workers cannot attend work. They are not invited when we have bigwigs coming in to the office. At those times we have to act like we’re a regular orifice (oops) doing regular work. Those days are hollow and cold. It’s amazing to me how these little souls touch our lives and brighten them so. I will challenge to a duel anyone who says these animals don’t go to heaven. I fully expect to meet my three Great Danes and one Rottweiler on the Other Side, wherever that may be. For now I’ll sit here in cubicle world, watching yet another snowstorm, listening to a curmudgeonly old Boston Terrier snore the afternoon away.