Well it seems that I’m never going to finish cleaning out this fucking storage unit, but what I will do, over and over, is overdo it! I had twelve boxes left in there and some other miscellaneous shit (isn’t there ALWAYS miscellaneous shit?) and I told myself that I would bring home four boxes over the next three days. WELL I got there and I don’t know if it was the Adderall talking or the morning coffee, but this inner dumbshit got all gung-ho and said “I GOT this!” and I loaded up the car with TEN boxes. It’s so fucking easy to load from the storage unit! About five steps from the unit to the car, plop, on to the next. And then I got home. And I have to come in the front door, through the living room, family room, down the stairs to the basement, open a little trap door, climb up onto my desk, hoist the box in, crawl into the crawl space, pick up the box, and go stack it somewhere. Which begs the question…what in the fuck is WRONG with me??? What made me think I could do this TEN TIMES in a day??? Yes I have a bad back and bad knees and a little thing called “Fibromyalgia” and I’m almost fifty years old…does the word “limits” mean anything to you? No. I guess not. So I actually just got all the boxes downstairs, sitting on the floor, fucking up my Feng Shui, nothing has been moved to the crawl space yet, and I’m icing my back, writing this, and cursing myself. I don’t know why I make such poor decisions. You’d think I’d learn. Does anyone else have the fantasy that they’re still in their twenties and can do all this shit lickety-split? There must be a name for it. Besides STOOPID. Oh well. My break is over. Time to go move some boxes. Hope you’re having a stellar Leap Day! Peach out, homies!
I’ve read a lot of other people’s blogs about rapid cycling and I’ve wondered how or if it applies to me. After much thought, I’ve come to the conclusion, “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the QUEEN of rapid cycling!” Which may be good to know. Or…it could just be something that overwhelms me and makes me feel like shit. <—-That’s it! Rapid Cycling! Here are some examples of what I *think* might be rapid cycling:
- Decide that I need to get rid of my storage unit. In true black and white fashion, decide that I have to get rid of EVERYTHING, which makes me unbearably sad, leading to desolation, leading to beating up on myself and saying I’ll never have a home again, leading to suicidal feelings.
- Decide that I can’t bear to part with my kitchen stuff, and that I can’t bear to let go of the hope of one day having my own home again. Make the decision to store the kitchen stuff where I live, which is a colossal ass-pain, but do-able. *Ching!* Suicidal ideation lifts.
- Go to therapy and talk about what I’ve put myself through with storage issues. Therapist tries to talk me into going into the hospital. Suicidal thoughts return at the idea of being in the hospital.
- Come home, call insurance company, find out what my coverage is for inpatient hospitalization. Feel relieved knowing that it’s an option but decide to go work out instead of being hospitalized. *Ching!* Suicidal ideation lifts.
- Go to Mom and Dad’s to visit and feel like a 100% normal person, including but not limited to, excited at the prospect of joining their rec center and taking some new exercise classes for variety. *Ching* I feel normal today. WHAT THE FUCKIN’ FUCK???
So that is my argument for rapid cycling. Maybe it’s situational. Maybe it’s me? Maybe I’m just very, very Bipolar. I don’t know. Tell me what you think? Oh and by the way…IT’S THE WEEKEND, FUCKIN’ A YEAH!!!!!
Bradley wrote a post recently about all the bloggers he used to enjoy who just…disappeared and it got me to thinking. Whatever happened to so-and-so? I went to my list of blogs I follow and there’s a good number of them whose blogs I can’t even view! WordPress just says “No recent posts…” and doesn’t show the blog at all. It leaves me wondering (and I’m sorry Bradley if this is too much like your post) but I wonder, what the hell happened to these wonderful people? Funny, insightful people whose blogs I loved. One was about a woman who was an escort, it was really interesting. Her in particular, I wonder, was she killed? Others, since they were Bipolar bloggers, I wonder, did they kill themselves? It’s unsettling, to say the least. I wish I’d gotten their contact information so that I could follow up with them. I makes me want to organize this blogosphere into a “real” community where everybody knows everybody and has their contact information and can check up on each other when they don’t hear from them for awhile. I know for me, there was a stretch last year, a few months, where I didn’t post at all. I just didn’t feel like I had anything to say (imagine that!). Is this what’s going on? Why, people? Why did you leave without a backward glance? Don’t you know that there are people around here who care? Who find you funny, fun, engaging, heartfelt, sweet and articulate? So I’m putting it out there. To all my bloggy friends: PLEASE DON’T LEAVE!! Or, if you must, please give us a warning! Let us know! Because people CARE!!! Your absence does not go unnoticed!!! Now I’m sending this out into the universe, and I hope this sentiment reaches some of those lost bloggers.
Have a happy Hump Day, my friends! And if you have someone to hump, get in an extra one for me, will ya? The sadly hump-free BPOF 😛
Dear Meme Posters,
I get that you like your memes. I get that they say something. BUT A MEME IS NOT A BLOG POST!!! I know, I know, I’m going to piss some people off. But when I click on your post, I WANT TO READ SOMETHING FROM YOU. Not just some damn meme!!! If all I wanted to do was read a meme, I’d go to Facebook! Look, I like you! I like to hear from you and what’s going on with you. Please, tell me something! Don’t just post a meme! It’s like, seeing a delicious pizza set in front of you, and all you get to do is smell it! Not fair! Follow up that meme with some deliciousness!
Now please don’t unfollow me.
Your friend, Bipolar On Fire
Seems like I’ve already done a post titled “Same Shit, Different Day”. Maybe I shouldn’t post at all! But dammit I like to post so deal with it :). Anyhoo, I’m still feeling somewhat shitty. Better, but still shitty.. I *think* an increase in that devil Abilify might be to blame for some flatness I’m feeling. Granted, there is the stress of losing my income, and not knowing what the fuck I’m doing with my life. I have started looking for part-time jobs, but jobs that work with my time constraints (I have commitments on Thursdays and Fridays so that leaves me three available days per week) are few and far between. It seems that employers want part-time workers every day, just not all day. Still, I will keep looking. My Thursday/Friday commitment ends at the end of the school year, so maybe at that time I can get a job. Whether I can perform a job, or keep a job, or keep from bitch-slapping the difficult people I run into on a job . . . well those are all questions that will have to be answered in the future. In the meantime, I’ve come up with a great money-saving scheme: I’ve stopped paying bills. I’m just calling motherfuckers and saying “I lost my income.” What the fuck can they do to me? I don’t care. So, I’m not completely broke. I can still buy gas and coffin nails. What else do I need? Well, a lot. But, here’s the thing. All that shit about being in the moment? Here’s when you can really use that practice. ‘Cause at this moment I can’t do much more than what I’m doing. Worrying doesn’t help. Freaking out doesn’t help. Crying doesn’t help, but I do it anyway. I’m just doing what I can, today. I have about five more days’ worth of work to clean out my storage. I have three weeks to do it, so I’m not worried. Still trying to sell some of the contents. Anyone need a rooftop cargo box for their car? Look me up on Murderlist. In the meantime I guess I’ll work on some tv watching. This time I might even turn it on. Oh btw I quit the marijuana again, it’s giving me too much of the munchies. DAMN THE MUNCHIES!!!! Well people it’s Monday, let’s make it a great week. Ok dammit let’s survive the week! Be in touch! Peach out homies!
My last post was from the heart, and also from the pit of despair. Man oh man, did the Support Posse show up!!! In droves!! I don’t know how to express my gratitude to all of you for all of your advice, support, and incredible kindness. Wow. There are some really great people around here. I am proud to know you all. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I can return the favor. I will try.
I have started The Great Purge of my storage unit and it has hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s not just that I can’t afford the unit anymore. There’s my panic that I am losing my Private Disability income. What will I do? How will I survive? How will the bills get paid? It will take a very short time to decimate the little nest egg I have that I hoped to use to buy either a trailer or a tiny house to pull to Florida in the wintertime. I can see that dream quickly disappearing. The other very painful thing is that I have my whole adulthood of accumulation of items – in particular my kitchen items – that I now need to dispose of. A lot of the items were gifts from family and have great sentimental value. Realistically, I have to ask myself: Will I ever again have a home on my own? Will I ever again be able to work, or support myself in any other way? The grief in giving up these possessions, as well as my independence, is almost intolerable. Feeling like I have no idea where my life is going is also intolerable. Thoughts of suicide keep bubbling up. Thoughts of hospitalization, and how much I would hate that, come up. I keep doing what I feel is the next right thing: going through my possessions, donating some, listing some for sale, throwing out some things, purge purge purge. Still exercising. But the demons seem to be sitting on both shoulders right now and the fight is real. It is both startling and saddening to me to see how badly I have crashed, so quickly. There’s no light at the end of this tunnel. I have family members asking me to make commitments to care for other family members in April, and while I have agreed to the commitments, in my mind I’m asking, will I still be alive in April? I just wish someone or something would swoop in and save me from this experience. I’m tempted to play the lottery, the fantasy is so strong. But it’s just a fantasy! Facing reality at this time is really, really painful. Part of me says to find a way to store all the kitchen items where I’m living now, and the other part says, what’s the point?
I hate writing such a total fucking downer of a post, but I guess I’m hoping that some of you will have some insight, some advice, or some experience that can help me through this. I love being light and silly and entertaining, but really, this is a blog about being Bipolar. And this is where this Bipolar is right now. The struggles with Disability, not being able to work, finances, and fears for the future are all real. Not wanting to live through the pain is real. Instability is real.
Please, if you have something to share, do so. Thanks in advance. Hope your week is wayyy better than mine! BPOF.
GOD, I love the word FUCK! Is there another more satisfying word in the English language? Fuck! You Fuckers! And oh how I LOVE a good “Fuck you!” Throughout my day I like to salt my language regularly with “What the fuck’s” and “Fuck this” ‘s and of course the indignant “Who the fuck do they think they are?” will inevitably burst out. Ah fuck it’s just so soothing. It’s a noun! “Hey, you fuck!” It’s a verb! “Let’s fuck!” It’s an adjective! “He’s weird as fuck!” It’s an adverb! “You sure did that in a fuckly fashion!”. But you can fucking see how versatile the word is, right? OK. I think I made my point! Fuck! I FUCKING LOVE YOU, FUCK!
I have been so excited to lose the Clozaril weight, so far 24 of 33 pounds, but now! I am stuck. It is so hard for me to accept that I’m not making progress. I am still exercising every day, but somehow the weight is sticking. I think it may be that I’m not as disciplined in my eating as I was. Part of me wants to say “fuck it, I give up”, but another part says “Goddamn it I will be the fittest fat person you have ever seen!” What are you gonna do? Giving up sounds depressing. I’ve done enough giving up in my life. I can’t give up on the daily exercise, anyway. It’s one of my “pills”. And, even though I have to force myself to do it, once I start doing it, it feels good! And afterwards, I feel even better. So, maybe I should just focus on doing what’s right for me and let go of the goddamn results. Which will come when they feel like it. Or actually, I’m sure I’m accumulating results of the exercise every single day that I do it, it’s just that it’s not visible to the naked eye. Over time, it will be. I think this is true for a lot of the investments we make in ourselves. Change can be a long damn time in coming, but it takes that daily or weekly or monthly investment, whether it’s exercise, or therapy, or financial investment, whatever, it adds up. I know it’ll definitely add up in the opposite direction if I stop exercising and start eating sugar again, on that I can depend. I guess I need to have a little faith. Oh ye of little faith! Is that a bible verse? If so I apologize. But that’s me. I want it all NOW. After a really hard workout, I feel like I should be skinny, like, NOW! That should do it! If only…..
Super Bowl 50 was definitely a high point for this mostly-depressed bipolar chick. I screamed, I cheered, I kicked my feet, I jumped up and down and generally went totally mad. It was a high like no other! I’ll tell you a secret: I thought the Panthers were going to KILL us! I was still traumatized by the beating we took two years ago at the hands of the Seattle Seahawks, a game I was unfortunate enough to watch in the looney bin. For so many reasons, it’s a game I’d love to forget. This game, however, is one I’ll remember forever. It’s kind of like a metaphor for life – I was afraid to hope! Afraid to hope, yet cheering every little bit of progress, and as the time went by, a little piece of me was saying, “Could this be? Could they actually win?” – and it begs the question. Can this be? Can we actually win in this fight against this deadly disease? I think, against the odds, bit by bit, minute by minute, small fight by small fight, that we can! I see people write about what they’ve accomplished in a day, and it’s a LOT by my standards, and they’re still beating up on themselves! The key I think is to celebrate the victories. And the victories are all around us. You got out of bed? Winning! You went to work? Winning!! You made a meal? Did your laundry? Exercised? WINNING!!! Let’s celebrate it all, and build on it. That’s what I’m going to do this week. Little by little, bit by bit, small win by small win, I’m going to beat this disease. Just today. And today becomes a week. And a week becomes a month. And so on. We have our ups and downs, but let’s be our own best friends. Let’s be our own best cheerleaders. WE CAN DO THIS, PEOPLE! Have a great week! BPOF
I don’t know about anybody else, but Facebook makes me feel like SHIT! It used to be like, oh! My friends! I can keep up with them and how they’re doing! Now it has devolved into a mess of fucking memes (just because it’s a meme, doesn’t make it true), people trying to make their life look perfect, and people trying to be gurus. You know that old adage, comparing other people’s outsides with your insides? Well, it’s an adage to me. Comparing other people’s outsides with my insides makes me feel like a LOSER! I am not out living the fabulous life! I’m not out having wine in Napa Valley, at the opening of a play, laying out in Hawaii or Mexico (but you can bet your ass I will post Florida beach pictures every fucking day I’m there) or meeting the President or a Kardashian (those fuckers are EVERYWHERE!). I also am not living the dream like all those fucking memes say I should be. I’m just living this little Bipolar life, trying to get through each day with some tiny accomplishment, maybe showering, exercising, or writing a blog post, and that is not sexy or Facebook-postable. When did people stop being real and start with the shit show on Facebook? I don’t know. Maybe in 2012. But I keep reading it and it keeps making me feel like shit!! Who’s the dumbshit now??
I have deleted Facebook off my phone countless times, only to add it back two hours later. I’m addicted! What IS it?? I have to admit I DO watch those quickie recipe videos, they’re like fucking magic! Poof! That might be the only good thing. Or, Demaryius Thomas. Ok, I love him. He’s just so beautiful! Other than recipe videos and Demaryius Thomas, Facebook is sucking my will to live, just a little. Let’s just rename it MemeBook! I’m sick of memes! I made these two special memes, just for you, to illustrate how stupid they really are. I hope you enjoy them and I hope you have a fantastic weekend. GO BRONCOS!!!!!
So I got to thinking today, as I rode the damn recumbent bike for forty minutes, wearing my shit-colored glasses…that all this work day in and day out is really chiseling down the ol’ booty. Could it be that the better I am mentally….the better my ass is? I mean, I have Super-SAD, a new variant of SAD I have identified that means it’s extra-sucky. So I totally have an attitude every time it snows, the temperature goes below 40°, and/or the sky is grey. I’m basically constantly on the verge of being a very hot mess, but I’m still exercising! Every day! Even though I cuss myself out as I drive to the gym, because I don’t FEEL like it! But this “Feel Like Shit But Do The Right Thing Anyway” dynamic is brand-new to me, and I think it *may* mean that I’m getting a little better!
Then my brain went BAZINGA! You had a great ass when you were manic as hell! JUST RUINED A GREAT THEORY. God damn it! But you know what, I still had to kind of go with it, because who can mess with a title like this one? It’s just too good! I find saying something extremely stupid, extremely seriously to be extremely gratifying.
I have to remind you of my post the other day and say, Let’s Be Great and keep participating in our little blogosphere. So many great people out there! Disjointedly, BPOF!
I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately, with the tags Bipolar or Bipolar Disorder. Let me tell you, with few exceptions, this damn wintertime is really roughing up us Bipolars. I’m seeing out of control mania, constant cycling, deep depression, suicidal ideation, and psychosis. This is a time for us to pull together as a group to support each other, whether it’s reading new blogs, hitting Like, and commenting. I can say for myself that there is such great comfort in hearing someone say that they’ve experienced the same thing I’m going through, or they know exactly what I mean. I have experienced such incredible kindness and support through blogging on WordPress. I’d just like to ask everyone, if you can, to turn it up a notch right now, and really try to connect with our fellow writers. This group of us has such great power for good. Let’s be great for each other! Peace! (aka Peaches!)
Of snow. You dirty birds!! What were you thinking?? Well that bastard Old Man Winter has come back to remind us what month it is, and what a bitch slap of a beginning to February! I had an appointment today with Dr. Drugs – cancelled it. When there’s over a foot of snow on my car I automagically get a pass from doing anything. That’s just how it is! The car ain’t movin’! My ass moved, a little, for a walk to the grocery store, and I was disappointed to see that the main streets are clear. The only reason my ass moved, is that this year I discovered something so incredible, so life-changing, it *almost* makes winter bearable! That something is fleece-lined leggings. I wear them every day! I wear them under my pajamas! I’m so sexy! They are my second skin. If there were a fleece-lined catsuit, complete with hood, I’d wear it. Hmmm….. am I a good enough sewer (person who sews, not the place where you flush your shit to) to pull this off? Probably not… But shit! You don’t know me! Why can’t I LIE??? Yeah, I’m gonna make me up six colors of fleece-lined hooded catsuits. Stripes!! Sequins!!! Fur!!!!! Everyone will be so jealous! There. That’s my story.
So, I will have to go for a makeup appointment tomorrow with Dr. Drugs. I’m not doing that hot, I have the blahs in the worst way and am struggling to function. But if I tell him that again, he might make some change to my medication that I don’t like. So, I might just lie. Am I the only one who lies to doctors? It’s a delicate balance to strike, between “Oh I’m in the shits” and “Oh, please don’t hospitalize me”. Isn’t the whole “Fake it ‘till you make it” strategy basically the same as lying? Well I’m gonna Fake It ‘Till I Make It out of the appointment tomorrow. Then I can go back home and hide in my bed. For six more weeks. Holy frijole I’m depressing MYSELF! I gotta get back to being in the moment, like, yesterday! (Get it?) Ok. I have today. Today I ate right and took my medicine and sat in front of my light and exercised. All the right things. Now I’m connecting with you. I will let tomorrow take care of itself. See? Fixed.