Losing It

I’m losing my mind today. My bipolar brain is tearing around bouncing off the walls and getting me very irritated. This is not a fun mania. This is just plain being annoyed, irritated, feeling every muscle tense, and wanting to run away from here. What am I doing to cause this to happen? I’ve been trying to think positive thoughts and my brain takes them and likes it for a moment, strokes it as if you would pat a dog or cat and then goes right back into its twitching and spasming, slamming all of my good intentions into the wall…just the way I want to slam my head into the wall. I keep telling myself, tomorrow is Friday, tomorrow is Friday, TOMORROW IS FRIDAY!! One more night and I’m free for a bit. Of course I’ll lose my place to sit down in the kitchen because my brother will be there but it feels like I’ll be able to let my guard down. Please let me have a good night. I’m hoping  and praying my brain doesn’t derail like it is now. Last weekend I almost started drinking again. That is always a danger for me on weekends but I’ve been good so far. I’m not going to worry about it now. But I do need to plan activities to keep myself as busy as normal because as they say ‘idle hands make the devils work’ and I don’t need to have that involve drinking again. I’m going to try to calm my brain down with some reading if I can concentrate long enough. Hope you all have a good night.


What Chapter Are You On

I don’t write often enough in my blog. I seem to be suffering from a brain that is finding it hard to formulate words and ideas as of late. Every day that I wake up I feel like I have nothing to say to anyone. So, I sit and stare a lot or I repeat the same motions over and over and over. For instance, I’ll check my email to see if anything new has arrived. I don’t get overly excited  as if I am being OCD about it I just have nothing better to do within my little prison. You do know I live in somewhat of a prison, don’t you? I could say it’s my mind which does act like a prison on bad days but I’m referring to my life as I am living it now. I like to consider it a chapter in book. This chapter is very long, in fact it may even be considered a section of a book of life. I don’t know when it will end nor how it will end nor am I writing my life. (although I argue with that thought on occasion because in fact I could be writing it partially)

I used to be self-sufficient. I was a landlord and owned a two-family home for 1o years. I owned my own commercial cleaning business for ten years too. I held it all together and worked very hard each day. I would feed off of my manic episodes having no idea that I was bipolar just thinking I had lots of energy and I made good use of it. I was diagnosed with depression since I was 13 and was considered a troubled child and even left school but I was trying to make something of myself on my own with my husband. Throughout those years of hard work I always considered myself blessed and lucky regardless of the heartache that came (my brother died when I was 23 / he was only 32) ; my husband got electrocuted at work and was considered saved and a rarity not to have been killed even though the electricity tore through his arms. I also started to develop more of the symptoms of being out of control. I had been a self-harmer since teen years and that got worse. Every few years I would cut myself and require stitches. My primary doctor gave me an anti-depressant figuring it was all just depression and it caused full-blown mania. I was driving through red lights, staying awake night after night, scaring people at my job, and running around my neighborhood. I finally checked myself into the hospital because  something deep inside me knew that I was teetering too close to the danger zone and I would hurt someone and I can only thank God for leading me to the right place. I was admitted and removed from the antidepressants and set up with a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with bipolar disorder after discussing all the symptoms I had exhibited. For the first time I felt as if someone was listening and was finally hearing me. For years it seemed no one had been. Previous doctors always dismissed what I had to say.

So, that was my beginning. My diagnosis. I was 30 at the time and I am 48 now. Back then I tried a few different drugs, Lithium, is always the first one. Yuck, hated it. Wouldn’t use it. But I used Depakote and have been on that for 18 years, give or take some time. I’ve gone through my rebellious stages of not taking my pills and when I go off of Depakote I get seizures. But I had these seizures before, Depakote just helps control them. So, I stick with that. Also, Depakote controlled my urges to cut myself. It was the only thing to work for me. I never understood where those urges came from either. But that pill made it stop. The only time since then that I’ve self-harmed is when I was drinking and started taking Ativan after my husband died and I was on a bad, bad, downward spiral. Otherwise nothing.

I’m having a hard time figuring where I’m going with this. That’s what’s wrong with my brain now. I stop and my brain just quits on me as if it just wants to float on the clear blue sea and not be bothered with anyone or anything. I can’t spend my life doing nothing. That’s what bothers me the most here. I’m stuck here until whenever. I can’t leave because of my Dad. No one else is here but me myself, and I. There’s my Dad but he can’t talk and make sense any more. Even the dog sleeps all day because he’s old. No wonder I look forward to the laundry. But I’ve already done the laundry, cooked the evening meal, done the dishes, made the beds, all of the stuff there is to do….so now I’m like a plane waiting for take off but there’s nowhere to go.   AAAGGHH…….I’m tired of waiting.

Sorry for this stupid posting.

Fabulous Friday

Just because today is Friday I am in a better mood than normal. I like Fridays. I also like Mondays but that’s for another post. Fridays mean the end of the week, not that my week actually ends but it means I can sleep upstairs tonight. I can sleep in a room all by myself like a big girl. I can stay up as late as I want. I can go outside if I want. I can go for a ride in my car or see a movie if I want to waste my money. I can paint a watercolor of lemons if I want. I can watch TV without hearing Mumma like last night. By the way, that was my father calling me Mumma last night. Fridays are fabulous and wonderful and spectacular and fantastic and super….unless they’re not of course. But, it’s going to be because I am going to WILL it to be because I WANT it to be and no daughter is going to beat me up and no daughter is going to have a drama festival because my good friend Carla said it best, “Arguing with a fool only proves that there are two.”  Well said Carla and so true. So, tonight I am going to listen first and let everyone’s words churn about in my manic pea brain and then slowly drain away. I will not respond to any button pushing instead I might do floor exercises until my legs ache. That will get rid of ten minutes because my legs have been shaking since yesterday and throughout the night. In fact they woke me up whenever I started to fall asleep. If it’s not raining I’ll take a walk too. Our weather is going to get cold for October so hopefully it doesn’t rain to make the walks slick. I don’t want to fall at night. But, in any case it will be a good Friday and I will make yours good too. I am willing it upon you.  A FRIDAY OF GOOD TIMES FOR YOU.

Now continuing my 30 Day Facial Expression Challenge. Today is Day 6 and that is BAD ODOR FACE. Oh goody.

Living in a house with an old dog and an old father that will be a hard one….LOL

By the way, in the USA, today is also Red Shirt Fridays. The mission of redshirtfridays.org is to show support for our servicemen and women. They are not a political organization. They do not care whether or not one supports or does not support the war. They care only about making our support of our servicemen and women known to our fellow Americans and the world.  They want to let our servicemen and women know we support their sacrifice and we will not forget them and we will do this by wearing red on every Friday.

So, I’m wearing my Red Sox sweatshirt cause it’s cold and in support of all the servicemen and servicewomen. Come Home Safely!

Can I Turn Back Time?

Today is a day of sadness and a big whopping headache. Maybe I brought it on myself or at least partially because I always feel it takes two to tango. Last night when I was resting comfortable at my kitchen table daughter #2 entered the room and proceeded to make a bunch of noise and a mess like she often does. I asked her to be quiet because her grandfather was sleeping and I didn’t want him to wake up and I could hear him stirring already. Now, how is that a big request? Just be quiet for the life of me. No, she has to keep banging pots and pans and talking loudly and complaining. I told her again to please be quiet that she should appreciate what she has here in her grandfather’s house. (previously that evening she had said ” why don’t you just die already” to her grandfather) So, I was feeling ticked off as it was. Her lack of respect for the elderly and the fact that she doesn’t care about anyone except herself and she wants to just stand there and push my buttons makes my blood boil. Next she tells me how pathetic I am and how I’ll be begging for her to stay when she leaves and I’ll be crying. At this point I am really mad and just want wish she was smaller I would have taken her over my knee and spanked her. Spoiled brat! All this time she is getting louder and I finally said hey will you be quiet and shit the F*K up and she says to me if I have to be quiet then you shut the F*k up too. You know, she thinks I am nothing and has no respect for me and that really pushed me for a loop. And I got up and walked over to her and said, “Hey” and pushed her on the shoulder. (bad thing to do, I know) She immediately yelled not to hit her and then started beating the crap out of me. Punched me in the chest numerous times, broke my glasses, just punched me all over. The girl can fight and bench presses at the gym so she’s not a weakling. I was determined not to back down though and tried to hold on to her arms and hands but she got the better of me. If you’ve read my blog in the earlier parts back in February I think you’ll read that she beat me up back then too but that was unprovoked. Last night I blame myself. I shouldn’t have pushed her. No matter how mad I was, I should have walked away. I don’t know why I didn’t. It ended up with me kicking her out of the house. This is the thing that has saddened me more than anything. I have thought of doing this many, many times because she has been such a difficult child to raise but I never ever thought I would. Last night broke something inside me and I had enough of tip toeing around her. We’re all tired of being bit players in her demented fantasy world.

She ended up going to a friend’s house and even then she said they were looking for an apartment. My daughter has no job, nor ever had one. I don’t know how she’ll get an apartment with no job. I saw my therapist today and she suggested sort of an intervention where I leave the door open for her but with rules she must follow. That might work but I would need to have a third party along to mediate any conversation because daughter #2 won’t listen to me. All in all, I wish this had never happened but I hope I can learn from it and it maybe too much to ask if something positive comes from it.

As for my 30 Day Facial Expression Challenge….today is easy, it is SAD FACE.  A coincident or what?


The Struggle Within

I think I’ve finally burned out. I’m tired of taking care of others. Tired of taking pills, tired of doing the work for free, just plain sick and tired of the day-to-day hum-drum. I’m also feeling ashamed of myself for not caring for not having the fight to continue. This has be a constant struggle now for weeks. I’m tired of all of this ever since the water leaked out of the washing machine. I’ve felt like I just can’t take any more of this whole stupid shit. I’m still trying to get that fixed too. Because of the age of the house and the way my Dad plumbed the pipe sixty years ago , the whole thing will have to be pulled out and a new one will have to be put in. I’m terrified of the whole thing. I wanted to have the washer put into the basement never to be seen again but that would cost close to $4000 and run the risk of shattering the main drain because it was so old, something called victory pipe from WWI . All I know is this damn washer will still be in my kitchen and I hate it.I must have been swept away in a flood or a raging torrent because this is scaring the hell out of me.

I also fell off the wagon and went back to drinking. I don’t even care either. I’m so disgusted with the way my life is I just don’t care. I’ll stop when I feel like it or get sick or when the doctor yells at me or something drives me more insane. I don’t know what to say about it. At least I’m not out of control and I’m not drinking to the excess that I was in the summer. I’ve decided to do more reading instead. I have a drink and then relax with some TV or read. I have one of those electronic readers, mine is a Kindle, and after getting a gift certificate for my birthday I got some new books. First I’m reading a free book that came with my new cell phone. I’m reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland again. I read it 100 years ago but it’s light escapism is nice to read before going to sleep at night. I like the part of the book when she meets up with the Cheshire Cat and asks for directions away from the madness:

But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.

`Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: `we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’

`How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.

`You must be,’ said the Cat, `or you wouldn’t have come here.’

That’s how I feel being in this house among my family. I’ll never get better because I’m among them and this situation. I want so badly to get away from this place but I can’t even go away to the mental hospital. I just got this visual of me being a scarecrow with a big pole stuffed up my backside. I’m stuck in a field to scare away the birds. I do my job but it’s lonely and I can’t escape and the others constantly come and pick away at me.


Everyone thinks you’re doing such a great job and constantly tells you how wonderful you are and then goes away. Meanwhile the flood waters get deeper and you slowly drown.

I’ll be back- Just because I know you’ll be here

Sorry, I’ll be back soon. My brother has been on vacation and he creates so much drama and extra work. Also my older daughter is leaving to go to California Sunday, so that is slightly stressful even though I’m the one that pushed her to go and is encouraging her. In my heart I know it’s good for her but as her mother I will worry. My younger daughter has reverted to being the responsibly dumb one again. Sorry I don’t like the word  “dumb” but she is not thinking at all. On one hand she gets on the Dean’s List at college for her excellent grades and on the other hand doesn’t go to the doctor when experiencing the symptoms of a urinary tract infection even though I advised her to go and not to wait because she had jury duty coming up. Instead she ignored it and it got worse and went to jury duty and got picked to sit on a jury and then at 3 in the morning needed to see a doctor at the hospital because the pain was so bad. This left me with two hours sleep then the doctor gives her antibiotics that she takes for one day and decides she won’t take them anymore, That’s the dumb part. Can I scream yet? The whole time my Dad has been hating me too because his golden son has been home and since they now have their Men’s club the evil woman can stay out. This sucks but I promised my mother I’d care for him until the end or until I can no longer do so because I can’t physically handle him.

I CAN’T WAIT FOR MONDAY TO ARRIVE!  I didn’t get my car’s oil changed but my brother got his car serviced. I think I need to work on asking for more for myself. I did too much for everyone else and not enough for me. Even my vacuum cleaner broke and I need to take it to be repaired. So, I need to make a list of things to do for myself so I can get organized to get things accomplished. Then I’ll feel happier. It’s finally sinking in that trying to make other people happy aint making me happy, just very tired.

I miss you all and will try to catch up on Monday.


What a Difference A Day Makes

Yesterday I had two appointments, one with my pdoc and the other with my therapist. Great, kill two birds with one stone. I was looking forward to seeing my pdoc. I felt like he had come to my rescue last week when he gave me a script for resperidone and I was eager to tell him how things were going. I was proud of myself for not drinking since the 13th and for being calmer. You know, I should know better. I’ve been going there for over four years and never mind that I’ve been alive for almost 48 years, you’d think I’d know better, men really don’t listen to women. I don’t care if they’ve been schooled in psychiatry or not. Maybe I just haven’t met the perfect doctor yet or found the one that really hears what I’m saying or met the Dalai Lama or whatever the hell I’m trying to say. I always just feel like some kids stuffed toy that’s been dragged along behind in the gutter and then dropped. When will I learn that they’re just people with really nothing to offer but a magic bag of pills, like Felix and his magic bag of tricks?

He asked me how I was doing, the usual routine, and I proceeded to tell him what had been happening the past six weeks and how angry I had been feeling about the recent deaths, especially my friend who died from cancer. I became very angry talking about that.

Yes, my voice became very loud and I became very agitated and my hands balled into fists and perhaps punched my legs or I got animated too much to his liking. I was venting. I really felt like my blood pressure was right up there and my head was going to explode but it was all just talking. I didn’t stand up. I didn’t threaten anyone. I DID get loud,  I DID use swear words.

Well, he gets angry with me and yells at me. He tells me he doesn’t have time to talk about this for two hours ( it was a total of 40 minutes tops) while I RANT and RAVE about this. I am TOO LOUD and all I ever say is NO to any of his suggestions. To clarify, I did say no to going to a bereavement group because I had already had my husband’s hospice social worker come to my house for a while to talk to me after he died. I didn’t benefit from talking about my husband’s death. I am angry about what is causing all of the deaths. If I wanted to talk about death I could speak to anyone on my street seeing as there have been four cancer deaths just in the past two years all within two houses of mine. Not counting regular deaths caused by other causes bringing the number up to six. Also, if I had said no to everything then why am I on Resperidone and the other medications I’m taking. Why am I even at the appointment?

When he yelled at me it immediately triggered “father figure” in my mind and I shut down. The “I could kill you stare” came out and I stopped. I’m 48, don’t talk to me like I’m a 3 yr. old. Everything he said after that went in one ear, swirled around, and left. He suggested I take more Depakote. Sure, I’ll take more Depakote. For the record, if he even looks at them, when I am on higher dosages of Depakote I suffer from worsening of my IBS and get pains in my intestine. I also lose all interest in sex. Now why should that be important to a 48-year-old widow? My sex life is only a fantasy but it’s all I have. So, let’s take my fantasy life and kill that too. Maybe I’ll get a shepherd’s hook and a robe and sit in a chair in my yard and never pluck the hair’s from my chin or upper lip and try to grow a beard. Why will it matter? Let’s kill all semblance of any life that I feel in my body since you took it from my head yesterday doctor!

I don’t think I’ll return there anymore. I feel like this doctor-patient relationship is caustic. If this had been a marriage I would be living in an apartment by now. I am sick of feeling like shit and being walked on. I don’t own any t-shirts that say WELCOME across them the last I looked. I’m sorry, I wanted to have a happy posting, I wanted to feel good again. And I feel like shit. But to be honest with you there are people so much worse than me and I know that. So I’m going to just pick my fat ass up and dust myself off. It’s 95 degrees today and I love the heat, so I’m going to enjoy it, dammit. I have a headache again but now I know it’s from the pills. I think I’ll stick my head in some cold water after I do some cleaning and cooking. Maybe I’ll cook outside and have a BBQ for my family. I can’t eat it but they can. Thanks for reading and I know, somehow things will work out, they always do because I’m still here and aint going nowhere.

Have a good one for yourself and me too.