Confessionsofabipolarbaker - Confessions Of A Bipolar Baker

Too long

It's been too long since I've been here. I have so many journal entries I want to put on here- things that made so much sense. I want to revisit, relearn, revive the words. Maybe my time off will be good for me. This is the first time in what seems like years that I have looked forward to time with my daughter... It doesn't scare me. Maybe we are becoming less intertwined, less co-dependent, more understanding of each other's need for space and closeness, distance, separation, fusion and fission. I want to come back and fill in the blank spaces. I always promise this, but be back soon...

Coming down...

I hate this feeling... I've said before "these mess are not helping me come down, they are not bringing me down... The are pushing and pulling and forcing me down"... I can totally understand why people with Bipolar Disorder go off their meds. These things suck. I'm still on the Lamictal and the Respirdal, ended the Seroquel and Klonopin. So only two meds now. I hate them both. The side effects are horrid. Blurry vision, stuffy nose, no sleep- or poor sleep... no appetite then only wanting to eat sugar or have coffee, weight gain, mind fuzzies... I can't read, can't comprehend, cant retain any information, no attention span... How much of these are side effects or just the disorder I'm honestly not sure. I just don't like feeling this way. I honestly think I feel worse coming down than i do in my High. I like my Up. I like the productive feeling. I get it, I might not actually BE productive, but maybe if you give me back my high I can figure out how to reign that in. Just let me feel better again. This apathetic place is just sad and too "normal" for me to handle. My friend said yesterday "oh so you poor thing, you have to be normal like the rest of us now" -- I don't WANT to be NORMAL. I want ME back... The me that was social and exciting and happy. That wasn't irritated and grouchy and negative thinking. How many times have I said to myself "I don't care" or "whatever" in my mind? Too many. But I DO care, and I want to care... I couldn't even get online to get on here to write because I didn't feel creative enough to produce... Hate that too. The creativity is like gone. Where did I go? And I blame the meds. Yes, yes I do. I will faithfully and blindly take them, but I hate them. I hear everyone say they will balance out, that I will find a balanced place on them... Prove it. Cause I just went from High to Low, no middle. ...

Welcome to my sweet upside down world

There is a saying in yoga practice when doing inversion asanas (upside down poses): inversions help you to see your world upside down in practice so you know how to deal better with upside down moments in life.

Let’s just say that I’ve been doing a lot of inversions lately.

Hello, I am the self-titled Bipolar Baker… And welcome to my sweet upside down word.

I was only recently diagnosed, as of May 9th, 2013… Not even a week now. And yet, it feels like I have lived with this disease all my life. I’m already comfortable with its company. My official diagnosis is Bipolar I, rapid cycling, with mixed mania, and Anxiety Disorder. Sounds like fun, right? Actually, it is quite fun…

When I’m in my mania, I am a hoot! I am the social butterfly, the Carrie in the city, the instant best friend you just met. I am super over productive: writing a 1,450 word paper for school in three hours- in APA format, with citations and five references, without an outline; baking 48 cupcakes from scratch, with homemade raspberry soufflé icing, individually wrapped in lace and prepped for the bridal shower that is less than ten hours away which I then co-host with flair (constantly having to remind myself, of course, that I am NOT the center of attention for the next two hours… A difficult feat for me). I am the organizer of clothes into color coordinated rows by type from left to right, separated by specific hangers into three sections- pants, tops, and dresses/skirts, even coordinating my underthings in their drawers by color.

Color rules my world most days. I get caught up in feeling the deep, cellular green of the late spring-leaves inside my head. I watch the wispy feather white clouds drift in slow motion across the infinite Carolina blue sky. I study the amber and coal and hematite hairs on my dog’s coat as he lays beside me, head on my thigh. I see colors as moods, and as auras. It is my gift and my burden as an empath, only adding to the complexity of my mind. In my mania I see starbursts of yellow and honey gold following little children, chasing their worries away… Luckily, the downs don’t stay as long… “The Crash” I have named it… The free fall after the mania. It is quick and steady: a ride down the steep side of the roller coaster, G-forces pulling at my heart, then a quick upturn to baseline, stomach churning, to wait for another incline, steady again climbing up up up. On grey days baking and my yoga pull me up. I have never found baking difficult, which is how I know it is my “out” when I have crashed. It is the one sweet thing I can lose my mind in, both figuratively and literally. My yoga practice I revel in… Morning yoga to invigorate, day yoga to stay motivated, evening yoga to be thoughtful, and night yoga to burn off the stored energy that wasn’t released in the day. Usually the night yoga involves the inversions- head stands, bridge pose, arm stands, wheel pose… Feet high above my heart to remind me: be grounded in the air, let that which is real rise above your wounded heart, and let your heart rise above your head.

Again, this is simply the walkway, the entry to my world. I hope you can join me for a few, or maybe just one spin... Either way, I hope it's a sweet ride.

Mental Disorders

me: walking and out of breath... phone rings

her: are you breathing heavy? did i interrupt something?!

me: no... just walking, and out of breath.

her: Oh that's so great! i love running, it tones up everything, and gets you so firm! we should schedule a time for us to workout together!

me: absolutely not.

her: yay! let's look at - wait - what?

me: absolutely not.

her: i thought you were going to say absolutely yes! why?

me: because you are good at it, and i hate it.

her: oh. then... okay... so...

me: how's work?

(*insert other small talk)

her: so, i should let you get back to your walking! call you later! love you!

...

and thus begins the first invasion of my peaceful journey to not hate running.

My Drishti.

Drishti (yoga) Drishti (IPA: [ dɽʂʈi ]; Sanskrit: दृष्टि; IAST:dṛṣṭi), or focused gaze, is a means for developing concentrated intention. It relates to the fifth limb of yoga (pratyahara) concerning sense withdrawal, as well as the sixth limb dharana relating to concentration.

Theory

The source of dṛṣṭis in yoga is limbs five and six from the eight limbs of yoga. The fifth limb of yoga pratyahara concerns sense withdrawal. The sixth limb of yoga dharana (concentration), includes maintaining dṛṣṭi during yoga practice in order to ensure dhyana meditation will occur.

. From Wikipedia

So... My pm won't work since I haven't know you long enough yet- or my fan mail won't... Can you PM me? I'm horrible at blog stuff... Ugh!

Did ya find one? ...

Anyone wanna be my penpal? I’ll send you a ton of letters and shit.

Where am I?

*SI trigger warning Just in a weird place lately... I'm pretty sure I'm not High, and I know I'm not Low. But, this is a weird place. I said that, my bad. So anyway. Maybe still in a state of confused mourning?... Had a dear friend pass away, and it was super hard... Harder than I thought it would be. Harder not because of who he was, rather, who he hid he was. And then, how he passed. I couldn't believe it. None of us could. But then, to be there, among friends and coworkers and family... And I'll bet you I was one of maybe three that had any clue what he felt like ...before. I could sense in one friend. He felt it too close too. And another, he couldn't even go to the front to say goodbye- like he would physically be too close to "it"... The Event. The End. I did it... I went up. To the small, granite box, with his name engraved on it... I placed a dime on it- he always called me a Ten. It made me smile. So instead of a penny, which I used to do for all the old"er" people, it was a dime. I believe they should go whoever they are going feeling rich with simply a penny and their soul... Just me. Anyway... After a while, it was too hard to be inside. Fresh air. And a friend. Old friend. When we went through the service... There was a part... I just didn't get why it made me so angry. I hate religion in general, hate is a strong word, dislike immensely... But the pastor... I'll never forget it... "He was chased by demons. The demon is in this room. And today, we are going to give this demon a name. It is Suicide.".... And my heart stopped... More like cracked. Broke. Split apart, leaving a gaping serrated edge of a wound. Angry and angry, and what is a better word for angry?! Furious? Painfully angry, hurt, wounded. How dare he? How dare that man, who calls on the name of his god say that a demon took my friend?! It took me a good solid day to figure out why I was so mad. It wasn't a demon. It never was a demon. It's not a demon that does it... That makes us think those thoughts. ... It's hope. Hope that when we go we leave behind all the good we were in the world and don't leave the ugly, terribly, horribly wretch of a person we were at that moment. Hope that we get to move forward instead of sink. Hope that we can be done with all the feelings, all the not even kind of good feelings. Hope that there is love... Somewhere. Because at that moment, it's not a demon that possessed us.. It was hope... So yeah... I'm not sure where I am right now. Between the reality of thankfulness and the reality of what-could-have-been. Surreal. Is that a place? It should be.

Partial hospitalization is weird

You're not IN but your stuck. You have things to do every hour, break, lunch, talk BLAH blah blah ... But you're NOT stuck either. You leave at the end of the day. I'm not sure how to take this. I keep asking myself- What do I wan to get out of this? What are my expectations? What do I hope to learn?... And I absolutely have no idea. I want ... I don't know what I want.