So Tired

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.

Truth.

Intoxicated

I am inebriated. Omg I spelled it.

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.

thanksgiving cookies…

two years...

my last post was January 2016... okay, so more than 2 years. A hell of a lot has happened, and changed, and stayed the same. Reading old posts. odd. 

lessons learned...

so... today i have learned the following:

-that Lamictal sucks.  it takes away my high, it makes my nose stuffy and makes me eat like a pregnant heiffer...  that which i am not.

-that GAK must be made with Elmers glue... seriously.  it wont work with the cheap stuff.

-that homemade playdoh is a ZILLION times easier to make than Gak, and the kiddo loves it more.

-that i like my highs.  i get some *winks* and go to sleep late, sleep through the night, and wake up early at 630 refreshed, and can make-coffee-unfriend-120-FB-peeps-clean-the-bedroom-unmake-the-bed-put-the-blankets-and-pillows-in-the-wash-and-dryer-feed-the-frog-surf-pinterest-for-twenty-yoga-plans-and-scrub-the-toilets all within about an hour...

but when i take that d@mn Lamictal i freakin CRASH.  it was at 10 i finally took it, b/c i knew, i just KNEW it would kill my high.  and it did.  at 1220 i was telling kiddo to go watch some tv on the ipad and Mommee is taking a nap.  i slept for a whopping 30 minutes (who can sleep with a kid in the house, alone anyway?).  this is an evil drug.  hate it hate it hate it.  three hours later, it finally wears off  - "drivers, start your engines!... and they're off!"

i come out of the fog and make s'mores for the kiddo, drag her to the grocery store, pick up the four things i need, head over to the drug store for a return, go home, mangle the Gak recipe, and make three batches of play doh stuff.  and i realize i am brilliant- as i think of a zillion new yoga classes i can totally teach, invent a new seat cover for the kiddo so she doesnt burn her arse off in this heat, and plan out next years garden in our new home (which, of course, we havent actually bought yet... but i digress... ).  life is good - well, except for the whole stuffy nose thing, STILL.

again -i hate the Lamictal.  its worse than the Seroquel, which is going away next week (commence countdown- night 8... tonite).  i cant tell if the other one, the Risperdal -i hate spelling that- if its working or if its the one that chops me down.  although, i can totally pinpoint the two hour half life of the Lamictal... so im blaming it.  the good doc says that the hives are a sun sensitivity from both meds, and that my aches and pains are from the highs -HA!  i laugh at the thought.  tooooooooo baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.  i like my highs.  i said that.  oh well - i DO.

what else?...  ...  ... 

OH -i dislike immensely the saying that "you should do what you dislike doing first..".  only a-holes do this, i have decided.  i cleaned the upstairs bathroom- like, scrub-the-doorknobs-and-lightswitches-with-a-toothbrush cleaned.  i LIKE doing them - they are small, i know where everything goes, and it is DONE and i move on.  even the master bedroom is okay.  it is the dining room/office and living room i DESPISE.  there is just NOT enough room, and too much CR@P.  they are still not done.  neither is the laundry to put away (not even WASH, just put away!) or the sewing (yes, i mend things... when i want to be cheap... ). 

i have a brilliant idea again... i salvaged a tv stand from a front yard curb, and i am going to repurpose it as a scrap corner!  whahoo!!!  cant wait.  it is a project for my niece and i for the summer.  cant wait to pick out colors- i am thinking tiffany blue and black.  love that.  and i love blue, and black.  this also will be in my new house, in my new office and craft room.  oh - i do so love a good fantasy. 

okay.  rant closed.

I can't stress enough that people need to be aware that there are doctors who are "just okay" at their jobs. Who barely passed their boards and/or had to retake courses and/or had scores so low they even had a hard time matching at the end of med school.

Please seek second opinions. Third, even. Ask the doctors endless questions. Challenge them if something doesn't feel or sound right. Don't stroke their egos by being intimidated by their perceived intelligence.

THIS!!!!!!!!!! most of us feel like we aren't doing enough because we can't physically stop a genocide but speaking helps!! pressuring helps!! boycotting helps and protesting helps!! please don't give up on Palestinians not when the entire world has turned their backs on them

here is how YOU can help Palestine

Pizza toppings

Daddy: what do you want for dinner Baby?

Baby: hock dawgs. (She is only two years old here)

Daddy: say again?

Baby: Hock dawwwgs, yesh please.

Mommee (that's me): or... Do you want pizza like Mommee and Daddy?

Baby: pizzaahh yesh pizzaahh. I wan pizzaahh and baloneyos...

Mommee: ...you want what?

Baby: baloneyOhs.

Daddy: what are "baloneyOhs" Baby?

Baby: (quite disdainfully) peeeeeetza wif bah-lone-eee-Ohs!

...

...

Get it?

Pizza with pepperoni.

She calls it that to this day. Love her!