What Is This Mood? ... I Think It’s Longing. Maybe.

I hope my daughter someday appreciates this rainbow in her closet, and doesn’t loathe me for it…

Yes.

Just getting it out there

Sorry I’m gonna say this but people who joke about mental illnesses get right on my tits, the weather isn’t bipolar, you’re not anxious because your strawberries are going off and you have to eat them, and you don’t have depression because you couldn’t afford the shoes you want.. It’s 2015 and there’s still so much stigma.. Depression is a real dark place to be, bipolar isn’t as black and white as mood swings and anxiety disorders stop you doing the simplest things like going out by yourself, I have all three and before judging and taking the piss, educate yourself because you’ll never know what it’s really like until you or someone you love has been through it! This year for me has been the hardest most draining and the worst my illnesses have ever been.. You wouldn’t joke about cancer so don’t joke about mental illness because it’s no ones fault and sadly they both take lives, trust me I wouldn’t wish this one worst enemy! It’s a daily battle and I had to get this out there because people are so insensitive.

Very nicely done!

Another version of the pictures, less photo manipulation , I just combined them to create “Never Grey”.

I think this is a great self portrait because it portrays the duality of my emotional state in which I’m constantly experiencing . The battle within. Swinging from one extreme pole to the other. The bipolarity that is at times creative and colorful and then on the other hand devastatingly dark .

Here’s a short poem to go with it.

//Never Grey//

She is both me. She is We.

Wide-eyed , Full-hipped Bitten lip, And Naturally Unhinged On both ends.

Swaying Always Swaying In no direction At all.

Who could withstand Such colorful chaos?

I can barely Climb The wall

Two pieces ,One mouth A mirror reflection of a stranger Defeat rides translucent , upon victory’s coattail .

She slithers in silk Mostly the spine in protest, Burning in the cools where Dark and Light coexist

Finding it hard to live In the neutrals of gray

It’s easier to swim, But sinking can be more Intriguing .

Perverse And pure, Like Pressed Pain hiding Behind Pleasure.

Vulva mind, Choice words for a Lady, So wet and so Cut dry.

Within the soul Appears the sweeter of Angels, While she’s holding the Pitchfork behind .

Who is she ? When I cannot protect Me from me.

She is never grey, Colors changing From day to day.

-Dee

Yup

First line:

"It was a time of guilty pleasures, and I have no regrets. Our child, however will need therapy after reading this."

- my autobiography...

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. ...

Mental Disorders

Seroquel side effects

New to this med- Seroquel XR… I have rotten heartburn, I think. If feels like a pill stuck in my throat… I drink, it doesn’t move. I eat, it doesn’t move. I lay down, it gets worse and feels like the “lump” moved up higher. Is this actually heartburn? I should be lucky, I guess, that I don’t know.

This is called "word vomit."

I swear I had a draft from last week somewhere… Dammed if I cannot find it.

Oh we’ll. I’m not there anymore anyway, so no sense in trying to back track to then. I’m pretty sure I’m on the way down. I am home, alone, and have managed to eat four bowls of cereal (which promptly was eliminated back into the sewer… TMI sorry).

I had an awesome Friday therapy, had a nice but cold afternoon at the farmers market, Saturday morning was an okay yoga- I felt distracted but couldn’t put my finger on why. Went for an almond joy mocha at the square. Went to a consignment shop- bought a $3 necklace. That afternoon I was happy to entertain myself by working on my husbands car (side note- I’m a closet gear head). We worked on that for so long that it got too dark to work anymore and thunderstorms rolled in while we were cleaning up… Kinda romantic, caught in the rain with him… And then there was Sunday.

I was completely Up allllllll morning. I had managed to wash, cut, prep, store and set up a snack tray with all the market Fruits and vegis. I cleaned and prepped and set up a whole chicken in the crock pot (seriously thinking of going back to vegetarian after that… Ew ew ew.). I scrubbed out the fridge, rearranged all the food to fit in there, did the dishes. And then realized it wasn’t even noon yet. Managed to then prep a bunch of stuff out of my clothes for consignment (my new excuse for purging and rearranging my closet…). And then… … … The kid started to get neeeeeeeeeeeedy. My pet peeve. And when I am Up, it’s annoyance is even worse… Poor kiddo. I know it’s not her fault. It makes me grouchy and irritated… And I shouldn’t be. I should be patient. I used to be. I used to work with dozens of kids everyday, all day… Now I can barely tolerate my own child for a short period of time.

To remedy this, I went to the grocery store. Stay with me on this one. We needed milk, and chocolate milk, and I had a coupon for a free fro-yo and a $1 off my entire purchase, all expiring Sunday. And… Here’s the best part— they have FREE babysitting there. Hallelujah. Two birds- meet one stone. I dropped her off, took my walkie talkie and wandered the aisles for a good forty five minutes. And yes, I bought more than I was going to… But I needed the break. Thirty dollars later, I am a pleasant Mommee again, and excited to see the kiddo. I tease her to guess the frozen goodies I have bought. I treat her to not one, but two quarter gumball treats (she picks a bouncy ball and a ring- good girl). We skip out to the car, sing BINGO at the top of our lungs on the way home… All is right again with the world. I even fall asleep by her side after our nightly ritual of bedtime songs…

And Monday. Monday starts UP, with two capital letters. It is Memorial Day, we have a picnic, at one. I am up at 6:15. I feel like I need to take something, as a good guest I should bring food… Cupcakes are already being made by an aunt… I scour my online hoarding site - which shall remain nameless but rhymes with sin terrist… I find two recipes… I leave my awake little one with my still unconscious husband and again, head to the store — this time I get out with only $12 of exactly what I needed. I proceed to make over fifty strawberry-short-stacks and banana-splits on a stick…. Pics to come. All before we leave at 1230. Yeah. UP. When there, I chat nicely- not abiding to the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, skirting around the work questions, the how are you’s and the quizzical looks when I pause, mid-sentence to try to remember what I was just saying. Eventually, I fall into a good stride of —“shhhh…. Wait…. Listen to her talk…. Nod…. Wait…. Ask a question… Listen…. Don’t talk over her… Wait….” And repeat ad nauseam… I carry a beer, pour out a few micro inches each time I walk around the side of the house when no one is following me. It is a brilliant cover. This is tedious work I find. Pretending.

It must have gotten into my psyche. That night I sleep like a brick- so hard that my husband doesn’t even wake me at 615, or 700… He leaves at 745 and kisses me “it’s almost eight, just so you know…” His sweet way of saying get your ass outta bed… We are now late. After falling up the stairs, I slept on my right wrist wrong overnight, it throbs. Wearing my brace now we are even more disadvantaged to get to school and therapy on time. She is one hour late, “Class Junior Kindergarten- time 902- reason - just late.” I am only a half hour late to therapy today… I can already feel the need to slink in, under the radar, to ready myself for the inevitable “your turn”… I’m just not feelin it today.

And somewhere, sitting in there, listening to another person whine (my apologies, it is no one I know in the Real World and will certainly not invite to read this blog…)… Her depression is contagious. The day floats away. Apparently I called my mother, told her to pick up the kiddo today… I meant tomorrow. My mother in law calls, twice, then texts “I am here to get the kiddo, your mom already did” … My irritation is here again. I text a brief I WILL GET HER without care for hurt feelings. Then… I cry. Short, small, hot tears, but not chest heaving, sobbing. Just cry. And I feel like I need a nap, but I’m too irritated to sleep…how is that even possible? I try to read my Bipolar book… It irritates me. My stomach is irritated too, oh hooray. What is this feeling? Is is the Crash? No, not really. The Crash makes me thoughtless, motionless, powerless. Here, I am still creative, wanting to write more of my word vomit- the words that come to me in waves, unfiltered, almost regurgitated onto page. I am still thinking of things I should be doing, still understanding that I have to keep my nice clothes on to play the Good Mommee to go get my kiddo. This is not the Crash… it may be a Down. Apparently, there is such a thing, halfway between Up and Crash. Is this a sign that the medication is actually working? Or that it is not? I can’t read my book to know to find out… Right now, I am still irritated. Later, I will go to get the kiddo… Now… I will just write…