Alien Brain Disorder

Chronic Pain

For the last few years my pain has gone from manageable to something that is a daily struggle.

It started when I was sixteen and one day at Disneyland I started having so much abdominal pain that it was difficult to walk. I went to the doctors and after some tests it was determined that I had ovarian cysts and need to take hormonal birth control to keep them at bay. Not too big of a deal. The pills made the cysts dissolve and the pain went away.

A few years later I started having insane uterine contractions that would leave me unable to move. My doctor was stumped and just threw a bottle of Vicodin at me and sent me home. The contractions continued and I just became Vicodin dependent which my doctor wouldn't refill so I was just stuck with the pain.

A short while later my doctor diagnosed me with hip bursitis. My tendons were inflamed because I am pigeon toed and my bones pull my tendons "wrong"

Then during my struggle to find medication that worked for my bipolar disorder I was put on a medication that gave me an incurable bladder disease, Interstitial Cystitis. This comes with the need to constantly urinate as well as urinary tract pain that flares up unexpectedly. I cant even have periods anymore because with this they are unbelievably painful.

Just to finish off this shit cake, I got in a very bad car accident that left my neck messed the hell up.

So... I hurt. A LOT. Like... all the time. Sitting in a desk chair 9 hours a day is not awesome. Today I am typing this all out because I am having my first period in 3 years in preparation for my IUD to get inserted on Friday. Because of my situation I can't just take today off and lay in bed in pain. I have to go into the office and sit here. Every day I'm in pain I have to. It never stops and it never will.

I would give anything to be able to work for myself to be able to be in control of my own health, to be able to take care of myself like I want to. Until then I am hunched over in this chair, staring at this screen, just trying to take my mind off the pain.

My Number One Fear

Some people live a life full of completely rational fears. They jump at the site of insects and rodents, they scream when they are near a snake, I don’t even blame the ones that shudder at the site of clowns. When it comes to me, I live in constant, all-consuming terror of being kidnapped, kept in someone’s basement or dirty spare room, and tortured in unfathomable ways for years and years while family and friends alike just accept that most likely I am rotting in the ground. Giving up the search, moving on while I am raped daily and time slowly passes me in my own personal hell.

I have been burdened with this fear since news broke on the case about Ariel Castro, the most evil man I could have never imagined before I opened up my laptop that fateful day when I was twenty-one. I couldn’t get enough of the story. I read as much as I could, becoming obsessed, buying the survivors books and diving into the mind of tragedy and hopelessness. The fear grew.

They knew this man, they were friends of his daughter. He tricked them into his house. He violated their minds and bodies. He treated them as less than people. For over ten years, he kept them hidden, fathering a child to one while constantly forcing abortions on another. He took their dignity, their humanity as if it was his to take. Monster.

I was in too deep. My fear had overcome me. There had to be more monsters… and there was. Josef Fritzl kept his own daughter locked up in an underground bunker he built himself for twenty-four years, fathering seven children with her, all by rape. He lied to everyone, saying she ran away, even taking some of the children upstairs in the house saying she has left them on the doorstep for them to deal with. Finally he was caught when one of the children became deathly ill and needed hospital. Twenty-four years.

Jacyee Dugard was kidnapped for eighteen years by Phillip Garrido and his wife. Tazed on the way to the bus stop at eleven years old. He kept her in his backyard and raped her repeatedly. Fathering two children with her. He would do drugs and rape her for hours and hours at a time without a break. She was thirteen when she first got pregnant. Police were supposed to keep an eye on Garrido since he was on parole for another rape and kidnapping. They never took a close enough look to see Jaycee. She was finally discovered after a slip up on Garrido’s part but after EIGHTEEN years.

I could keep going. There will always be the infamous cases like Elizabeth Smart and Shawn Hornbeck but there are so, so many that disappear. Some die and some live a lost life, years stolen by selfish people. My biggest fear will always haunt me, I will always double check the locks on the doors, I will always decline rides from anyone (even people I may know), and I will always look over my shoulder. But will it save me from the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

Selfless VS. Selfish

With my wedding just around the corner, a new job having started, my great grandma dying yesterday, and just a million small things to stress about I am just stressed. What's new. I am always stressed unless I am doing everything perfect and I am organized and blah blah blah. No matter how well I am doing, I am never doing well enough. This is such a repetitive thing on this blog I can imagine you are all sick of hearing about it but this is my obsession.
I need to be the best fiance/ future wife.
I need to be the best supporter.
I need to be the best employee.
I need to be the best kickboxer.
ETC.
When I'm not, I hate myself.

I pride myself on being a selfless, independent person. If I ever say anything selfish or act selfish I feel horrible. Like, I hate buying things for myself even when I need to. I feel happy and then I feel gross. I feel them simultaneously. I know I need to do things for me and take care of me but everything ELSE isn't perfect yet. Maybe I am just MASSIVELY delusional.

Who knows.

I have plenty, plenty to be happy about right now. I really need to just let go and do my thing to make me happy. Fucking neurotic me ruining my own shit.

I'll list happy things so I can remind myself and also so I just don't seem like a whiny turd.

1. Almost all the wedding stuff is taken care of
2. Muay Thai feels great and I'm so happy I am doing it
3. My new job is SO NICE TO ME and that feels amazing
4. My apartment is really awesome and I continue to make it even awesomer
5. My fiance and I have continued to keep up with our podcast and it makes me so happy
6. I am on the right track
7. I wrote today for the first time in awhile and drew! I should keep doing that.
8. I've had some great happy moments even though I've had stressful and sad moments.
9. I've had some really amazing conversations with one of my besties lately that has made me feel good <3

Always find the positive even in the swamp of shit.

Turning

Shit is real y'all.

I think my wheel is finally turning.

I have just accepted a way better job literally a DAY after being laid off. I am basically getting a two week vacation because of it. I am sticking to my guns in keeping my toxic family out of my business. Wedding planning is going great. Muay Thai is going great. My fiance's and my podcast is going great. I am feeling positive about the future and positive about the PRESENT.

I still feel like it isn't ENOUGH. Not like that I'm not getting enough good things, I'm not being greedy here, I am BEYOND grateful for what I am getting. I just feel like I am not doing enough. I am never enough. But this is something I need to work on for myself because everyone around me always says that I am beyond doing enough. I just always feel like I have the be the best for myself and for my loved ones. Be perfect. Make everyone so proud their heads explode. I don't know. Mayne this makes no sense. Maybe this is incredibly relatable.

I just am so happy that things are turning around.

Muay Thai, Podcasting, and Eating Lunch

I'm sorry it's been a month since I wrote here but I have honestly been either so busy I want to fall over or I have been so depressed I want to fall over. I want to try and keep up with everything. While discussing my plans with my friend last night she said "How do you have time for anything?" and I laughed. BECAUSE I DON'T. And I still get frustrated that I can't do more. I wish I didn't need as much sleep as I did so I could stay up later to do MORE things.

This month I started a Science Fiction podcast with my fiance because we both love Sci-fi and podcasts. I made up our website, coded things, submitted us everywhere, we have been recording, researching, releasing, promoting, and I am so in love with it! These are the kinds of things I wish could just be my work full-time. If you have any interest in this please check us out! www.scifidoublefeaturedrivein.com
Also this month, I have started training in Muay Thai. I am going full force with it, starting at 4 days a week, if not more. I am also so in love with this! My therapist said I needed stress relief and I found it. I also have always wanted to get into a physical, competitive sport and I'm glad I found this. Every day I am sore but I feel great. The gym I go to is supportive and full of great people. I can't wait to become better and to one day fight in the ring!
To continue improving my health I am now eating 3 meals a day (holy shit, right?) I have always been busy and with my social anxiety I hate eating at work in front of people so I just.... wouldn't. But now I am forcing myself to. Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. Everyday. Full of fruit, vegetables, proteins, and all good stuff.
My therapist said I should write when I am feeling good so when I get depressed I can read back and feel better. This blog is definitely that place for me. I have already written so many positive things here and I need to keep at it! Even if it adds to my schedule that grows longer and longer every day.
But a busy mind for me is a happy mind as I am sure a lot of you can relate!

The Blob

Deep, vicious depression is one of the most impossible things to try an explain to people who do not feel it. I have read plenty of articles, posts by friends and acquaintances from support groups I am a part of on Facebook all explaining the pain they are going through. But none that I feel really gets to the heart of how incredibly devastating it is. I feel like I could type for hours and all that will come out is a jumbled mush of words that will still not come across in a way that would properly describe the complete loneliness, hopelessness, desperation, and pain of depression. I know many people suffer differently. Not every mental illness is the same and thats why every treatment and pill is different. The human brain is difficult to treat. You can not examine it the way you can a broken bone or a regular disease. When going to the psychiatrist for my bipolar disorder it's like having a handful of meds being thrown at me and seeing which ones maybe stick just enough to bring me some form of peace. In no way am I cured. The medicine just helps to settle things to where I can feel some kind of "normal". I still get depressed. I still get manic. Just much less so.
Right now my life's circumstances have left me in a very severe depression. There are days where the anxiety from it leaves me in physical pain because my chest and throat feel so tight, it hurts to swallow.
My family says "Just think of the things you have to be GRATEFUL for,"
I know what I have that is great. I am very grateful for my wonderful fiance, the apartment I love, my dog... but that doesn't change my depression. That doesn't make it go away.
I feel overwhelmed by the bad. Sometimes as small as the bad may be at one time. To me it feels so large that like The Blob it spreads over all the happy things and consumes them. I have many things I would love to do to bring me happiness but my motivation is stunted. I feel like moving and doing anything is nearly impossible. I can't even bring myself to shower most days. I wish more than anything I could do these things and be better. I dream about it. I wish people could understand what it feels like to just feel like you CAN'T. To sometimes lie there and not even want to breathe because of the effort. To have no recent pictures with a genuine smile because what reason do I have to smile?
I keep myself awake at night daydreaming so vividly of better things. Of my job changing, of me being able to get up and do the things I love, of the conversations I want to have, the places I want to go, the way I want to look. But I pop some klonopin to quiet my brain so I can sleep. I cry silently in bed. I am a failure in my eyes. I will never get past this. I will always be in pain.
I wish I had encouraging words at the end of this but I don't.
All I can say is if you have a loved one with mental illness please make sure they don't feel alone. Lay next to them and hold them. Tell them they matter. They are wonderful and special and beautiful. That you love them. Help them get out of painful situations that are hurting them. You being there for them and supporting them means more to them than you understand.

My Dreams

I have been pretty much on my own since I turned eighteen. Bouncing from apartment to apartment, job to job to try and make ends meet. I never had the money or means to go to college beyond a few community college classes and honestly between working full-time and all my mental health issues I really didn't have the time or energy anyway. I have had my struggles and I have worked really hard to get where I am in my field to be able to support myself. I make decent money and live.
I was talking to my therapist this week and she asked me about my dreams. I told her "I don't have the luxury of dreams."

This doesn't mean I don't have them. What I meant is I don't have the luxury of even entertaining the idea that any of them are a reality. I have no support to quit my job and pursue them, I have no time in my busy life to truly work on them (I barely have time to write here), I can't go to school, I just... can't. I am very hopeful. I try to do the things I love in my limited spare time but most of the time they fall to the wayside. Most people just say I am not trying hard enough. I could if I wanted to. This makes me roll my eyes. Sure, tell me I can go back to college if I just saved enough when I live paycheck to paycheck to just keep the nice little life that keeps me together every day. Sure, tell me I can just make time if I was dedicated enough. You have no idea what it's like to be so emotionally exhausted at the end of the day that you literally fall asleep at 9:30 PM while just looking at your phone. I don't know if you know what it's like to cry every night and morning because you are so depressed that your life is not what you want it to be. That you will just have to work a job you have no love for till you die. And this is your life. And you do dream, you dream of wonderful, beautiful things but you know that you are trapped.
I know that there are others who have sacrificed. I know my situation isn't special. I know this pain is felt by plenty who sacrificed happiness for being able to survive.To you, I feel your pain. I feel your sorrow. I wish we could all be happy because we only get these one lives and the fact that we have to live them so trapped in misery is a crime. So tied to survival.
I hope one day I can find a way. I hope we all can.
Until then I try to find the small ways to make this better. It's hard, the depression and anxiety is literally physically painful most days. Hours shouldn't be counted down but savored. Dreams shouldn't be a luxury.

Faking It: Mixtape

I've been struggling with some pretty severe depressive episodes lately. I really just wanna give up on everything. From what I talked about last entry, all those bad things feel like they are just getting too heavy to carry. Most days I just want to lay in my bed and cry. Unfortunately (or I suppose, fortunately?) I can't do that because I have to function like a person or my whole life would fall apart.

Something that comes with my depressive episodes is an extreme disassociation from myself. I feel like my life and myself isn't real. It's as if I am a stranger is my own mind. This is a hallucination that comes with my bipolar disorder. It's incredibly frustrating to go through because I have no control over it and never know when I will feel like myself again. It just comes and goes as it pleases, making me even more depressed because I feel like I have no control over my own mind.
I never let anyone outside know this is going on though, except maybe my fiance and my best friend. So today I have for you all my depressive episode mixtape for when I'm "Faking It"
I wish I had more to say.
I'm going through some rough stuff right now.

The Wheel

I feel very guilty. I have been neglecting a lot of things lately that I want to be doing like writing here on this blog, keeping up with my weekly organization of myself, getting back in reading/writing/practicing music/cooking better food/exercising... there's a lot. I have just been paralyzed by stress and depression. I have to literally drag myself through the day and convince myself to do the simplest things like shower or get up in the morning. It seems like everywhere I turn there is only bad things around the corner. I know deep down that I am allowing myself to be overwhelmed with the bad things and there are still good things in my life that I am ignoring but when depression hits it is easy to just say "Fuck this, life is bad right now."
Every day I just sit in chronic pain at my desk, my head swimming with all the stresses of the day and just beg the universe "Please, just give me something good."
Back in middle school I was really obsessed with Mythology. I thought the concepts and stories were so interesting. There was this one idea that our lives are like a wheel. When we are at the top all these good things are happening to us but then it will spin and we will be at the bottom where everything bad happens. But don't worry, the wheel will continue to turn and you will be at the top again.

I try not to get these ideas so solidly in my head because I believe that when we subscribe to something it's like a self fulfilling prophecy. Of course if you believe that once something negative happens you are in for all the negative things then you are just surrounding yourself with negative energy and that just brings the negative things upon you. At least that's what I believe. I understand if you thinks that's utter bullshit and what is going to happen is what happens.
But I am a massively paranoid person.
I feel like I am at the bottom of my wheel right now. I just need to get back to the top.

The Cool Girl

My whole life there has been two of me. There has been the person that truly exists and lives. The one that is real. Then there is "the cool girl". She lives in my mind. She is everything that I wish I was but I have never been. She is skinnier than me, more creative than me, more talented, more organized, more motivated... more EVERYTHING.

Since I have developed insecurities she has existed to break through them. I could always close my eyes and just see her, always so close to reality. Just 15 pounds away, just pushing myself a little further towards a goal. Always so close to my cool self. My perfect self. I wanted to be her so bad. I still do.
It's an obsession that I feel I constantly stand in the way of. I have confessed this to my fiance during our late night talks when we are lying in bed in the dark. He says I'm already cool. That all my goals are attainable. I still want to be her.
She doesn't take pictures with back fat.
She doesn't have weird adult acne.
She has cool clothes and hair that looks way better than mine.
She has the willpower in the morning to do her hair and put on makeup.
High heels don't hurt HER feet.
She practices her cello everyday.
She pushes herself to use her yoga mat.
She eats healthy delicious food.
She doesn't cry all the time.
She has way more fun.

God damn her.

Why.
Can't
I.
Be.
Her.

Pickles

The best decision I have ever made (besides my fiance) was the day I decided to get my dog, Pickles. The second I locked eyes with her, I just knew that she was my dog and I somehow knew her name was Pickles. I didn't think about anything when I got her. I had my friend sit with her while I ran to the bank to cash my tax refund check so that no one else could take her. From that second, Pickles and I would never be apart.
When she first came home she fit in both my hands. She would squish herself in between pillows to fall asleep. I had never in my life before that ever been more in love with a living thing.

Pickles has shown me love when I had none. She has gotten me through the toughest times in my life. She has always been by my side. I can't imagine how I would have navigated the last six years without her. The love from a dog is one that cannot be replaced or described. She has a brilliant personality, she makes me laugh, she comforts me when I cry, and she is way too fucking smart for her own good. I will never be able to repay the countless heartbroken nights where I shed too many tears or the nights I felt so alone that she was there for me.

One day I hope to have many more pups to share my love with but Pickles will always have my heart.

Suicide Anniversary

Today, March 20th, is the eight year anniversary of when I took a hundred and fifty pills after walking home from high school and then after hours in the ER, throwing up and feeling numb, got committed to the mental hospital for a 51/50.

The memories that surround this incident are buried in my mind, only to sometimes reappear with a vengeance. I remember that day being filled with feelings of intense desperation and worthlessness. I remember crying the entire walk home from school, calling all the normal comforts in my phone to only be met with silence. I remember getting home to hit myself with a baseball bat like I would normally do in extreme emotional pain to just not feel satisfied this time. I remember calmly sitting on the computer in the family kitchen, slowly popping pill after pill down my throat while on Myspace. I remember all those people I had called finally calling me back once the bottle was empty, demanding I call an ambulance or they would. I remember sitting quietly by the front door while EMTs shoved oxygen tubes in my nose and put me on a stretcher to wheel me out in front of all the neighbors that I couldn't care less about. I remember my best friend's mom. My mom. My best friend. Crying. I wasn't crying.

The EMTs scoffed, "Why would you kill yourself over a boy?"

It was never the BOY.

It was the abuse, year after year after year by so many different faces that just blended together into nothing. The constant feeling of being worth nothing, being treated like an object. It was everything, I wanted to feel nothing. I was rotting inside so let me rot all the way through.

We sat in the ICU with tubes all over me. I threw up a lot but the nurse says I'm so lucky because the pills I took aren't poisonous. I did't feel lucky.

My family cried and I laughed.

I could't stop laughing.

I am not dead.

I am going to keep living.

This is funny right now.

No one knows I am bipolar yet. No one understands me.

They finally found a ward after midnight.

My mom cried as she signs the paperwork.

I don't want to talk about the ward. Maybe one day. Not today.

I've O.D.ed in private since. I've threatened. I've thought. But I've lived.

I haven't tried in over 3 years.

I am grateful I am alive even when things are so bad I want to tear my skin off.

Leaving doesn't solve the problems. Closing the door, exiting the room just means that you will never experience anything again. Nothing. Not the embrace of your mother. Not your favorite song. Not the smell of Jasmine blooming in the summer outside your window. Every bad day has some beauty in it. I promise. So just stick around and find your things that make your life beautiful.

My beautiful things

Manic Expression: Mixtape

If there is one thing I am like, REALLY super good at, it's having a massive garbage melt down with zero warning that usually results in hysterical screaming. And crying. And being really, REALLY furiously angry. I'm INSANELY good at that. I didn't know until I was diagnosed that these are manic episodes; at the time I thought I was just a really excellent crazy bitch. (I am joking about this but seriously, it ruined my life for years)
When I am amped up on the mania juice there really isn't much in the way of calming me down besides just riding out the wave. I can isolate myself, take anti-anxiety meds, cry it out, punch a wall repeatedly, punch my leg repeatedly, but usually the healthiest way to go about it is scream it out to some good music. There has been quite a few days I have done this in the car ride home after a particularly rough day. Releasing all the horrible, pent up rage of the day out the window of my car and into the smog ridden, Los Angeles atmosphere. Crying it out feels pretty good too but we have already chatted about the crying.
I put together a playlist (mix-tape if it was my choice but you can't very well put one of those onto the internet) of amazing songs to raise your voice to and play as loud as you can. Ignore the cars around you because when the hell are you gonna see them again anyway? Just yell. Scream. Don't try and sound pretty. Make ugly faces at the road. Fuck everyone else for awhile and just rage.

Relax

How on earth is it possible to relax when you are a person that lives with constant anxiety? When every day you are always obsessively thinking about what you aren't doing right, what you should be doing instead of what you are currently doing; and what the next day, week, month, year... etc. will bring?

If you are me, you really don't. I really don't feel like I ever truly relax the way a human being should.
I am always trying, don't get me wrong. Regularly attempting to rest after a long day or shut my brain off during the weekend. Unfortunately, my brain runs about a million miles per hour and the best chance I have had to give my constantly pounding heart a break has been to pop a Benzo.
I know the same things don't work for everyone. I also know it can be very irritating when people suggest so. "Oh, just take some deep breaths. Just meditate. Relaxation exercise. Blah blah blah." Those just don't work for me. I am just TOO anxious. I am thinking TOO much. I have some things that do work though and I am happy to share them with you. I am by no means telling you that these are the things to live by because what works for you, works for YOU but I am so glad that someone I trusted told me about these.
The first one is tapping. I do not know everything about tapping. Please, investigate on your own if this interests you.

How I do this for myself though is I tap one of the points suggested (I like the "karate chop" point with three fingers), I close my eyes to shut out visual shit from distracting me, repeat a mantra to myself like "I may be very anxious right now but I am going to be okay", and to even engage my brain further I mouth it to myself. My best friend it still teaching me about this but this helps me SO much. You can tap on any feeling, just change the mantra.
Another way I relax is since I can't deep breathe just by myself, I find a visual aid. My Fitbit charge has a relax setting that has one. The circle expands and contracts with when I'm supposed to breathe. It also really helps that it vibrates with it too.
Anything to completely distract me really so I can't do that awful thinking thing.
I hope these helped you. If I find anymore techniques that help me, I will definitely share them. If you have any great ones, feel free to share them back!

The Laughing Heart

"You are marvelous
The Gods wait to delight in you"

The Places We Cry

I am sitting at my desk and it hits me. Something, anything. Yesterday it was the news that there was a massive tornado near where a lot of my family was and I couldn't get a hold of my dad to know if they were okay. Sometimes it's an e-mail that rubs me the wrong way. Sometime I'm home and something just doesn't feel right.

Usually it isn't the actually thing that triggers the emotional break. Most of the time it's the straw that broke the worn down as fuck camel's back. The camel that hasn't drank any water for a few weeks and has been pushed around by some assholes that need to just let the camel be a god-damned camel.

Whatever it is, I all of a sudden can't keep the feelings all smashed up inside anymore. It's coming out and I better find somewhere to do it or everything is going to get really awkward. Like a pregnant lady about to be sick, I bolt for the nearest safe space. These are the places I cry:

As you can see they are as much solitude as I can get in a busy world where we work in open, trendy offices and every action we take is displayed on the social platform. I hide. I hide usually in plain sight where at any moment someone can just pop around a corner or open a door and uncomfortably discover me. This has happened. It's not fun for anyone. No one enjoys other people's emotions, especially the uncomfortable ones like depression, anxiety, or anger. People want to shut the door and pretend they didn't see it.

This is what makes us seek solitude in the first place. This is why we shove everything down until we break and have to hurl ourselves into these spaces to quietly fall apart. Then we blow our nose, wipe our eyes on our sleeve, and shove it all back into place.

We do this because we don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

We do this out of shame.

We do this out of embarrassment.

But we shouldn't suffer like this. We shouldn't be in pain alone. We shouldn't shove it all down just to explode. This is how we immobilize ourselves. By isolating ourselves in our cars and bathrooms, we feel like there's no one who cares. To be in pain alone is a terrible thing.

So stop.

Stop worrying about making your friends and family uncomfortable. Don't feel shame and embarrassment because you have feelings and especially if you have depression or anxiety. You need to share and be supported and find a group of people that make you feel strong when you are most certain you are weak. Sure, we still need to be alone every once in awhile but please, for me, don't hide.

One Winter: Mixtape

The book 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' was the sanctuary where I tucked all the bits and pieces of my pain and rejection into in late high school. Every time I felt out of place, weird, unwanted, heartbroken... I would read Charlie's words. I felt his pain. His disassociation. He loneliness when surrounded by friends. What the world around me didn't know was I felt his sexual assault.

And then, one day, I felt his suicide attempt.

In my recovery after I got out of the ward, I became obsessed with my mom's cassette tapes. I loved just how personal they felt. The memories laced inside. The incredible effort just to record your favorite songs onto one. So, I started making my own mix-tapes. In the book, Charlie loves cassettes as well and receives one that is particularly special to him. He gives them too. I saw these as yet another connection to a character from this nonexistent world that brought me such comfort.

To honor him and what the story meant to me I made a mix-tape for the book. I tried to make it as true to all it's forms. I even took a nod or two from the movie. (I cried so hard during the movie at certain points people must have thought something was wrong with me)

If you haven't read the book, maybe it'll remind you of being some weird kid in the early 90's going through some old records and including your own shit while sitting on the floor of your garage. Maybe you can't relate at all but that's okay. These songs still are full with feelings and beautiful ideas. And really, buy the book and take a trip back to high school. There is a good chance it will heal some old wounds that you didn't even know there was band-aids for.

Click to Buy

Crying

My Monday started with me crying. This is not entirely unusual, me crying. Part of being Bipolar is crying spells. Some weeks there isn't a day that goes by without me crying every day. I have swapped normal makeup for red rimmed eyes and crunchy tear stained cheeks. Some days my eyes are so swollen from the night before that it hurts.
Anyway, crying. I was crying. I was anxious. Things aren't going well and I am scared every day of what will happen. Work is.... complicated. I probably shouldn't talk about it so I won't for now but let us just say that Klonopin and Ativan are my best friends Monday through Friday. And oh my god the crying.
I also haven't showered in a week. When I am on this level of stress and depression I don't take care of myself at all. I just am in my own mind. Obsessive thoughts about how I have no control over my life so it's like, fuck it, I'm not going to do anything. I'm too overwhelmed.
I'm really not painting a great picture of myself right now but I really don't feel great.
I have been so anxious lately that there is constantly a tightness in my chest. Like, my heart is a twisted mess and filled with rocks. Sometimes the crying releases some of the tension. Yesterday it was screaming the lyrics to David Bowie songs in my car on the way home. We do what we can with what we have.
I finally got an appointment with a therapist today.
After eight months of really, really struggling.
I've KNOWN I have needed it desperately and I really don't have anything against therapy. It's just that human thing where we put off and put off things we know we need because we are being stubborn for no reason at all.
Something that helps me on bad days at the end and something I did last night at the end of feeling really shitty for a good twelve hours was making a list of things that were good that day. Even through everything that sucked, there was still good things that made me happy.

1. Coffee is really tasty when you are really tired

2. Coming home when you feel bad and hugging someone you love feels SO good

3. Falling asleep while watching tv in a warm blanket feels safe

4. The move Milk is really inspiring

5. My best friend said something great that made me feel good, "You are doing the best you can"

6. Some songs feel so good to sing to

7. Waffle fries are very tasty and salty

I could even write more! But really. It is okay to not be okay and there are good things in bad days, no matter how small. You just need to look for them.

And listen to my best friend, you ARE doing the best you can.

Hi.

I am starting this blog as a place to talk about my life as a mentally ill person. Specifically a bipolar one.
About how it stomps through my everyday life, knocking shit over and ruining lots of things.
About how some days I can be pretty cool about it.
About how a lot of days I can't.
I also want to write about other things because I am not just my disorder.

I am a writer, a musician (learning), a soon to be wife, an avid animal lover, a reader; I am many things but above all I am a human being.

I am starting this because I want people to know what it's like to live with this but to also know that people who struggle are also people. We feel, we breathe, we laugh, we love deeply.

See past my illness.

See me.

Pages