I've been really manic the last few weeks and in some ways it's pretty good for my creativity, but in others it sucks so much ass. The reason why it sucks is because I've been pretty impulsive in many aspects of life and that includes personal...
It's hard to explain but I love being manic for a few reasons but I also hate it for so much more. I hate it because I'm so self destructive and I'm so fucking crazy but at times I feel like I'm so insanely happy that I am walking on a cloud. A FUCKING CLOUD!!! I want to laugh, I want to cry. I want to just fucking scream. I can't tell which way is up or down.
The other shitty thing is my sleep is kind of off. It's like I don't want to do it. I do it because I have to, but I don't want to. I need my medication to make me do it. I'm a lot more anxious and paranoid about things that don't exist. I mean right now, I'm pretty lucid, I'm lucid enough to write this post so I know that things are crazy when I think of them but I'm not thinking of the crazy shit I normally think of so I can't really give you an example.
Most of the time I live my life on the depressed end of the bipolar spectrum and that fucking sucks because being depressed sucks. It's not something I choose, it's something that just happens. I fucking hate when people tell me that I'm choosing to live my life that way. Who the fuck seriously chooses to be depressed all the time?
So being insanely fucking manic is a nice change. I like it. I'm not going to lie. But I hate not knowing what each day is going to bring. I hate not knowing where my head is going to be. I hate not being able to sit down long enough to finish one fucking project. I'm on a deadline here!
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Does My Anxiety Make Me Look Fat?
I don't really remember when my anxiety became so bad. I know it has gradually gotten worse over the years but I'm pretty sure I've always been anxious in social situations because of my appearance. I know it's pretty effing sad but yeah, my weight makes me feel like people are looking at me and talking about me and saying mean things. Because of this, it makes it so that a lot of times I really don't want to go out in public.
It's really sad and pathetic when you think about it, but it's the hard truth. People are cruel and mean. People also don't teach their children manners and kids say rude shit. A lot of times I pretend like I don't hear people but I do. Even after losing a little weight, I still feel uncomfortable. I'm sure that no matter what, I will probably always feel like people are talking about me because I've spent most of my life being the punchline to some asshole's sad attempt at a joke. Despite what most people think, fat people do have feelings.
Some people may say, "well, why don't you get up and exercise?" or "why don't you diet?" You know, I do and I have. However, and it may not be an excuse to anyone but I'm bipolar. I spend the majority of my time depressed. Waking up every day is a chore. I also have ITP so that adds to the fatigue. Sometimes I get motivated. I really do, but that motivation is short lived. It may last a few days, weeks, sometimes months. Then I get burned out or my depression returns and I start to cycle again. It fucking sucks.
Another shitty thing about my anxiety is that it's not only something in my head, it metastasizes into these physical symptoms. It starts as this annoying itchy rash and I don't even notice most of the time, but I'm scratching like a frickin tweaker all over the place. It starts in my legs and feet. How fucking annoying is it for your effing feet to itch??? Then it's my thighs and my belly and my back. Then I have hives on my chest and my arms. It's insane. I get tunnel vision and then everyone sounds like they are far away. I do my best to ignore it, but it's really hard. I also get irritable, but fuck, you try having itching powder all over your body and see how nice you can be.
I try to make myself do things so that I don't become the hermit that I would prefer, but I'll be damned if staying home doesn't sound so much better than a lot of the things I make myself do. This is why I hate being mentally ill. It's a frickin handicap like no other. Just because I smile and act like I'm okay, doesn't mean I am. I'm just trying to deal with everything one day at a time.
I just want people to know that they aren't alone with their anxiety. They aren't alone with their bipolar. They aren't alone with their PTSD. This is just what I have to deal with... what do you have to deal with? What are your ailments?
It's really sad and pathetic when you think about it, but it's the hard truth. People are cruel and mean. People also don't teach their children manners and kids say rude shit. A lot of times I pretend like I don't hear people but I do. Even after losing a little weight, I still feel uncomfortable. I'm sure that no matter what, I will probably always feel like people are talking about me because I've spent most of my life being the punchline to some asshole's sad attempt at a joke. Despite what most people think, fat people do have feelings.
Some people may say, "well, why don't you get up and exercise?" or "why don't you diet?" You know, I do and I have. However, and it may not be an excuse to anyone but I'm bipolar. I spend the majority of my time depressed. Waking up every day is a chore. I also have ITP so that adds to the fatigue. Sometimes I get motivated. I really do, but that motivation is short lived. It may last a few days, weeks, sometimes months. Then I get burned out or my depression returns and I start to cycle again. It fucking sucks.
Another shitty thing about my anxiety is that it's not only something in my head, it metastasizes into these physical symptoms. It starts as this annoying itchy rash and I don't even notice most of the time, but I'm scratching like a frickin tweaker all over the place. It starts in my legs and feet. How fucking annoying is it for your effing feet to itch??? Then it's my thighs and my belly and my back. Then I have hives on my chest and my arms. It's insane. I get tunnel vision and then everyone sounds like they are far away. I do my best to ignore it, but it's really hard. I also get irritable, but fuck, you try having itching powder all over your body and see how nice you can be.
I try to make myself do things so that I don't become the hermit that I would prefer, but I'll be damned if staying home doesn't sound so much better than a lot of the things I make myself do. This is why I hate being mentally ill. It's a frickin handicap like no other. Just because I smile and act like I'm okay, doesn't mean I am. I'm just trying to deal with everything one day at a time.
I just want people to know that they aren't alone with their anxiety. They aren't alone with their bipolar. They aren't alone with their PTSD. This is just what I have to deal with... what do you have to deal with? What are your ailments?
Friday, May 17, 2013
Where's Chief Bromden When You Need Him?
Being bipolar fucking sucks. It really does. Especially if you're an average Joe who doesn't have the cash flow like Catherine Zeta Jones to just check in for preventative care whenever you feel like it. Most of us have to deal with it on our own.
I have to say, I'm really fucking tired of it. I have enough mental shit to deal with, I hate this bipolar bullshit on top of my PTSD and anxiety/social anxiety crap. Some people try to understand, but unless you are bipolar or have some other mental illness, you can't understand what it's like.
Hell, I wish I understood or could stop my mood swings or depression. I wish I could control it better. I try, I try really fucking hard, but sometimes it's just too much. It consumes me. It consumes all my energy and just drains me. It makes me feel like I'm a huge failure because I can't be the person that I want to be. I would LOVE to be fucking normal. Unfortunately, I'm not. I'm a fucked up basketcase. I can't apologize anymore for who I am.
Some people tell me to stop using my illness as an excuse, you know what, it's not a fucking excuse, it's what it is. I'm sorry that you aren't willing to accept me for what I am or who I am. But what the fuck. I spent years being strong and I spent years trying not to be so fucking sensitive and I became this fucking zombie. I hated when I was like that. When I was like that, I was so mean. I was so fucking mean and I never cared about anyone's feelings because I was fucking numb and I couldn't feel anymore so I forgot anyone else could.
So now I'm extra sensitive and words hurt me and for the first fucking time in my life I am allowing myself to not hide behind this fake mask. I am allowing myself to feel.
My bipolar makes me want to punch myself in the face. My PTSD comes and goes as it pleases these days. My anxiety makes me want to crawl out of my skin and my social anxiety makes me want to just hide in a dark hole.
I hate being mentally ill. The reason why I hate it is because everyone else treats me like I'm a leper. Everyone makes me feel like I shouldn't be feeling my feelings. It's like my feelings don't matter because they are not the same as everyone else's. That's how people make me feel, just because I have mental illness. Like the fact that I'm mentally ill negates the fact that I am also human. If that makes any sense.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore because I'm just so difjrewgoihsjdkjvnsxk y'know? You know when there isn't even a work to describe it... and you just want to scream random sounds and punch your keyboard? That. That's what I am feeling right now.
I have to say, I'm really fucking tired of it. I have enough mental shit to deal with, I hate this bipolar bullshit on top of my PTSD and anxiety/social anxiety crap. Some people try to understand, but unless you are bipolar or have some other mental illness, you can't understand what it's like.
Hell, I wish I understood or could stop my mood swings or depression. I wish I could control it better. I try, I try really fucking hard, but sometimes it's just too much. It consumes me. It consumes all my energy and just drains me. It makes me feel like I'm a huge failure because I can't be the person that I want to be. I would LOVE to be fucking normal. Unfortunately, I'm not. I'm a fucked up basketcase. I can't apologize anymore for who I am.
Some people tell me to stop using my illness as an excuse, you know what, it's not a fucking excuse, it's what it is. I'm sorry that you aren't willing to accept me for what I am or who I am. But what the fuck. I spent years being strong and I spent years trying not to be so fucking sensitive and I became this fucking zombie. I hated when I was like that. When I was like that, I was so mean. I was so fucking mean and I never cared about anyone's feelings because I was fucking numb and I couldn't feel anymore so I forgot anyone else could.
So now I'm extra sensitive and words hurt me and for the first fucking time in my life I am allowing myself to not hide behind this fake mask. I am allowing myself to feel.
My bipolar makes me want to punch myself in the face. My PTSD comes and goes as it pleases these days. My anxiety makes me want to crawl out of my skin and my social anxiety makes me want to just hide in a dark hole.
I hate being mentally ill. The reason why I hate it is because everyone else treats me like I'm a leper. Everyone makes me feel like I shouldn't be feeling my feelings. It's like my feelings don't matter because they are not the same as everyone else's. That's how people make me feel, just because I have mental illness. Like the fact that I'm mentally ill negates the fact that I am also human. If that makes any sense.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore because I'm just so difjrewgoihsjdkjvnsxk y'know? You know when there isn't even a work to describe it... and you just want to scream random sounds and punch your keyboard? That. That's what I am feeling right now.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Why I don't "celebrate" Valentine's Day
Valentine's day has never really been a big day to me. I've pretty much always been single around it so it's always been a day to make me feel like crap for being single. The one time I did celebrate with someone, I found out 5 days later that I was the other woman. So yeah, that wasn't much of a good memory for me.
I used to exchange gifts with my close friends and we would spoil each other and those were good times, but it still wasn't a big deal.
So when my husband and I started dating and 6 months later our first Valentine's came around, I had told him I did not want to celebrate. Why would I make such a decision? You ask. Well, we had been living together for a few months (yes, you read that right, dating for only 6 months yet living together for a few) so I had no worries of where our relationship status was. I knew I had met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't need to be showered with the commercial gifts that are given by every man to their woman.
I just didn't want CW to think that one day was good enough to spoil me. I really am low maintenance in a lot of ways. I don't need expensive jewelry or expensive gifts, but I do like to be pampered in love constantly. So I told CW that I want love to be shown all the time, not just on ONE day. So he agreed. We wouldn't celebrate on a commercialized love holiday.
During our years together, we never have celebrated Valentine's day. I don't shun it. I don't down others for celebrating. It's my decision for doing so. My birthday is 8 days after Valentine's day. CW's is 5 days after, that's when we get gifts.
You know... the way CW and I celebrate all year long is the best. He shows me he loves me by making me dinner and trying to make my life as easy as possible around the house and brings me home these little surprises here and there. I am more of a surprising him with gifts and doing unexpected things for him type. It just works for us. I know that I may complain, I may bitch, but I'm writing out of emotion at the time because I need to vent. In between therapy appointments, writing is my therapy. :)
I used to exchange gifts with my close friends and we would spoil each other and those were good times, but it still wasn't a big deal.
So when my husband and I started dating and 6 months later our first Valentine's came around, I had told him I did not want to celebrate. Why would I make such a decision? You ask. Well, we had been living together for a few months (yes, you read that right, dating for only 6 months yet living together for a few) so I had no worries of where our relationship status was. I knew I had met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't need to be showered with the commercial gifts that are given by every man to their woman.
I just didn't want CW to think that one day was good enough to spoil me. I really am low maintenance in a lot of ways. I don't need expensive jewelry or expensive gifts, but I do like to be pampered in love constantly. So I told CW that I want love to be shown all the time, not just on ONE day. So he agreed. We wouldn't celebrate on a commercialized love holiday.
During our years together, we never have celebrated Valentine's day. I don't shun it. I don't down others for celebrating. It's my decision for doing so. My birthday is 8 days after Valentine's day. CW's is 5 days after, that's when we get gifts.
You know... the way CW and I celebrate all year long is the best. He shows me he loves me by making me dinner and trying to make my life as easy as possible around the house and brings me home these little surprises here and there. I am more of a surprising him with gifts and doing unexpected things for him type. It just works for us. I know that I may complain, I may bitch, but I'm writing out of emotion at the time because I need to vent. In between therapy appointments, writing is my therapy. :)
Monday, January 7, 2013
And the world sucks.
As promised, I'm letting everyone know what's going on and why I've been so depressed lately. In my holiday blog I asked for everyone to send positive thoughts/vibes/prayers... essentially anything I prayed would help my mom's dog, Mayhem.
We didn't know what was wrong with Mayhem at the time other than he hit his leg really hard and had a huge knot that would not go away. The same thing happened to my Bubba about 3 years ago and it was cancer. Bubba was 6 at the time, so he had lived a while for such a large dog. He was about 5'7 when he was on 2 legs giving you a hug and weighed about 150lbs.
Mayhem is a great dane, he's only about a year and a half and he is huge and precious and I fell in love with him the day the guy sent me his pic when we were searching for great danes. He absolutely stole my heart and I loved him immediately. I will never forget his huge puppy paws the first day we got him. He may not be my dog, but I love him like he is. I love all my parents' pets as if they were my own.
After Christmas we took Mayhem in for x-rays to see what was going on, they said it looked like cancer. How can that be? He's just a baby. So they took a biopsy and we got the news recently that it is official. Cancer. Fuck you, cancer. You evil fucking bastard. I hate you. You've taken 2 aunts and 2 dogs and a cat that I loved.
My heart is absolutely broken. I can't handle this. I just want to cry and crawl into a hole, but I don't. I just love my furry ones and try to be strong for my parents. I don't want to be, but I try. So please, send positive thoughts/vibes/prayers for my family because we all feel as if we are losing a part of ourselves.
We didn't know what was wrong with Mayhem at the time other than he hit his leg really hard and had a huge knot that would not go away. The same thing happened to my Bubba about 3 years ago and it was cancer. Bubba was 6 at the time, so he had lived a while for such a large dog. He was about 5'7 when he was on 2 legs giving you a hug and weighed about 150lbs.
Mayhem is a great dane, he's only about a year and a half and he is huge and precious and I fell in love with him the day the guy sent me his pic when we were searching for great danes. He absolutely stole my heart and I loved him immediately. I will never forget his huge puppy paws the first day we got him. He may not be my dog, but I love him like he is. I love all my parents' pets as if they were my own.
After Christmas we took Mayhem in for x-rays to see what was going on, they said it looked like cancer. How can that be? He's just a baby. So they took a biopsy and we got the news recently that it is official. Cancer. Fuck you, cancer. You evil fucking bastard. I hate you. You've taken 2 aunts and 2 dogs and a cat that I loved.
My heart is absolutely broken. I can't handle this. I just want to cry and crawl into a hole, but I don't. I just love my furry ones and try to be strong for my parents. I don't want to be, but I try. So please, send positive thoughts/vibes/prayers for my family because we all feel as if we are losing a part of ourselves.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
tonight, it's a 2 drink minimum.
I rarely drink anymore. I don't like the hangover feeling so I just kind of stopped drinking. I went from an every day activity to pretty much nothing. I used to drink because I needed something to sleep. I used to drink till I passed out and wasn't even trying to enjoy anything. I just wanted to forget everything and go into a black sleep.
When CW and I first started dating, we would drink together and it didn't even occur to me how much I was self medicating. Since we've been together, I don't have as big a problem falling asleep when we go to bed together. There are still nights when I don't want to sleep, but I do.
Tonight, tonight is different. I need a drink. My heart is breaking into a million pieces and I can't say why quite yet. It has nothing to do with my marriage, so please don't think that. I will say more when the time is right. I'm going back to the place I went when I needed something to soothe the pain just a little. My go to place used to be cutting, but I'm afraid to do that because of the ITP so I guess in some ways having that has helped...
I'm super depressed and I have a shitload on my mind. I've been practicing my knitting to keep my mind and hands a little busy. But yes, tonight it is a 2 drink minimum...
When CW and I first started dating, we would drink together and it didn't even occur to me how much I was self medicating. Since we've been together, I don't have as big a problem falling asleep when we go to bed together. There are still nights when I don't want to sleep, but I do.
Tonight, tonight is different. I need a drink. My heart is breaking into a million pieces and I can't say why quite yet. It has nothing to do with my marriage, so please don't think that. I will say more when the time is right. I'm going back to the place I went when I needed something to soothe the pain just a little. My go to place used to be cutting, but I'm afraid to do that because of the ITP so I guess in some ways having that has helped...
I'm super depressed and I have a shitload on my mind. I've been practicing my knitting to keep my mind and hands a little busy. But yes, tonight it is a 2 drink minimum...
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