No joke, I would much rather be in a depression than manic. I can't get to sleep, and when I finally do, I don't stay asleep. I overreact to everything. Whether I get angry or excited depends on a myriad of things that I feel like I have no control over. I'm hypersensitive to everything; I mean everything. Noises, pain, tickles, heat, and other people.
My mind is running a billion miles per second (you can read Blame It On The Train for more insight than I have the attention span to give right now). I can't put coherent thoughts together, which is really fun when trying to talk to someone new. I have no idea if this is connected, and would love to know if this happens to anyone else, but I get way more panic attacks when I'm manic (kind of like right now, for no reason). Breathe in, breathe out.
The really annoying part about mania is that I can't feel it coming on. Weird? Probably. I can feel myself slipping down, but the rise up never quite hits me as, "Hey! This is your brain! I'm going manic, so get ready!" I guess I just revel in the fact that I'm to a point out of the depression where I can get myself up, showered, and dressed and don't think anything of it. Well, I can tell that the depression is letting up, but I guess I just never think it'll get to this point.
I tweeted last night exactly how I felt about mania. I said, "Dear mania, You were not missed. Please return to the Hell from whence you came and leave me be." *I crack myself up! HA!*
Last night, I was attacked and made to believe that I'm a horrible person. Who did this? My family.
Several times now, I have made clear my feelings on my "sister" and the husband she "left" staying in our house. They are invading my safe zone and sending my anxiety off the charts. I've never liked them coming over. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter are pure hell for me.
Story:
After telling my father several times that I will no longer give in to my brother-in-law staying here, he, once again, invited him to stay. Instead of simply listening to me when I said, "they are most literally killing me," he passed off my feelings in favour of the married people who are more than capable of getting their own place. When I stood my ground, he had to go get my mother out of bed because, apparently, he still has no idea how to talk to me. I gave up on trying to talk to him a while ago. He never listens anyway.
Once my mother got involved, my father could not grasp the concept that I have no idea why I feel this way and kept repeating the same things. "What if you had a friend who needed to stay the night? Would it be the same?" "They lived here when they first got married. What's changed?" I will say this again... I DON'T KNOW!
My mother seemed sympathetic while trying to weasel me into concession. I had to get on the repeat train to get my point through both of their heads. "I need to feel comfortable in my own home. I don't know why I feel like this, and I don't want to. I want it, and them, to go away. They are invading my safe zone and I'm feeling attacked."
After they "understood" how I felt, they went to "discuss the situation." When I went to bed, I couldn't sleep because the light was shining under my door. Annoyed, I was less than kind telling them to turn it off. I was done asking for things, at this point. My brother-in-law's response? "It's on because we're trying to accommodate you." Excuse me?! This is MY home. You shouldn't have to accommodate me because YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
My mother then came into my room and began telling me how "she has to feel comfortable here, too. This is her home, too." Gee... wonder who she'd been talking to. Both my sister and brother-in-law are terribly manipulative. They will both make themselves out to be the victim or the hero with just a few words. Either way, they will tear you down to do it. I find it amusing when they pull it out on each other.
Naturally, I got angry. Once again, the boundaries I try to set are twisted and made to make me feel like a selfish brat. I have tolerated her here for three and a half weeks. There have been confrontations and blow-ups, but I've never straight out told her to leave. When he started staying here, things escalated because my anxiety hit "attack mode." I was being attacked, so I fought back.
The one person I thought would never attack me was my mother, and she was the one doing it last night. There was screaming, swearing, and I left. Side note: Walking on an old, uneven asphalt driveway without shoes is a bad idea. I have lost my support system. Sure, I have friends who say I can come to them, but I can't bring myself to be a burden on anyone else. My mother chose to have me and therefore deal with all a child comes with. My friends have also never seen the full force of my messed up brain, and I don't know if they could handle it.
I say I've lost my support system because, if my sister can manipulate my mother into thinking that I'm the problem here, how can I believe that she truly understands that I have a problem, and no, I can't make my brain concede?
What do you get when you cross a bottle of Xanax, a bottle of Percocet, and a bottle of Vodka?
The last three weeks, I have given up on trying to stop my suicidal thoughts. My "sister" still has the husband she "left" sleeping over when they've spent so much time together after work that he's too tired to drive home (grammatically correct run-on sentence #... I lost count). Tonight, I let my feelings on the subject be known. I explained (ok, basically shouted) how all this is affecting me, and how badly I wish I knew why. I pointed out (for no less than the tenth time) that this narcissist is, quite literally, killing me. Then my father pulls the "he's son-in-law" crap and completely disregards my feelings. Needless to say, the soon-to-be ex-son-in-law is staying the night.
My whole life, I have tolerated everything that has been thrown at me. Better still, I survived it all. Since she moved back, I have zero control over how I feel or what I think. Last week, she got me cornered while shouting at me and demeaning me, and, almost as if I were watching from the outside, I saw my foot go out and kick her. I suddenly understood how people can lose control. I'm not sorry I did it, I'm just a bit confused as to how it happened.
As my mother was sitting with me, attempting to make this whole "him staying over" thing okay somehow, I said something that I'm not sure if she fully understands: "I can't do this anymore." She probably took it as a passing comment, but it's way more than that.
I have been entertaining my suicidal thoughts quite a bit today, but tonight, I'm seriously considering it. I don't feel sad about it. I don't feel angry. I don't feel anything. I have dug my nails into any place on my body that will bleed, as well as pinched and pounded just trying to feel something, but there's nothing. I can't make myself cry because I can't make myself feel.
I think this is what "giving up" feels like.
The truly tragic part about all this: I'll still go to bed, not really sleep, get up in the morning, and do it all over again.
I honestly and truly believe that Medicaid is useless. Getting any level of decent care is just not an option. I'm stuck with apathetic doctors just looking to get me out the door as quickly as possible so they don't feel cheated out of a ridiculous paycheck. They don't care how I'm doing, how I feel, or how my medications are working. They'll prescribe whatever drug they're getting kickbacks from to supplement what Medicaid doesn't pay, even though I tell them that I cannot take this one or that. All this after having to wait three months for each appointment.
Rant #2
Since my genetically similar female relative moved in two weeks ago, my life has gone to Hell. Her total and complete lack of respect for me and my things is out of control. I found out today that she has been using my shampoo. Why did I just find out today? Because she didn't bother to tell me, let alone ask if she could in the first place. When she invades my space, she'll (badly off tune) sing "it's the end of the world as we know it" and laugh like it's nothing. I cater to her, I made space for her, and this is how she treats me? Well, I'm done being the good sister. I'm going to hit the hardball she pitches out the park!
Rant #3
Monday through Friday, I am awakened by my sister and father. They don't seem to realize that talking at normal-to-loud levels right outside my freaking door is not alright. Then, common courtesy has always been lost on the narcissistic... When I wake up enough to speak, a rather annoyed "SHUT UP" comes out and suddenly I'm the problem.
Rants over.
All this, plus a few other things (I'll spare you the details) has been building up inside because, let's face it, I don't speak up. I try to say my piece and when it's shut down, I back down faster than anything you could imagine. Anyway, I blew up tonight. There was screaming, crying, cursing, and much more ranting than I've done here.
I hate blowing up even though it releases the crap that's all built up. The screaming leaves my throat sore, the crying makes my eyes red, puffy, and burning for about twelve hours, and getting angry is never fun in general. I really need to learn to speak up instead of backing down. Maybe this wouldn't happen so often.
I'm sorry we fought. I miss you. Please come back.
Sincerely,
Me
Have you ever had a night where you can feel every single stupid second pass? Where every tick of the clock kills your hope just a little more? This has been my last few days.
Sleep is crucial for everybody's health and well-being, but when you're on a medication that is supposed to knock you out... I've been practically catatonic. Especially fun at my interview last Wednesday.
I'm sure everyone around loves when I don't sleep seeing as how I get cranky and overly sarcastic. The really obnoxious thing is that, what people don't seem to understand is, when I'm cranky, it's not because of my Bipolar. Everyone has moods. Everyone has bad days. Just because I have an illness that messes with my brain and moods, doesn't mean every single mood is because of that. If that were the case, every single person on the planet would have the diagnosis.
The really fun part for me is the total and complete lack of coordination. My mind isn't in sync with my body. Half the time, I have no idea what I'm doing. I tried washing my hair with conditioner this morning, then tried to blow it dry with my brush. It took me at least a minute of trying to turn it on to figure out that I was holding the wrong thing. I wish I was kidding.
Well, since my brain isn't working, I'm going to leave it here.
In honor of The 4th of July...
"Made in America"~ Toby Keith
For as long as I can remember, I have had panic attacks when I get angry or try to stand up for myself. It's not a pretty sight and it just makes the situation worse.
Fun example: A few years back, I got the front end of my car taken off by an imbecile who... well I'll spare you the details. ANYWAY... needless to say, I was raging! I got out of the car, already shaking, and when he tried to blame me, I started shouting and eventually got to a place where I couldn't do anything.
I have finally figured out why. My entire life, I have been punished in some way or another when I would get angry. At home, well, let's just say my father has never been "daddy." (Don't you dare let your thoughts wander down Abuse Alley!) At school, Brooke and her lemmings would just egg it on and when I'd get home in a bad mood... Not to mention the school psychologist who literally locked me in her office and cut me off from any social interaction.
I learnt that anger is an emotion that was punished at a very young age. Yay epiphany...
Now with all the ridiculous political crap that's going on, I get pretty upset just looking on Facebook or Twitter. There are accounts on Twitter who have made it their mission to end bullying. Kudos! However, now with the SCOTUS decision, these people seem to think it's alright to bully anyone who supports traditional marriage. I'm going to say this once...
Free speech is not limited to one point of view. Support for traditional marriage is OK! Support for LGBT marriage is OK! Not supporting one or the other is also OK! I promise.
Life would be so much less irritating if there weren't so many people who are perpetually offended. I hate politics because there is yes and there is no. I try not to get involved, but this one is getting beyond ridiculous. If you don't make your profile look like a bag of Skittles spilled, suddenly you're homophobic.
I've got friends all over every imaginable spectrum. I don't care what your preferences are, what colour your skin is, or what religion you are or aren't... I respect people. The only label anyone should ever be given is "person."
Well... that took a very different turn than I intended... I'm going to end it here.
This song has been stuck in my head for days!
"Appreciated"~ Rixton
So, I had my appointment with my psychiatrist a couple days back and we upped my medication. Doubled it, actually. I started the new, higher dose last night and I'm doing my best to function.
I slept for thirteen hours last night and only got up because I thought it was a bit pathetic to still be in bed at eleven o'clock. I wish I'd just stayed there because I've been freakishly tired the whole four hours I've been up. My brain isn't loving this new dose, either. I'm having trouble with the whole, words-putting-into-sentence-doing. Fun example: I had to retype the word "into" six times because I kept hitting the wrong keys. I also just had to fix "fun" because I spelt "fen," instead.
I went through this when I started the medication initially and my body adjusted fairly quickly. I'm hoping the same thing will happen as the dose continues to get raised.
Since I can't think of anything else to say on that, here's just a couple of reminders...
You can sign up for email notifications so that when I post, Blogger sends you an email. That's not going to stop me from posting it everywhere, but it could potentially be easier for you.
I'm on Twitter. My Twitter handle... name... thingy... is @AROTBEblog.
Facebook group here (hope that actually works). Side note: I hate that Facebook is 99% politics now, so please keep all of that out.
You are all fabulous!
I'm too tired and not functioning enough to find a relevant song...
"Courtesy of The Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American)"~ Toby Keith
It seems that, no matter how good a day has been, my mind is flooded with negative thoughts and memories at night. Tonight is particularly bad and I can't sleep because of it. I can't really say I'm thinking about this, but rather my brain seems to think I need to be reminded. The thing keeping me up tonight happened in high school.
We did a musical every year at my school and I was always in the orchestra pit. Most of the time, I can only remember how fun it was. We had a tradition-- every drink bottle we finished would be put on the ledge surrounding the pit and the goal was to get the whole thing covered. My friends and I put more than our fair share up there. We also had our "costumes" for each musical (crowns for Once Upon A Mattress, Cowboy hats for Oklahoma!, etc...). We had pit parties, pajama day for our Saturday rehearsals, and so many other fun things! Tonight, however, my brain has decided to remember Kathryn and Brad (I frankly don't care that I'm using real names here. Bullies have no right to identity protection).
Kathryn played string bass and Brad played trombone. Both sat behind me in the pit. Side note: I play clarinet. I honestly can't remember if this was my sophomore or junior year, but I want to say sophomore, but either way, it has stuck with me. See, they decided that, whenever we reached a poco rit. in the music, they would poke me with the bow and say "poco retard!" I tried a few times to passively wave it off, hoping that, by not reacting, they'd lose interest and quit doing it. They didn't. It went on from the first pit rehearsal all the way through closing night. All I could do was pretend not to notice then cry in the bathroom during breaks and intermission.
To this day, I get a minor panic attack when I'm playing a piece and I see poco rit. Every now and then, people ask why I don't play anymore. I give excuses like, "I don't have anyone to play with," or, more recently, "I busted my wrist," but honestly, I just get sick of being afraid of basic music notations. I play a wind instrument. I can't afford to lose my breath.
I have no idea what I did to deserve to be their target. Even after the musical, I tried being nice to them, but they both treated me like something they'd stepped in. Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Was it Brooke? If any of my fellow Colts still talk to either of these two... people... any explanation would be appreciated. I'd even accept an "I don't remember, but I'm sorry."
Last time I saw my therapist, she told me about a technique she learnt from an article written by a neurologist on how to get better sleep.
Background: A big part of what happens when you sleep is that the blood recirculates throughout the body. You legs are the biggest part of that process. What this neurologist (wish I knew who!) suggested was to sit flat against the wall with your legs straight up (yes, up) for thirty minutes right before bed. No getting up for water, bathroom, anything.
Well, I (as usual) was having a hard time getting to sleep last night thanks to my ever running brain, so I decided to try this. I grabbed a book (I actually had to search for one that didn't include murder and the subsequent investigation), got sideways on my bed (because I have no floor-to-wall space), and propped my legs up. Granted, I only made it twenty minutes before one of my feet went numb, but I still noticed a difference!
Now, I didn't get to sleep any faster, but the few hours I got were much more restful! This neurologist did a study with people doing this every night and concluded that those who did, felt like they got two whole hours more sleep than those who didn't, even though they may have gotten the same number of hours. Basically, the people who did this felt more rested.
Now, since I woke up in such a good mood, I give you a blast from my high school past!
