I'm Tired

I'm not always perky, happy, or optimistic. People can't seem to understand that. Every now and then, I'll point out on Facebook that people support those with physical illnesses they didn't ask for, so why can they not support someone with a mental illness they didn't ask for. I suddenly get some understanding and empathy from my friends and family. Well... for about three days until they forget and say that I'm always being down or pessimistic.

What really annoys me is when people point out that my posts are getting "happier." Do you not understand what Bipolar means? I go up, I go down. I can't control it. It makes me feel bad when someone will only comment on my "happy" posts. The "bi" in "Bipolar" means two. Two poles: Manic and Depressive. My biggest pet peeve is when people try to tell me how to "fix" myself. No, my moods aren't caused by thyroid issues or a vitamin deficiency. My moods are caused by my brain. Is your diabetes caused by your lungs?

The truth is, I'm fighting a battle every second of every day. You can't see it, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'm in the middle of a battle that I will ultimately lose unless I hit back harder than my brain does. I need a support system of friends, family, a therapist, and medication to make it through each day. When someone tells me that they don't like my depressed posts, it's like they're not accepting every part of me. How can I trust someone who only likes half of me?

I'm tired.

I'm tired of fighting.

I'm tired of the pain.

I'm tired of crying myself to sleep.

I'm tired of emotions taking control.

I'm tired of feeling worthless.

I'm tired of being afraid.

I'm tired of the endless pills.

I'm tired of knowing I'm sick.

I'm tired of having to make excuses.

I'm tired of feeling nothing and everything all at once.

I'm tired of worrying.

I'm tired of holding back.

I'm tired of keeping secrets.

I'm tired of feeling like a burden.

I'm tired of disappointing people.

I'm tired of being judged.

*Grumble*

Oh, Utah...

People tend to have quite a few assumptions about Utah. The main stereotype is Mormons. Yes, I've heard all the jokes. No you don't have anything new. To be fair, there are quite a few here, but if you're thinking polygamy, you need to do your research. Warren Jeffs and whatnot are their own church- the FLDS.

Having grown up in this religion, I've learned one thing: Utah Mormons are the absolute worst sort of people. Here are people who will give to charity, read scripture daily, and look at you in disgust if you're not wearing the latest styles at church. And heaven forbid you dye your hair! I'm not stylish, I'm not particularly "girly," and at the moment, my bangs are turquoise.

On the other side of the mirror are the non-LDS (yes, that's what we call the people here who aren't members of the LDS church.) To be "in" with that crowd, you must talk like a drunken sailor on leave while chain-smoking and downing a bottle of Jack. That may be going a bit far, but you get my point. 

Yes, there are the "in betweens," but finding them is difficult. I'm one of them. Yes, I go to church. No, that doesn't mean I'm necessarily "chruchy."

My point is, everyone looks down on someone, and I'm tired of it. Why can't people just be themselves and not have to worry about fitting in? So I dye my hair. Does that make me a bad Christian? So you have tattoos. Does that make you a bad person? The answer to both is a huge, resounding NO.

Whining over.

"What If"~ Five For Fighting

Yes, More Pictures

I'm in a photographic mood, but it's too cold to go out. So... you get to see some of my favorite pictures that I've taken on my iPhone.

The Blue Angels

I couldn't resist

My life for near 20 years.

Utah State Capitol Building

Listen, Please

"I know you can hear me, but I don't think you're listening."

Do you have someone in your life that, no matter how hard you try, you can't connect with for the simple reason of, they don't listen? It's infuriating! You can talk until you're blue in the face, but it just goes in one ear and out the other. Everyone needs to be heard. Especially by the people closest to them. The pain it causes when you're not heard can dig deep and take years to heal; if ever.

Ranting in 3... 2... 1...

My father, hard worker that he may be, has 100%, absolutely no idea how to be a dad. He removed himself from my life when I was about eight, only doing the mandatory tasks since. He'd take me to my dance/band/choir performances, but all he'd ever say afterward was "nice." When I ask him to take me to a doctor appointment, he'll go walk around so I have to call him and wait when I'm done.

Why am I on this rant? Because he has once again taken my sister's side. Doesn't matter what the issue, he will take her side. Every. Time. I told you a while back that my sister is out-grudging me. Well, I asked if he'd mentioned anything to her about thanking me. His response? "I said this is from Charmaine. She said 'Yeah, that's nice.'" Call me crazy, but I didn't hear anything about him directly asking her if she had thanked me. Side note: She hasn't.

So, I said that until my sister can get off her high horse, it's going to be awkward for her at our house. My father then went on about how he hopes that this conflict will end soon. Mind you, he doesn't seem to notice or even care that I have made a gesture and the ball is in my sister's court now. My mother is on my side. She's asked my sister if she'd thanked me. No response, but at least she's tried.

My father says he doesn't know how to talk to me. If he'd listen once in a while, maybe he would.

"Whatever You Say"~ Martina McBride

Pea Green

Envy, jealousy, whatever you want to call it.

I have quite a few friends with similar diagnoses as I have, and every one of them is married and has a real job. Some even have kids. They handle their moods and anxiety enough to be fairly normal. At least in my eyes.

These friends have everything I want, and it irritates me that they seem to be handling things better than I do. I mean, I can't go out in public without a companion because my anxiety spikes and I'm as useful as a decapitated jackrabbit. I can't answer my phone, look people in the eye, or even ask for a to-go box without shaking like a bag of popcorn. I frequently ask myself why these friends can do something and I can't. We've got the same diagnosis, so why can't we do the same things?

Every time one of these friends posts something about going to a party, concert, or even a busy store, I get jealous. If they post pictures of their spouse or kids? You got it... jealous. I'm not saying that I'm not happy for them, I'm just annoyed at myself that I can't do, really anything.

I started a new job at a fairly large department store. I was put in the apparel department, but I still have to do cashiering. I can't even look at a cash register without getting a panic attack. I also have to learn to use the overhead paging system and answer calls. Like I said before... I can't even answer my own phone without an anxiety spike.

Sometimes, I just hate my life.

"Hey Jealousy"~ Gin Blossoms

Masks

"Put your brave face on."

I wear a mask that even I forget I'm wearing sometimes. Today, that mask came in handy.

As you know, I've been working at an elementary school supervising the kids at recess. Well, I got a new job that will work better for me and I quit the school. Telling the principal was easy. Telling the kids... not so easy.

Most of the kids I know well are in third grade, and when they found out, I was surrounded and locked into a group hug. Some of them wouldn't leave my side and kept saying, "I'm going to miss you." My heart shattered.

When the fifth grade came outside, the girls who were being bullied (see here) looked as if they'd just lost their last hope. They talked to me their whole recess and were obviously disappointed.

I say my mask came in handy today because I had to keep smiling and telling them that everything will be fine. I was dying inside. Those kids have been my whole world for a year. Many times in this last year, before I got my meds sorted, those kids were the only thing keeping me alive. The thought of those faces smiling up at me would shine a bright light on my darkest days. I'm already regretting leaving.

"Every Day"~ Rascal Flatts

Genetics

Ohana.

I've been thinking a lot today about family and genetics. For those who may not know, mental illnesses can run in families. Seeing as how my mother's family lived in The Netherlands during two world wars, I don't doubt the presence of PTSD. I know that at least one of my aunts has it. I'm no geneticist, but I wouldn't pass off for a second that someone in my line has suffered with Bipolar, as well. Warning: It gets pretty sappy after this...

I got my red hair from this lovely lady, my father's mother. I know that there's dementia on my father's side, which I've read can lead to other mental illnesses, but as far as I know, nothing else. She had a great sense of humor that I like to claim to have also gotten from her.

 

I got my empathy and stubborn personality from this lovely lady, my mother's mother. This strong woman lived through two world wars, one of which she had five kids. There would be two more kids, one of which (my mother) was almost born on the ship during their move to America.

 

And just for kicks (and to prove I'm not adopted, though sometimes I wonder), this is my mother. Well, my uncle, too, but I got most of who I am from this lovely lady. She taught me how to care about others, she's put up with my insane phases, and put me (and my sister) above herself at every turn. I've screamed at her, called her names, and have begged her to leave me alone, but she's still by my side whenever I need her. She took me to dance classes/performances/competitions, put up with me while I learned to play clarinet, made me a gypsy costume when that's the only thing I wanted to be for Halloween, and sat by my bed after I had surgery. If there is one major influence in my life, it's my mother. She's strong when she needs to be, but one of the most caring people I've ever met. Plus I tend to look like her, so...

 

I wish I had a picture of my father when he was a kid, but I don't. You'll just have to imagine a tall man with black hair and green eyes. I know I complain about my father quite a bit, but the truth remains that he is one of the hardest working men I know. He worked security for the majority of his life. Every now and then, they'd do trainings and he'd have to get pepper spray in his face. He'd simply say, "It's not pleasant," and that was it. If something needs to be fixed in the house, he's the one to do it. He has also been there for dance, band, and weird phases. We've built a model plane and practically every shelving unit in our house. He's shown me around my car's engine, and held my hand as I re-learned to walk after surgery. He, too, is a major guiding light in my life.

 

End of sappy-time.

Grudge-less

Feeling the love.

I've always thought that wishing someone happy birthday simply because Facebook tells them it's your birthday was an easy way out. The truth of it is, that even though they see it pop up, nobody is obligated to say anything. I got quite a few Facebook messages as well as texts from friends and family, and every one was appreciated!

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

I'm not totally into the whole zodiac thing, but I'm a scorpio; queen of grudges. My sister is a virgo, but she's definitely out-grudging me. I told you a while back that, when she had me backed into a corner, yelling at me, my brain reacted and I kicked her. To this day, I swear it wasn't me. Anyway, that was back in August and she still isn't talking to me. I made a gesture of nice-ness by leaving something for her at her apartment. I've heard no word of thanks.

I've been working on not holding grudges. It's no secret that my father gets on my nerves. Plenty of times I've given him the silent treatment or held onto that annoyance for far too long. I've been trying very hard to turn it around and let things go quickly. I had a point here... I forgot where I was going.

Anyway, since I've been working on not holding grudges, I feel loads better. The tension in the house has decreased as well as my personal tension. When I can turn it around quickly, it's like a tiny personal victory. To me, every personal victory is one step closer to total self-control.

"Let It Go"~ Demi Lovato

Sep/Oct Pictures

At last.

I finally put all the pictures I've taken since September onto my computer. I looked through them all, and as usual, there were some crappy ones and some great ones. Since photography is both my connection to the world and my catharsis, I'm going to share some of the better ones with you!









Eclipsed blood moon.

Self Control

(insert clever tag line here)

There are very few things we actually have control over. Those with mental illness tend to have even less control. I've found a few ways to maintain control over myself.

Since graduating high school, my hair hasn't remained the same color for more than three months. Actually, it's usually more like two. I do mostly reds and browns, but at the moment, it's brown, blonde, blue, and green all kind of streaked together. Home-done bleach job gone bad, but I hear it looks cool!

I also have this thing with socks. Yes, socks. When I was seventeen, I vowed to never wear traditionally matching socks ever again. Since then, I've justified my mismatched socks by patterns, solid colors, ankle/knee-hi, and even just because they came out of the same drawer. Side note: I have four, count em, four sock drawers.

Even blogging helps me maintain self-control. I get to say what I want, and if I don't like the way a post turns out, I delete it. Yes, there are many posts that you lovely people haven't seen.

My point is, you need some level of control over yourself to be happy. Everyone does. From the way you do your hair, to what you do for work, to... well, so many other things!

"No Control"~ One Direction

Got Cyanide?

I spent all day watching Netflix and wishing that I were dead.

Story: Last Saturday, I started to get a pain in my throat. I decided to keep drinking and sucking on cough drops to keep it from getting worse. This did not work. My throat just got worse and worse. I spent the greater part of Saturday and Sunday unable to even breathe without searing pain. Then, the rest of my body decided to get in on it. The aches, pains, and never-ending pile of tissues (graphic, I know, I'm sorry). Yay allergies turned sinus infections...

I'm not good at being sick. I can't just curl up in the blankets, watch TV, and embrace my misery. I'm the kind of person who curses whatever's making me sick while sitting up in protest. I don't sleep because I'm annoyed that I'm sick, I won't do home remedies, and I absolutely will not go to a doctor unless I'm dying. Today, I was dying.

I broke down and went to a doctor who said she couldn't do anything until I've had this sinus infection for a week. Awesome. So now I get to ride this out and just pray it's gone by Thursday. I really don't like the idea of being sick on my birthday...

Side note: Hope everyone had a great Halloween!

Here's the song that's been stuck in my head all day.
"Summertime"~ Ships Have Sailed

Safety Is Underrated

I need help.

Today, four amazing girls came up to me and told me they were being bullied. These two other girls will take things, make fun, tell others to not talk to the four, coerce other kids to start bullying, and give dirty looks. These things hurt more than you could ever imagine. I would know; these are the exact same things that Brooke did to me.

When these four amazing girls came up to me, I could tell right away what they were going to say. The looks on their faces were defeated, and their eyes were tearful. They talked softly and were actually afraid to say something. I asked them if they'd talked to their teacher- they said yes. I asked if they'd talked to their parents- they said yes. I don't know what else to tell them. I learned a long time ago that adults can't stop the bullying because it ultimately all comes down to the child.

I had a really hard time keeping it together while they told me everything. It brought back so many memories. I wish I could just tell them that it'll be okay, that they're awesome, and have it make them feel better, but the fact remains, nothing I say will make these girls feel better about themselves when they've constantly got these two telling them otherwise.

It kills me to know that these four talented, beautiful, amazing girls feel bad about themselves. What kills me more is knowing that the things they hear now will stick with them for the rest of their lives.

"Safe Harbors"~  Michael McLean (I actually made this video. I apologise for any misspellings, and yes, I took the background picture.)

 

An Open Apology

Here goes...

Last night, I was thinking about some old friends and the absolutely horrible things I said to them in years past. Now, I'm not really one to apologise (NCIS: Gibbs rule- Never aplolgise, it's a sign of weakness), but I feel like I need to clear the air.

Dear (insert your name here),

Until two years ago, I was dealing with something that I didn't fully understand, and to be honest, I still don't. I had all these emotions that were overbearing and made me do and say things that were unwarranted. Please understand that I had little to no control over my actions back then and that my actions are not me.

Back then, I was trying to deal with this all on my own, and it obviously wasn't working. I lashed out in anger and uncalled for name calling. I don't know why, and I wish with all my heart I could go back and undo it all. I wish that my brain's emotions were never in control of me so that I'd never say things I regret, but the fact remains, I will be battling my brain every day for the rest of my life.


I don't expect you to just forget about the horrific things I said and we go skipping off into the sunset; I just want you to know that I think about these things every day and I am so, so sorry. You were never meant to be in the crosshairs of my emotional outbursts.

Sincerely,
Charmaine/CJ/whatever else people used to call me

Med Adventures

Dear body, you suck.

So, I'm apparently sick. If you don't think losing your lunch in front of 100 kids is embarrassing, you obviously haven't done it.

Since I'm sick, I'm home. Since I'm home, I'm blogging. Since I'm blogging, I'm gonna tell you about my med adventures.

I was put on Zyprexa 10mg, but that pushed me into a deep depression on its own. The psychiatrist I was seeing told me that "it would even out when I got into a rhythm." Yeah... that didn't happen. When I told me new (and awesome) psychiatrist about that, she said the same thing I had thought; that it wouldn't even out. So, new psych cut my Zyprexa in half and added Prozac. After just two days, I felt so much better! I'm awake during the day while still able to sleep at night. It's incredible! I'm not saying that I feel "normal," but I feel a million times better than I have in weeks.

There comes a time in every mentally ill person's life where they know how medications should and shouldn't feel. You learn to trust yourself more than you trust the doctor. Never doubt your body. If it doesn't feel right, tell your doctor. If your doctor doesn't listen, find one who will.

"Doctor Jones"~ Aqua

Babies

A good friend of mine had her second baby boy and I was lucky enough to visit them in the hospital. As I watched this three day old human, I wondered what his future would be. I know he's in great hands, though. He is truly loved.

 

Every baby is a new start, a new hope (enter Star Wars references here...). At least, that's what people say. I obviously wouldn't know...

 

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

 

Whenever people bring up the baby thing, I get some seriously judgmental looks when I say that I don't want any. It's not that I don't want kids, just that I don't want my own. I plan on doing the foster and adoption thing. Mental illnesses are genetic, and I refuse to be the cause of someone else's pain. If I foster/adopt a child with a mental illness, fine.

 

I honestly don't care what you or anyone thinks of my decision, I just know that there are plenty of kids who feel unwanted out there, and I want them.

 

That took a different turn than I was planning, so I'll just leave it here.

 

 

That Friend

I had an amazing day!

One of my best friends came into town and I got to spend the whole day with her! We went to the mall, had lunch, and went to a movie; it was awesome! Wanna know the best part? My anxiety was practically dormant all day.

I've heard some people say that their symptoms are lessened when around certain people, but I've never quite believed it. I mean, how can having that one person there make the crowds and noises okay somehow? It sounds weird, but it's true! I mean, until we got to the ridiculously crowded and loud restaurant where we met up with her mom... Nothing can make that kind of noise okay.

For the first time in, well I don't even remember how long, I can't say one bad thing about my day. My mood was better than it has been, my anxiety was well-controlled, it was just an all-around good day!

My point is...  we all need someone in our lives that we can be 100% ourselves around without fear of judgment. If you don't have one, I beg you to open up to someone. Holding back is exhausting.

"Rescue"~ The Summer Set

Going Through The Motions

Who's up for round two?

I saw my new psychiatrist today, thanks to my new therapist. She got me an appointment a week before I was scheduled. Pretty awesome, if you ask me. So, needless to say, I got some new meds and I think it'll work. Is anyone buying my attempt at optimism?

I've been in the dark for so long that I honestly don't see any light in my tunnel. I can't even pretend to go through the motions anymore. My body is on auto-pilot; get up, eat, go to work, come home, eat... you get the point. My point is that my mind has separated from my body.

Since I have no more words to describe what's going on, here's a song that does...

"Going Through The Motions"~ from Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Fight Of A Lifetime

Watch this first...

"Confident"~ Demi Lovato

 

 

 

This video perfectly sums up my relationship with my brain and Bipolar Disorder. To follow my description... I would be Demi, my brain is the other girl, and Bipolar is the men.

 

At first, I didn't know what was going on. I got the diagnosis, but didn't really know what to expect. I signed on, gave in, and got branded.

 

I got all ready to fight, but when I met up with it, I felt like my brain was conspiring against me. I tried to fight, but every swing I took, I just got beaten down. It was stronger than I was. Eventually I gave up.

 

I have yet to get to the point where we shake hands and fight together, but I'm working on it.

The Jury's In

Snap judgments are my pet peeve.

I went to the dentist today. That blows my nerves on the best of days, but today was worse. I had to update (their term for "redo") my medical history. Normally, when you get to the psychiatric history, it asks about just depression, but this one asked specifically about anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia, and psychiatric hospitalizations.

As soon as she mentioned Bipolar, my anxiety spiked and I had no choice but to say, "yes." The worst part: I could both see and hear her put up a wall that puts the Great Wall of China to shame. I'm not saying she thought I was going to blow the place up, just that she backed off and felt uncomfortable.

I wish I could say that this was the first time someone has had the same reaction. It happens every time I have to use the "B-word," whoever hears it flinches. Even when I tell a new therapist or psychiatrist. Makes me feel really good, let me tell you.

I believe that, if the media would stop blaming mental illness for horrific crimes, these reactions would slowly stop. Stigmas suck. I'm not "crazy," I'm sick.

"5-1-5-0"~ Dierks Bentley

I'm Only Human

Blah.

I've had plenty of depressive episodes in my life, but nothing anywhere near where I'm at now. Usually, I can be brought up temporarily by certain events, but not even that works lately. Normally, I can at least fake some kind of smile, but it most literally hurts to do it now.

I used to wonder how anyone could stay in bed all day. I mean, I've always been so active that the concept was beyond me. I get it now. I'll get up, and within an hour, I'm so worn out that I just want to go back to bed. In the last 24 hours, I've been awake for six. I'm both physically and emotionally drained.

I frequently have thoughts that I want to end my life, but nothing as dark or persistent as what has popped into my head in the last week or so. Add the fact that I have absolutely no attention span and it makes for some very long days.

I talked to some of my Twitter friends last night. One says she's done crafts to keep her mind busy, and another goes running. I've picked up boondoggle, but I'm just too tired to go for a bike ride or anything.

The worst part is that everyone notices that I'm depressed. Like I said, I can normally fake a smile and pass off as fine, but everyone is noticing. I hate that part. My parents gave me the nickname "smiley" when I was little because I was always smiling. That's who I've always been. I hate not being able to.

"Human" Christina Perri

Define Depression

Criteria for Major Depressive Episode (from the DSM-5)

• Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, as indicated by either subjective report (e.g., feels sad or empty) or observation made by others (e.g., appears tearful). Note: In children and adolescents, can be irritable mood.

• Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day (as indicated by either subjective account or observation made by others).

 • Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain (e.g., a change of more than 5 percent of body weight in a month), or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day. Note: In children, consider failure to make expected weight gains.

 • Insomnia or hypersomnia nearly every day.

• Psychomotor agitation or retardation nearly every day (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

 • Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

 • Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt (which may be delusional) nearly every day (not merely self-reproach or guilt about being sick). • Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day (either by subjective account or as observed by others).

 • Recurrent thoughts of death (not just fear of dying), recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

This is where I'm at. I've been here for almost four weeks now. The medication I'm on keeps me from getting manic by pushing me down. I need something to bring me up, but the doctor I've been seeing is a pan to get a hold of.

I don't want to get out of bed, let alone go to work. I can't even force a smile, and working with kids, you need to be able to smile. I don't want to listen to music, I don't want to watch TV, I don't even really want to write. I have absolutely no desire to do anything. My arms feel like they're a hundred pounds each, but I can't stop moving.

I've tried doing some things to make myself feel better, but if it works, it's only momentary. I bleached my hair and dyed my bangs turquoise, I've listened to Nick Santino's album (and his Rocket To The Moon albums) so much that I'm verging on getting sick of him. I bought some new things... I've done quite a bit, but to no avail. I'm depressed and I can't get out of it on my own.

"Breaktown"~ Hanson

My Own Inferno

I miss being seventeen.

When I was seventeen, I was second chair in, not just my school band, but the district-wide orchestra. I was good, and I knew it. Not necessarily cocky, but confident. Since I started playing clarinet in fifth grade, I sucked. I was last chair all the way through my sophomore year. That summer, I took lessons from my friend who was first chair. When placement came junior year, I was ecstatic! I tried out for the district orchestra (Granite Youth Symphony Orchestra) just for kicks. Only four clarinetists would make it. When I got the letter that I was one of them, I was happy to be last chair, but when I got to the first rehearsal, I was second chair!

My point... I was trying to play just now. Key word trying. I am nowhere near what I was. This is infuriating to me. I've had everything I love taken from me in some way or another. Surgeries took dance, medications took my imagination and, in turn, my ability to write my book the way I see it in my head; and now, lack of use has taken the one thing I believe I was ever truly good at.

I've said before how music is my life. I don't simply listed to it, I play it. Simply put, I am a musician. I'm on the verge of tears because I messed up while trying to play a piece that I once had mastered. Yes, I may be a bit hard on myself, but music was always the one thing that I enjoyed. I guess getting that good was a bad thing. If I had never gotten good, I would have been satisfied not perfecting anything.

Then again... seventeen is right about the time when my symptoms became incredibly noticeable. Maybe I don't want to go back to that...

"The Divine Comedy- Inferno"~ Robert W. Smith

Can Nobody Hear Me?

One last rant about "doctors."

I saw my psychiatrist last week to get a refill of my meds. When I got to the pharmacy, the pharmacist told me that something was wrong with the codes. They had called the doctor, who said she was driving and would be calling back with the correct codes when she got home. I returned the next day and asked if the doctor had called back. The pharmacy tech rolled her eyes and said, "no." I did get my meds, only through the genius of the pharmacy staff. They were able to figure out the correct codes by using another patient's information.

If you've ever wondered why I hate psychiatrists, it's because of things like this. I've never found one who truly cares about my wellbeing. They care about getting their paycheck and kickbacks from the pharmaceutical companies and would sooner change specialties than care about their patients.

Oh! I forgot the best part! When I told the doctor that the meds I'm on have sent me into a depressive spiral and would like something to fix that, she told me that "things will even out when you get into a rhythm [sic]"

So, here I am, in a major depressive state, with no help to get out of it. I don't care about anything, not even work. Psychomotor agitation is quite possibly the worst thing about it. Wait... I lied. The frustration with myself and subsequent suicidal thoughts are the worst thing about depression.

"Hear Me"~ Imagine Dragons

 

All Around The World

I've been incredibly whiny lately, so I'm going to try to get through this without whining.

I got on just now to check my views, and I was in shock. 158 views today, so far! Yes, I know I shouldn't base my self-worth on how many views I get, but it makes me feel like my efforts are in vain when I get less than fifty on each post. My whole life, whenever I try to do something, it fails. My friend and I planned a party the summer after we graduated, and I had two people I invited show up. A couple of posts back, I challenged everyone to share their favorite post or email me, that was the lowest view day and still no emails. Basically, I'm the kind of person who is the good friend, not the kind who has good friends. Not to pass off my incredible friends who are there every day, no matter what.

Anyway, I want to give a huge shout out to my top ten countries! These are the countries with the most views throughout my year and a half of blogging. I do this because I think it's amazing how wide spread my words are getting.

1~USA (naturally)
2~ France
3~ United Kingdom (my heart, my love)
4~ South Korea (thanks girlie!)
5~Portugal
6~ Germany
7~ Russia
8~ Sweden
9~ Canada
10~ Ukraine

I'm going to ask... Here goes... If you'd leave a comment with your country. You can remain anonymous, but I'd like to see who isn't showing up on my list.

"All Around The World"~ ATC

I'm Just...

Just?

I have a habit of minimizing everything by saying "just." "I'm just an aide." "I'm just depressed." "I'm just a little sick." I'm not sure why I do this, but I think it has something to do with the fact that I like to believe I have no problem, or my days as Brooke's doormat.

I met with my new therapist yesterday, and she wanted to hear a bit about my trauma. Naturally, the bullying came up. I told her that, by the time I was in fourth grade (age nine or ten), I had learned to not cry. When I would cry, Brooke and her cronies would laugh. I guess that I started using "just" so much that it became a natural pass-off.

By using "just," I can pass off anything. I can be in the lowest circle of Hell, but "just" can make anyone think I'm fine, even though I would like a shoulder to cry on.

Now I'm wondering how I can be so good at talking my way out of things when every psychologist is trained to look for key words like "just" and "kind of."

Short, but sweet. I was thinking about this all night, so I had to write something about it.

"I'm Alright"~ Jo Dee Messina

Blah, Blah, Blah...

Yep.

I'm in a bit of a manic state, and by "bit" I mean "I'm about to rip my hair out." I'm weaning myself off my meds because the idiot "doctor" won't answer mine or my pharmacy's calls for a refill. I finally found something that works and doesn't give me all the serious side effects, and now I have to stop taking it because I'm "just mentally ill."

I have a theory that every psychiatrist is just in it for the money. I have yet to find a Doctor of Psychiatry who gives two cents about me. I had an APRN once who was fantastic, but she's not covered through the ever useless Medicaid.

Once I've weaned myself off of my remaining meds, I have to wait a few more weeks (at best) to get new ones. Why? Because this new clinic requires that I see whichever therapist they deem best for me a few times before meds can be prescribed. I've heard this from quite a few clinics.

Mental illnesses are not among the "can survive on over-the-counter medications until I can see a doctor" illnesses; they're the "I need steady meds so that both of us live through the night" illnesses. You'd think that someone who went through four years of undergrad, four years of med school, and however many years of residency would understand this concept, but alas, the stupid in some people runs deep.

"Heard It All Before"~ As December Falls

Am I Clear?

Shove it.

I am tired of people using mental illness as a scapegoat. The Oregon shooter was not mentally ill; he was mentally disturbed. These two things are not interchangeable. Saying that every mass shooter is mentally ill does absolutely nothing but incite fear. Yes, I have Bipolar Disorder, no I'm not going to shoot anyone. This concept is grasped only by those who suffer with mental illness and have no homicidal tendencies.

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

In recent days, I've had some people tell me to "suck it up and get a real job," "suck it up and call *insert person/company here*," and a few other things. I posted in the Facebook group, "I'm sorry... Exactly how is anxiety "crap" that needs to be "cut"? I didn't ask for this. My symptoms get in MY way a butt load more than they get in yours. I'm sorry that I can't always keep appointments or set "hang out" times, but telling me to "cut the crap and come hang out" is no way to make me better and it most definitely won't make me like you very much." Some of these have been in jest, but some are genuinely ignorant.

Anyone who suffers from any chronic illness, can attest to the pure debilitation that can happen. Physical pain, although invisible, can keep someone from getting out of bed. Mental illness, also invisible, can render someone useless. When I have to make a phone call, I have to mentally prepare myself. This can take two hours... on a good day. When going to work, I have to get up three hours before just to prepare myself. I met with my friend yesterday... I nearly called it off because A- I had to see someone, and B- we met in a very public place. Side note: we met about our upcoming YouTube channel! Fun to come!

In conclusion, you wouldn't tell a diabetic to "suck it up" while in DKA (*Diabetic Ketoacidosis), or a cancer patient when Chemo is needed. Why, then, tell someone with an invisible illness?

Rant over.
"I'm Doing The Best I Can"~ Gary Allan

You Are...

OCTOBER!!!!!

I had to get up early to tell you about my favorite month! Ok, I'm up early because I had a dream that scared me senseless and couldn't get back to sleep...

Anyway, it's a new month, and Blogger separates my views by month if I choose. My all-time record was 1,920 views in July of this year. I have a new goal of 2,000 views for October. Now, I don't usually get responses to challenges, but I'm going to challenge you anyhow. Here are your options...

1. Share your favorite existing post on whatever social media outlet you like.
2. Email me (bipolarexpressride@gmail.com) and let me know what you'd like to see in a post.

I was going to make a nice list of other options, but someone decided that it'd be awesome to come and interrupt me so I lost my thought train.

Anyhow, there's your challenge. Help a girl out?

"Appreciated"~ Rixton

My Brain Hurts

 Medicaid. The pain in so many butts.

Have you ever wondered why there are so many people not on proper medications? Yes, there are those who refuse to take them, but there are also those of us with no choice.

Allow me to 'splain...

I was going to one psychiatrist for a while, but she didn't listen to me when I said, "I can't take that because I'm allergic to it," and prescribed it anyway. So, annoyed with that one, I moved to another who actually listened to me! She gave me something I'd never tried and seemed to work. Well... until today. I had to postpone the follow-up appointment I'd set and was put three weeks out. I have no refills on my meds. I can't get hold of anyone whose head isn't shoved up their... anyway... I called a new place that does both therapy and med management. Here's the kicker: I have to have an initial intake appointment where this one person who has known me for twenty whole minutes will assign me a therapist. I then have to see this therapist for four weeks before I can get medications.

I got Medicaid so I could get my mental wellbeing in check, not so I could go to doctors who don't care and prescribe whatever comes to their mind first. I have found an incredible Allergist, General Practitioner, and OB/GYN on Medicaid, but I have yet to find a good Psychiatrist.

On the bright side: My friend in England sent me a pic from out her window! My only life's wish is to go to England.

"English Girls"~ The Maine

Day= Made

My life has a purpose! Well... kind of.

Today, I started as a recess aide at the school I worked at last year. Some of my (now) second and third graders ran up and hugged me and just had to tell me everything that was going on. They were actually excited to see me! I rarely have people excited to see me.

When last school year ended, I was heartsick because those kids had become such a bright spot in my life. Just the thought of going back lifted my mood. These kids show me what real acceptance is. Now, they don't know me all that well, but I still say some stupid things every now and then, but they just go with it. Kids are amazing.

Bad segue in 3... 2... 1...

I'm going to start vlogging and posting my videos to YouTube. I'm not sure when exactly the first will be up, but I hope all you faithful followers will join me and my rants there.

This was scattered, so here's a super random song...
"And I Waited"~ Hanson

Escape

"Escape from the city and follow the sun"

I'm not a city girl. I hate crowds and the general hustle and bustle of cities. I don't live right in Salt Lake City, but I dare you to call the suburbs "country escapes." Every now and then, I like to take a drive somewhere outside the valley. Today, my mom and I went up Big Cottonwood Canyon. Here's the results...

If you get overwhelmed and need an escape, it's not something shameful. Escaping can rejuvenate you in ways no medication can.

"Ready To Run"~ One Direction

I Am

I am no one.

My father has a habit of telling me, "I'll just say it to mom," when we're all in the same room. Not sure if it's this way with everyone else, but when I'm sitting at the table, literally two feet away, I can hear what he's saying. Every time he does this, it just confirms everything I've ever thought about not being wanted. My mother has recently picked up this habit.

It's not just about being unwanted, it's a blow to any confidence or sense of self-worth I've managed to build up. When they do this, they basically deem me a "non-entity." I don't have room in my limited ego to constantly take blows like that. As it is, I wake up every day hoping to go back to sleep because I can't do any good for anyone when I'm awake. I just seem to get in the way.

Tonight, this blow has sent me spiraling. In the five minutes it's taken me to think out and type this, I've gone from, "Fine, I'll leave," to "How many pills do I have and what mix will do it?"

They'll only learn of my feelings on this if they actually read this because, I, too, have a habit- not showing the person who has hurt me that they did, indeed, hurt me. That goes back to my tormented days as Brooke's doormat.

So tonight, I'll silently cry myself to sleep, praying (as usual) to not wake up.

"I Am, I Said"~ Neil Diamond

Letter To The Media

Dear media,

Every time someone does something heinous, you tend to blame mental illness. The Colorado theater shooter, the Columbine shooters, Andrea Yates; all labeled "mentally ill." While there have been many crimes committed by people with mental illnesses, it is far from common.

When you label someone as mentally ill, whether they have been diagnosed by a qualified professional or not, you label the millions of law-abiding mentally ill people as criminals. I have Bipolar Disorder, but that doesn't mean I'm going to shoot up a bank. I have friends who have post-partum depression, but their kids are alive and well.

When reporting a story of a criminal, please refrain from labeling, or announcing a diagnosis. Those people with mental illnesses who commit crimes are a minority. Referring to a criminal as "mentally ill" only promotes fear and perpetuates stigmas. You don't say "The bank robber has had no diagnosis of mental illness," so why say that they have?

In closing, please refrain from using mental illness as a copout.

Sincerely,
Millions of law-abiding citizens who just happen to have a mental illness

Brain-To-Mouth

The never-ending stream of stupidity continues.

I have a tendency to say incredibly stupid things without thinking. I call it my "lack of a brain-to-mouth filter." It's when the words come out of my mouth before I even realize that I've thought of them.

Last week, a couple of people I know came to help me paint my bedroom. Now, these two people are quite possibly the least judgmental people I've met (and a freakishly cute couple!). You know when you meet someone and know right off the bat that they're a good person? It doesn't happen to me very often, but these two just ooze acceptance. Even with that, I still don't know them very well and wound up with vocal vomit. I couldn't stop talking no matter how hard I tried. They just smiled and tried to keep up with my speeding thought train as best they could. I hope they know how grateful I am.

A couple days ago, my mom and I went to IKEA. We were trying to find our way out of the senseless maze. We found a gate and were told we could go out that way. I pushed and pushed, but the gate didn't move. When the worker told me to pull, I said "I'm a natural blonde," and laughed. Only after I'd lost sight of her did I realize that she was blonde.

This happens most when I'm manic or what I call "situationally manic." Side note: Yes, I know it's not a word, but I use it anyway. That's when I'm in a depression or mixed state but something happens to temporarily boost my mood. I have absolutely no idea how to make it stop and would give my first-born for a cure.  My kingdom for a cure!

"My Stupid Mouth"~ John Mayer

Friends & Stuff

People suck.

I said a while ago that friendships are like plants; if you ignore them, they die. I've also said that I'm tired of the one always putting in the effort. I decided that I was going to see who my true friends are by practically ignoring everyone. I don't even need all my fingers to count how many people acknowledge me.

There are the people I talk to regularly. I've never worried about them. I've got the people who comment on things when they see them in the five minutes a day they spend online. It's very much appreciated. Then I've got the ones who never comment, "like," share, or even acknowledge that I've commented on something of theirs. They ignore me until they think I've done something wrong. I've got quite a few of those people. These are the people I can tag in things, send notes, "like" everything they do, but only notice I exist when I make a typo or mislabel something.

When they're offline and in real, live person, I only exist when nobody else is available. I've had quite a few "friends" pop up when their relationships are going down the toilet, or if they're having a crisis. Yes, I get that I'm a good listener, but I'm not your therapist. I've got my own things to deal with, and you popping up only when you need a sounding board is not okay. Either be a friend, or an acquaintance. You can't go back and forth as you feel you need.

Since I made the decision to let others show their dedication to our friendship, I've lost quite a few people. I can't say I lost friends because, friends try to keep in contact.

One more thing...

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I voice an opinion and someone tells me I'm wrong. I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

OPINIONS ARE NEVER WRONG!

Facts can be wrong, actions can be wrong, but opinions (as well as feelings) are never wrong! When I say I don't like kids, don't reply with, "How can you possibly say that? Kids are such a joy and blessing." You are welcome to your opinions; allow me to have mine.

"Can nobody hear me?"
"Hear Me"~ Imagine Dragons

Victim Or Survivor?

I hate waking up  with thoughts like these...

While I was in the shower this morning, I started thinking about my school days. School was my own personal circle of Hell that Virgil told Dante was too dangerous to enter.

It started off innocently. I was thinking about this Archaeology class I took the summer between fifth and sixth grades. It was a blast! We got into a silly string war on the last day! Then my thoughts moved to fourth grade.

There were three math classes with varying degrees of difficulty. I was in the highest class. Each day, we were to complete one problem on a sheet we were given. These problems were incredibly difficult, but I always got them right. At the semester, my teacher decided that I wasn't smart enough to be in the high class because, I kid you not, I got one problem wrong. ONE! Since I was no longer smart enough for her, she dropped me to the LOWEST class! My mom fought the school and said that I was not to be in the other teacher's class. We had a meeting, and the principal agreed with my mom and me. Finally, I was put in the middle class. Side note: a few years later, the teacher who taught the low class was arrested for "inappropriate contact with students." Thanks mom for fighting!

Fourth grade was also when I was locked in the school counsellor's office for being the victim of a bully.

I dealt with a ton of crap in school, but the thing that hit hardest was in ninth grade. I had spent eighth grade at a different school and when I came back to my home school, I wasn't very well received. I was having a bad day all around, so when I was walking to another class, having someone spit in my face was the last straw. That's right... someone actually spit in my face. I went to my guidance counsellor's office to tell her what happened and just broke down. Side note: she was an amazing counsellor! She's the only reason I got out of the 9th grade!

I've always told people that there comes a time when you must stop thinking like a victim and start thinking like a survivor. I'm not convinced that I have taken my own words to heart. I think that's what I'm going to start working on in therapy.

"Concrete Angel"~ Martina McBride

Too Many Changes

"2015 is the year of the crap pile."~ Charmaine's calendar.

This year has been one blow after the next. Yes, my world was uprooted by the news of Zayn leaving One Direction, as well as the news of the "hiatus." Not long after that, one of my all-time favorite artists, Nick Santino, announced that he has not only formed a new band, but that they have a new EP out now. Side note: Beach Weather. It's fabulous!

Now, you may think that this is all childish and wonder why these things affect me, but the thing is, it's big and unexpected. I don't like big and unexpected changes. Small and predetermined change is alright, but don't blindfold me and untie it right as I'm about to walk into a wall.

When my "sister" moved back in, my world wasn't just uprooted, it was bulldozed. I lost all control of my emotions and actions. When my grandma passed, I could hardly breathe. I cried at least once a day for weeks (been doing better on that). Every time I go up to her grave, that feeling comes back.

The biggest change hit me like a bat to the face. I saw my therapist last Friday and she told me that she has been offered, and has accepted, a new position somewhere else. I get to pick between two interns at the clinic I'm at now, but I'm still not okay with it. It took me about six or seven months to get comfortable enough with my current therapist to really open up. How am I going to get that way with another new one?

"Night Changes"~ One Direction

Just A Daughter

"Silence will fall when the question is asked." ~Doctor Who (NERD ALERT!)

I back down faster than a balloon gives in to a pin. Why? My father. Have you ever heard "Whatever You Say" by Martina McBride? The chorus says, "I know you can hear me, but I don't think you're listening." This is my father. I can say something that I need or want, and he'll pass it off and just do what he always has. I have always said that he should have never gotten married, let alone had a family because he cannot, no, he will not change for anyone. He does what he wants, everyone else be damned.

When I ask his opinion on something, he'll say, "you usually ignore my suggestions." Yes, I do. Do you know why? Because that's how I was taught. I'll suggest things to him, he'll say "that's an idea," and forget it five seconds later.

We fight quite a bit because I believe that a man should be a dad; not just a father. He cut himself out of my life when my sister decided she no longer needed him. Ever since, it's been a one-sided relationship. I do what he likes, talk about what interests him, etc., but when I talk about something, he doesn't really listen.

There have been quite a few times where I've stopped talking to him; sometimes, for weeks, but stupid me goes back to trying. I don't know why I do. I always get the same result. I get hurt because he doesn't know how to be a dad.

Sure, he's been there to help out when I've had surgery, but even then, he's downstairs until I call (three freaking times) that I need something. He gets it and returns to his claustro-hell.

A father is supposed to be a pillar. The pedestal that every girl puts her daddy on is empty in my heart. He hurts me more than he cares enough to realize. I want a daddy. I want to be able to say I'm daddy's little girl. The sad fact is, though, that I never will. All because my father will always do whatever satisfies my father.

"Whatever You Say"~ Martina McBride

I'm Fired Up

I hate this. Make it go away.

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!*



"Fired Up"~ Hanson